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lewis m. urist, proprietor.' 31 n independent jfainilij Jfleu'spaper: (Jt'or the promotion of the political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial interests of the ^outh. J TERMS?$2.00 A YEAH IX ADVANCE. VOL. 39. YORKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY. .I'ULY 19, 1893. NO. '^9. ft mm if BY HOWAF [Copyrighted, ISftt, by I). Appleton A* C with tl CHAPTER XIV. ulie site of the town of Oskaloo wa3 largely responsible for the unfortunate reputation of its inhabitants. Its surroundings were malarial. The village lay in a low, marshy district, encircled on three sides by a stagnant stream. A damp, offensive, depressing mist crept in at evening to brood above its silent j streets and distribute fever and ague witfi a generous band. The only avenue j of escape from this plague infested culrtA-oay thfl trail road which led un deviatingly out of town to the prairies and hills beyond. It was * therefore with a feeling of misgiving that the wary traveler descended, it A similar sentiment prompted sojourners in that "happy valley" to decorate trees and bowlders by the wayside with warning placards and inscriptions. "Sacred to the Memory of Blank's Pills" was the fly ing testimony of one unfortunate. Perhaps it was in consequence of these depressing atmospheric conditions that stimulating beverages were appreciated at Oskaloo. It would seem that an im pression existed that the visible population varied directly in proportion to the presence and availability of something to drink. "There didn't seem to be enough eiti- j zens about to justify^an enterprisin cen- 1 bus clerk," Judge Natchez had remarked to Sheriff Mosely after a prelimina-y visit "Has there been an earthquake or an epidemic, or what?" 'I reckon not," Mosely rejoined, with a humorous twinkle of the eye, "but I'll ! allow, jedge, ye didn't give the boys any , encouragement. Now.ef you'd 'a' thought i to set out a pail of old rye and a tin dipper on thet thar stump in front of the blacksmith's shop, you'd 'a' seen a constitooency to onct thet would 'a' gladoroo Tt'n mv finininn." thp UOUCU J VJVS. *? W | Bheriff continued in easy disparagement j of his birthplace, "thet's about the only way an accurate and satisfy in census of the population of Oskaloo can be took." j Although ..ie particular stump in front of the blacksmith's shop referred to by Mr. Mosely was vacant on the morning i of the 5th of September, the crowded condition of the main street justified the suspicion that 6ome similar attraction ! was in the neighborhood. The additional fact that the temper of the gatherii-j was genial strengthened this opinion. When it is added that actual hilarity j and mirth prevailed in the vicinity of a certain saloon which Mr. Buck JerroM had recently made his headquarters, the situation will not admit of further doubt t With the arrival of Mr. Jerrold a hogs- | head of spirits was immediately put o.? taf> at the Long Divide tavern?a facetious title supposed to refer to the previous infrequency of drinks at that well known hostelry?and immediate patron- j age invited. Need it be said that the response was prompt? The lucaless cii'- { zens, living face to face with dyspepsia and a complaint popularly known as j "dnm ager," rallied at the call as at the j sound of a clarion. It was frankly announced by Mr. Jer- j rold?albeit without tho knowledge of Henry Bruce?that the "flow of soul" thus inaugurated at Oskaloo was entire- I ly at the expense of the prisoner at the j bar. It was even suggested that this generosity was a gratuitous tribute on his part to the esteem in which ho held the inhabitants. There was a transparency about this statement in view of the j coming trial which was ingenuous and charming. Howbeit, the potency of the tribute seemed to disarm criticism. A strong undercurrent of sympathy was apparent in favor of the prisoner j Ho was regarded in the light of a public benefactor. When this opinion began to manifest itself openly, the district at torney made an effort for impartiality j by attempting to impanel a jury and hold them aloof from the spirit of philanthropy which was becoming epidemic, j He was met by a singular obstacle. Fully one-half of the citizens of Oskaloo volunteered their services as jurymen. At this unheard of proposition the legal gentleman permitted matters to take their own course. Mosely did not hesitate to contribute his quota to the favorable opinion. -This was uy a grapnic uuu lurmiug uccuul.. of the trick performed by Bruce with I the "Smith & Wesson" revolver at the San Marcus ball. So far from prejudie- j ing the popular feeling toward Bruce in regard to the killing of Foraker, it gave an impression of proficiency with the pistol so remarkable as to amount almost to justification. It began to be believed ; that it would be little short of a crime to deal harr.hly with one so gifted, j "Pulled thet 'barrel catch' slick and clean, boys, and slung them cartridges right and left so that Lem was nowhar!" j Mr. Mosely repeated, illustrating the act by practical manipulation of the deceased horse thief's weapon. An awe fell upon the company. It was apparent , that a hero in difficulties and not a man j in jeopardy of his life awaited the respectful consideration of the citizens of Oskaloo. When, therefore, Phil Kernochan arrived, bringing with him Henry Bruce, Judge Natchez and Colonel Hunt, who, with a few of his troops, had joined them in the interests of order and justice, there was a rush to 6ee the prisoner and something like a public demonstration attempted. Colonel Bill Furey, the prosecuting attorney, viewed this proceeding with ill favor. He glanced appealiugly at Judge Pemberton, who had dismounted from his buggy, and leaning upon the wheel was placidly smoking liis cigar in conversation with the sheriff. The action recalled that worthy. He threw aside his cigar and at once led the way to the courthouse, With shonts and much scrambling for first positions the disorderly crowd followed. It was a hot day, and the little courtroom was soon crowded to suffocation. Nevertheless in spite of the discomfort of their surroundings a singular levity and good humor possessed the audience. No sooner were the few chairs and benches exhausted than the throng cheerfully availed themselves of the floor and window sills of the court. Here, packed in 011 every sido like sardines, they evinced the liveliest interest in the proceedings. A disposition was apparent to assist the lawyers in selecting the jury. As each man's name was called he was greeted with cheers and cries of encouragement, and any reluctance to serve provoked a storm of opposition. Under these circumstances the preliminary business of the trial was not transacted without some delay and irritation on the part of judge and lawyers. By the time the jury was sworn his honor had worn himself out in his efforts to preserve order, and the audience had shouted itself hoarse in abuse and personalities. A feeling of exhaustion supervened. It was apparent that something must be done. When, therefore, the prisoner's counsel rose in his place to address the court, he received the attention of all present. "Your honor," said Judge Natchez, mopping his heated brow with a red bandanna handkerchief and regarding the flushed features of the justice, who ? i. nrhitrurv nrnl n BilV w?vn0. j ? , at the head of the long table that answered for the judicial bench, "before proeeeiling to trial I would state that the preliminaries of this case have been powerful tedious, and I submit taut the gravity of the indictment necessitates that this court adjourn and take a drink.' There was a dead silence. All eyes were fastened uj>on the judge. His honor readied silently for his hat, and drawing it over his eyes started abruptly for ' fH IfSf ? SEELY. o. Published by special arrangements iein.] the door. His example was followed. In precisely three minutes after this popular proposal of the prisoner's counsel the courtroom was vacant It appeared subsequently that during this interval a singular rivalry was manifested between Mr. Buck Jerrold and Judge Natchez at the bar of the Long Divide. It was in the matter of fortifying the jury against the eloquence of opposing counsel. The solicitude of hrt+h wm PTp.it. and the rivalry keen?so keen in fact that the "12 good men and true" grew mellow and philosophic under treatment. Seeing which, Judge PeinDerton felt called upon at last to thump i^udl.v upon the bar with his empty tumbler and order a peremptory return to the courtroom. This being done, his honor laid aside his coat and veBt, and rising to his feet addressed the assemblage briefly. "It appears," remarked Judge Pember ton vaguely, frowning darkly in evidence of the affront afforded his judicial dignity by recent events?"it appears that a disposition is on foot to defeat the ends of justice by tamperin with this yer jury. What I knows, I knows and seen myself. It hez got to be stopped, or I'll impose tines here for contempt of court thet'll bankrupt the hull county to pay 'em. Ez to how much the counsel in this case, their friends and the audience gener'ly feel called upon to hoist in order to grapple witi the case in hand Ihev not'.iin to say. Thet's their bizness. But tin t thar jury is mine, and I propose to run them myse'f. Sheriff Mosely, you will quarantine them 12 men durin dinr.er and until they reach a vardict. I hold you pussonally responsible for the mental condition of the hull caboodle." This severe rebuke cast a temporary ?1 ? ?/lAtiMfitnrwn 4-V?uf liio limi. glQOlll UVCl UiU wuuiwiu nidi Uio uvi< or s complicity in the recent conviviality could not entirely subdue. When at length the case of "The People versus Henry Bruce" was formally opened, it appeared that the district attorney would "call the attention of the intelligent bench before him to one of the most cruel and blood curdling mr > ders of modern times." The incredulity with which the jury received this announcement was decidedly discouraging to the people's representative. It ai>peared, however, that this version of the case rested on the attorney'sunsupport< 1 statement. There were 110 witnesses ' ? the highly ingenious and thrilling assassination of Captain Foraker which he proceeded to set forth in detail. When he attempted to offer in evidence the U -timony of the sergeant of Foraker's men as to what Lemuel Wickson had told him of the affair through the windows of the jail, Judge Natchez promptly objected. In the language of the prisoner's counsel, "Whereas Lem Wickson was deceased, contrary to h*? own expectation, this fairy tale of thet thar boss thief was no antemortein statement." Sheriff Mosely was now swon and testified that at the time of tl.e affray between Foraker and the prisoner Wickson was in close custody and some three miles from both parties. "Pr'aps, boys," said Ike, winking craftily at certain of his fellow townsmen ranged on the jury benches, "yoir 11 It t thet pettyfoggin old skeesicks delude you into the idee that Lem hed ti e sight of a y exican buzzard and could spot the huh situation from thet thar distance!" But here Judge Pemberton, whose judicial conscience was now thoroughly aroused, asked the sheriff on which si<'? of the case he was retained and called hinl sternly to order. Ike gravely descended from the stand after assuring the jury that he was on the same side rs his honor and all lovers of law and jus nee. It was then developed that all the evidence in the case rested upon the unsupported statement of Henry Bruce, who was sworn in his own defense. He was asked to give an account of the killing, which he did in a few direct and simple words. The sincerity of his manner,'the dignity of his bearing and the quiit manliness of Bruce in his trying position had its weight with his judges. But there was one fact which more than anything else compelled the reverence of this Lone Star tribunal. It was this?that the man who stood before them on trial for his life had been able to disarm an outlaw in the act of brandishing a Smith & Wesson 6-shooter at full cock! It may be doubted whether, in view of the recent adjournment, certain of the jury were not in doubt as to whether the accuracy of this statement was not the real cause a? issue. At any rate the foreman permitted his features to relax in smiling scrutiny of the prisoner during the taking of his testimony. Nevertheless it was with anxiety in his face and manner that Mr. Buck Jerrold approached Sheriff Mosely when the court took a recess for dinner. "What's up?" inquired Ike, noting his companion's expression. "I reckon the prevailin opinion is favorable. Buck," he continued, glancing in at the 0]>en door of the tent where the arbiters of the fate of Henry Bruce were serenely discussing their noonday meal. "Thet's jest it!" replied Mr. Jerrold. "The opinion is favorable now, Ike, but 6ence you've got that jury quarantined how long is it goin to last? You must keep'em up to it! If I could only contrive to reach 'em with this universal pannyseer that makes'em so charitably disposed, well and good. I know the town, ye see, and it's gin'ral sentiments. When the reaction sets in. there's no holdin 'em." The gloom of Mr. Jerrold's manner gave the sheriff a sense of conviction. He became thoughtful at once. Suddenly his eye brightened. He drew himself up to the height of his small figure and brought his right hand down with a vigorous slap upon the shoulder of Buck Jerrold. it seemed that all the nervous mergy of t.N nature was concentrated In the two words he whispered: "Iced tea!" Closing one eye gravely uj>on tho recipient of his information, he returned to an apparently watchful scrutiny of the twelve occupants of the hoarding tent. In a surprisingly short space of time a beverage proffered under the above title and bearing a strong resemblance in color at least to that familiar metropo.itan drink began to circulate about the deal board and achieved instant popularity. When the jury left the socicl board it was with no perceptible lowering of mean or manner, and it was even remarked that the easy roll affected by some of them was more in keeping with the locomotion of the jolly jack tar than the dilatory step which usually distinguishes the Texan. I pass over the able and eloquent charge delivered by Judge Pemberton as not strictly necessary here. Enough that his honor's exposition of the law was made with the assistance of certain notes and hieroglyphics, recorded with a piece of chalk on a pine shingle during the progress of the trial. Enough that he emphasized his points by curch s>!v tapping the bench with the handle of a colt's 6-shooter, which he had recently taken from his belt to servo the purpose of the customary gavel. Enough that when he defined the law in accordance with a certain state of facts lie 6taked his legal reputation and a casual $00 on the strength of his position. Judge Pemberton did not direct a verdict. though requested so to do by both Judge Natchez and Colonel Furey, notwithstanding the fact that this was a criminal action. It was apparent tin t his honor desired to bo just. It wasoi y when he dropped the suggestion that ! "frontier captains lied been givin too much lately to runnin towns in Texa>" that he was supposed to betray his own personal convictions. But he retrieved this false step by an appeal for justice that electrified the courtroom. Amid a breathless silence the jury left the benches and repaired to the neigh boring stable to deliberate upon their verdict. ; In the little courtroom Judge Pembertou relaxed his dignity. He lighted a black clay pipe, tilted his chair back, j and stacking both his cowhide boots on j a dilapidated lawbook clasped his hands | behind Lis head in dreamy contemplation of the moldy ceiling. The prisoner . and his counsel conversed in low tones. A sudden nasal murmur shook the court! room. The avenging spirit of Justice i was beginning to nod. There was a quick shuffling of feet at the doorway and a hurried rush for the ; courtroom. The jury filed solemnly back. The prosecuting attorney entered hastily among the thronging citizens, suspiciously wiping his lips with his red bandanna Judge Pemberton awoke with a prni longed snore, and grasping his G-shooter immediately rapped for silence, unfor tunately in sleepy criticism of his owi nasal efforts, Staggering hurriedly to his feet, he adjusted his glasses and frowned severely upon the serene and complacent ! 12. "Boys," said his honor gravely, "hev you agreed upon your vardict?" "I reckon so, jedge," replied the foreman, with a broad grin. "How say you? Is the prisoner guilty?" "Guilty?" returned the foreman witli an incredulous sniff?"not much!" j "Ouiltyf returned the hirnntin icith tin incredulous sniff?"nut in nt h!" "How hev you found, then?" inquired his honor. i "Waal, jedge," the foreman responded ! familiarly, while he leaned unsteadily on the legal table and comprehended the [ entire assemblage in a single philanthropic smile, "ye see, it's about like ) this. We've sized the sitooation up an ' been over the whole bizness. Here's tb? diseased knows how peart the prisoner is with a G-shootcr, and thet it's voluntary I euicide to go ag'in biin; Qccordin'lv he gits bilin full and allows to lay him out; natch'ally diseased goes under, and we finds prisoner not guilty, owin to contribetary negligence on the part of diseased." CHAPTER XV. It was a joyful return to the Mesquite { alley ranch. Difficult indeed would , it be to exaggerate the enthusiastic weli corae of the impulsive Kate; the overjoyed though restrained greeting of the more conservative Edith, for in the brief interval of Ins absence Miss Stafford had passed some very lonely hours and had i found time to realize how much the presence of Bruce had grown to be to her. If she had reflected with bitterness upon the change of his attitude toward her, if she had found the contrast between Miss Dallas and herself so overi whelming that she almost pitied Bruce | for the blindness of his own vision, thero I was nothing strange or unfeminino in all I this. Indeed, considering the tender regard the lady entertained for the ranchman, I it was quite natural that she should l o convinced that she was the ono perse 11 in the wide world to make him happy. Quite as natural was it that sho should see nothing but misery for him in indulging this unexplainable regard f<>r j Miss Dallas, that she should believe Bruce to be the victim of some species of enchantment, and that the prestige of her own birth and position should inspire I her with little but aversion and contempt for her rival, j Actuated by these feelings, the fair } Edith during tho first hours of his return laid aside the pique that sho had shown of late and displayed an arch and playful manner that Bruce had once found irresistible. It was tho old Edith, whose nameless grace and charm had I once well nigh betrayed him into a declaration. For a time he appeared like 1 one fascinated by a memory of the past, and Edith was about to congratulate herself upon tho return of her influence when one morning she beheld him saddle his horse and ride away without taking leave of her as of old. It was three days before he again api>eured at the Mesquite valley ranch. Miss Stafford needed no prompting as to the nature of his journey. Tho direc, tiou in which his horse had been head< d settled that. But she was grieved and indignant. Without stopping to trace the steps by which sho arrived at this conclusion, she felt herself terribly outraced and wronired. She was vindictive ! in consequence. Howbeit, sho resolved to make one more determined effort tc regain her ascendency. Sho would il possible-remove Bruce from the influence of this rural siren who was fast teaching him to forget the requirements of his rank of life. If in the interval Cynthia, finding herself abandoned, should decide to cro\yn the hopes of one so suitable as the gloomy Mr. Jerrold, Miss Stafford would renew her childish belief that "all marriages were made in heaven." In this struit she appealed to Kernechan to fulfill a promise, given long before, to take them on a fortnight's trip to Austin, the capital of the state. She reminded him that her visit was drawing to a close, and that the time was short in which to keep his word. Iler indulgent host readily acquiesced. When this trip had been decided upon. Phil Kernochan proposed that the four should ride over to San Marcus on horseback, it bei"g necessary that ho and his partner should arrange some business matters bifore their departure. The proposal wax received with favor. Before setting out Miss Stafford re; paired to her room, where she arrayed i herself in the faultless riding dress with which sho had once electrified Miss Dal i las. As sho peered into her toilet mirror there was a grim resolve about the lines ' of her mouth from which her quick witted sex might have argued no quarter to a rival. And it was noticeable that the few additional hairpins with which the lady found it necessary to secure 1i<t raven tresses were placed in position almost fiercely?very much as Miss Edith miirht have used a harpoon upon some creature that had excited her resentment. When her toilet was completed, she surveyed herself from head to foot critically. hut with evident approval, after which she opened a small jewel casket and taking from an inner recess a ring she slipped it hurriedly upon the third finger of her left hand. It was a soli tain* ' diamond, largo and brilliant, and she passed her small handkerchief across it once or twice, catching the morningsunlight on the flashing jewel and noting how it graced her dimpled hand. lint , there was an expression in the lady's dark eyes that was hardly reassuring. The ring was a mere memory with Edith?a souvenir of an attachment from which the sentiment had long since faded?a relic of an almost forgotten past. Howbeit, although sh" usually wore no rings, she permitted it "to remain upon her linger that morning, and drawing her riding glove quickly over the gem she joined the mounted party at the ranch gate, where the impatient Phil was calling loudly upon the hulii ; to hurry. After dinner that afternoon, when Kernochan and Bruce had left them t ' transact tlie inevitable business, an Kate, weary with the morning's ride, ha insisted on taking a siesta in spite of th stuffy atmosphere of the Han Murcn hotel. Editli was dominated by a sudde energy. She leaned against a window c the dreary parlor aiul gazed down th dusty road toward the green foliage fi the river. How cool it looked then And what a short distance away! Wha was to prevent her going there if sh would? She answered this question b ordering the sleepy proprietor to hav her pony saddled and brought to th front gallery at once. Having succeeded in gaining the sail die unassisted, with an ease and das that left that worthy speechless air staring, Miss Stafford rode quietly on of town. When she reached the river, sh did not stop, but guiding her inustan skillfully across the shallow ford sli turned in the shade of the trees upon th opposite bank, taking the direction o the Dallas ranch. She knew its genera position from a remark of Bruce durin; ;lio week of the San Marcus ball. Sli did not think the distance great. Hardl "1 _t. IlilU M1U WLKl'll LIlu iiiui luau miw on encountered Back Jerrold, riding alon listless and dejected upoy the gaun Buckshot. The man raised his serious face an saluted her gravely. Edith drew reii: Just now this meeting was most oppoi tune. Did Mr. Jerrold know the dif tance to the Dallas ranch, and would h direct her to it? Buck stared, gftve th information in the usual blind souther fashion, but did not volunteer any pei i sonal guidanco. Edith, moreover, di 1 not request it. But was Miss Cynthia a home? Mr. Jerrold stared again an reckoned she was. Miss Stafford thanke him and dashed away in the directio indicated, leaving the cowman gazin ; solemnly after her. But as she rod Edith reflected upon his gloomy bearin and was not without feeling that sh was acting very generously toward hir in the utterly selfish purpose ahe had i mind. Cynthia was in her bower, whither c late she had been much given to repaii ing. She was lying in her hammocl swinging listlessly to and fro, her hal closed eyes dreamily regarding the eve swaying curtain of green above he head. She was happy?happier than she ha ever felt or known before. Ho wassaf< He had returned. She was contenl And yet in the restful quiet of the littl wood Cynthia could not but feel a pan of pity for the man who had just lei her with no hope in his eyes, to who. /..-wwlii/tf rminli nf t.lin nrpipri ^U11C1VU>7 VWUUUUV V* VMW J'. ?>ww.. joy she felt was due. i Tliere was the sound of a footste without, and the girl sprang to her fi< with u sudden flush. She put both hand to her head as if to effaco ar.y disordf of her tresses duo to her pre vious at. tude. A broad shaft of sunlight slippiii through the branches overhcud steepe i in glowing warmth her picturesque fac and figure. A moment of expectation, and Mis Stafford, cool, erect and fastidious, hok ing her immaculate skirts in the glove \ fingers of her right hand, stepped withii I As she did so she toyed carelessly wit the riding whip held in her left an I gazed curiously about her. Their eye met. Miss Stafford bent her head coldl ! and permitted Cynthia the slightest ii clination of her arched eyebrows. Tli ; recognition of Miss Dallas was equall I cordial. An embarrassing pause followed tlies j civilities. Edith was the first to break i "I suppose you are surprised to see in | here," she begap, with more embarrass inent of manner than she had decinc possible. She glanced down at the whi ! she held lightly between her gloved fii : gers. Cynthia remained quiet. "The fact is. Miss Dallas," Edith r< j commenced, the hesitation ol' her mat ner lending an apparent sinceriry to he words, "thp fact is, I am going awa very soon, but I felt I could not do without thanking you for your kindne1 j to me in being so good to Mr. Bruce." j Cynthia raised her eyebrows an stared blankly at Edith, turning In head a little one side, very much as bird will when doubtful if it has hear i aright. She grew a shade paler, but ri j plied that sho was gratified if anythin she had done had found favor with Mis ; Stafford. If look and manner, howevei I counted for anything, it was quite ev : dent that the temperature of Cynthia gratification was indefinitely below zer< | "I mean by your riding over to his ai | sistance in the reckless fashion you did, Miss Stafford continued. "It was reall : quite romantic and kind of you, yo 1 know?quite what one reads about, an i I wanted to?to thank you. I told Mi ' Bruce so. I know he feels much as I do. I There was a very perceptible chang in Cynthia's manner while listening t J this ingenuous statement. Apparentl 1 -? 1 xra I bill) gruw at'? n ui nitim iuuvi uuvm mi; I Stafford's patronage. Her lip curled pel ! ceptibly, and her eyes flashed as she in plied very decidedly that she was quit j aware what Mr. Bruce thought about i "Very possibly," Miss Stafford asson ed quietly, "but 1 was only felling yo ! what he said to me. I am going awui you know?we are both going away. Miss Stafford emphasized tho "both, i "I thought you ought to know how w j felt in the matter." Tho ominous plural fell like a kne upon Cynthia. She felt her breath gro' quick and short, and a sudden fnintne; seized her. But she did not change hi attitude. She remained gazing steai fastly up into the beautiful face bcfc* , her. There was disdain in the brow eyes, and she felt it. "And so you turned yourself iut Henry Bruee's errand boy to let m know," she replied calmly. "Well, nov thet's kind of you, I'm sure; you reel oned I was just natch'ully lyin awak nights to get your approval, and yo couldn't rest until you took this way c showin it. P'raps you'll be williti t say, Miss Stafford, how long you've bee carryin his messages and runnin his ei j rands?" She threw back her head and laughe merrily as she said this?a laugh so mi sieal and clear that it seemed to rippl ' upward from tho Aery heart of joj Miss Stafford blushed crimson beneat her merriment. It steeled her to adhei to her original purpose. With a sudde gesture she stripped off the glove upo her left hand. The glittering facets of tli diamond sho woro flashed in the broa 1 shaft of sun1 earns that cleft the bower. "Do you see that ring?" she demumlc coldly, suffering the fascinated eyes i the girl to rest a moment upon the spa: kling gem. "Perhaps that will explai , my interest in the welfare oT Mr. Bruce. She turned quickly, flashed one bra glance of triumph upon Cynthia froi beneath her supercilious lashes an swept haughtily out of the bower. Cyi thia was alone with tho agony of tl: i sudden revelation. She put one hand to her head in a ha dazed way, as if she felt a sudden pai there. The ground seemed slipping awa beneath her feet; the horizon whirle around her. She felt in one brief instai as if the sunlight had gone from tli ?artli, the vivid blue from the sky, an the next she was lying prone upon tli .uosses at her feet, weighed down by tli gray, despairing munotono that seeme suddenly to possess all things. Sh pressed her hands over her eyes, buryin her face deep down in the soft lichei: as if to shut out of sight tlie drcadfr reality which suddenly confronted hei Then a quick tremor shook her, and sli was crying as if her heart would break And so lie was really engaged to Mis Stafford. That was the end then. Th: limn whom she had so trusted and b< licved had been playing a double pni with her and had called her out of th ignorant content of her early life, onl to crush her with the new joy he ha awakened. Oh, the pity of it! And sli had shown she loved him so! Overconi by the bitterness of this reflection, sli sank down again and lay there pale an ' wretched, twining her fingers listlessl il I in the soft mosses, her eyes fixed on vail | cancy and oblivions of all else save this v one mortifying, agonizing fact, s Tlio moments went slowly by. The 11 shadows shifted on the pine strewn floor, if High overhead a squirrel that had e marked her grief dropped a cone down if upon her as if in protest. A motionless ! red lizard, that at first seemed to symt pathize with her, leered at her from an e j adjacent stone and was growing visibly y ! hysterical. And then this irony of nae turo was dispelled by a footstep that e came quickly into the ^bower. The squirrel flashed suddenly (ground a limb, 1- and the lizard rustled off into the thickli i et. Cynthia raised her eyes. Henry Il Bruce was standing over uer, regarding t her with a curious, questioning glance, e j She gave him no word or sign of recogg nition. The one brief glance with which f she swept his face had in it the scorn e and contempt of the injured woman, f She sprang to her feet, dashing away .1 ! from her with a passionate gesture the g hand he had extended to her aid. Turne | ing her back upon him, she sought the y farthest corner of the bower, e | Bruce was astounded at this reception, g ' He took a step or two toward her and t attempted to take her hands in his. She ! whipped them indi^a^py behind her d and faced him with flashing eyes. In" t. his ignorance of what had passed the > ! young ranchman cast about himt for !- some act of his tlmt-could have caused o j this sudden anger. e "Cynthia," he said, breaking the sin lence, "what is the meaning of this? J am going away on a brief trip to Austin, d I have come to bid you goodby. Have t ! you no word to say to me?" e Bruce took a step nearer to her. lt I She waved him away with an iniperi1 ous gesture. T) | "There is no need of it," she said. "I \ have received your goodbys already ironi Is i her!" r ' Bruce stared. He pave a surprised j. glance about him. Lying at his fret ,, j among the pine needles was a dainty j | glove of undressed kid. He recognised e it instantly as belonging to Edith. In1 voluntarily he stooped and picked up the j perfumed trifle. It was redolent of its . ! owner. He turned with a look#)f inquiry to Cynthia. "Has Miss Stafford been here?" he !' J asked almost sternly. He was hardly ' , prepared for the icy brevity of her reply. d ! "Yes." !3 ! "And she told you I was going away?" ^ j "She said you were both going," said l* j Cynthia simply. The words seemed to 10 choke her, but she recovered herself with y an'effort. "She showed me the ring that you gave her and said she wished to 1? thank me for my kindness to you." In spite of herself the tears started to 10 the girl's beautiful eyes. An angry flush 3~ ' came suddenly-over the face of Bruce, i "It is strange that r.s one personally j interested I learn of this now for the | first," lie said dryly. "Am I to under: 6tand that Miss Stafford told you I gave 3* : her a ring?" '* I "She gave me to understand that she I was engaged to you," said Cynthia * i quickly, looking him straight in the '? j eyes. "H i Bruce took a step nearer to her. . i "It is false!" he said, with white lips. c | A sudden revulsion of feeling crimson!r , ed Cynthia's face and neck. She regard, ; ed him earnestly. 1 | "False?" she whispered. ; Bruce took the little brown hands in ? < his and looked down into her face. '9 j "False!" he said. "Don't you know, r.' ! darling, there is but one girl in the wide J" ! world I would be willing to make my 3 j wife?" She looked up at him shyly x ' through the tears of a moment before. "Who is thet?" she said. ' | "Cynthia Dallas!" y THE END. U Prices of Wild llciihts. | There is as much fashion in wild ani>0 : mals as there is in ladies' dresses. Prices !q j aro also rising and falling, according as i the market supply is high or low. A full ;9 ! grown hippopotamus is now worth ' I $5,000. A two horned rhinoceros, which x_ j was worth $0,000 in 1883, cannot now be 0 obtained at any price. Elephants vary, t according to size and training, from [/ $1,250 to $2,500. A good forest bred u lion, full grown, will fetch from $750 to . j $1,000, according to species. Tigers run ! from $.500 to $750, according to their va. j riety. 0 i There are five varieties of royal tigers besides the tigers which come from Java, jj Sumatra, Penang and even from the v ; wastes of Siberia. Snakes are very much .s ; down in the market at present. Those ,r which formerly fetched $25 or $50 you j. can now get for $10. Very large ones ,e sometimes run up to $250; leopards, ? $150; black panthers, $200 to$300; striped and spotted panthers. $125. A good polar 0 bear will fetch from $150 to $200; brown 0 bears, ?10 to $.">0; black American bears, , $50 to $100. Monkeys run from $1.50 J apiece. They are most expensive in the 0 spring, when they will sometimes fetch u ; as much as $6.50. Giraffes are altogeth,f er out of the market, but four years ago 0 I they could be bought for $6,000.?Mcn Clure's Magazine. I'* i The Passing Away ?r tlio Cowboy. ,1 The rapid decline of the range business of Wyoming began six years ago. Be|e fore that it had been of a character to tempt even the rich. At one time men ], paid 2 per cent a month for money and e made 100 per cent profits a year. That ? ! was when cows came up from Texas at ? a cost of $7 cuch, sold in two years for 10 ! $22 and in three years for $40 and more, j when tho ranges were not overstocked, the pasturage was good, and all the con(] ditions, including "boom" prices at tho ,f stockyards, were favorable. The men r. who did the best pushed into new terriu tory as fast as the Indians were crowded off and kept linding new grass and .f plenty of it. But the risks soon carno ,, and multiplied. If one man was careful ,1 not to overstock a range, he could not be sure that another cow outfit would lt, not do so precisely where he had put his cattle. Prices fell, fences cut up the If ranges and shut off tho water, winter losses became heavier and heavier, and y tho "good old days" of this inhuman, 11 devil-may-care, primitivo and clumsy [t business came to an end.?Harper's. 10 An Kstiinatu on 1*111 Taking. l0 Tho Chemist and Druggist recently l(, asked its subscribers throughout tho (] , United Kingdom to supply it with ostiie mates of the number of pills consumed ,r in tho kingdom daily. The estimates (g were bused upon the actual daily sales jj by the correspondents of ordinary pills, r prescription pills and pills which are pate ent medicines. The average of these estimates, which were received from all ;g parts of the kingdom, shows that the exis traordinary number of 5,643,'JGl pills is computed to be the daily consumption, .t This would give one pill per week to lG every man, woman and child in the kingv dom, and a little calculation shows that (j taking the average pill to weigh three l0 grains a year's supply for the United e Kingdom would weigh not less than 178 e tons, or sufficient to fill 80 ordinary ruil,1 ' way wagons, thus making a trainload y 1 requiring two powerful engines to pull it. MONEY AND RELIGION REV. THOMAS DIXON'STHIRD SERMOI ON THE SUBJECT. Illack Friday Was and the Present funic I (lie Penult of Violating God's licvcale I .aw at to Trade?Can a Christian Sue ceed In Wall Street? Cape Chaiu.es. Va., July 16.?Rev Thomas Dixon, Jr., preached the thin Bermon in the series on "The Questioi of Money and the Gospel of Christ" ii the Methodist church on Cobb's islam today. The text chosen was, "The star in their courses fought against Sisera (Judges v, 20). I In no way does money show its tre mendous power so clearly as in the wan of it. Man never fully realizes the powe of money until he is absolutely withou it. It is this shadow that oppresses i: these days our own great nation. It i the shadow of the panic. It is the ghos i of the commercial world that foreve haunts even the prosperous. It is th skeleton in the closet of the nation whoa treasury groans with countless inilliont Tho darkest days of the history ?f ou nation have not been the days or wai of great storm or of flood or of fiJminc They have been days of money panic They have been days in which thousand hr.ng breathless over the brink of ruin tuid bound up with them were counties 1 other thousands whose lives were in volved. The days of our real trial are thes days when the black shadows hang ove the money markets of our great cities when cunning fiends lurk in every dar corner ready to spring upon the throa of the helpless and kill and destroy with out mercy. This is speaking on a larg scale of the problem which confronts th poor in their daily life. Wall street i: | New York and State street in Bosto and the centers of commerce in ourgrea western cities have their Black Fridays but they come on rare occasions and a long intervals, and it is a blessed relie to the world that they do come thu i rarely. But it is a sad fact that Blac j Friday is a day with which the grea I masses of our people are only too f.i j miliar. One of the direst curses of our age i the want of money. I mean want, do not mean a respectable poverty, mean a want that cuts. One of the chie Ao??? nf tho nnvortv nf nnr ntr& ir nil vauuvo VA ttiu I/V I v* V . W* w?.? ?_v .... questionably found in tho results of th j day of darkness and panic in the finar , cial world. This black Friday is not thing that comes by chance. It is th evidence of a vital disease?a disease thii strikes to the very heart of the bod politic. Tho old prophet told us tho the stars in their courses fought agains i Sisera. Sisera was the captain of th hosts of .Jabin, the oppressor of Israe! ; He encamped in the plains with his mag nificent army, preparing to make hi | final assault. But tho river rose an overwhelmed his chariots, and a woina slew Sisera, driving a nail through hi sleeping head. The river did the worki that is to say, the prophet ^ould teac ; us that the forces of nature are in leagu | with the eternal principles of truth an righteousness, and together they ar working out the salvation of tho world. Evil by its own nature exhausts an ; destroys itself. Good increases and mus ; ultimately triumph. Its principle i | germinal. Individuals, principles, syi terns that clash with truth and riglil : have gone down and must continue to g l down. Let us lift high above our head { as a gleaming lantern these facts an explore the depths of this Black Frida j of poverty, and we will find both th cause of our failures and the promise c ! something better. We touch the heart of this difficult : when wo ask the question, Can a tru | Christian, as a Christian, be a suceessfn business man of today? If not, then w i will find in the clash of the principles c i the modern commercial world wit ' Christianity the true cause for the day ; of commercial darkness. To get at th truth of the matter we must have a basi of comparison. Wo ask therefore: First?What is it to be a true Chris tian? | Christianity means sacrifice. If yo would understand a principle of Chris tianity, you must look to tho life c Christ in the concrete. His life wo thrown away. It was lost. It was dismal failure. Ho was a despised ma : of a despised nation. He neither sough or gained professional influence. H antagonized the powers that were estat j lished. He failed to organizo his follou ers into a compact machine. The con: mon people heard him gladly, and yet h did not seek to utilize his power ove them for his self aggrandizement. The I pressed about him at tho gates of th | city. They tore off the roofs of house even that they might place their sick b( ! fore him. Ho fed them when they wer hungry, and yet he so conducted hirnsel that at the last they deserted him an cried, "Crucify him!" Ho laid up n money on the earth. He had no home He exercised no immediate influence o: j literature. He formulated no system c philosophy. Ho did not writo a book He founded no family to perpetuate hi authority or his name. He died a pre | mature and ignominious death. He Ii1 j erally threw his life away. He lost it. There wero no great men to attend hi i funeral. His very tomb was the loan c | charity. Yet, thougn ins a oat 11 was 11c mourned by the groat of earth, the sui veiled his faco in tears and nature wep at his tomb. He died in ignominy, am yet his legacy is glory. He founded 11 family, and yet his name is the corner j Btone of tho family. Literature am philosophy he did not seek?they are al I his today. The common people desertei ! him, and lie is lifting the common peopl from the depths to the heights, and nov the eyes of humanity aro 011 the under world because they are guided by th finger of the Christ. Ho sought 110 1 wealth, but kings and princes are bap ! tized in his name and count it honor. H threw his life away; but, marvelous t tell, it was thrown away as the seed i thrown into the earth. Tho next question which natural! must bo answered before wo attain th truth is: Second?What is a successful busines man of today? I The successful business man of toda; has practically one principle. It is th beginning of his political economy; it i tho end of his religion. It may b summed up in one sentence: Look Of ! Fon No. 1! The science of politico economy is the science of accumulate money and accumulating it by all haz I ards and by all methods. It is based 01 pure competition* it is based upon war Tho law of war is the triumph of th I strongest measured by brute power Toss up a penny in a crowd of boys, am I they scramble for the money. Th strongest, most brutal, is surest of sue CGSS. HC WI1IWU Iliuuiuun aiu mn ?v.. .. I pulous is the victim. This is the esscnc of the moderate commercial system. W fight one another. Our merchants en each other's throats. Not only do mei chants cut each other's throats, hut me: of different industries war one with an other. We have a beautiful theory tha things will regulate themselves; tha open and free competition is sure to b j the salvation of the world. And ye financial panics, glutted markets, ar the daily incidents of the history of ou civilization. Somehow our free, regi: j lative theory has not worked and doe not work. And our political economist bravely inform us that the hope of tli world is in war aiul pestilence. And w have been taught by men who claim t be rational that a pestilence that wi remove millions of human beings will 1j a good to the world in lessening the nun i ber of people to be fed; that war is bent ficial in furnishing us a market in certni commodities and in destroying the ct j pacity of the race to propagate itself an use food. J Our regulative theories are beautiful, \ ' and yet the results are trusts and com- ' Inflations, which are the negation of the \j whole theory. Our system of competition is beauti- . fill as u theory, and yet the system must answer for cheatfhg and lying and ? swindling and stealing and crime and a intemperance and suicide and despair. .. These are its necessary, its inevitable, accompaniments. , | When business success is to be achieved j j by chicanery, by lying, it becomes the n business of the head of the firm to bejj come an expert swindler, a scientific liar, and to train all his subordinates in g the art of lying. This is one of the first > . principles of instruction practiced in some of our great commercial establishments. The clerk who is advanced is a the mun who can tell the biggest lie r with the straightest face and drive the t hardest bargain with a customer. The tl fundamental mottoes of such a system g are a mass of colossal lies. To declare that life is measured by dollars and cents r is to stultify the very fundamentals of 0 real life. A thief only believes that life 0 is measured by dollars and cents, and 1 the business man who seeks to attain j dollars and cents of themselves, for them. j selves, and to estimate them as valuable by the figures on their face, has placed himself unconsciously on the platform of j the thief. f ( Money, to be of any real value and to g touch the realm of real wealth, must be righteously obtained. The richest and best things in life are those that do not pay in dollars and cents. Love and nobility and honor and generosity do not j pay in dollars and cents; therefore they / have no part in the science of modern j j. commerce. The life of a Stanley who ( explores the darknes3 of the world by this standard is a failure. The life of a Washington who would suffer in hunger and cold is necessarily a failure judged by such standards. t Such is the contrast between a success' ful Christianity and successful business j today. There cannot be a moment's ^ questioning of the fact that the business of today is in conflict with eternal truth ^ and righteousness. So much the worse for business. The stars in their courses fought against Sisera. The forces of nature are in league with the eternal forces of truth J ' and right. The business which violates : the fundamentals of right in the process : of its development must have of necessity its Black Fridays, and the Black '* , Fridays are the necessary developments 6 of the clash with righteousness. These l" days of panic are the natural result of a long continued violations of justice. If * they did not come, law would cease to be law, and chaos would reign. The fact ' i that they come is an indication tnat mere j is a God of right and truth who is guidj ing above all the scenes of conflict and I confusion. The man who violates truth ' ' and justice has thrown his puny body I against the very stars of heaven. He ? has thrown his prostrate form before ' God's great wheel of the universe, and . ho will be ground to powder. Tlie nation 9 that violates fundamental right must 7 suffer, and suffer in the very ways in 1 which it has wrought the violation. The Christian way of trade may not i be an easy way; it is certainly not a pop0 ; ular way today; it never has been. But . I Christianity is the mightiest power on ! earth today. It is the one power that 1 i dominates politics, trade, nations. It is 19 I the power that through the ages has : righted a thousand wrongs that seemed ' I beyond remedy. Kingdoms, empires, so| cieties?apparently invincible?have per? i ished at its touch. We stand upon the ( ! pinnacle of the nineteenth century and ^ ! look back with increasing amazement at ^ this procession of dead societies and dead 1 ; peoples and dead nations who have died because they clashed with the eternal ' forces of truth and of righteousness. At times we have an apparent triumph " j of wrong. It is only apparent. It is but ? | the beginning of the end. Men have dei i clared that it is impossible to exist in 1 the business world and live on Christian s principles. Men have declared that all 0 men are liars in the business world. A 9 man said to me a short time ago that all i business men are chronic and incurable j liars. He spoke from the point of view of the money market and the money u broker. He declared that men would '* take advantage of one another whenever they had the opportunity. He declared t 9 | that all of them would tell a lie to make a : money; that honor and truth are not n elements that are considered in the raod* j ern business world. e , Ihis assertion is entirely too broad >* i when our friend would declare ^jhat all r* men are liars. From this point of view l" it is true, but there is such a thing as 6 mirage. A man in the arctic seas looks r out over the water and sees a ship apy proach with her keel in the air. He can 6 see the officer in command; he can see 9 i the vessel as it tacks in its course. Ev!* erything is beyond question a living ree ality before him. And yet, as a matter ^ ! ?f fact, it is owing to a condition of at^ mosphere. It is not a reality on which 0 lie is gazing; it is an inverted picture of the real ship that is below the horizon in a the distance. So the vision of the modern ' j business man as to right and truth is often obscured, because he draws his 9 conclusion from what he sees in daily !* life about him, from what he touches. The way of Christianity is not the easiest way apparently, but it is the easiest 9 way in the long run. We suffer in pan' ics. We suffer in black poverty and despair and wretchedness and crime and 11 misery and intemperance, becuuse in our commercial world we violate the funda^ mental laws of truth and righteousness. 0 To get back to the right is to remedy *- I Kmvirr fhn nnmninrpifll WArld lllf U? II. X KJ Ml iilg iUV VVM..MW.M. " ? ^ iuto hannony with the principles of '* Christianity is at once the cure for the present disease and the guarantee that e the future will be bright, not dark. v' If it is said that a Christian with his '* ' impossible ideals cannot exist if he ate tempts to enforce them in the business t world, let the answer be unmistakable, that the business of the Christian is to 0 ' die, is to sacrifice. The block and the 0 stake and the rack and the thumbscrew s and the red hot plowshare?these have been his through the ages of the past. Y When Christians could not live, they 0 J died. They considered it their business to die. It is the Christian's business to9 day to die an much as it was in the apostolic age, in the age of the heroes and the Y martyrs. Every age must have its heroes 0 and its martyrs. There is a call today 9 for the Christian merchant who is will0 ing to die rather than to do wrong, as T there never was a call for the Christian " soldier to march into the valley of death P for the cause of Christian civilization. John Ruskin has most graphically and 11 powerfully expressed this truth in his great essay on "The Roots of Honor." 0 Ho shows that: The soldi--r's profession is to defend ^ the nation. 0 The pastor's to teach it. The physician's to keep it in health. '* The lawyer's to enforce justice. u The merchant's to provide for it. 0 And the duty of all these men is on due occasion to die for it. On due occasion?namely: 11 The soldier, rather than to leave his '* post in battle. The physician, rather than to leave 1 his post in plague. ' The pastor, rather than to teach f.ilse0 hood. The lawyer, rather than to countee I nance injustice. r The merchant?what is his due occa sion of death? Well does Ruskin say it d is the main question for the merchant as 3 for all of us, for truly the man who does 0 not know wlien to die does not know 0 how to live. The difficulty in our world 0 of commerce has been that men have not known how to die. They have fought 0 one another to the death. They have l" fought the wounded as well as the strong. '* They have fought one another instead of 11 fighting their common enemies?hunger l" and cold?and the forces of nature that I would destroy man. "He that would save ins me snail lose u is ine message | which Jesus brings to the world. It is the message which should be written in \ letters of fire across every Stock Exchange in the hour of its panic. Is it utterly impossible today to be a practical Christian and a successful business man? Is the basis of business antiChristian? So much the worse for business. We shall certainly not give up Christianity. We must simply recreate the business world and make it possible for a Christian to live in it. And until it is thus recreated the curse of God. the God of truth and righteousness, will wither and blast and strike with destruction. The God of the widow and of the orphan will have his days of reckoning. The God of the homeless and of the friendless and of the wretched and helpless will have his day of reckoning and of wrath. It must come because his laws ' have been violated in the courso of the daily life of our business world. The business that clashes with Christianity must go down. It clashes with the very stars of heaven. Hear the prophetic voice of John Rus- i kin again: "Any given accumulation of commercial wealth may lie indicative on the one liand of faithful industries, progressive 1 energies and productive ingenuities, or on the other it may be indicative of toorI tal luxury, merciless tyranny, ruinous ohicane. Some treasures are heavy with i human tears, as ill stored harvest with untimely rain, and some gold is brighter in sunshine than it is in substance, j "And these are not, observe, merely j moral or pathetic attributes of riches i which the seeker of riches may, if he J chooses, despise. They are literally and sternly material attributes of riches, depreciating and exalting incalculably the monetary signification of the sum in question. One mass of money is the outcome of action which lias created?another of action which has annihilated? i ten times as much in the gathering of it. I Such and such strong hands have been paralyzed, as if they had been numbed by 1 nightshade; so many strong men's courage broken; so many productive operaations hindered?this and the other false direction given to labor and lying image of prosperity set up on Dura plains dug into seven times heated furnaces. "That which seems to be wealth may in verity be only the gilded index of farreaching ruin; a wrecker's handful of coin gleaned from the beach to which he has beguiled an argosy; a camp fol" lower's bundle of rags unwrapped from | the breasts of goodly soldiers dead; the I purchaso pieces of potter's fields, where! in shall oe buried together the citizen and the Btrauger." A RAILWAY INCIDENT. While recently passing, says a writer i , in "Household Words," from Exeter to London, on the Great Western railway, I found the carriage I had selected for the trip occupied by a very interesting young lady and two talkable gentlemen. Of course we became rap- ; idly sociable. From generalities we j gradually came down to personalties, and amused each other with a variety J of incidents connected with our experience in rail traveling, many of which, as you may readily imagine, were singular enough. None, however, were more so than the following, naively told by the young lady : Although I am often compeled to | travel without a companion, yet I j have such a dislike to the company of , babies and sick folks that I never make 1 a journey in the ladies' carriage. Only ! once, however, have I suffered any in! convenience through my unprotected ! condition, and that exception occured very lately, and upon this very line. After I had taken my seat one morning at l'addington, in an empty carriage, I was joined, just as the train was movi ing off, by a strange-looking young man, with remarkably long, flowing hair. He was of course, a little flur| ried, but he seemed besides so disturbed and wild that I was quite alarmed for fear of his not being in his right mind, nor did his subsequent conduct reasI sure me. Our train was an express,and he inquired, eagerly, at once, which was the first station whereat Ave Avere advertised to stop. I consulted my BradshaAv, and furnished him with I the required information. It Avas Reading. The young man looked at his watch. "Madam," says he, "I have but half an hour betAveen me and it may be ruin. Excuse my abruptness. You have, I perceive, a pair of scissors in ! your Avork-bag. Oblige me, if you j ! please, by cutting off ull my hair." i "Impossible;" said I, "it is imposn- j ble." "Madam," he urged, and a look of ! severe determination crossed his feat- j I ures, "I am a desperate man. Beware hoAV you refuse Avhat I ask. Cut ray I hair off short; close to the roots; im- i mediately ; and here is a newspaper to hold the ambrosial curls." I thought he Avas mad, of course, and believing it would be dangerous to thwart him, I cut off all his hair to the last lock. "Now, madam," said he, unlocking a small portmanteau, "you Avill further oblige me by looking out of the window, as I am about to change my j clothes." I Of course I looked out of the window , | for a considerable time, and when he observed, ;(Mudam, I need no longer put you to any inconvenience," I did not recognize the young man in the least. Instead of the former rather gay costume, he was attired in black, and wore a gray wig and silver spectacles, j He looked like a respectable divine of tbe Church of England, of about sixtyfour years of age. To complete that character, he held a volume of sermons in his hand, which (they appeared to so absorb him) might have been his own. "I do not wish to threaten you, my young lady," he resumed, "and I think, besides, that I can trust your kind ! face. Will you promise me not to reveal this metamorphosis until your journey's end ?" "I will," said I, "certainly." At Reading the guard and a person in plain clothes looked into the car- i riage. "You have the ticket, my love?" said the young man, blandly, and looking as though he was my father. "Never mind, sir, we don't want that," said the official, as he withdrew with his companion. "I shall now leave you, madam," observed my fellow-traveler, as soon as the coast was clear; "by your very kind conduct you have saved my life, and perhaps even your own." In another minute he was gone, and the train was in motion. Not until the next morning did I learn, from The Times, that the gentleman on whom I j had operated as hair-cutter had com- ! mitted a forgery to an enormous j amount in London, a few hours before I met him, and that he had been tracked into the express train at l'addington : but that, although the telegraph had been put in motion and described him accurately, at Reading, where the : car in which he was was searched, he j was nowhere to be found. fifciy From the time he was a young man George IV constantly carried a pocketbook, into which he thrust 1 bank notes, letters, trinkets and keepsakes. As soon as the pocketbook became full he used to put it away and substitute for it a new one. This when filled was laid aside and replaced ! in like manuer. When the king died it devolved on the Duke of Wellington j to examine the monarch's effects, and he discovered an entire chest of drawj ers filled with fat pocketbooks which contained not less than fifty thousand j i dollars. KEV. THUS. D1AUIN. Jit. THE YOUNG PREACHER WHO IS AT PRESENT THRILLING NEW YORK. A Newspaper Man's First and Subsequent Impressions of Ills Virile Personality. The Simple Story of Ills I.lfe?Promise of a Brilliant Future. The following entertaining sketch of the personality of Rev. Thomas Dixon, Jr., the popular New York preacher whose sermons are now regularly reported for these columns each week, is furnished by a well known newspaper writer: The first time I heard the Rev. Thomas Dixon, Jr., preach ho was a stranger to me. I had hardly heard of him, although ho had already stirred the sur-. face of metropolitan orthodoxy. It was Sunday evening. I found the large hall, with its old fashioned gallery, choked with the congregation that had outgrown its church edifice proper and taken refuge here. After the preliminary musical services a young man came down to tho front of the platform and made an extemporaneous prayer and read a portion of the Scriptures from a small Bible which he held in. his hand. In the view which I had of him he appeared to bo 0 feet 3 in stature and almost weirdly gaunt. He did not stand erect in the parade sense, and his long limbs betokened an enormous sinewy power rather than grace or symmetry. His dark, spare, close shaven face, his plentiful coal black hair carelessly pushed backward from his temples, his strong, almost cadaverous jaw and his black,.deep set and scintillanteves made up a personality that arrested my interest at once. It was a type of man especially forged for hard, earnest, fearless work in some direction. Ho spoke with authority, as if he had "been commissioned, modestly withal and tenderly. Tho great congregation hung upon his words intently. * With marvelous clearness he developed his subject, sever resorting to involved phrases or abstract reasoning, but making a clear cut, concrete picture. Now and then he flamed up as a thought took possession of him or an illustration seized him. At such moments his strong face lit up, his voice rang out clear and resonant, and he seemed to sway his congregation by the magnetism of sheer oratory. At other times he dropped to the colloquial manner and carried on a conversation with his people. There was no clerical isolation or ministerial cloudiness here. His listeners kept step with him. He not only spoke with intellectual authority, but with an ineffable fellowship. He had both thought and felt out his subject matter, but he meekly relied on something other than himself. It was the broad, compelling recognition of the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man, the ever present coercive sympathy of a great heart for suffering and dying humanity, and the ever urgent duty to preach the love as well as the law of the benignaut and in finite parent. Such was my first impression of the young preacher. Subsequently I became acquainted with the man, and then my admiration widened with my knowledge. I learned his history. It is brief and uneventful, but bursting with promise. He came of preaching stock down in North Carolina, and his father is still, I believe, hard at work in the Baptist pulpit there. At the end of his collegiate course and a postgraduate term in Johns Hopkins university he came to New York to determine upon a profession. After a winter in the metropolis he returned to North Carolina, where he threw himself into politics, was elected to the legislature and began a systematic study of the law. What convictions of heart urged him and what processes of mind led him suddenly to abandon his law practice and take to the ? pulpit we can readily surmise, but may not dwell upon. All at once he is preaching the gospel in Goldsboro and Raleigh, and preaching it with such unction that some rumor of it reaches Boston. Then comes a call, and in December, 1887, the crowds of American Athens are gathering to hear the new voice. In 1889 New York wanted him, and at the solicitation of the Twentythird Street Baptist church he took charge of that society. Very soon after his arrival it outgrew its church accommodations and had to avail itself of Association halL These barren outlines of rapid success can only be filled in by living color when we come to know the man. The first thing that won me, and I think will win anybody who makes his acquaintance, is his ingrained, unconscious and simple manliness. Let me add that he is a scholar, and, what is better, a student; that he keeps abreast of the best thought in every intellectual field and watches the panorama of events with untiring eye. You cannot imagine what a "nowness" this gives to his sermons. When he tells the "old, old story" of divine love, it wears a contemporaneous interest. It is no longer a historic statement, but a living force, energizing the speaker and winning the listener. When he illustrates the point of discussion, it is from the live issues of the hour, and you feel that religion is not under a bushel, but is inwrought with the destinies of the race and the fate of nations. That a young spirit like his attracts about him large concourses of intelligent young people is not surprising. They understand each other. They want a vital religion. Either religion is a dramatic fact of the moment and means character in action, or it is a dead tradition. I felt that this energizing young apostle marked the renaissance of new Christian endeavor and a new Christian socialism. I should not be surprised to see Mr. Dixon in another year in a great city temple, tho center of a vast community of practical working evangelists, himself another Spurgeon or Parker, but still the frank, manly and humble young missionary of tho people. An UuMyniputhetlc Listener. Several years ago, as a captain in the English navy was leaving his club in London, he encountered an intimate acquaintance, a baronet, 011 whose arm was a gentleman, evidently a foreigner and a man of distinguished air and manner. The gentleman was introduced to the captain, but at the moment that the stranger's name was uttered an omnibus rattled by, and the sound of the baronet's voice was drowned. Sir Charles, pleading an apjiointment, begged the captain to show the gentleman over the club. The dining room, library and other rooms appeared to interest the visitor, and finally the captain began to point out the objects to be seen from the windows. Foremost among these was the Nelson column, and the Englishman expatiated upon the victories and the heroic deeds of the great admiral. In the midst of his enthusiastic outburst, as he observed an expression upon the stranger's face which seemed to indicate that the subject had become distasteful, heinstantlv changed it. "With many expressions of thanks the foreigner was about to take his leave when the captain asked the name of his ?n<i<r.l.r m .1A <1 ? <VI11 Ol T\ tllll ( 'P. IK"' J "Do Villeneuve," was tho reply. "Le Comto do Villeneuve, son of him who fnucrht with vour uallant^ielson at Tra falgar," anil with a di^nfied air tho count withdrew. Tho captain's mingled astonishment and regret < ;:i be imagined. He had unwittingly wounded tho feedings of 0110 to whom he had intended nothing but courtesy and recounted the glories of Trafalgar to the last man he would have willingly selected as an auditor on such a theme.?Youth's Companion.