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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a5c85dc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67934 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67934) diff --git a/old/67934-0.txt b/old/67934-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 17d9693..0000000 --- a/old/67934-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3366 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Black Cat, (Vol. I, No. 2, -November 1895), by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Black Cat, (Vol. I, No. 2, November 1895) - -Author: Various - -Release Date: April 26, 2022 [eBook #67934] - -Language: English - -Produced by: hekula03, Brian Wilsden and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the HathiTrust - Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK CAT, (VOL. I, NO. -2, NOVEMBER 1895) *** - -Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold -text by =equal signs=. - - - - -[Illustration] - - The Black Cat (Vol. I, No. 2) - - 5 - CENTS - - November - 1895 - - - - - Contents - - =A Calaveras Hold-Up.= - Roberta Littlehale. - - =From a Trolley Post.= - Margaret Dodge. - - =An Andenken.= - Julia Magruder. - - =The Man from Maine.= - J. D. Ellsworth. - - =A Wedding Tombstone.= - Clarice Irene Clinghan. - - =The Other One.= - A. H. Gibson. - - =Stateroom Six.= - William Albert Lewis. - - =Her Eyes, Your Honor!= - H. D. Umbstaetter. - - THE SHORTSTORY PUBLISHING CO. 144 HIGH ST., BOSTON, MASS. - Copyright 1895 by The Shortstory Publishing Co. - - - - -[Illustration] - - Mason & Hamlin - Co. - - _The Mason and Hamlin - Pianos are the only - pianos manufactured - containing the patented - Screw Stringer, - by virtue of which - they do not require - one quarter as much - tuning as any other - piano made: thus reducing - expense of - keeping and inconvenience - to a minimum._ - - _Full particulars and - catalogues mailed free on - application._ - Mason & Hamlin Co. - BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. - - - Now is the Time - To select your - Camera - -We have all styles and prices, from -=$5 to $150.= - -Send for Descriptive Manuals of the "=WATERBURY=" and "=HENRY -CLAY=" Cameras. - - =We are the oldest established house in this business.=.... - - The Scovill & Adams Co. - of N.Y. - 423 Broome Street, New York. - -Send 35 cents for a copy of _The Photographic Times_, containing -about 100 handsome illustrations. - - - Lablache Face Powder - - The Queen of Toilet Powders. - -The purest and most perfect Face Powder that science and skill can -produce. Makes the skin soft and beautiful and removes Sun-burn, Tan, -Freckles, and all shiny appearance. Invisible on closest inspection. -Absolutely harmless. We invite chemical analysis and the closest -search for injurious ingredients. It is used and indorsed by the most -prominent society and professional ladies in Europe and America. Insist -upon having Lablache Powder, or risk the consequences produced by cheap -powders. Flesh, White, Pink, and Cream Tints. - - Price, 50c. per box. - Of all druggists, or by mail. - - BEN, LEVY & CO., French Perfumers, - 34 WEST STREET, BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A. - - - Illustrated - Story of - Under Dress - -42 large pages of healthful art and comfort—Just send your address on a -postal to - - Jaros Hygienic Underwear Co., - 831 Broadway, New York. - - - - - The Black Cat (Vol. I, No. 2) - - A Monthly Magazine of Original Short Stories. - - No. 2. NOVEMBER, 1895. 5 cents a copy. 50 cents a year. - - Entered at the Post-Office at Boston, Mass., as second-class matter. - - - - - CONTENTS - - Title Author Page - - A Calaveras Hold-Up. Roberta Littlehale. 1 - From a Trolley Post. Margaret Dodge. 9 - An Andenken. Julia Magruder. 13 - The Man from Maine. J. D. Ellsworth. 25 - A Wedding Tombstone. Clarice Irene Clinghan. 29 - The Other One. A. H. Gibson. 34 - Stateroom Six. William Albert Lewis. 40 - Her Eyes, Your Honor! H. D. Umbstaetter. 43 - Advertisements. 50 - - - - - A Calaveras Hold-Up. - BY ROBERTA LITTLEHALE. - - -ONE sunny summer noon of the year 1880, a man lay under a clump of -chaparral at the base of a scrub-oak, near a roadside in the Calaveras -foothills. He lay on his stomach, with his head on his arms; and the -flies crawled over the dirt on his clothes and the pistol at his belt, -only suffering disturbance because of the industry of the black ant -colony which had discovered meat among the bread crumbs that had fallen -from his pocket. He looked asleep, but, to one who might have seen, -there were slits in the sombrero that covered his head, and the eyes -behind them were not closed. Rather, they scarcely winked in the sober -scrutiny of their purpose. - -The road here near the crest of the hill took a sharp right angle to -the north, and picked its way brokenly to the summit over rocks and -through stumps and standing trees. To the southwest below, it could -be seen for miles on its upward course, appearing and disappearing -among the open stretches and the woodland. The scrub-oak would have to -lengthen its fat shadow very perceptibly before the man would find it -necessary to get on his feet; so he allowed a portion of his attention -to revert to the cause of his being here. - -Billy Owen was not analytical. He did not go back any farther than his -love for a woman as the representative cause of the present effect. -The spirit of his ancestors, trained to conquest and struggle, had -suffered a taint in the far gone years, and he had become the son of -an uncertain race. There were men of them rude in virtue as well as -strength, and men of them branded with a shifting eye and hunted step. -Billy had always had his pleasure with a gun in his hand until these -wondrous twelve months of his knowledge of Rudy. That that slight -person had no acquaintance with the manner of his former life was due -to the respect in which Billy held her. For himself, he couldn't get -rid of a troublesome pride when he called up the men—the brakemen, -and engineers, and inflated conductors—who had backed away from the -steel-ringed mouth of his Colt, his Betty. And the brakemen, and -engineers, and inflated conductors who hadn't backed away, and whom -Betty had spat at, gave him almost more pride than the treasures he had -borne off from under their bodies. But a man must be capering to more -than one tune if he's to dance in the open all of his life, so Billy -had been giving his later days to the panning for gold in secluded -spots of the California Sierras; and the first Sunday that he had lent -to the village and set apart for the play had been taken by Rudy! He -remembered it all very clearly. He had been so careful to shave. Men -must remember a moustache of straw color that brought out the steel -in his small gray eyes. He had not changed his working dress, for a -knife slips down a yawning boot-leg, and a flannel shirt yields best -to one's muscles in motion. A hat with a brim was given of the gods, -and Billy had drunk of the air and the anticipation, and sauntered with -carelessness into the street. Painted beer by the geyserful spouted -from pictured mugs at his every footfall, but he delayed that detail of -his social duty until he should have been invited, and continued his -march. It had seemed to him queer that the street was so empty. Only -occasional men swung in and out of saloon doors, and the rival hotel -chairs rested wholly idle. But it was not long before he found the -cause. A little paint-blistered church sat around the corner, and its -open doors had swallowed almost the entire populace. It seemed waiting -for more while the thin notes of its rejoicing bell chased each other -out on the air. Service must have been about to begin, for there was -only a girl standing out on the steps, and the horses in ranks along -the fences, who slept, or brushed flies, or hated their neighbors, -as their natures gave impulse. Billy sent the place over to a hotter -climate, and turned on his heel to shake off its dust just as the -restless eyes of a high-headed roan brought him to a halt. - -It was then that he had heard a voice he felt he would never forget. - -"There is room," it called. - -Billy Owen had gone on looking over the roan. He was not the man to -waste Sunday in church. - -"Father's to preach on fighting," he heard it again. "There are fights -that he stands by." - -It was a voice, Billy thought, the bees would look for. He threw -her a glance that shouldn't reveal any weakness for the sort of -blood-spilling that the parson approved of, and straightway forgot to -look off again. Rudy Field was smiling at him, and Rudy was radiant -with the spirit of well-doing. The bell's noisy excitement had given -way to the voices of the people in an opening hymn of thanksgiving, and -the girl hurried off the steps, passed the horses, and laid her hand on -his arm. - -"He says men ought to break each other's noses if there's cause; but -it's the cause," she added pregnantly, turning her eyes away towards -the church. - -"If two men want to get up and fight just for the pleasure of -fightin'," said Billy, "and are glad to shake hands when one of 'em is -hollerin'?" - -Rudy's gentle eyes gave out their inspiration. - -"Come and see if he'll say," she said. And Billy went to his undoing. -It was never clear to him what the parson's fighting views really -were. There must have gone through them fiber of good sort, because -he remembered the noisy approval of his fellowmen. As for himself, a -straight little form and a thin little face, with a voice singing up to -the angels, left no consciousness of a judicial sort. After the last -rousing hymn and the dignity of the benediction, he had sat so still -that the church was emptying and the parson was up to him. If Billy had -wanted to, there would have been no escaping the zealous warmth of -purpose which drew him into the family life and the church life of this -country minister. The man had only Rudy and a rough little house, but -the restlessness of his energy used them both for his ends. - -And the days had taken wings. Billy found through the hours of his -lonely working that there was something in his mind supplanting Betty -and the bodies which were testimony of his prowess and his power,—a -something which could not have borne the revelation of Betty and the -corpses. But the very instinct that had brought pride and lust of them -to Billy was not alive to a shame that threw them over altogether. In -the subtleness of conquest they were not the useful weapons. - -Rudy's father had been Rudy's life, and she lay awake in the night now, -because a man strong in his youth and the power of his love was coming -between them. The atmosphere of her training had left her without the -protection of suspicion, and Rudy had only the education that her -frailness, their poverty, and shifting life could yield. Her femininity -showed her Billy Owen's masterful physique, his superior strength, and -tonic vitality. She had begun to have insight into Billy's will power. -But, of all men, he gave to her deference, and gentleness, and the -alertness of his interests. - -And what she was conscious must come, came. - -Two miners were hurt in an accident by fire, and the minister was -called for in the absence of the doctor. He had arranged to hold -services in a village three miles north, and Rudy was left to carry to -it the news of the church's closing. She put on a sun-bonnet and went -out to the barn. The old mare stepped listlessly into the shafts, when -a shadow fell over the floor, and Billy filled up the doorway. - -"Your father said I was to look out that you got there." He laughed, -uncertain still of his welcome. - -Rudy had dreaded the lonely twilight drive, and her face must have -spoken for her tongue had not; but Billy took up the harnessing with a -light on his own face that sent Rudy into the depths of her bonnet. She -kept on her side of the fat mare, and buckled and strapped in a tangle -of leather, with an indiscretion that sent her hands to the check at -Jane's head just at the moment when Billy's must meet them. - -And Billy held them close, while Jane dropped her nose and sniffed -at some barley grains, indifferent to the fact that her toilet was -forgotten. - -"Your father'd give me the word to fight the man that could take ye -from me now," Billy said. - -And Rudy was whiter than the hair on Jane where it happened to be -clean. - -"It's my father I shall never leave," she answered him. - -"It's the father, His book tells ye, shall be left for the husband." - -Billy dropped her hands to come around and take her in his arms. - -"Say no more, girl, but the word you love me." - -And Rudy had said it. And Rudy had sobbed over it, and laughed over it, -and sung over it before the message was delivered and Jane in her stall -again. - -This was a perplexity Rudy's father laid in heaven's care. "There must -be something to live on," he had used as a protest. And what had always -made Billy's living but his revolver,—his Betty? The mining was snail's -pace at best, and with Rudy on his heart there was mad need of haste. -With everything at his hand and his Colt ready, there were only the -plans, which he straightway laid. Money for the northern mines passed -under his nose once every month. Mounted messengers were the things he -and Betty were used to, and the advantage of his isolated claim gave -him the chance for the doing in the hours of an unoccupied afternoon. - -The flies lifted off on lazy wings as the figure under the chaparral at -the base of the scrub-oak heaved onto an elbow and measured the shadow. -With the sharp focus of quick sight, he turned to the road again. Down -in the far distance a cloud of dust hung in the air. The man went onto -his stomach again. The flies settled, the ants took up their burden, -and the summer sun burned over all. - -On came the rolling dust, the four horses, the driver, the messenger, -and the passengers. They must have passed by Rudy's little house; -perhaps Rudy had been looking out at them. Well, the fools need not be -hurt—it is only to march to the music. The man bent one leg and rested -upon his knee to readjust the hot, black mask that covered his face. He -peered down the road again. The stage must be half up the last slope. -It was out of sight, but the snap of the whip came to his ears as a -signal. - -"Betty," he whispered close to the barrel, and got on his feet. Against -the trunk of the dusty oak a man crouched, with his finger on the -trigger of a gun. A stage rocked into view with two betting men, a pale -little woman, and a Wells Fargo messenger, who sat on the box. - -"Halt." - -The horses came back on their haunches, the leaders in air. - -Betty's steel-rimmed mouth had covered the crowd. - -"Throw out your express box and unload your passengers." - -Three men and a woman lined along the roadside with their hands to the -sky, and a green, brass-handled box lay in the dust. - -"Out with your horses, my hearty, and line up." - -The nerve of one man can undo the natural and customary methods of four -of his fellows. The driver took his team to the rear of his passengers, -and Billy stepped to the front with Betty as steady as became a -woman-of-war. - -He ran his eye over the men. It would be time to release the woman when -danger was past. - -"Fall to on that box," Billy directed. He signaled a man of generous -mold and ample manner, and the gentleman stood in his tracks. - -"Two," said Billy. "One—" - -But the man was in the middle of the road, willing and toolless. An axe -was dragged from the stage, and he sent the hot fury of his anger into -the strokes of the steel. - -"Cut the mail pouches," came the next order, and the messenger writhed -under cover as he ripped with his knife. - -At that moment fell the certain distant sound of approaching horses. -Heaven knows there was need of haste, and Billy stood over with curses -to emphasize the vigor of his threats. - -Sweat fell from the men as he turned to the woman. - -"Into the――" Billy began,—and Rudy was looking up at him! Rudy with -face like chalk, and the soul of her broken and bleeding. - -God! but there is one thing no man can face—the faith of a woman struck -back into her heart! - -Billy and the revolver wavered in one blindness, and the messenger -sprang to his feet. - -"Get him," he cried, and his bullet went wide of the mark. Confusion -came with the moment. Men leaped to their pockets for weapons and -signaled the team coming up. - -Billy wasted nothing of the aid Betty held for him. He plunged into the -brush at the east with his brain and his heart in the thrall of his -shock. About him spit, and crashed, and split a rain of bullets, and he -knew there were men of them ready to follow him on the spot. - -He swore himself into energy, and beat on through the thick, thorny -underbrush with the hope of their disorder sustaining him. There was a -small stone corral some one had told him of—Rudy had told him of! It -was hemmed in with rocks, and buckeye, and chaparral. For a theater of -war it was safest for a man inside it, and there was only one approach! -Rudy had once found herb roots there. - -He turned sharp to the south and trailed back again, conscious that his -scent was strong and his arm was true,—and to the devil with men who -had lived peaceful lives in the fields of their country! - -Wet drops of something warm trickled down his back. There must be a -wound there. Billy forced his way along, cutting through tangles, -leaping the rocks, and scaling the boulders, only halting for seconds -to separate insect noises from that of the hunt of men. If he might -reach his corral there would be at least breathing space for further -campaigning. They were after him, hot on his trail, he knew, but the -resources of his race-people gave snap to his blood. - -The long, slim shadows of the late afternoon had been swallowed in -the monotone of twilight when Billy Owen sat on his heels behind the -walls of a stone corral on the sheer slope of a Sierra hill. The -fever from his wound was racking his head, but the keenest pain that -he suffered was not from that. And there could be no moment of time -given over to the undisturbed thought of it. It was only the ever -present consciousness through the intensity of attention he imposed on -himself. His senses were preternaturally alert; they made record of the -night-millers' winging and the life of the lizards in the wall at his -face. The red leaves of a poison-oak vine served as his shelter, and -above this, and about it, and beyond it the chaparral, and the pines, -and the buckeyes watched. From behind the mass of summer foliage the -eyes of a man and the mouth of a gun were at aim and waiting. - -But it was Rudy's face that was searing with fire the brain of the -man,—Rudy's face, which had known only love for him, and trust in him, -and pride of him. It went over him cold that her scorn of him might -set them on his track. She might guess what he would make for. They -had laughed at it as a robber resort. But the thought could not live. -Rudy's womanliness— - -Hark! there could be no mistake—a step. He had been waiting hours for -it. It could come. He needed no change of movement to send it into -silence. There would be more of them behind. There must be no delay in -wiping them out. - -There it comes again, on and up. The fool! Does he think his life is -worth juggling for? An unlodged stone trips jerkily down the hillside, -and some bats blacken the air over his head. Betty is so safe, and so -sure, and so ready that he will let the idiot come into her face. - -A hand shows through the bushes at the gate of the corral. Billy is -forced to turn; it is some one who knows the run of the land. A black -figure thrusts through the branches and Betty throws out her ball of -death. - -"Billy," he heard in its last terrible note of misunderstanding. - -He sits in the open and holds her in his arms. Her black hair hangs -over her face, and he thrusts it back to clasp her against his breast, -against his lips. - -At midnight they find Billy Owen, the bandit. There is a woman in his -arms, and their lives have gone out on a common search. - -[Illustration] - - - - - From a Trolley Post. - BY MARGARET DODGE. - - -THE man looked discouraged. As he stood on the corner of the avenue, -his hands thrust into his overcoat pockets, his slouch hat pulled -down over his eyes, he seemed to be posing for an end of the century -statue of Resignation. For fifteen minutes he had been facing a purely -Bostonese combination of east wind and drizzling rain, while he waited -for one of the electric cars billed to pass that corner every five -minutes. There was no cab station within a mile, and his train left at -the other end of the town in half an hour. Besides, he lived in a city -where east winds never blew, and where L trains and cable cars whizzed -by with clockwork regularity. Consequently, he possessed few resources -for killing time on street corners. After he had read his paper, looked -over his memorandum book, and worn a path into the middle of the street -by continued expeditions undertaken in hope of sighting the delayed -car, he had backed up against the white trolley post, and fixed his -lusterless eyes upon the row of brownstone apartment houses that lined -the opposite side of the street. - -Suddenly a gleam of hope lighted the gloomy eyes of the man at the -trolley post. Had the car, after all, taken a "spurt"? Had the wind -changed? No; the track was still clear as far as the eye could see; the -vane on the nearest church pointed unwaveringly to the east; but the -resigned man had made a pleasing discovery,—he had found a companion in -misery. - -In the third-story side window of an apartment house diagonally -opposite, a picturesque, black-eyed youngster stood drumming on the -window-pane and scowling out into the brick-paved area on which the -window opened, with a disapproval that matched that of the man at the -trolley post. - -Bud, too, was a stranger within the city's gates, and he, too, was -tired waiting for luck to take a turn. He had grown up in Texas, where -the sun shines for three hundred and fifty days in the year, and where -every day he could wander out upon the plains and kill something. And -now he had come to this cold, dismal city where he had to wear shoes -and a Fauntleroy suit, and stay in when the east wind blew. For two -hours he had been waiting for the sun to come out, and he had almost -reached the end of his resources. - -Almost, but not quite. A moment later, as the resigned man watched the -little Texan standing with his nose flattened against the pane, his -round, bright eyes peering down into the mist, he saw him open the -window and, through the iron grating of the balcony, survey the scene -below. Then, with a coltish leap, Bud disappeared into the room. - -A moment later his agile little body again wriggled out onto the -balcony. It was a small, rounded affair, filled with potted plants, and -situated on a perpendicular line with similar balconies which belonged -to the suites above and below. In the one immediately under that on -which the small boy stood was placed among the geranium plants and -India-rubber trees a glass globe containing several large goldfish. - -Hanging out over the railing, Bud fixed his round eyes on the glass -globe and chuckled. Then he looked cautiously into the room behind -him. Apparently no one was in sight. Producing from the pocket of his -small trousers a fish-line and hook, he proceeded to lower it until the -duly baited hook landed among the goldfish. There was a deft twist of -the line, a splash, and a flop; something yellow and wiggling flashed -through the air, and a moment later a large goldfish lay breathing its -last in a big flower-pot, at the roots of an India-rubber tree. - -Once more Bud chuckled. So did the man at the trolley post. He had now -waited half an hour, but for the moment he had forgotten the east wind, -the delayed car, and the train he wanted to catch. - -Without loss of time, the boy again lowered his hook. Once, twice, -three times the operation was repeated, and then the boy unlooped -himself from the balcony and scraped one foot meditatively upon the -other. Four quarter-pound goldfish were now in the way of enriching -the soil at the base of the India-rubber tree—and the stream was fished -dry. - -Did the balcony offer other worlds for this youthful Alexander? -Apparently not, for after chewing up several choice geranium blossoms -and practising with his bean-shooter upon a draggled sparrow he turned -to go. - -The man at the trolley post frowned. Having seen two acts of a play, he -objected to being cheated out of the third. - -Just then, however, the little comedy was continued by two new actors. -Around the corner appeared an Italian hand-organist leading by a -string a minute monkey gorgeously costumed in a green skirt, scarlet -jacket, and green and gold cap. As the melancholy Italian put down his -instrument and began grinding out "Daisy Bell," his hairy attendant -scampered across the pavement and began scrambling up the iron -balconies of the tall apartment house in quest of pennies. - -A yawning grin convulsed Bud's small features. Flinging his fish-line -into a flower-pot, he climbed through the window and disappeared. He -was gone only a few moments, but when he returned he bore himself with -a new air. A large sombrero sat jauntily upon his black curls; from his -left arm hung a coil of rope, while his brown right hand brandished -above his head the loop of a lasso. As he stood there motionless, the -hand holding the lasso poised in the air, he looked a perfect pocket -edition of a Texas cowboy. The man at the trolley post would have -wagered a large sum that among the thirty-five thousand small boys -reported by the last census as living in Boston there wasn't another -boy like Bud. - -Meantime the organist had changed his tune from "Daisy Bell" to "Hold -Your Head Up, Hogan," while the monkey had been making a triumphal -progress up the iron balconies. His gorgeous uniform, acrobatic leaps, -and hand-over-hand performances, together with his shrewd chatter and -the graceful twirl with which he pocketed coppers, had attracted every -child within a radius of four blocks. Pennies rained upon him like -roses on a favorite prima donna, and the little fellow was put to sore -straits to collect the rich shower. In Bud's absence he had traveled to -the topmost balcony of the seven-story apartment house, and was now -resting on the fourth on his downward progress, when his bright eyes -caught sight of another offering that was being thrust through the -window upon the second-story balcony of the next house by a child more -retiring than his neighbors. This house stood on the other side of a -common area, barely fifteen feet wide, and the railing upon which the -offering lay was directly opposite the one where the little beastie -crouched, but some ten feet below. - -The monkey took in the situation with twinkling eyes. Then, after a -brief chattered soliloquy, he humped up his back and drew himself -together ready for a spring. - -By this time the man at the trolley post was breathless with -excitement. To attempt to keep track of the boy and the monkey at the -same time was like watching a circus with two rings. By a quick glance, -however, he noted that while the monkey was gathering itself for the -leap the boy was standing erect, his eyes fastened on the monkey, his -fingers whirling the loop of the lasso above his head with the apparent -ease that means a deadly aim. Once, twice, the noose circled in the -air; the monkey quivered with the impulse to spring; but just then the -accident happened. The car arrived and the man from New York missed the -end of the play. - -[Illustration] - - - - - An Andenken. - BY JULIA MAGRUDER. - - -ONE summer a party of American tourists was established at a small inn -in the little village of Oetz situated in the beautiful Oetzthal, one -of the upper valleys of the Tyrolean Alps. The Oetzthal is the deepest -valley of the Inn, and the most notable for its wild scenery, its -picturesque impressiveness, and its dangerous glaciers and falls. - -Most of the party came for recreation, and the novel scenes and people -were a sufficient supply for that demand—as was the glorious fresh air -of the mountains for those who sought health. - -The one member of the party who was a worker was, strange to say, the -youngest of them all,—an American girl who had been studying art in -Paris with great earnestness, and whose absorbing motive in coming -here was to paint. She had dozens of schemes in her head,—landscapes, -peasants, interiors, etc.,—and so eager was she to begin that when she -arrived at the little station after dark she felt herself consciously -impatient of the beautiful moonlight through which her drive to Oetz -was taken, and eager for morning to come. - -She was very tired, however, and slept long, and when at last awakened -by her cousin, who was up and dressed before her, her first impulse was -to run to the window and look out. - -"Stop, Ethel, you shall do nothing of the kind!" exclaimed her cousin -Florence. "That is just what I have come to prevent. I am going to -stand guard over you while you take your roll and coffee, and then drop -the curtains and make you promise not to lift them when I leave you to -dress." - -Ethel, keen for anything that would enhance the flavor of the delicious -treat in prospect, gave the promise, and had kept it faithfully when -Florence returned, later, to take her out on a tour of inspection. -The young girl had equipped herself in her walking costume,—corduroy -skirt, flannel blouse, scarlet _beret_, and stout boots,—and was -ready for anything when her cousin led her from the room. So eager was -her own search for the picturesque that she ignored the fact that the -one or two people she encountered in going through the house might have -a similar interest, which must have been abundantly gratified at the -lovely vision which she made, with her golden hair twisted under the -red _beret_ and her lovely face aglow with expectation. - -Before the front door was opened Florence produced a silk handkerchief, -which she tied firmly over her companion's eyes, making her promise -not to make any effort to remove it until she should be given leave. -Laughing delightedly and showing brilliant teeth between a pair of -fresh young lips, Ethel obediently consented to be led by the hand, up -a steep hill, to be faced round in a certain position, and then to have -the handkerchief whisked off, with a cry from Florence of: - -"_There_, now!" - -For some seconds the girl did not speak as she gazed about her. -She was standing in the center of a sort of court, which formed a -plateau on the crest of the hill. All around this court were low and -rudely constructed houses, whose front surfaces presented a mass of -decorations, indescribably brilliant. The plaster, which seemed very -smoothly and firmly made, was painted or stained in various colors -as a background; and upon these surfaces were painted pictures of -sacred subjects, the drawing and coloring of which were crude and -fantastic beyond description, though the decorative impression was most -picturesque and effective, especially with the added embellishment of -the brilliant blooming plants which overflowed the boxes placed across -every window. Petunias, pinks, sweet peas, poppies, geraniums, and many -other plants were here massed in a riot of colors, and long sprays of -vine fell down and fringed the borders of the pictures below. Every -available wall space was covered by one of these pictures—the favorite -subjects being the "Annunciation," the "Adoration of the Magi," the -"Birth of Christ," and constantly repeated representations of the "Holy -Family." - -Most of the houses had two stories, and there was also a box containing -the blooming plants and vines fastened over every door; and as every -plant seemed at the very height of its bloom and perfection, and -every picture seemed as clean and free from weather stains as if just -painted, it is no wonder that Ethel received the impression so common -with those who first see this brilliant spectacle. - -"What is it for?" she said. "I never saw anything so decorative and -brilliant, but I did not know it was any great gala day. Why didn't you -tell me? And what day is it?" - -"No day at all; or, rather, no gala day," said Florence. - -"Then what have they done this for?" - -"For religion's sake, or beauty's sake, or a mixture of the two, I -suppose." - -"You don't mean to say that they keep it like this all the time?" - -"Yes, I do; until the frost kills the flowers, at least, and even then -the pictures remain." - -"And is all this done by these ignorant peasants?" asked Ethel, flushed -with the delight of this new and strange impression. - -"Of course. I should think you could see that the painting and drawing, -at least, were of peasant origin." - -"It _is_ terrific in a way," said Ethel, scrutinizing with a -professional squint, which sat very prettily on her charming face, a -picture of the Holy Family which happened to be nearest to her; "and -yet," she went on, "there's feeling in that—quite wonderful feeling! -If that Virgin were not such a fright, she would really be quite -beautiful. Do you see what I mean?" - -"Well, hardly," said Florence, with a smile. - -"Of course not! but I do mean what I say. The tender feeling of that -face and figure are now completely subject to the grotesque form and -crude color which the poor ignorant painter must have suffered from -acutely—for he had a beautiful ideal in his mind when he did that." - -"Well, you are even more knowing in art than I gave you credit for," -said Florence, "if you can make that out. It seems to me to resemble -nothing so much as one of the jointed dolls, made of wood, and painted -with three colors,—white, black, and red,—which used to be the delight -of my infancy." - -"I see that resemblance," said Ethel seriously; "but I also see -something else—very different. I wonder who does these things." - -"I have inquired," Florence answered, "and I find that every generation -has its own local artist, who makes it a profession to do these -decorations, to paint the little wooden head-boards which serve as -tombstones here, and also to paint the _andenken_ which decorate -the surrounding country. You will see them by the dozen." - -"_Andenken!_ What is that?" - -"It is a little picture-sign, which is set up by the family or friends -of a person who is killed by any of the casualties which are so common -here, from avalanches or from falling rocks, which, once misplaced and -started, tumble down the mountain sides with increasing velocity, and -kill anything in their way. The shepherds here, who so often spend the -nights with their flocks on the mountain sides, are frequently killed -by them, and then, too, the inhabitants of this region are sometimes -overwhelmed with torrents of mud, ejected by the mountains—not a -very pretty thing to paint! But you will see dozens of these little -_andenken_ all about here, as they are always erected on the spot -of the disaster, and always consist of a pictorial representation of -it, and the passers-by are supposed to say a prayer for the repose of -the victim's soul." - -"How strange! I think it seems rather sweet," said Ethel dreamily. - -"The custom may be; the pictures are anything else, as you will soon -discover; although, since you admire this Virgin, there's no telling -what you will think." - -"I do admire it!" said Ethel, looking toward it again, "I should like -to know something about the man who did it. Oh, to think what it would -be to him, to teach him to use his fingers and realize his ideals—for -that he has ideals I am certain. But where are all the people who -belong to these enchanted houses? And why is it that we see nobody -about?" - -"They are all at work in the fields at this time of the day." - -"But their houses are open!" - -"Of course! They are never closed, except when the weather makes it -necessary." - -"But people could go in and steal!" - -"Yes, they could, but it seems they don't! One reason for such -uprightness may be that there is so very little to steal. Come and look -into this one!" - -They advanced to the door, which stood wide open, mounted the low -steps, and looked in. - -"How charming! How delicious!" exclaimed Ethel enthusiastically. - -Florence answered with a laugh of amiable derision. - -"Where the charm and delightsomeness come in, I must say I do not -pretend to see! An old room, with its low rafters stained black -with smoke, and a long earthenware stovepipe running through it -and threatening the life of those who pass under it!—an old stove -surrounded by—I will admit—the brightest bits of copper, and brass, and -tin that any housewife could boast—and a squatty little table piled up -with carrots, and onions, and cabbages! You, I suppose, will be wanting -to paint it next!" - -"I want to paint it now, at once, this minute!" cried Ethel. "My -fingers fairly itch. I want to paint those copper cans, and brass -kettles, and iron pots with exactly this light upon them—and those -vegetables, too! Oh, if I only could, while the impression is so fresh -and strong upon me!" - -"Well, so you can! you have only to fetch your easel and box and begin -at once." - -"But I have not got permission, and there is no one here to ask!" - -"No matter at all about that! These peasants are the most amiable -beings on earth. I have come to understand them very well. Go to work -and do your picture, and I promise to make everything right when the -family returns." - -Urged by Florence, Ethel, who was really longing to make this picture, -ran back to the little inn for her box and easel, and was soon at work, -sketching in her picture rapidly, with an absorbed face, while Florence -sat by her and watched its progress and prepared herself to explain -things on the return of the family. - -Ethel sat at her easel in the center of the old, low-roofed room, -her scarlet cap flung on the floor beside her and her golden head -shining tenderly under the smoky rafters. Her picture seemed to grow -by magic, and as she brought out the brilliant polish of metal on the -old vessels, and the soft bloom of vegetation upon the cabbages and -carrots, etc., on the table beneath, she was feeling that triumph of -achievement which sometimes comes to reward a painstaking artist for -much discouragement. - -So absorbed was she that she did not notice Florence when she rose, -at the end of about two hours, and slipped quietly out of the house. -She had seen the family returning, and she went to meet them. Her -explanation, graciously and smilingly given, was received in the -same spirit, and the two women and several children had soon filed -noiselessly into the rear of the room and stood there, silent and -delighted, watching the progress of the young artist's work. Florence -had given them some coins, which to their frugal minds seemed an -inordinate price to pay for the privilege accorded, and they were -evidently in high good humor. - -Presently Ethel, in a pause of her breathless interest, happened to -turn her head and catch sight of them. She had a brush between her -white teeth, but she smiled radiantly, and, taking it out, came forward -to greet them. She felt, however, a certain hesitation as to how to -deal with this strange people, and was glad to accept the word of -Florence that she had made everything right, and to express her thanks, -merely. At the same time she offered to stop work, in order that the -details of her study might be put into more active use. But the women -protested, declaring that dinner could wait until the picture was done, -and showing such evident desire that she should not interrupt her work, -that she consented to go on a little longer. - -"But why does she not paint the Holy Mother and the Blessed Child, if -she can paint like that?" said one of the women aside to Florence. -"My nephew, Anton Wald, is a painter. He made the picture of the Holy -Family on the outside of our house, but he would not paint such things -as kettles and cabbages! He is the finest painter in the whole valley, -though he is angry if I say so, and sometimes he throws down his brush -and will not paint again for months, because he says the pictures in -his mind are beautiful, but that they are hideous when he puts them -down. That is only his strange way, though, for his pictures are most -beautiful, as you can see from the one on my house, and all the new -head-marks in the church-yard are done by him, and some most beautiful -_andenken_. The picture of Frau Muhlau's son, who was mashed -under a great rock, is a lovely thing; the saints have mercy on his -soul!" she added, reverently crossing herself. - -"Where does this Anton live?" said Florence; "he would perhaps -like to see the Fraulein paint. She has learned in the greatest -painting-schools in the world, and has had the makers of the most -beautiful pictures to show her how they did it." - -"He will be here to get his dinner by and by. He has no parents or -home, poor boy! he is a good lad, though queer at times, and I am glad -to have him to live with me. Ah, here he comes now!" she exclaimed. -"Hans ran to fetch him, I see, and has told him about the beautiful -lady and the picture." - -At the same moment there appeared, through the back doorway of the -house, the figure of a tall young peasant, not dressed in rough farming -clothes, but in a nearer approach to the holiday attire of the Tyrolean -of that vicinity. He wore corduroy knee breeches, gray stockings, and -a brown coat which flared over a red waistcoat and broad striped belt. -The facings of his coat were also striped with red, as were his sleeves -about the hands. On his head was the wide Tyrolean hat of tan-colored -felt, faced with bright green, and trimmed with a bright green ribbon, -with streamers falling behind. - -As he noiselessly entered the room and stood gazing at the beautiful -figure whose back was turned to him, he seemed not to see it, or be -conscious of the others who were present, for his eyes fixed themselves -eagerly on the canvas, and, as he looked, the eagerness deepened and -strengthened, until it changed into a radiance of delight that seemed -scarcely unmixed with awe. - -As if unconscious of himself and his own act, he slowly removed his hat -and stood bareheaded and as if spellbound in his place, his gaze fairly -devouring the picture. - -"The saints preserve us!" whispered the woman. "What a strange lad -this Anton is! one would think it was the Holy Virgin herself, in the -picture, instead of those old pans!" - -"I don't think it is the subject that interests him so," said Florence, -"I think it is because he has never seen painting like that done -before. The Fraulein is a beautiful painter, and he—being a painter -himself—would be quick to see that." - -Ethel, meanwhile, painted on unconscious. She was always wholly -absorbed in her work when it was "going," and Florence knew that she -had been as oblivious as sleep could have made her of all that had -happened around her. - -But now, becoming conscious of her cramped position, and also of the -fact that she had successfully secured her impression, which was all -that she had aimed at, she laid her palette down, and, rising, turned -and looked about her. Satisfaction in her work had made her feel very -content, and she remembered also her obligation to these good people, -and the two things made her always beautiful smile now seem unusually -winning, as it rested upon Anton, who had advanced nearer to her than -had the others, and who now turned his worshiping gaze from the picture -to the painter's lovely face. - -So ardent, concentrated, eager was that gaze that Ethel flushed under -it, looking lovelier than ever. Turning to the group who stood near -Florence across the room, she seemed, by a look, to ask an explanation. - -"It is the young painter who did the Virgin that you admired," said -Florence in English. - -Ethel's face lighted up with pleasure and recognition, and making -a step toward him, she held out her hand, and said in her pretty, -half-timid German: - -"As we are both painters, we must shake hands." - -But the young peasant, very white and startled looking, stepped back. - -"It is not true," he cried. "Who has told you that I am a painter? I -am only a wretched dauber and cheat. I will never touch color or brush -again." - -Ethel looked at him with a fervent gentleness. - -"You are wrong," she said. "You will go to your work again, with a -love and earnestness such as you have never known. You think my little -picture here is good, and so it is, because I have been taught the way -to do a thing; but I, with all my study, have never done and can never -do such a picture as the one you have made on this house. The spirit -and soul of creation has been born in you, and not in me. You have only -to learn how and you will be an artist. I have already learned how, and -I am only a workman. Listen," she went on eagerly, "I am going to stay -here all the summer, and I am going to give you a lesson every day. I -can teach you all I know, and if you do as well as I expect, you will, -after that, go to Munich and study, or to Paris. The time will come -when you will offer me your hand, and I shall not dare to take it, as -you have not dared now." - -The group of peasants, now augmented by the arrival of two men, looked -on in astonishment. Florence, comprehending both their wonder and the -cause which had produced it, made a hasty explanation, and hurried -Ethel away, helping her to gather up her belongings and to express her -thanks. - -Just as they were ready to go, the young girl, with a quick impulse, -held out her little canvas to Anton, saying impulsively: - -"I will give it to you. You can take it and study it carefully. It -may teach you something. When you are a great painter you shall give -me a picture of yours. And, remember, I shall expect you at the hotel -to-morrow, to arrange for your first lesson." - -That was the way it began,—this intercourse between the two young -artists. - -That evening, Ethel, looking more lovely than ever in a soft blue gown, -with her hair loose about her shoulders, sat alone in her room writing, -with a look of joy on her face. She wrote some of these sheets every -evening, and sent them off by post, twice a week. She had written -several pages with rapidity, and now paused and read them over with a -look on her face which showed how much her own subject interested her. -She took up her pen and went on: - -"Now that I have described to you my wonderful young painter and his -really remarkable mural work, I must tell you about his painting on -the little wooden head-boards in the church-yard. Such a picturesque -little church it is, perched on a steep cliff, overlooking the lovely -valley through which the river winds, and beyond which the great -mountains rise immeasurably high! There is a cunning priest's house -near the church, with a fascinating old sun-dial on its walls (one -never sees a clock here). This little house is also founded upon a -rock—but, oh, how barren and empty it looks! and how lonely! You would -be filled with pity to see it! The church-yard is the tawdriest thing -you can imagine, with the graves hung about with bead flowers, faded -immortelles, and as many little images, and medals, and crosses as can -be got together; but the awful thing is the head-boards! These are made -of wood and every one is decorated with a picture of the departed and -his family, the living members of which are kneeling around his dying -bed, while the dead ones appear in a bank of clouds above. The horrible -distortion of these figures, and the grotesqueness of both the earthly -and heavenly garments, is something ghastly—and yet I could single out, -every time, those painted by my young Anton, by that truly wonderful -feeling and aspiration. Oh, I shall be proud of my pupil yet—and -already his feeling for his teacher amounts to veneration. (You, sir, -have never looked at me with such worshipful eyes, in your life!) I -gave him his first lesson to-day, and it was a thrilling experience! He -is going to take to it like a duck to water, and his love for beauty is -absolutely touching. I saw him looking, with a sort of hungry delight, -at the opal in my ring (my _dear_ ring!) Its marvellous color -changes were an evident feast to him. Oh, I am so glad Providence -guided me to this place. My Anton is such an interest and impulse -onward to me, and will help to beguile the long, weary, desolate, empty -days—until you come!" - -In due time there came an answer to this letter, and, in turn, an -answer to that. And meanwhile every day Anton received a painting -lesson, and advanced by strides. It was a deliriously happy life into -which he had entered, and he seemed to others, and still more to -himself, to be new made. The glow of health which came into his cheeks, -and of fire into his eyes, made the strong young peasant suddenly -develop a radiant beauty, which was so striking and extraordinary that -Ethel could not resist such a model, and set to work to paint him. - -She made a spirited and beautiful study of him on a small canvas, -painting him full length, in his Tyrolean costume, with the black -pointed hat, ornamented with its proud group of rare and perilously -purchased little feathers, for Anton was a sportsman as well as an -artist, and had won these trophies by his own skill and daring, and -many was the votive offering, so procured, which he laid at his young -teacher's feet. It was but natural that he should wish to make some -return for the hours of patient instruction which she daily bestowed -upon him. - -So thought Ethel, but did her correspondent, perhaps, have, some other -idea? - -One day she got a letter from him which contained this paragraph: - -"You want me to explain why it is that I always refer to your pupil -as 'poor Anton!' It is truly because I pity him,—you most bewitching -of women! My own blessed ownership of you makes my heart gentle to -the rest of men—even including lowly Tyrolean peasants, who are, by -circumstances, quite removed from you. And I wondered if it were only -the dear opal ring which he looked at so hungrily that day. Do not -forget that it is far less beautiful than the hand which wears it. In -short, my own child, I would wish to put you a little on your guard—for -this poor Anton's sake!" - -After this letter it seemed as if the serpent had entered into Eden, -for a fear was in Ethel's heart which she had never known before. Anton -had lately been engaged in doing a portrait of her, and while she posed -for him she gave him lessons. The ardor which she had thrown into this -piece of work and the extraordinary success he was having with it came -to Ethel's mind now with a new and disturbing significance. - -Next morning she got Florence to go to Anton with a message to say -that she was not well and could not pose for him, so that he would -have to work without her that day, in the little studio which they had -improvised. - -"But how can he work without his model?" asked Florence. - -"Oh, he can go on with the hair to-day. I gave him a great lock of mine -yesterday to paint from, when I had to leave. I wish I hadn't!" she -added, with a tone of sudden compunction. - -Florence returned from her mission to say that Anton had decided not -to paint at all that day, and was full of concern for his teacher's -illness. But again the next day Ethel did not go, but remained in her -room writing page after page of one of those long letters. Anton passed -her window and looked up at her. His face was flushed and eager, and -very beautiful. In spite of all this, however, Ethel gave him a more -formal bow than he had ever received from her before. He had become -"poor Anton" to her also, now, and she was doing her best to manifest -her true sympathy for him. - -The next morning when Ethel failed to come again, Anton went hunting. -Florence, who saw him just as he was setting out, learned that he was -going in search of a certain bird, whose wings Ethel had once expressed -a wish to have for a hat. The capture of these birds was a somewhat -dangerous enterprise, and when Ethel heard where he had gone she felt a -vague alarm. - - * * * * * - -All this was long ago. - -Now, when tourists go to the Oetzthal, as they do in far greater -numbers than they did then, one of the sights pointed out is a certain -_andenken_, high up the mountain side, done with an exquisite art, -which separates it conspicuously from the rest of its class. - -It has two sides. One is a fine portrait of a young Tyrolean peasant—a -model of fresh and vigorous beauty,—and the other is a representation -of the very spot on which it stands—not covered with verdure and -flowers, however, but with a great mass of sliding snow, whose terrific -rush downward is depicted with the power of a master hand. - -Underneath there are a few words in German and in English, asking the -passer-by to pray for the repose of the soul of Anton Wald. - -It was painted, the tourist is told, by a young American lady, who -spent a summer at Oetz, and was married immediately afterward. She -had given painting lessons to the young peasant, and had left this -_andenken_ of him. - -No record exists of the additional facts that when Anton's body was -found the coveted bird was in his hand, and that in a little silk bag -around his neck was a fair tress of shining hair. - -This _andenken_ Ethel carries in her heart. - - - - - The Man from Maine. - BY J. D. ELLSWORTH. - - -AS a Westerner, I was amused by the discreet sinfulness of Boston; but -when business called me to Maine, our down-east sister, whose temperate -example is always held before our eyes, I felt that I was about to set -foot on the stepping-stone of heaven. To provide against the serpent -that must inevitably haunt such an Eden, I filled my pocket flask with -the standard Western remedy for snake bites. - -The train left the Union Station at nine in the morning, and -anticipating a stupid ride I went into the smoking-car to enjoy a cigar -and read my newspaper. The car was fitted up with mahogany card tables -and stationary cribbage boards. In the seats in front of me were three -traveling men. - -"Play euchre?" said one of them, looking toward a lean, lanky stranger. - -"Does it cost anything?" - -"Not a cent." - -"Well, then, I guess I'll come in," and he opened himself like a -jack-knife and strolled to his place. His thin, freckled face looked as -if it had been carved with a chisel, and his clothes were economically -cut to save cloth. Altogether, he had an air of Yankee thrift that -might suggest to a cynical observer that he had taken the rear seat to -save the interest on his fare while the conductor was making his way -through the car. There was a chill about him that suggested a diet of -ice-water, and when he cut the cards I half expected that they would be -frost-bitten by his touch. - -As the train rushed over bridges and through suburban cities the -novelty of my surroundings so engrossed my attention that I did not -notice the card-players again until I heard the lean stranger say: - -"I guess I'm going to be real sick. I never had such a fearful pain -before in all my life." - -He put his hand on the pit of his stomach, and there were sharp -lines in his face that indicated intense agony. The dealer looked up -sympathetically, and his partner said: - -"I've got a little something with me from Kentucky. Perhaps it might do -you good." - -"I come from Maine," said the stranger, "and we don't drink rum down -there. But, as a medicine, I might take a few drops, if you don't think -it would go to my head." - -The drummers assured him that something warming was just what he -needed, and a bottle was brought forth. The man from Maine took a -drink, cleared his throat, and seemed better at once. Then the game -went on. - -Lounging back in my seat and watching the dissolving panorama of -snow-bound villages, I ruminated on the incident. It was impossible -not to pity the people of Maine, whose strict prohibition principles -deprived them of the gracious influence of a little stimulant in cases -of sudden illness. - -At Lynn I was reminded of the euchre players as one of the drummers got -out and another passenger took his place. The last comer carried a gun -case and was dressed for a hunting trip. When we reached Salem at 9.35 -the two remaining drummers left. The lean stranger and the sportsman -found two new partners and continued playing. - -As I had finished my cigar and exhausted my newspaper, I tried to amuse -myself by watching the game. When the cards were passed to the lean -stranger he shook his head and pushed them over to his partner. - -"Deal for me," he groaned; "I've got an awful pain in my side. It seems -like pneumonia, but it may pass in a minute." - -The group looked solicitous, and the sportsman, taking a black bottle -from the pocket of his hunting-bag, said: - -"Take some of this, man; you musn't fool with a pain like that." - -"I come from the State of Maine," said the sufferer, "and I'm opposed -to strong drink. But, rather than delay the game, gentlemen, I'll take -a little as medicine." - -"Of course; it's the only thing to do," interrupted the other players. - -The man from Maine put the bottle to his lips, and then coughed and -said that he didn't know whether the liquor did it, but that he -certainly felt better. - -At the town of Newburyport the lanky representative of the Pine Tree -State was left alone at the card table. I was becoming interested in -him. As we crossed the bridge over the Merrimac I lost sight of him for -a moment, but when the train had passed the State line I walked forward -in the car. My invalid friend was playing seven-up with a swarthy -stranger. - -Dropping into a seat, I patiently waited for developments. We were due -to reach Portsmouth at 10.40. I looked at my watch from time to time -and then at the man from Maine. I saw that he began to get uneasy. His -face showed signs of suffering and he coughed violently. He went from -one spasm into another until it seemed that he could not recover his -breath. - -The brakeman brought some water in a tin cup. The suffering man -motioned him away, gasping, "I wouldn't dare (cough) to take water -(cough); it makes it worse." - -The swarthy stranger drew from his grip a pocket flask and handed it to -the sufferer. The spasmodic cough ceased for a moment, and a familiar -voice said: - -"My friend, I hail from the State of Maine and believe in total -abstinence. I can't take a drink, but I'll just swallow a few drops as -medicine." - -We rolled into Portsmouth as he handed back the half-emptied bottle. -There were tears in his eyes, but his cough was stopped. - -When we reached North Berwick it seemed as if the very air was -different. It was Maine air and evidently agreed with the man who -claimed that State as his home. He settled himself in the corner of a -lonely seat and figured industriously on both sides of an envelope. - -The car was almost deserted after we left Biddeford, and another change -came over the unfortunate representative of prohibition. In a very -low tone he asked a question of the conductor, who replied by shaking -his head decidedly. Then the man from Maine went forward into the -baggage car and returned with a pale, haggard face. I wondered how his -complaint would develop. Perhaps it was smallpox or measles by this -time. - -A glance at my watch assured me that the sun had passed the meridian. -Bringing out the flask I had filled at Boston, and unscrewing the top, -I said, "Stranger, will you join me?" - -"Thanks, very much," he replied; "I am a Maine man—" - -As the train slowed up at Portland, the remainder of his sentence was -drowned in the gurgling sound of liquor that flowed gently and smoothly -as in a familiar channel. - -[Illustration] - - - - - A Wedding Tombstone. - BY CLARICE IRENE CLINGHAN. - - -SO you never heard tell of Melindy Barbour's weddin' tombstone?" -said grandma in a tone of surprise. "For the land's sake, I thought -everybody knew about that." - -I confessed the most abject ignorance and immediately drew up to the -fire. This was partly to gain information and partly because, although -the fireplace was wide and deep throated and big logs were blazing in -it, there were biting draughts of stinging November air coming in at -the loosely fitting door. For grandmother would not be persuaded to -leave the home that had been hers for fifty years, and which now showed -some signs of decay. She sat knitting vigorously by the firelight, for, -although she had all the modern conveniences of heating and lighting, -her big fireplace cast its ruddy glow out into the room through all the -long winter evenings. I was an angular schoolgirl of fifteen then, with -a great love of the romantic, and was on a four weeks' visit at the -old homestead. It seemed never to occur to grandma that, having been -raised in a different part of the country, the happenings at Ragged -Corner (where she lived) would naturally be unknown to me. She always -expressed fresh surprise at my ignorance on these subjects. After -knitting a few minutes in silence, she began: - -"You've seen the old stone house down on the bank of the river, all -shut in with pines and evergreens? It's nigh a hundred years old. When -I was born it had been built ten years. When I was a young married -woman the Barbours came to live there, and they was proud, high-feelin' -people that nobody could get acquainted with. That's what made 'em -take it so dretful hard when—but here I am, way ahead of my story. You -see, Mr. Barbour embezzled or did something of that kind, and went to -prison. After he had been there a year he up and hung himself, and that -is the last of him so far as my story goes. - -"Then his wife and little boy shut themselves up in the stone house and -never went outside the gate hardly. She'd had a good deal of schooling, -his mother had, and she taught him herself as long as she could, and -then he bought books and studied by himself. He tried going to school -when he was a small boy, but one of the scholars threw it at him about -his father, and Mortimer nearly killed him, and after that his mother -kep' him home. And she was such a proud woman, was Mis' Barbour, and -lofty and severe in her ways. She wouldn't let nobody sympathize with -her, which everybody wanted to, as there's so little going on in a -place like Ragged Corner. Mis' Barbour was real selfish with her grief, -so she got herself disliked, besides folks bein' suspicious after the -way her husband turned out. What did they live on? Oh, the boy farmed -it, and later they do say he wrote books on what they call natural -history, though to my mind it was the most unnatural stuff I ever heard -tell of,—all about beetles and bugs with three hundred muscles in their -heads, and as could carry twelve hundred times their own weight on -their own backs, which everybody knows he must have got up as he went -along. They were dretfully taken up with each other, he and his mother, -and she believed everything he said was so, even about the bugs and -beetles. But she was his own born mother, and that explains it. - -"When she died, Mortimer liked to went crazy. He planted her grave with -vi'lets and pansies, and at the head was a white marble monument he -had gone to the city for—nothing nearer would suit him. But he didn't -display no taste. Nothing on it, my dear, but the old lady's name and -the date she died—not an angel, nor a cherub, or a lamb, or a broken -rosebud, nor a bit of verse. And yet he always seemed to set store by -her. - -"Then Mortimer, he just stuck to the old house, same as ever, though -now he was alone. I used to wonder how it seemed to him late at night -hearin' the swash of the river and the sighin' of them pine trees. He -wore his hair long, as was the custom in them days, and it was curly up -at the ends, like the picture of John Wesley. But he had eyes that went -right through you and came out the back of your head. And he never set -foot into the meeting-house, nohow. - -"Now, he was the last man in the village I'd ever said would got -married. But as sure as you set there, when the little milliner, -Melinda McAllister, came into the place, he was struck. That wasn't -nothing strange—all the young fellows was—but, mind you, _she was -struck, too_. No, you wouldn't 'a' thought it. Everybody warned her, -and told her about his father's hangin' himself in prison, and how -queer his mother was, and that Mortimer was as odd as Dick's hatband -and wouldn't come to no good. She listened, with her eyes big and cool -and a little hot patch of red on her cheeks like a daub of paint, but -she never said a word. That was Melindy McAllister all over, never to -say a blessed word, but go and do just as she saw fit. First we knew -they was engaged, and it was given out in meeting. Next day her aunt -she lived with came in to see me, and wrung her hands, sayin' she -wouldn't be surprised if Melindy was murdered before the year was out. -What can you think of a man who lives like a hermit, and had a crooked -father and a peculiar mother? - -"But we wasn't prepared for the worst. A day or two before the wedding, -in comes old Mis' Johnson, and says, 'Shut up the doors tight,' says -she, 'and the winders. I've got something to tell you that'll make -your hair rise up,' she says, whisperin'-like. So I shut the door, she -a-workin' her hands together like one possessed. 'It's about Melindy,' -she went on. 'He's been and got a tombstone for her.' 'Who?' asked I, -as if I didn't know, but my knees knocked together and I felt a bit -sick. 'Mortimer Barbour,' says she. 'My grandson, Johnnie, was after -a bird's nest in a tree over in his yard. The limb broke, and down he -went right onto the roof of the old cornhouse, that hasn't been used -for years. It went in under him like tinder, and as soon as he could -pick himself up and found no bones broke, what should he see but a new -white gravestone, a-settin' up quite pert in a corner against some -rubbish. He went up to it, and he says as true as the Bible he saw -'Melinda Barbour' cut on it, and the date she is a-goin' to die.' 'I -don't believe it,' says I, but I was all a-faint, and had to go and -make us each a cup of tea, so we could bear up under it. - -"As soon as I said I didn't believe it Mis' Johnson said we'd go -ourselves and _see_. And we did go, Mortimer bein' away in the -fields, and got into the cornhouse. It was towards dark, and we shook -with the cold, though it was a warm day in June. We'd brought a bit of -candle with us, and Mis' Johnson lit it, and then we saw—land sakes, -child, how scairt you look; don't get so near the fire, honey, you'll -be all ablaze. Where was I? Oh, we saw the stone, just as Johnnie -said, a real gravestone of white marble, and on it the name 'Melindy -Barbour,' with the date 'Sept. 5, 18—,' below it. But the rest we -couldn't make out. 'He's going to let her live three months, may heaven -forgive him,' says old Mis' Johnson, meanin' different from what she -said. - -"The next day I went to Melindy, and told her the whole truth. And -would you believe it, she said she thought Mis' Johnson and I had no -business prying about other people's affairs? 'If he had bought me a -thousand gravestones I'd have him just the same,' says she. So they was -married the next day in the meeting-house, but Melindy was white as a -ghost, and she trembled so she could hardly walk. They went right away -on the cars, and we threw some old shoes after 'em, but all the wishin' -of joy was make believe, and I never saw a bride with such a white, set -face, never looking at her husband nor yet at us. - -"They was away nearly three months; then they came back to the old -house. But folks said they wasn't happy, that she was as cold as a -stone, and he was always at his books and old insects. One day I got a -letter askin' me to come and see her. She was lyin' down on a lounge -when I got there, white and so thin, with big eyes with a sorry, hungry -look in 'em. But she had on a smart gown, and was as pretty as a -picture. As soon as we'd shaken hands and I'd taken off my bonnet and -mantilla, she says, 'Do you know what day to-morrow is?' Then I thought -it up, and said it was the 5th of September. 'The day I am to die,' she -says in a soft, quiet way. Then I up and asked her if Mortimer had been -ill-treatin' her, but she put up her finger, and said, 'Not a word to -my husband; he doesn't know I know it.' Then she said he was awful good -to her, but she couldn't get that gravestone out of her head day or -night. All at once it came to me how matters was; she'd been too proud -to give him up, besides her likin' him, too; and she'd been too proud -to tell him about it; and so betwixt the two the poor child was almost -beat out. She asked if I would go out to the cornhouse with her to see -the stone. She wanted to see it and was afraid to go alone. - -"Then a queer thing happened. Mortimer had come into the next room -while she'd been talkin', and heard every word. I never saw anybody so -stirred up as he was when he came in. 'Is that tombstone what has stood -between us?' he said, and went on to explain that it had been ordered -for his mother. He was such a bad writer that the stone cutter mistook -the name Malviny for Melindy, and after the stone was half done it -was found out, and they made him pay for it. So, as it was his, they -brought it to him, and, not knowin' what to do with it, he'd just set -it up in the cornhouse and forgot all about it. Melindy, she began to -cry, and then they fell to huggin' and kissin' each other, as if they -hadn't met for years. I tried to put in a word to ca'm 'em, but they -saw me without seeing me, and heard me without hearing me, so I put on -my bonnet and mantilla and came away and left 'em. - -"After that? Dear me, they was the happiest couple you ever saw. They -used the gravestone for a front doorstep, wrong side up, and it was -real pretty. Melindy was dretful proud of him, and believed every word -he wrote about them bugs and beetles, just as his mother did, which -only goes to show that the old sayin' is true, that love is blind." - -[Illustration] - - - - - The Other One. - BY A. H. GIBSON. - - -I NEVER recall it without shuddering, though it happened over thirty -years ago. - -I was then a young man, occupying a position of trust in the banking -firm of Dillard & Hatch. One day I was sent to carry five thousand -dollars in gold to Caleb Parton, a very eccentric man living in an -isolated house in a wild, hilly part of West Virginia. - -Parton was the bank's heaviest depositor, and his wealth was said to -aggregate a half million. The day before, his servant, a large negro, -had appeared at the bank with a message requesting Dillard to send him -eight thousand dollars in gold. He arranged that I was to be the one -to carry the amount to him, and further suggested that I should make -the trip in a wagon, so that I could take back a cask of rare old wine, -which he begged to be permitted to present to the firm. - -It was a hard journey over rough, stony roads, which were seldom -traveled, except by the plodding mountain folk of that region; and -not until two hours after sunset did I reach the queer stone dwelling -where Caleb Parton lived a hermit-like existence, shut away from all -the world. The place was a lonely one, in the heart of an uninhabited, -hilly tract of country covered with extensive forests. - -I was impressed with the deepest sense of this loneliness, as I drew -rein before the solitary stone house. Hitching the horse to a tree, I -was guided up the indistinct path by a meager, yellowish light that -struggled through the panes of an upstairs window. - -Although I knocked loudly at the door, it was fully ten minutes before -I heard any sound within. Then, half cautiously, the thick oaken door -opened, and a dark-faced, wiry man, somewhere between fifty and sixty, -looked out at me. - -"Who are you?" he demanded. - -"Hope, of the firm of Dillard & Hatch," I returned. - -"Ah! It's you, come at last, is it?" he said, holding the lighted -candle so as to get a better view of my face. "Well, come in, Mr. Hope." - -He led the way up a flight of stairs and through a hall into a wide -room, lighted by a brass lamp. The furniture was scant, but of a heavy, -antique pattern. A faded Brussels carpet covered the floor, and in one -corner stood a desk with a small iron safe near by. A narrow table in -the center of the room held a decanter and glasses with the remnants of -a lunch. - -Motioning me to a chair, my strange host took the sacks of gold, which -I carried in a stout bag, and threw them against the safe. The clang of -the falling coins sounded dismally through the silent apartment. - -"What a curse love and gold can be to a man!" - -He spoke bitterly. I had never met Caleb Parton before, and as he -uttered these words I looked at him carefully. His face was of a dark -olive tint, while his deep-set eyes were small and intensely black. -They were full of magnetism and subtle cunning. - -He became conscious of my scrutiny, frowned a little, then turned -toward the door. - -"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Hope," he said, "I'll bring you up some -refreshments. You must be tired and hungry after your long ride." - -In a short time he returned, bringing a tray on which was a choice -repast, with a bowl of strong coffee. - -"You see I'm my own servant, Mr. Hope," he said, putting the tray on -the table. "My man, Joe, is off to a camp-meeting and won't be back -before daylight." - -As I ate the lunch which Caleb Parton had brought me, he emptied the -gold from the sacks upon the floor and counted it over carefully. - -"Correct!" I heard him chuckle to himself, as he flung the refilled -sacks into the safe. - -After I had finished my lunch, Parton exhibited two fine pipes and -invited me to join him in a smoke. - -"Excuse my oversight. There's not a drop of wine left in this -decanter," he said, after examining it. - -"No matter," I returned. "I never drink wine." - -"Tut, tut, man! you miss half your life. Now, I have a very choice -collection of wines. Come, I'll give you a peep at my vaults." - -He arose as he spoke and took up a candle. I had no interest whatever -in wines, but I accompanied him. - -Descending to the lower hallway, we passed through a long, dreary room, -then down narrow stone steps into a capacious cellar, walled on every -side with heavy masonry. - -The place was damp and musty. Dust and cobwebs covered the casks and -bottles that littered the whole end of the cellar. My host did not halt -till we reached a heavy iron door fastened with a large, rusty padlock. -I noticed a demoniacal expression on Parton's face, as he held the -light close enough to the lock to examine it. - -"No, it's never been meddled with," he remarked with a chuckle. "Ten -years is a very long time for a man to live on wine—but he was very -fond of wine—very—ha, ha!" - -I looked at Parton in amazement, much puzzled as to the import of his -strange words and manner. - -He turned to me with a quick gesture. - -"A thousand pardons!" he said. "You think my actions strange. But—shall -I?—" a wild flash in his eyes. "Yes, Mr. Hope, you shall have the -story. I must tell it to some one. It's too good to keep. Ha, ha!" - -"Take a seat," he continued, pushing a cask towards me, upon which I -dropped, not certain that I was not in the presence of a madman. - -Taking up a bottle, he brushed the cobwebs from it, then, breaking off -the neck, passed it to me, saying: - -"Take a pull. It's damp in this cellar, and this will take the chill -out of your blood. This is an excellent wine—it was a favorite brand -with Judson Pickford. Yes, sir; and Judson was a competent judge. Ha, -ha!" - -His laugh made me shiver. It sounded like the exultation of a fiend. -But I declined the wine, and Parton himself drained the bottle. - -"You've never heard of Judson Pickford?" he asked. - -"No." - -"Of course not. That was before you came, and it isn't likely that -excellent Messrs. Dillard & Hatch would mention him to you. But they -could tell you a great deal about Judson if they were so disposed." - -"Judson Pickford was a strange, dark man. I met him first in society -in Baltimore. And, strange to say, many declared that there was a -strong resemblance between Pickford and Parton. Be that as it may, fate -decreed that we should both love the same girl,—beautiful, winsome -Mabel Raymond. I loved her from the hour we first met, and I've no -doubt my rival's passion was as intense as my own. I was a rich wine -merchant, and Pickford a wealthy, brilliant stock-broker. Both of us -vowed to win Miss Raymond, but from the first I saw that she favored -Pickford's suit. This made me hate my rival with deepest hatred. After -they were married I went about for months like one stupefied. In losing -the only woman I loved I lost all interest in life. I drank heavily, -but the more I drank the more I felt myself urged on to revenge. Then I -began to lay plans for Pickford's ruin. - -"When he and his wife were in Europe I saw an excellent chance to -mature my scheme for his destruction. I first converted all my property -into cash. Then I came to this secluded place and had this house built, -where I might live apart from the world I hated. Afterward I went to -Dillard & Hatch, and placed five hundred thousand dollars in their -bank. I knew Dillard to be a noted schemer, so I took him into my -confidence, and got his promise to help me. Hatch, being a weak man, -was not hard to rope into the plot. No need for me to go into details -of the steps by which Dillard and I artfully spread a net for our -unsuspecting victim. It is enough to say that soon after Pickford's -return from abroad he was a ruined man. Penniless though he was, he -didn't lose heart. He moved into plainer quarters and took up the -practise of law, a profession which he had followed before he became -a stock-broker. But my vengeance was not yet satisfied. Mind you, -though, I took pains never to let him suspect I was even most remotely -connected with the cause of his ruin. - -"Just when Pickford was having his hardest struggle I went to him with -an offer to start him in business. He gratefully accepted my offer. I -sent him alone to New York with a large sum of money. Then, disguising -myself, I followed him. In the city I removed my disguise and sought -out Pickford, telling him I had changed my plans for him. I directed -him to come here the next night, but to tell no one of our business. -He kept the appointment. We met at the station, six miles below the -hills, and walked here to this house. It was a dark night. No one saw -us. He was fond of wine, so after I had urged many a glass upon him I -conducted him to this vault. In his drunken condition I had no trouble -to get him to enter it. Then I shut and locked that iron door upon him. -He had only a cask of wine to keep him company. That was ten years ago, -and that door has never been opened since." - -A low laugh from the narrator ended his grewsome tale, while a gleam of -fiendish triumph flitted across his swarthy face. - -A cold chill crept up my spine, and I arose involuntarily. - -Was there truth in his awful narration, or was it merely the ravings of -a maniac? - -"A wholesome tale to go to bed on, eh, Mr. Hope? Ha, ha!" he laughed, -as he arose and led the way upstairs. - -When I was alone in the room where I was to spend the night, I decided -that the wine which Parton had drunk was responsible for the horrible -story to which I had listened. - -Next morning, while I was despatching an early breakfast, Negro Joe and -Parton carried out a cask of wine, which they placed in my wagon. - -Just before starting, my strange host handed me a sealed letter, saying: - -"Give this to Dillard, and tell him I hope he'll find the wine superb. -Good-by, Mr. Hope," and he waved me off. - -When I reached the bank I gave the letter to Mr. Dillard. As he read -it his face turned a sickly hue and his mouth twitched nervously. -Recovering himself, however, he ordered Hatch and me to open the cask -which Parton had sent him. - -We obeyed at once. As the top of the cask was broken open, we started -back in horror. - -There, preserved in wine, was a _human head_,—the head and face of -Caleb Parton, the recluse millionaire! - -Then Dillard explained that his letter was from Judson Pickford, who, -with the help of Negro Joe, who hated his harsh master, Caleb Parton, -had effected his escape from the vault. But a month later, his wife -having died, Pickford had returned one dark night and killed the man -who had so cruelly ruined him. The head of his enemy had been put in a -cask of wine to send to the banker, who had aided in accomplishing his -financial ruin. With peculiar cunning, he had appropriated not only the -name and looks of Parton, but his property and bank account as well. In -carrying out this deception, he had a faithful ally in Negro Joe. - -It was Pickford himself who had related the dark story to me. It seemed -almost incredible. A visit to the lonely stone house with two officers -discovered a headless body in the vault. But Pickford and his ally had -disappeared. - -[Illustration] - - - - - Stateroom Six. - BY WILLIAM ALBERT LEWIS. - - -THINGS have changed greatly on the river. There are no open bars, no -card playing, no shooting; much less travel, for that matter. - -We were a half dozen at supper. I sat opposite a gray-bearded man, who, -when he had completed his meal, closely scrutinized a modest-appearing -young woman quietly supping at another table. She finished and -departed. When she was gone my neighbor leaned across and said: - -"Perhaps you thought it funny I watched that lady so closely? But -that's 'Sis.' I remember her twenty years back, on this very boat. My! -but what a look at her brings to my mind!" - -He leaned back, his eyes on the table, a grim smile broadening a kindly -countenance, and pushed both hands deeply into his pockets. - -The man had something he wanted to tell. - -"A romance, I suppose? I'd like to hear it." - -"It was twenty years ago, and on this boat, the Hester Hale. -Professional gamblers were always aboard, looking for victims. None -were more daring nor more lucky than 'Ready' Rankin. A handsome fellow, -of good family, with a heart big and manly, if he was a cut-throat -gambler and a bad man all around. Down at that landing we left before -sundown,—Kellyville,—an old man was waiting, one night, with a wee -tot of a girl. He brought her aboard. You know how natural it is to -consign children to the care of some person? The child was the old -man's granddaughter. She was to get off at Low Water Landing, which is -the next stop we'll make, a few minutes from now. He happened to put -the child in 'Ready' Rankin's care. He agreed to see her safely ashore -and to deliver her to her ma. 'Ready' got a stateroom, put the child -in one of the berths, and gave her a bag of candy to keep her from -crying. Then he went below for a game. The play chanced to be tolerable -heavy that night, with Rankin an eight-thousand-dollar winner. But it -ended in a row; and Rankin, seeing trouble ahead, rolled his pile in a -newspaper and laid it beside the sleeping child in the stateroom. The -boat was then a half hour from the landing. 'Ready' got into a fight -with the man he beat at the table, and was badly shot. His last words -were confused. He said something about: - -"'Stateroom six—little one—Low Water Landing—money.' - -"The boat made the landing. They woke the child up, put all the bundles -into her arms, and turned her over to her ma. - -"Sis's mother soon discovered the package of money, and met the boat -at the landing on her down trip next night, to make inquiries of the -captain. But he knew nothing. Rankin had been buried that day up river. -Nobody knew anything about any money. So Sis's mother kept it, trying -all the time to get some knowledge of Rankin's family. That she could -not do. They had disowned him. - -"About three years ago a party of young men came up the river hunting. -They stopped off at Low Water Landing and boarded with Sis's ma. One of -the young fellows was teller in a bank down in Natchez. He fell head -over ears in love with Sis. You can't much blame him, can you? She's -awfully handsome. Naturally enough, they got to comparing notes; and -the story of the money came out. Do you know, sir, it turned out that -the young bank teller was Rankin's son? Fact! He and his mother and -step-father lived together, and all they'd ever heard was that 'Ready' -had been killed in a fight on the river. They didn't mourn overmuch, -although 'Ready' wasn't the worst chap that ever lived. - -"There! We're just blowing for Low Water now. Let's go on deck and see -Sis land. Up to visit her ma, I reckon." - -"Rankin's son is going to marry her, I suppose?" - -"Married, man! Year ago, last Christmas. They live as cozy as you -please down in Natchez. He's cashier of that bank now." - -We stood by the rail as the boat made fast. The young lady tripped -lightly ashore and greeted a white-haired old lady. - -The Hester Hale resumed her way. - -"Step this way. I'll show you where 'Ready' was killed." - -We strolled to the gangway. He pointed to a little bullet hole in the -casement. - -"There were three shots fired. 'Ready' fired one and I—" - -I looked up quickly into his patriarchal face. He paled, and fixed his -eyes on me. - -"I didn't mean to say so much, friend; but I believe you are a square -man. This spot has a fascination for me. And it is twenty years ago, -twenty—years—ago." - -His head drooped. He seemed to be thinking of something beside what he -uttered. - -"I understand you," I said. - -I pressed his hand, and went to bed. - -[Illustration] - - - - - Her Eyes, Your Honor. - BY H. D. UMBSTAETTER. - - -THE witness is yours." - -As the prosecuting attorney sat down, the spectators craned their -necks and eagerly leaned forward. Every one expected a merciless -cross-examination, as the reputation of the young lawyer, who had been -brought two hundred miles to defend the prisoner, had preceded him. And -though Delos McWhorter had thus far taken no part in the proceedings, -he was the most conspicuous figure in the great trial. One person alone -rivaled him,—the mysterious woman who stood at the bar, charged with -murder. The hush that fell upon the packed courtroom as the man slowly -rose to his feet resembled the awful silence with which the death -sentence is awaited. As he stood silent and irresolute for a moment, -the color rising to his plain, youthful face, his fingers nervously -fumbling with a pencil, the spectators were conscious of a feeling of -disappointment. - -With almost boyish embarrassment, his eye sought that of the presiding -judge; next he scanned the faces of the jury, and then, turning to the -witness, in a voice at once gentle, sarcastic, and magnetic, he began: - -"Mr. Slade, I will trouble you to look once more very carefully at the -prisoner. Perhaps she will rise that you may see her better. You have -testified that shortly before eight on the night of the murder you saw -this woman enter the apartment house of which you are the janitor, and -in which the body of Charlotte Ames was found. Now, I would like to -have you tell the jury just what it was in the appearance of the woman -you say you then saw that enables you to swear to-day that she and the -prisoner are one and the same person." - -The witness, fearing a trap, hesitated, and nervously eyed the lawyer. - -"I would like you to tell us," calmly continued the questioner, -"whether you took such particular notice of her height, her face, her -complexion, her hair, her nose, and her teeth during the few moments -that you say you saw her in the dimly lighted hallway, four months ago, -as to enable you to swear to-day that you cannot be mistaken. Was it -her size, her apparent age, perhaps, or the color of her hair, or what?" - -"It was her looks," answered the witness, squirming in his seat. "It's -the same woman." - -"Yes, her looks; but I must trouble you to answer my question so that -the jury may have the whole truth before they are asked to send any one -to the gallows. Remember, Mr. Slade, you are under oath. Now tell us, -what was it?" - -"We object," came from the prosecuting attorney as he sprang to his -feet. "We object, your honor, to this attempt to intimidate the -witness." - -Before the court could pass upon the objection, the witness, turning -from his questioner to the court, exclaimed half defiantly: - -"It was her eyes, your honor!" - -"That is all," came from the lawyer for the defense, as he resumed his -seat; and the spectators relaxed into a condition of restlessness that -clearly showed their further disappointment. - -Each of the succeeding witnesses declared without hesitation that the -prisoner was the woman they had seen near the scene of the murder, -either just before or shortly after the deed was discovered. As one -after the other was dismissed by the defense, upon insisting under -cross-examination that he could not possibly be mistaken, the faces -of the government counsel beamed with satisfaction, while those of -the spectators assumed the blankness of mystification. What was the -strange lawyer there for? they whispered among themselves, and many -turned toward the prisoner as though to ascertain whether she realized -how surely her life was being sworn away. In his opening address the -prosecuting attorney had said: - -"On the second day of last November, a woman residing in this town, -young, rich, and notorious for her gay and reckless career, was found -murdered in her bed at half past eight at night. Everything about -the room was in perfect order. There had been no robbery, and the -instrument used was found in her breast, where it had been driven to -the heart. It was a gold ornament, such as a woman wears in her hair. - -"We shall not attempt to defend the character of the dead woman, but we -shall ask that justice be done. - -"It is true that many a woman in this town had good reason to wish the -murdered woman ill. It is true that there are men in the community who -might have been driven by desperate hate, desperate love, or desperate -jealousy, to do the deed, but, fortunately, before cruel suspicion -made any blunder of that sort the police discovered the criminal. -Almost simultaneously with the rumors of the murder came the reports -of a mysterious woman found leaving the city. Within twelve hours this -woman, who now stands at the bar, had been identified by no less than -four people, who saw her in the vicinity of the scene of the crime -either before or after it was committed. - -"No one knew her. She refused to give any account of herself. She -appeared to be in a state of great nervous excitement. The government -will show that she entered the house shortly before the murder was -committed; that she left it a few minutes after the deed was done; that -on the very day of the murder she had high words with the dead woman, -and that the instrument with which the deed was done was such an one as -the prisoner was known to possess. Gentlemen of the jury," he concluded -dramatically, "Fate plays no tricks of that sort. Fate fashions no such -chain of circumstantial evidence as that which establishes the guilt of -this woman and upon which we ask her conviction." - -These were his words, and now that the janitor had testified that he -saw the prisoner enter the building, a patrolman had declared that -he saw her leaving it within fifteen minutes before the crime was -discovered, and the dead woman's coachman had sworn to having overheard -the prisoner using threatening language to his mistress,—after this and -other circumstantial evidence had gone before the jury and remained -unshaken by cross-examination, the prosecution announced that the case -for the government was in. - -In spite of the disappointment with which the spectators regarded -Lawyer McWhorter, a nervous dread of the man possessed the minds of -the opposing counsel, as he rose slowly and deliberately clasped his -hands behind him. He was so calm. His methods were so unfathomable that -they began to feel a vague conviction that he mastered them and their -methods, while to them he was a closed book. - -A moment he stood silent, and when he spoke, utter consternation fell -upon the court. The words were the last they had expected. - -"Your honor, the defense has no evidence to offer." - -Even the court could scarce control its amazement. Inch by inch the -ground upon which the prisoner stood had been carried away, until now -nothing but the personal appeal of her counsel could save her life. -Was this possible? Did this young stranger really possess that rare -eloquence, that fatal magnetism, that sometimes blind strong men to -all sense of reason and right? Did even he hope to save his client? -His looks betrayed nothing. As he took his seat his face was that of a -sphinx. - -The attorney for the government lost no time in beginning his closing -speech. "We commend the judgment of the distinguished counsel for the -defense," he began, "which deterred him from attacking the overwhelming -proofs we have submitted of the prisoner's guilt. We commend the keen -judgment which prompts him to rely upon the famed magic of his own -voice rather than to seek hope for his client in the uncertain words -of unreliable witnesses. The defense, too clever to attack such proof -as we have presented, will now rely upon silvery tongued oratory and -superb rhetorical appeals to secure from these twelve men a verdict of -acquittal. But, may it please the court," he concluded, "our learned -brother mistakes the intelligence of these gentlemen of the jury, if he -supposes, for one moment, that fervent appeals to their sympathies can -make them forget their duty to themselves, to civilized society, and -to womankind." So well satisfied, however, had the spectators become -of the prisoner's guilt, and so completely did all interest now center -in McWhorter's anticipated speech, that the remarks of the prosecuting -attorney were listened to with indifferent attention. - -Now, surely, the brilliant advocate would demonstrate his ability, even -though he could not save his client. - -"The woman," he began, amid oppressive silence, "who was arrested -on the second day of November last, stands charged with murder. As -no testimony has been offered to show that she committed murder, -the defense will not waste your time or insult your common sense by -unnecessary argument. You have been told with great clearness by the -witnesses for the prosecution that the prisoner was seen to enter and -leave a certain house at certain hours; also that on a certain day she -had high words with a certain woman. But, gentlemen of the jury, under -the laws of your State that doesn't constitute murder. A woman may -pay a visit to an apartment house at eight o'clock at night, she may -have high words with another woman in the public highway, she may even -wear a gold ornament in her hair,—she may do all this without becoming -a murderess. The evidence adduced is purely circumstantial. No proof -whatever has been offered that the accused woman killed Charlotte Ames. -In the absence of such testimony, it is your duty to yourselves, to -civilized society, and to womankind, to acquit the prisoner." Before -the last word was spoken he sat down. - -The entire courtroom was again taken by surprise. While the brief -speech had the ring of cleverness, it fell far short of the general -expectations. - -After hearing the judge's charge to the jury not one person in that -vast assembly doubted the result. Few felt any sympathy for the woman, -and those few were men. The members of her own sex were as a unit -arrayed against her. The pride of her pale beauty antagonized them. The -very women who in their hearts had wished the dead girl ill and who -would have committed the crime themselves, except that they lacked the -courage, had no pity for the accused. There was something in her beauty -above and beyond them, and, womanlike, they hated her for it. - -Not a soul left the courtroom as the jury filed out, for all expected a -prompt verdict. In this they were not disappointed. Ten minutes later -the twelve men filed solemnly back. Not an eye sought the face of the -prisoner, who, like her counsel, sat entirely unmoved. - -As the clerk rose the silence became deathlike. "Prisoner, look upon -the jury. Jury, look upon the prisoner. Have you agreed upon a verdict?" - -"We have." - -"Is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty of the crime charged -against her?" - -"Guilty." - -With difficulty the demonstrations of approval that broke out in every -part of the room were checked by the court officers. - -Moved by that inevitable heart-stopping vision of "hanged by the neck," -every spectator turned to the handsome woman in the dock. - -The calmness with which she received the stares of a thousand eyes was -marvelous. No one expected that she would now break her mysterious -silence. When, therefore, she rose and turned her eyes towards the -court the spectators sat fairly spellbound with surprise. - -"May it please your honor," she began in a firm, clear voice; then, -lifting one slender white hand, she pointed to the door at the back of -the witness stand. - -Every eye followed her gesture. A tall female figure, heavily veiled, -accompanied by one of the associate counsel of the defense, stood in -the doorway. The next moment she raised her veil, advanced rapidly, and -took her place beside the prisoner. - -The scene that followed resembled a street riot, rather than the solemn -proceedings of a courtroom. Men, wild with excitement, mounted their -chairs, women rose in their seats, pushing, jostling, and crowding -each other in their frantic efforts to get a better view of the highly -sensational proceedings. The confusion was indescribable, the noise -deafening. Not until McWhorter was seen to spring to his feet did the -court officers' vigorous rapping and loud cries for order produce any -effect. Instantly all was silence. Rigid suspense held the spectators -breathless. With the light they had missed in his eye and the fire they -had longed for in his voice the young lawyer spoke, addressing the -judge: - -"May it please the court,—nice customs must bow to desperate needs. -When a man is called upon to face in defense of a woman's life such -odds as I found in this case, when he sees justice outwitted by the -devil's trick,—circumstantial evidence,—he must resort to the devil's -weapon,—cunning. Such evidence as has been here given has hanged many -a man, and I believe that when a man of any heart, any soul, any -chivalry, sees that it is likely to hang a woman it becomes his duty to -combat fate as the defense has done in this case. - -"I ask your honor, I ask the jury, I ask the witnesses, to look upon -these two women. As they stand there side by side, there is a marked -difference in their heights, a decided difference in the color of -their hair, a striking difference in the color of their eyes, a very -perceptible difference, even at this distance, in the tone of their -skin; and, I may add, a difference of eight years in their ages. The -woman who has just been pronounced guilty of murder is the wife of a -gentleman who throughout this trial has sat within the shadow of the -jury. She is innocent, as God is my judge. Every moment of her life -up to this very instant can be accounted for. In substituting her -to-day for the real prisoner, the defense had no desire to circumvent -justice. We merely wished to save this court, this community, from the -everlasting shame of hanging a woman whose guilt has not been proved. -We wished to show to your honor and to these gentlemen of the jury that -it is monstrous to accept as conclusive such evidence as has been given -in this case. May it please your honor, this jury has just pronounced a -verdict of 'guilty' against my own wife. I move that here and now this -verdict be set aside." - -The request was granted, and, although McWhorter was charged with -unprofessional conduct and threatened with disbarment, his client was -promptly acquitted on the new trial which the court ordered. - -[Illustration] - - - - - ADVERTISEMENTS. - -[Illustration] - - Hair Cloth Crinoline, - -NOTWITHSTANDING the great number of imitations and substitutes -advertised to be twice as wide and twice as cheap, has a hold upon the -fashionable dressmakers and fashionable women that cannot be shaken. -It was only a matter of time for the old adage, "_The best is the -cheapest_," to be proven, and now the demand for the genuine Hair -Cloth Crinoline, of which every strand of the weft is _pure hair_, -promises to exceed the output. 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The incidents - are highly dramatic and the story is told as only Bret Harte can tell - such a story. - - - The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain. - - By CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK, author of "The Prophet of the - Great Smoky Mountains," etc. 16mo, $1.25. - - A book of several powerful stories of the region and characters which - Miss Murfree knows so well and "plays" so effectively. - - - The Cup of Trembling, and Other Stories. - - By MARY HALLOCK FOOTE, author of "Cœur d'Alene," "The Chosen - Valley," etc. 16mo, $1.25. - - A collection of short stories, admirable in plot, characters, - narrative, tone, and purpose. - - - The Madonna of the Tubs. - - _New Popular Edition_ of one of Miss PHELPS'S most - striking and touching stories. With illustrations. Uniform with Mrs. - Wiggin's "The Birds' Christmas Carol." 75 cents. - - - Mr. Rabbit at Home. - - A sequel to "Little Mr. Thimblefinger and His Queer Country." By - JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS. With 25 illustrations by Oliver - Herford. Square 8vo, bound in very attractive style, $2.00. - - - The Nimble Dollar, and Other Stories. - - A group of capital stories for boys. By CHARLES MINER - THOMPSON. With a frontispiece illustration. 1 vol. 16mo, $1.00. - - - Sold by Booksellers. Sent postpaid by - - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., BOSTON. - - - - -[Illustration] - - Free for a Postal - - If you want to obtain WITHOUT COST a - Bicycle, Piano, Organ, Sewing Machine, Fountain Pen, a Carriage Lamp, - Bicycle Lantern, Camera, Winchester Rifle, a Revolver, Typewriter, - Carpet Sweeper, Roll-top Desk, Frank Leslie Pipe, Etchings, an - Encyclopedia, any Standard Work, Popular Books, Silverware, New Sets - of Standard Works, etc. - - Send us your name and address and mention THE BLACK CAT. - These substantial and valuable premiums, the best ever offered by a - reliable publishing house, are given _absolutely free_, with the - wonderfully improved - - - Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly, - The Great Family Magazine. - - Contains each month: Original Water Color Frontispiece. Over 100 New - and High Class Illustrations, 128 Quarto Pages of Reading Matter. - - Publishes more illustrations and literary matter than any other - magazine in America. - - 25 Cents. $3.00 a Year. - -=Frank Leslie's Pleasant Hours for Boys and Girls.= -A Bright, New, Wholesome, Juvenile Monthly. -Fully illustrated. The best writers for young people -contribute to it. 20c. a copy. $1 a year. - -=Frank Leslie's Budget=. A monthly of humor, -satire, and tales of adventure. Thoroughly up -to date, and fully illustrated. 20c. a copy. $1 a year. - - 20c. - sent at once, in stamps or coin, will - bring you a specimen copy of all - three magazines. - - Frank Leslie's Publishing House, - 42-44 Bond Street, New York. - - - "The Handsomest of Special Numbers." - - The Magnificent - Christmas Double Number - OF - THE - NEW YORK LEDGER - - Forms will close Monday, November 25. - Unusually large extra edition to be printed. - Limited space. - - Send order and "Copy" at once to - EDWARD P. CONE, Manager Advertising Department, - Ledger Building, New York City. - - - - - [Illustration] - - "GOLD MEDAL AND DIPLOMA, CONSTITUTING HIGHEST AWARD, MUNICH - INTERNATIONAL EXPOSITION, 1895. AN UNPARALLELED VICTORY IN THE VERY - HOME OF BREWING." - - THE HISTORY OF BREWING BEGINS WITH EGYPT - - PABST - MILWAULKEE - - SUPREME AWARD WORLD'S FAIR - - Life's...Struggle - Becomes more and more intense as the Nineteenth Century advances. - Mentally and physically we must conserve our energies, build up our - strength, and equip ourselves for the contest. We must have sleep, - good digestion, steady nerves, bone and muscle, clear minds. These can - be secured, maintained and enhanced by the use of - Pabst... - MALT EXTRACT - The "Best" Tonic - - MILWAUKEE BEER IS FAMOUS - PABST HAS MADE IT SO. - - - - -[Illustration] - - The Hook That's Flat - - The Hook that shows isn't so good as the Hook that doesn't. There's no - show to the Singer Hook and Eye. Sold everywhere. - - Singer Safety Hook & Eye Co., - GRAND RAPIDS, MICH. - - - The Barta Press Printers of The Black Cat. - Artistic, Original, and Unique Typography. - Boston, Mass. - - - The Ink used in printing - The Black Cat - is manufactured by Geo. H. Morrill & Co., Boston, Mass. - - - HYACINTHS. TULIPS. - - ELEGANT FLOWERING BULBS. - - _Sent by Mail, postpaid, at the following special prices._ - - 3 named =HYACINTHS=, different colors, fine, for 10c. - 5 " =TULIPS=, lovely sorts, all different, " 10c. - 4 " =NARCISSUS=, " " " " 10c. - 3 =JAPAN LILIES=, " " " " 10c. - 10 =CROCUS=, 5 sorts, named, - - - " 10c. - 10 =FREESIAS=, fine mixed sorts, - - " 10c. - 1 =BLACK CALLA=, new, from Palestine - " 10c. - - or the whole =36 Bulbs=, postpaid, for 50 cents. - - - Our Catalogue, - -=ELEGANTLY ILLUSTRATED, of all kinds of Plants and Bulbs=, for -Fall Planting and Winter Blooming, also new Fruits, Shrubs, etc., is -now ready, and will be mailed =FREE= to all who apply. Choicest -Hyacinths, Tulips, Narcissus, and other Bulbs, at greatly reduced -prices. Write for it at once. Address - - JOHN LEWIS CHILDS, FLORAL PARK, N. Y. - - - - - [Illustration] - - "My Boy— - LE PAGE'S LIQUID GLUE - will not mend broken bones but I don't know anything else it won't - mend—and mend it so that 'twill stay mended, too." - - Ten-cent bottles for household use. - CANS with patent cover for Mechanics. - - Copyright, 1895, by Russia Cement Co., Gloucester, Mass. - - - - - Copyright, 1895, by The Shortstory Publishing Co. - -[Illustration] - - 5 CENTS - -_=New York Tribune=_:—The average American can always - find time to read such fascinating stories as are published in the - attractive new story magazine, The Black Cat. Brief, stirring, well - handled, and uniquely original, these tales are distinctly a new - departure in story-telling. - -_=Boston, Mass., Daily Herald=_:—The Black Cat has reached - the climax of the story-telling art. Both press and public seem to - have agreed upon this. In street cars and hotels, in drawing-rooms - and in railroad stations, this magazine's outward attractiveness and - interesting inwardness are the subject of continued conversation. - -_=Philadelphia, Pa., Evening Telegraph=_:—The new Boston short-story - magazine, The Black Cat, with its complete, stirring tales, exquisite - cover, clear type and captivating initial cuts and tail-pieces—all - for five cents—will repay the buyer a dozen times over. - -_=Woonsocket, R. I., Daily Reporter=_:—The Black Cat - presents an entire departure from the beaten path. It is marked to - become _the_ magazine of story lovers. - -_=Cumberland, Md., Daily Times=_:—The prettiest, most - unique, and most interesting story magazine on the market is The Black - Cat. It is a gem and will become a great pet. - -_=Hartford, Conn., Daily Times=_:—What sets the Black Cat - magazine apart from any other is the fact that its stories are not - only absolutely new, but that they are well told, and offered on their - merits as stories. 'Tis unique in contents, unique in make-up, and - compact in form. - -_=Springfield, Ill., Daily News=_:—The Black Cat is exactly - such a new departure in story-telling as any man or woman will - appreciate. It furnishes the most delightful five cents' worth ever - put into print. - -_=Boston, Mass., Daily Post=_:—Surely any one who buys - a copy of the new five-cent story magazine, The Black Cat, will - pronounce it the most fascinating five cents' worth on earth. - -_=Portsmouth, N. H., Daily Post=_:—The Black Cat, with its - clever, original stories—all good stories, well told—is undoubtedly - destined to become the most popular magazine ever published. - -_=Detroit, Mich., Journal=_:—In The Black Cat the reader - will find, not fairly good stories, but the best stories, gotten up in - the cleverest form, and offered for the least money,—five cents. - -_=Burlington, Vt., Free Press=_:—The outward attractiveness - of the Black Cat magazine is more than fulfilled by the interest of - the original, stirring, complete tales that make up its contents. - -_=Boston, Mass., Daily Globe=_:—Its captivating - contents,—stories that _are_ stories,—render The Black Cat - emphatically the periodical for the story-loving public everywhere. - -_=Manchester, N. H., Daily Mirror=_:—The most uniquely - fascinating magazine ever published is the Black Cat. Certainly any - one who spends five cents for a copy will find his investment repaid - many times over. - -_=Lynn, Mass., Daily Item=_:—The Black Cat is the most - original and captivating story teller ever published. It lives up to - its watchwords—fascinating tales, cleverly told. - -_=Baltimore, Md., American=_:—The literary contents of the - unique new Boston magazine, The Black Cat, are quite as fascinating as - its exquisite covers. - -_=Evansville, Ind., Daily Courier=_:—With its beautiful - appearance and excellent short stories—all for five cents—The Black - Cat is bound to become a general favorite and popular success. - -_=New York Mail and Express=_:—The Black Cat will prove - a literary pet. It publishes good, strong short stories,—the most - difficult literary product to obtain. It is clean, stirring, - enterprising. - - - - -[Illustration] - - _Story Tellers_ - -Will simply waste time and postage in sending us manuscripts which do -not in every particular meet the following requirements:— - -We can use only such stories as, both in plot and handling, are of -striking originality and universal interest, stories which never, -either in whole or part, have appeared in print before, and which are -free from padding, commonplace and attempted fine writing. No dialect -stories, poetry, or translations will be considered. The Black Cat will -give space only to - - - Fascinating Tales, Cleverly Told. - -To receive attention, all manuscripts must bear the writer's full -name and address, together with the number of words, which may range -from fifteen hundred to five thousand, but must in no case exceed the -latter number; they must be very legibly written, sent unfolded, and -accompanied by sufficient stamps for their return. Manuscripts will -be received and returned only at the contributor's risk. All stories -will be judged purely on their own merits, and the writer's name -or reputation will carry no weight whatever. Payment for accepted -manuscripts will be made not according to length, but according to the -editor's opinion of their worth. Manuscripts will be paid for on the -day of acceptance. - - THE SHORTSTORY PUBLISHING CO., 144 High St., Boston, Mass. - - - - -[Illustration] - - Some New Fiction. - - -=Jude, the Obscure= (Hearts Insurgent). By THOMAS HARDY. - Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. (_About Ready._) - -=The Red Cockade.= By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. Illustrated. - Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. $1.50. - -=Against Human Nature.= By MARIA LOUISE POOL. Post 8vo, - Cloth, Ornamental. $1.25. - -=Sunshine and Haar.= By GABRIEL SETOUN. Post 8vo, Cloth, - Ornamental. (_Ready._) - -=A Cumberland Vendetta=, and Other Stories. By JOHN FOX, - Jr. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. $1.25. - -=The Veiled Doctor.= By VARINA ANNE JEFFERSON DAVIS. - Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. $1.25. - -=My Lady Nobody.= A Novel. By MAARTEN MAARTENS. - Author of "An Old Maid's Love," etc. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, - Ornamental. $1.75. - -=His Father's Son.= A Novel of New York. By BRANDER - MATTHEWS. Illustrated by T. DE THULSTRUP. Post 8vo, - Cloth, Ornamental. $1.50. - -=People We Pass.= By JULIAN RALPH. Illustrated. Post - 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. (_Just Ready._) - -=Red Men and White.= Stories. By OWEN WISTER. - Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. (_About Ready._) - -=The Day of Their Wedding.= By W. D. HOWELLS. - Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth. (_Just Ready._) - -=The Sowers.= By HENRY SETON MERRIMAN. Post 8vo, Cloth, - Ornamental. $1.25. - -=With the Procession.= By HENRY B. FULLER. Post 8vo, - cloth, Ornamental. $1.25. - -=The Front Yard=, and Other Italian Stories. By CONSTANCE - FENIMORE WOODSON. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth. $1.25. - -HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York. - - - _Every Description of Printing Plates made by us, by every - process._ - - - C. J. PETERS & SON,... - - Finest Half-Tones a Specialty. - - Photo Engravers - Electrotypers - Wax Engravers - Typographers - - BOSTON, MASS. - - _Special Designs and Drawings made to order. - References in all parts of the United States._ - - - - -[Illustration] - - PACKER'S TAR SOAP - - EXQUISITE CLEANSER. SOOTHING. ANTISEPTIC. - FOR THE - HAIR AND SKIN - -The antiseptic quality of Packer's Tar Soap is a protection against -contagion. Its balsamic properties make it useful in irritated -conditions of the skin. For washing the Hair and Scalp it is without a -rival; it removes dandruff, allays itching, does not dry the hair, but -leaves it soft and lustrous. 25 cents. All Druggists. The Packer Mfg. -Co., New York. - - - Honesty - _IN_ - BRAID. - - GOFF'S BRAID - IS THE - BEST MADE. - -Why Is GOFF'S BRAID preferable to anything else for binding skirts and -dresses? - - I.—Does not hold the dirt like Velveteen. - II.—Will not chafe the shoes like Mohair. - III.—Easily and quickly replaced when soiled. - - A Pure Worsted Braid - (Like Goff's) - is superior to anything - else. - - 5 yds., any color matched, for 8c. - 3¾ " " " " 6c. - - If you cannot obtain it of your dealer. - - D. Goff & Sons, Pawtucket, R. I. - - - - -[Illustration] - -"The most fascinating five cents' worth on earth."—_Boston Post._ - - The Black Cat - FOR DECEMBER, 1895, -Will contain the following Original and Complete Stories. - -No magazine ever issued at any price has presented in one number a -collection of stories marked by such originality and fascinating force -as those contained in this issue of THE BLACK CAT. As the -edition is limited, those desiring copies should not fail to place -orders with their newsdealers in advance of publication. - - - The Great Star Ruby. By Barnes MacGreggor. - In this highly dramatic story the action, which centers around a - fifty-thousand-pound ruby, moves swiftly and stirringly from Australia - to India, thence to the Continent, and then back to Australia. - - - The Interrupted Banquet. By René Bache. - The startling experience of a man who, without warning, found himself - and sweetheart the guests at a phantom dinner party. - - - The Archangel. By James Q. Hyatt. - A clever account of the strange incidents resulting from the - introduction of a matrimonial journal into a bachelor mining camp, - during Gold Time. - - - Asleep at Lone Mountain. By M. D. Umbetsetter. - A graphic tale of overland travel, abounding in pathetic and absorbing - incident. - - - Kootchie. By Harold Kinsabby. - A Boston butler, an aristocratic pug known as Buttons, and a - missionary cat, are the chief characters in this brief comedy of real - life. - - - Frazer's Find. By Roberta Littlehale. - No more powerful and humanly interesting story of the California - pioneer days has appeared than this tale of one man's struggles for - the gold and the love that came too late. The story gains rather than - loses by the womanly delicacy of touch that is united to the vigor of - its theme. - -THE BLACK CAT is issued monthly at five cents a copy. It is -sold only by newsdealers. If yours hasn't it, and won't get it for you, -get another newsdealer. - - The Shortstory Publishing Company, - 144 High Street, Boston, Mass. - - - - -[Illustration] - - USE IT - EVERY - DAY - IN THE - WEEK - & - THEN - REST - ON - SUNDAY. - - S MONDAY - - A TUESDAY - - P WEDNESDAY - - O THURSDAY - - L FRIDAY - - I SATURDAY - - O SUNDAY - - - Armstrong & Co. Boston, Mass. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES. - -1. Table of Contents created by the transcriber. -2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK CAT, (VOL. I, NO. 2, -NOVEMBER 1895) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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- color: black; - font-size: smaller; - padding: 0.5em; - margin-bottom: 3em; - width:auto;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Black Cat, (Vol. I, No. 2, November 1895), by Various</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Black Cat, (Vol. I, No. 2, November 1895)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 26, 2022 [eBook #67934]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: hekula03, Brian Wilsden and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK CAT, (VOL. I, NO. 2, NOVEMBER 1895) ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxlarge">The Black Cat (Vol. I, No. 2)</span><br /><br /> - -<span class="xlarge">November<br /> -1895</span> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<span class="xxlarge">Contents</span><br /><br /> - -<span class="large"><b>A Calaveras Hold-Up.</b></span><br /> -Roberta Littlehale.<br /><br /> - -<span class="large"><b>From a Trolley Post.</b></span><br /> -Margaret Dodge.<br /><br /> - -<span class="large"><b>An Andenken.</b></span><br /> -Julia Magruder.<br /><br /> - -<span class="large"><b>The Man from Maine.</b></span><br /> -J. D. Ellsworth.<br /><br /> - -<span class="large"><b>A Wedding Tombstone.</b></span><br /> -Clarice Irene Clinghan.<br /><br /> -<span class="large"><b>The Other One.</b></span><br /> -A. H. Gibson.<br /><br /> - -<span class="large"><b>Stateroom Six.</b></span><br /> -William Albert Lewis.<br /><br /> - -<span class="large"><b>Her Eyes, Your Honor!</b></span><br /> -H. D. Umbstaetter.<br /><br /> - -5<br /> -CENTS<br /><br /> - -<span class="xlarge">THE SHORTSTORY PUBLISHING CO. 144 HIGH ST., BOSTON, MASS.</span><br /> -Copyright 1895 by The Shortstory Publishing Co. -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - - <div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/i_verso.png" alt="" /> - </div> - -<div class="topspace1"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> - <span class="xxxlarge">Mason & Hamlin<br /> - Co.</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad16"> -<span class="large"><i>The Mason and Hamlin Pianos are the only pianos -manufactured containing the patented Screw Stringer, by virtue of -which they do <span class="text-ad-decor"> not require one quarter as -much tuning as any other piano made: thus reducing expense of keeping -and inconvenience to a minimum.</span></i></span><br /><br /> - -<i>Full particulars and -catalogues mailed free on -application.</i> -<br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxlarge">Mason & Hamlin Co.</span><br /> -<span class="large">BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO.</span><br /> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxlarge">Now is the<br /> -Time</span><br /> - -<span class="large">To select your</span><br /> - -<span class="xxxxlarge"><b>Camera</b></span><br /> - -<span class="smaller">We have all styles and prices, from</span><br /> - -<span class="center smaller"><b>$5 to $150.</b></span><br /> - -Send for Descriptive Manuals of the<br /> -"<b>WATERBURY</b>" and "<b>HENRY CLAY</b>"<br /> -Cameras.<br /><br /> - -We are the oldest established<br /> -house in this business . . . . . <br /><br /> - -The Scovill & Adams Co.<br /> -of N.Y.<br /> -423 Broome Street, New York.<br /> -</div> - -<p class="center">Send 35 cents for a copy of <cite>The Photographic<br /> -Times</cite>, containing about 100 handsome illustrations.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge"><b>Lablache Face Powder</b></span><br /><br /> -The Queen of Toilet Powders. -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad9"> -The purest and most perfect Face Powder that science and skill can -produce. Makes the skin soft and beautiful and removes Sun-burn, Tan, -Freckles, and all shiny appearance. Invisible on closest inspection. -Absolutely harmless. We invite chemical analysis and the closest -search for injurious ingredients. It is used and indorsed by the most -prominent society and professional ladies in Europe and America. Insist -upon having Lablache Powder, or risk the consequences produced by cheap -powders. Flesh, White, Pink, and Cream Tints.<br /><br /> </div> - -<div class="center"> -Price, 50c. per box.<br /> -Of all druggists, or by mail.<br /> -<br /> -<span class="xlarge"><b>BEN, LEVY & CO., French Perfumers,</b></span><br /> -34 WEST STREET, BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A.<br /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxxlarge"><b>Illustrated<br /> -Story of<br /> -Under Dress</b></span><br /> -<span class="xlarge">42 large pages of healthful<br /> -art and comfort—Just<br /> -send your address on a<br /> -postal to</span><br /> - -<p class="center xlarge"> -<b>Jaros Hygienic Underwear Co.,<br /> -831 Broadway, New York.</b></p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h1> -The Black Cat <span class="small">(Vol. I, No. 2)</span> -</h1> - -<div class="center"> -A Monthly Magazine of Original Short Stories.<br /><br /> -No. 2.<span class="linespace5">NOVEMBER, 1895.</span> -<span class="linespace5">5 cents a copy.</span><br /> -<span class="linespace21-5">50 cents a year.</span><br /><br /> - -Entered at the Post-Office at Boston, Mass., as second-class matter.<br /><br /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="contents"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Title</td> -<td class="tdl"> Author</td> -<td class="tdr">Page</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">A Calaveras Hold-Up.</td> -<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Roberta Littlehale.</span></td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#A_Calaveras_Hold-Up">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">From a Trolley Post.</td> -<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Margaret Dodge</span></td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#From_a_Trolley_Post">9</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">An Andenken.</td> -<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Julia Magruder.</span></td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#An_Andenken">13</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Man from Maine.</td> -<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">J. D. Ellsworth</span></td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#The_Man_from_Maine">25</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">A Wedding Tombstone.</td> -<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Clarice Irene Clinghan.</span></td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#A_Wedding_Tombstone">29</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Other One.</td> -<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">A. H. Gibson.</span></td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#The_Other_One">34</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Stateroom Six.</td> -<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">William Albert Lewis.</span></td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#Stateroom_Six">40</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Her Eyes, Your Honor!</td> -<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">H. D. Umbstaetter.</span></td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#Her_Eyes_Your_Honor">43</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Advertisements.</td> -<td class="tdl"> </td> -<td class="tdr"> <a href="#ADVERTISEMENTS">50</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 1]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="A_Calaveras_Hold-Up" id="A_Calaveras_Hold-Up"></a> -A Calaveras Hold-Up.</h2> -</div> -<p class="center">BY ROBERTA LITTLEHALE.</p> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_001.png" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ONE sunny summer noon of the year 1880, a man lay -under a clump of chaparral at the base of a scrub-oak, near a roadside -in the Calaveras foothills. He lay on his stomach, with his head on his -arms; and the flies crawled over the dirt on his clothes and the pistol -at his belt, only suffering disturbance because of the industry of the -black ant colony which had discovered meat among the bread crumbs that -had fallen from his pocket. He looked asleep, but, to one who might -have seen, there were slits in the sombrero that covered his head, and -the eyes behind them were not closed. Rather, they scarcely winked in -the sober scrutiny of their purpose.</p> - -<p>The road here near the crest of the hill took a sharp right angle -to the north, and picked its way brokenly to the summit over rocks and -through stumps and standing trees. To the southwest below, it could -be seen for miles on its upward course, appearing and disappearing -among the open stretches and the woodland. The scrub-oak would have to -lengthen its fat shadow very perceptibly before the man would find it -necessary to get on his feet; so he allowed a portion of his attention -to revert to the cause of his being here.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 2]</span></p> - -<p>Billy Owen was not analytical. He did not go back any farther than -his love for a woman as the representative cause of the present effect. -The spirit of his ancestors, trained to conquest and struggle, had -suffered a taint in the far gone years, and he had become the son of -an uncertain race. There were men of them rude in virtue as well as -strength, and men of them branded with a shifting eye and hunted step. -Billy had always had his pleasure with a gun in his hand until these -wondrous twelve months of his knowledge of Rudy. That that slight -person had no acquaintance with the manner of his former life was -due to the respect in which Billy held her. For himself, he couldn't -get rid of a troublesome pride when he called up the men—the -brakemen, and engineers, and inflated conductors—who had backed -away from the steel-ringed mouth of his Colt, his Betty. And the -brakemen, and engineers, and inflated conductors who hadn't backed -away, and whom Betty had spat at, gave him almost more pride than the -treasures he had borne off from under their bodies. But a man must be -capering to more than one tune if he's to dance in the open all of his -life, so Billy had been giving his later days to the panning for gold -in secluded spots of the California Sierras; and the first Sunday that -he had lent to the village and set apart for the play had been taken -by Rudy! He remembered it all very clearly. He had been so careful -to shave. Men must remember a moustache of straw color that brought -out the steel in his small gray eyes. He had not changed his working -dress, for a knife slips down a yawning boot-leg, and a flannel shirt -yields best to one's muscles in motion. A hat with a brim was given -of the gods, and Billy had drunk of the air and the anticipation, -and sauntered with carelessness into the street. Painted beer by -the geyserful spouted from pictured mugs at his every footfall, but -he delayed that detail of his social duty until he should have been -invited, and continued his march. It had seemed to him queer that the -street was so empty. Only occasional men swung in and out of saloon -doors, and the rival hotel chairs rested wholly idle. But it was not -long before he found the cause. A little paint-blistered church sat -around the corner, and its open doors had swallowed almost the entire -populace. It seemed waiting for more while the thin notes of its -rejoicing bell chased each - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 3]</span> - -other out on the air. Service must have been about to begin, for -there was only a girl standing out on the steps, and the horses in -ranks along the fences, who slept, or brushed flies, or hated their -neighbors, as their natures gave impulse. Billy sent the place over to -a hotter climate, and turned on his heel to shake off its dust just as -the restless eyes of a high-headed roan brought him to a halt.</p> - -<p>It was then that he had heard a voice he felt he would never -forget.</p> - -<p>"There is room," it called.</p> - -<p>Billy Owen had gone on looking over the roan. He was not the man to -waste Sunday in church.</p> - -<p>"Father's to preach on fighting," he heard it again. "There are -fights that he stands by."</p> - -<p>It was a voice, Billy thought, the bees would look for. He threw -her a glance that shouldn't reveal any weakness for the sort of -blood-spilling that the parson approved of, and straightway forgot to -look off again. Rudy Field was smiling at him, and Rudy was radiant -with the spirit of well-doing. The bell's noisy excitement had given -way to the voices of the people in an opening hymn of thanksgiving, and -the girl hurried off the steps, passed the horses, and laid her hand on -his arm.</p> - -<p>"He says men ought to break each other's noses if there's cause; but -it's the cause," she added pregnantly, turning her eyes away towards -the church.</p> - -<p>"If two men want to get up and fight just for the pleasure of -fightin'," said Billy, "and are glad to shake hands when one of 'em is -hollerin'?"</p> - -<p>Rudy's gentle eyes gave out their inspiration.</p> - -<p>"Come and see if he'll say," she said. And Billy went to his -undoing. It was never clear to him what the parson's fighting views -really were. There must have gone through them fiber of good sort, -because he remembered the noisy approval of his fellowmen. As for -himself, a straight little form and a thin little face, with a voice -singing up to the angels, left no consciousness of a judicial sort. -After the last rousing hymn and the dignity of the benediction, he had -sat so still that the church was emptying and the parson was up to him. -If Billy had wanted to, - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 4]</span> - -there would have been no escaping the zealous warmth of purpose which -drew him into the family life and the church life of this country -minister. The man had only Rudy and a rough little house, but the -restlessness of his energy used them both for his ends.</p> - -<p>And the days had taken wings. Billy found through the hours of -his lonely working that there was something in his mind supplanting -Betty and the bodies which were testimony of his prowess and his -power,—a something which could not have borne the revelation of -Betty and the corpses. But the very instinct that had brought pride and -lust of them to Billy was not alive to a shame that threw them over -altogether. In the subtleness of conquest they were not the useful -weapons.</p> - -<p>Rudy's father had been Rudy's life, and she lay awake in the night -now, because a man strong in his youth and the power of his love was -coming between them. The atmosphere of her training had left her -without the protection of suspicion, and Rudy had only the education -that her frailness, their poverty, and shifting life could yield. Her -femininity showed her Billy Owen's masterful physique, his superior -strength, and tonic vitality. She had begun to have insight into -Billy's will power. But, of all men, he gave to her deference, and -gentleness, and the alertness of his interests.</p> - -<p>And what she was conscious must come, came.</p> - -<p>Two miners were hurt in an accident by fire, and the minister was -called for in the absence of the doctor. He had arranged to hold -services in a village three miles north, and Rudy was left to carry to -it the news of the church's closing. She put on a sun-bonnet and went -out to the barn. The old mare stepped listlessly into the shafts, when -a shadow fell over the floor, and Billy filled up the doorway.</p> - -<p>"Your father said I was to look out that you got there." He laughed, -uncertain still of his welcome.</p> - -<p>Rudy had dreaded the lonely twilight drive, and her face must have -spoken for her tongue had not; but Billy took up the harnessing with a -light on his own face that sent Rudy into the depths of her bonnet. She -kept on her side of the fat mare, and buckled and strapped in a tangle -of leather, with an indiscretion - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 5]</span> - -that sent her hands to the check at Jane's head just at the moment -when Billy's must meet them.</p> - -<p>And Billy held them close, while Jane dropped her nose and -sniffed at some barley grains, indifferent to the fact that her -toilet was forgotten.</p> - -<p>"Your father'd give me the word to fight the man that could -take ye from me now," Billy said.</p> - -<p>And Rudy was whiter than the hair on Jane where it happened -to be clean.</p> - -<p>"It's my father I shall never leave," she answered him.</p> - -<p>"It's the father, His book tells ye, shall be left for the husband."</p> - -<p>Billy dropped her hands to come around and take her in his -arms.</p> - -<p>"Say no more, girl, but the word you love me."</p> - -<p>And Rudy had said it. And Rudy had sobbed over it, and -laughed over it, and sung over it before the message was -delivered and Jane in her stall again.</p> - -<p>This was a perplexity Rudy's father laid in heaven's care. "There -must be something to live on," he had used as a protest. And what had -always made Billy's living but his revolver,—his Betty? The -mining was snail's pace at best, and with Rudy on his heart there was -mad need of haste. With everything at his hand and his Colt ready, -there were only the plans, which he straightway laid. Money for -the northern mines passed under his nose once every month. Mounted -messengers were the things he and Betty were used to, and the advantage -of his isolated claim gave him the chance for the doing in the hours of -an unoccupied afternoon.</p> - -<p>The flies lifted off on lazy wings as the figure under the chaparral -at the base of the scrub-oak heaved onto an elbow and measured the -shadow. With the sharp focus of quick sight, he turned to the road -again. Down in the far distance a cloud of dust hung in the air. The -man went onto his stomach again. The flies settled, the ants took up -their burden, and the summer sun burned over all.</p> - -<p>On came the rolling dust, the four horses, the driver, the -messenger, and the passengers. They must have passed by Rudy's little -house; perhaps Rudy had been looking out at them. Well, - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 6]</span> - -the fools need not be hurt—it is only to march to the music. The -man bent one leg and rested upon his knee to readjust the hot, black -mask that covered his face. He peered down the road again. The stage -must be half up the last slope. It was out of sight, but the snap of -the whip came to his ears as a signal.</p> - -<p>"Betty," he whispered close to the barrel, and got on his feet. -Against the trunk of the dusty oak a man crouched, with his finger on -the trigger of a gun. A stage rocked into view with two betting men, a -pale little woman, and a Wells Fargo messenger, who sat on the box.</p> - -<p>"Halt."</p> - -<p>The horses came back on their haunches, the leaders in air.</p> - -<p>Betty's steel-rimmed mouth had covered the crowd.</p> - -<p>"Throw out your express box and unload your passengers."</p> - -<p>Three men and a woman lined along the roadside with their hands to -the sky, and a green, brass-handled box lay in the dust.</p> - -<p>"Out with your horses, my hearty, and line up."</p> - -<p>The nerve of one man can undo the natural and customary methods -of four of his fellows. The driver took his team to the rear of his -passengers, and Billy stepped to the front with Betty as steady as -became a woman-of-war.</p> - -<p>He ran his eye over the men. It would be time to release the woman -when danger was past.</p> - -<p>"Fall to on that box," Billy directed. He signaled a man of generous -mold and ample manner, and the gentleman stood in his tracks.</p> - -<p>"Two," said Billy. "One—"</p> - -<p>But the man was in the middle of the road, willing and toolless. An -axe was dragged from the stage, and he sent the hot fury of his anger -into the strokes of the steel.</p> - -<p>"Cut the mail pouches," came the next order, and the messenger -writhed under cover as he ripped with his knife.</p> - -<p>At that moment fell the certain distant sound of approaching horses. -Heaven knows there was need of haste, and Billy stood over with curses -to emphasize the vigor of his threats.</p> - -<p>Sweat fell from the men as he turned to the woman.</p> - -<p>"Into the——" Billy began,—and Rudy was looking -up at him! Rudy with face like chalk, and the soul of her broken and -bleeding.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 7]</span></p> - -<p>God! but there is one thing no man can face—the faith of a -woman struck back into her heart!</p> - -<p>Billy and the revolver wavered in one blindness, and the messenger -sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p>"Get him," he cried, and his bullet went wide of the mark. Confusion -came with the moment. Men leaped to their pockets for weapons and -signaled the team coming up.</p> - -<p>Billy wasted nothing of the aid Betty held for him. He plunged into -the brush at the east with his brain and his heart in the thrall of his -shock. About him spit, and crashed, and split a rain of bullets, and he -knew there were men of them ready to follow him on the spot.</p> - -<p>He swore himself into energy, and beat on through the thick, thorny -underbrush with the hope of their disorder sustaining him. There was -a small stone corral some one had told him of—Rudy had told him -of! It was hemmed in with rocks, and buckeye, and chaparral. For a -theater of war it was safest for a man inside it, and there was only -one approach! Rudy had once found herb roots there.</p> - -<p>He turned sharp to the south and trailed back again, conscious that -his scent was strong and his arm was true,—and to the devil with -men who had lived peaceful lives in the fields of their country!</p> - -<p>Wet drops of something warm trickled down his back. There must be -a wound there. Billy forced his way along, cutting through tangles, -leaping the rocks, and scaling the boulders, only halting for seconds -to separate insect noises from that of the hunt of men. If he might -reach his corral there would be at least breathing space for further -campaigning. They were after him, hot on his trail, he knew, but the -resources of his race-people gave snap to his blood.</p> - -<p>The long, slim shadows of the late afternoon had been swallowed in -the monotone of twilight when Billy Owen sat on his heels behind the -walls of a stone corral on the sheer slope of a Sierra hill. The fever -from his wound was racking his head, but the keenest pain that he -suffered was not from that. And there could be no moment of time given -over to the undisturbed thought of it. It was only the ever present -consciousness through the intensity of - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 8]</span> - -attention he imposed on himself. His senses were preternaturally -alert; they made record of the night-millers' winging and the -life of the lizards in the wall at his face. The red leaves of a -poison-oak vine served as his shelter, and above this, and about it, -and beyond it the chaparral, and the pines, and the buckeyes -watched. From behind the mass of summer foliage the eyes of -a man and the mouth of a gun were at aim and waiting.</p> - -<p>But it was Rudy's face that was searing with fire the brain of -the man,—Rudy's face, which had known only love for him, and -trust in him, and pride of him. It went over him cold that her -scorn of him might set them on his track. She might guess what -he would make for. They had laughed at it as a robber resort. -But the thought could not live. Rudy's womanliness—</p> - -<p>Hark! there could be no mistake—a step. He had been waiting -hours for it. It could come. He needed no change of movement -to send it into silence. There would be more of them -behind. There must be no delay in wiping them out.</p> - -<p>There it comes again, on and up. The fool! Does he think -his life is worth juggling for? An unlodged stone trips jerkily -down the hillside, and some bats blacken the air over his head. -Betty is so safe, and so sure, and so ready that he will let the -idiot come into her face.</p> - -<p>A hand shows through the bushes at the gate of the corral. -Billy is forced to turn; it is some one who knows the run of the -land. A black figure thrusts through the branches and Betty -throws out her ball of death.</p> - -<p>"Billy," he heard in its last terrible note of misunderstanding.</p> - -<p>He sits in the open and holds her in his arms. Her black hair -hangs over her face, and he thrusts it back to clasp her against his -breast, against his lips.</p> - -<p>At midnight they find Billy Owen, the bandit. There is a woman -in his arms, and their lives have gone out on a common -search.</p> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_008.png" alt="" width="200" height="111" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 9]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="From_a_Trolley_Post" id="From_a_Trolley_Post"></a> -From a Trolley Post.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">BY MARGARET DODGE.</p> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_009.png" width="100" height="100" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE man looked discouraged. As he stood on the -corner of the avenue, his hands thrust into his overcoat pockets, his -slouch hat pulled down over his eyes, he seemed to be posing for an -end of the century statue of Resignation. For fifteen minutes he had -been facing a purely Bostonese combination of east wind and drizzling -rain, while he waited for one of the electric cars billed to pass that -corner every five minutes. There was no cab station within a mile, and -his train left at the other end of the town in half an hour. Besides, -he lived in a city where east winds never blew, and where L trains -and cable cars whizzed by with clockwork regularity. Consequently, he -possessed few resources for killing time on street corners. After he -had read his paper, looked over his memorandum book, and worn a path -into the middle of the street by continued expeditions undertaken in -hope of sighting the delayed car, he had backed up against the white -trolley post, and fixed his lusterless eyes upon the row of brownstone -apartment houses that lined the opposite side of the street.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a gleam of hope lighted the gloomy eyes of the man at the -trolley post. Had the car, after all, taken a "spurt"? Had the wind -changed? No; the track was still clear as far as the eye could see; -the vane on the nearest church pointed unwaveringly to the east; but -the resigned man had made a pleasing discovery,—he had found a -companion in misery.</p> - -<p>In the third-story side window of an apartment house diagonally -opposite, a picturesque, black-eyed youngster stood drumming on the -window-pane and scowling out into the brick-paved area on which the -window opened, with a disapproval that matched that of the man at the -trolley post.</p> - -<p>Bud, too, was a stranger within the city's gates, and he, too, - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 10]</span> - -was tired waiting for luck to take a turn. He had grown up in -Texas, where the sun shines for three hundred and fifty days in -the year, and where every day he could wander out upon the plains -and kill something. And now he had come to this cold, dismal -city where he had to wear shoes and a Fauntleroy suit, and stay -in when the east wind blew. For two hours he had been waiting -for the sun to come out, and he had almost reached the end of -his resources.</p> - -<p>Almost, but not quite. A moment later, as the resigned man watched -the little Texan standing with his nose flattened against the pane, -his round, bright eyes peering down into the mist, he saw him open the -window and, through the iron grating of the balcony, survey the scene -below. Then, with a coltish leap, Bud disappeared into the room.</p> - -<p>A moment later his agile little body again wriggled out onto the -balcony. It was a small, rounded affair, filled with potted plants, and -situated on a perpendicular line with similar balconies which belonged -to the suites above and below. In the one immediately under that on -which the small boy stood was placed among the geranium plants and -India-rubber trees a glass globe containing several large goldfish.</p> - -<p>Hanging out over the railing, Bud fixed his round eyes on the glass -globe and chuckled. Then he looked cautiously into the room behind -him. Apparently no one was in sight. Producing from the pocket of his -small trousers a fish-line and hook, he proceeded to lower it until the -duly baited hook landed among the goldfish. There was a deft twist of -the line, a splash, and a flop; something yellow and wiggling flashed -through the air, and a moment later a large goldfish lay breathing its -last in a big flower-pot, at the roots of an India-rubber tree.</p> - -<p>Once more Bud chuckled. So did the man at the trolley post. He had -now waited half an hour, but for the moment he had forgotten the east -wind, the delayed car, and the train he wanted to catch.</p> - -<p>Without loss of time, the boy again lowered his hook. Once, twice, -three times the operation was repeated, and then the boy unlooped -himself from the balcony and scraped one foot meditatively upon the -other. Four quarter-pound goldfish were now - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 11]</span> - -in the way of enriching the soil at the base of the India-rubber -tree—and the stream was fished dry.</p> - -<p>Did the balcony offer other worlds for this youthful Alexander? -Apparently not, for after chewing up several choice geranium -blossoms and practising with his bean-shooter upon a draggled -sparrow he turned to go.</p> - -<p>The man at the trolley post frowned. Having seen two acts -of a play, he objected to being cheated out of the third.</p> - -<p>Just then, however, the little comedy was continued by two -new actors. Around the corner appeared an Italian hand-organist -leading by a string a minute monkey gorgeously costumed in a -green skirt, scarlet jacket, and green and gold cap. As the -melancholy Italian put down his instrument and began grinding -out "Daisy Bell," his hairy attendant scampered across the pavement -and began scrambling up the iron balconies of the tall apartment -house in quest of pennies.</p> - -<p>A yawning grin convulsed Bud's small features. Flinging his -fish-line into a flower-pot, he climbed through the window and -disappeared. He was gone only a few moments, but when he -returned he bore himself with a new air. A large sombrero sat -jauntily upon his black curls; from his left arm hung a coil of -rope, while his brown right hand brandished above his head the -loop of a lasso. As he stood there motionless, the hand holding -the lasso poised in the air, he looked a perfect pocket edition of a -Texas cowboy. The man at the trolley post would have wagered -a large sum that among the thirty-five thousand small boys -reported by the last census as living in Boston there wasn't -another boy like Bud.</p> - -<p>Meantime the organist had changed his tune from "Daisy Bell" -to "Hold Your Head Up, Hogan," while the monkey had been -making a triumphal progress up the iron balconies. His gorgeous -uniform, acrobatic leaps, and hand-over-hand performances, together -with his shrewd chatter and the graceful twirl with which -he pocketed coppers, had attracted every child within a radius of -four blocks. Pennies rained upon him like roses on a favorite -prima donna, and the little fellow was put to sore straits to collect -the rich shower. In Bud's absence he had traveled to the topmost -balcony of the seven-story apartment house, and was now - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 12]</span> - -resting on the fourth on his downward progress, when his bright eyes -caught sight of another offering that was being thrust through the -window upon the second-story balcony of the next house by a child more -retiring than his neighbors. This house stood on the other side of a -common area, barely fifteen feet wide, and the railing upon which the -offering lay was directly opposite the one where the little beastie -crouched, but some ten feet below.</p> - -<p>The monkey took in the situation with twinkling eyes. Then, after -a brief chattered soliloquy, he humped up his back and drew himself -together ready for a spring.</p> - -<p>By this time the man at the trolley post was breathless with -excitement. To attempt to keep track of the boy and the monkey at the -same time was like watching a circus with two rings. By a quick glance, -however, he noted that while the monkey was gathering itself for the -leap the boy was standing erect, his eyes fastened on the monkey, his -fingers whirling the loop of the lasso above his head with the apparent -ease that means a deadly aim. Once, twice, the noose circled in the -air; the monkey quivered with the impulse to spring; but just then the -accident happened. The car arrived and the man from New York missed the -end of the play.</p> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/i_012.png" alt="" width="300" height="116" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 13]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="An_Andenken" id="An_Andenken"></a>An Andenken.</h2> -</div> -<p class="center">BY JULIA MAGRUDER.</p> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_013.png" width="100" height="100" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ONE summer a party -of American tourists was established at a small inn in the little -village of Oetz situated in the beautiful Oetzthal, one of the upper -valleys of the Tyrolean Alps. The Oetzthal is the deepest valley of -the Inn, and the most notable for its wild scenery, its picturesque -impressiveness, and its dangerous glaciers and falls.</p> - -<p>Most of the party came for recreation, and the novel scenes and -people were a sufficient supply for that demand—as was the -glorious fresh air of the mountains for those who sought health.</p> - -<p>The one member of the party who was a worker was, strange to -say, the youngest of them all,—an American girl who had been -studying art in Paris with great earnestness, and whose absorbing -motive in coming here was to paint. She had dozens of schemes in her -head,—landscapes, peasants, interiors, etc.,—and so eager -was she to begin that when she arrived at the little station after -dark she felt herself consciously impatient of the beautiful moonlight -through which her drive to Oetz was taken, and eager for morning to -come.</p> - -<p>She was very tired, however, and slept long, and when at last -awakened by her cousin, who was up and dressed before her, her first -impulse was to run to the window and look out.</p> - -<p>"Stop, Ethel, you shall do nothing of the kind!" exclaimed her -cousin Florence. "That is just what I have come to prevent. I am going -to stand guard over you while you take your roll and coffee, and then -drop the curtains and make you promise not to lift them when I leave -you to dress."</p> - -<p>Ethel, keen for anything that would enhance the flavor of the -delicious treat in prospect, gave the promise, and had kept it -faithfully when Florence returned, later, to take her out on a tour of -inspection. The young girl had equipped herself in her walking - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 14]</span> - -costume,—corduroy skirt, flannel blouse, scarlet <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">beret</i>, -and stout boots,—and was ready for anything when her cousin led -her from the room. So eager was her own search for the picturesque that -she ignored the fact that the one or two people she encountered in -going through the house might have a similar interest, which must have -been abundantly gratified at the lovely vision which she made, with -her golden hair twisted under the red <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">beret</i> and her lovely face -aglow with expectation.</p> - -<p>Before the front door was opened Florence produced a silk -handkerchief, which she tied firmly over her companion's eyes, making -her promise not to make any effort to remove it until she should be -given leave. Laughing delightedly and showing brilliant teeth between a -pair of fresh young lips, Ethel obediently consented to be led by the -hand, up a steep hill, to be faced round in a certain position, and -then to have the handkerchief whisked off, with a cry from Florence -of:</p> - -<p>"<em>There</em>, now!"</p> - -<p>For some seconds the girl did not speak as she gazed about her. -She was standing in the center of a sort of court, which formed a -plateau on the crest of the hill. All around this court were low and -rudely constructed houses, whose front surfaces presented a mass of -decorations, indescribably brilliant. The plaster, which seemed very -smoothly and firmly made, was painted or stained in various colors -as a background; and upon these surfaces were painted pictures of -sacred subjects, the drawing and coloring of which were crude and -fantastic beyond description, though the decorative impression was most -picturesque and effective, especially with the added embellishment of -the brilliant blooming plants which overflowed the boxes placed across -every window. Petunias, pinks, sweet peas, poppies, geraniums, and many -other plants were here massed in a riot of colors, and long sprays of -vine fell down and fringed the borders of the pictures below. Every -available wall space was covered by one of these pictures—the -favorite subjects being the "Annunciation," the "Adoration of the -Magi," the "Birth of Christ," and constantly repeated representations -of the "Holy Family."</p> - -<p>Most of the houses had two stories, and there was also a box -containing the blooming plants and vines fastened over every door; - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 15]</span> - -and as every plant seemed at the very height of its bloom and -perfection, and every picture seemed as clean and free from weather -stains as if just painted, it is no wonder that Ethel received -the impression so common with those who first see this brilliant -spectacle.</p> - -<p>"What is it for?" she said. "I never saw anything so decorative and -brilliant, but I did not know it was any great gala day. Why didn't you -tell me? And what day is it?"</p> - -<p>"No day at all; or, rather, no gala day," said Florence.</p> - -<p>"Then what have they done this for?"</p> - -<p>"For religion's sake, or beauty's sake, or a mixture of the two, I -suppose."</p> - -<p>"You don't mean to say that they keep it like this all the time?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do; until the frost kills the flowers, at least, and even -then the pictures remain."</p> - -<p>"And is all this done by these ignorant peasants?" asked Ethel, -flushed with the delight of this new and strange impression.</p> - -<p>"Of course. I should think you could see that the painting and -drawing, at least, were of peasant origin."</p> - -<p>"It <em>is</em> terrific in a way," said Ethel, scrutinizing with a -professional squint, which sat very prettily on her charming face, a -picture of the Holy Family which happened to be nearest to her; "and -yet," she went on, "there's feeling in that—quite wonderful -feeling! If that Virgin were not such a fright, she would really be -quite beautiful. Do you see what I mean?"</p> - -<p>"Well, hardly," said Florence, with a smile.</p> - -<p>"Of course not! but I do mean what I say. The tender feeling of that -face and figure are now completely subject to the grotesque form and -crude color which the poor ignorant painter must have suffered from -acutely—for he had a beautiful ideal in his mind when he did -that."</p> - -<p>"Well, you are even more knowing in art than I gave you credit for," -said Florence, "if you can make that out. It seems to me to resemble -nothing so much as one of the jointed dolls, made of wood, and painted -with three colors,—white, black, and red,—which used to be -the delight of my infancy."</p> - -<p>"I see that resemblance," said Ethel seriously; "but I also -see something else—very different. I wonder who does these -things."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 16]</span></p> - -<p>"I have inquired," Florence answered, "and I find that every -generation has its own local artist, who makes it a profession to -do these decorations, to paint the little wooden head-boards which -serve as tombstones here, and also to paint the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">andenken</i> which -decorate the surrounding country. You will see them by the dozen."</p> - -<p>"<i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Andenken!</i> What is that?"</p> - -<p>"It is a little picture-sign, which is set up by the family or -friends of a person who is killed by any of the casualties which are -so common here, from avalanches or from falling rocks, which, once -misplaced and started, tumble down the mountain sides with increasing -velocity, and kill anything in their way. The shepherds here, who so -often spend the nights with their flocks on the mountain sides, are -frequently killed by them, and then, too, the inhabitants of this -region are sometimes overwhelmed with torrents of mud, ejected by the -mountains—not a very pretty thing to paint! But you will see -dozens of these little <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">andenken</i> all about here, as they are -always erected on the spot of the disaster, and always consist of a -pictorial representation of it, and the passers-by are supposed to say -a prayer for the repose of the victim's soul."</p> - -<p>"How strange! I think it seems rather sweet," said Ethel -dreamily.</p> - -<p>"The custom may be; the pictures are anything else, as you will soon -discover; although, since you admire this Virgin, there's no telling -what you will think."</p> - -<p>"I do admire it!" said Ethel, looking toward it again, "I should -like to know something about the man who did it. Oh, to think what -it would be to him, to teach him to use his fingers and realize his -ideals—for that he has ideals I am certain. But where are all the -people who belong to these enchanted houses? And why is it that we see -nobody about?"</p> - -<p>"They are all at work in the fields at this time of the day."</p> - -<p>"But their houses are open!"</p> - -<p>"Of course! They are never closed, except when the weather makes it -necessary."</p> - -<p>"But people could go in and steal!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, they could, but it seems they don't! One reason for - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 17]</span> - -such uprightness may be that there is so very little to steal. Come and -look into this one!"</p> - -<p>They advanced to the door, which stood wide open, mounted the low -steps, and looked in.</p> - -<p>"How charming! How delicious!" exclaimed Ethel enthusiastically.</p> - -<p>Florence answered with a laugh of amiable derision.</p> - -<p>"Where the charm and delightsomeness come in, I must say I do -not pretend to see! An old room, with its low rafters stained black -with smoke, and a long earthenware stovepipe running through it and -threatening the life of those who pass under it!—an old stove -surrounded by—I will admit—the brightest bits of copper, -and brass, and tin that any housewife could boast—and a squatty -little table piled up with carrots, and onions, and cabbages! You, I -suppose, will be wanting to paint it next!"</p> - -<p>"I want to paint it now, at once, this minute!" cried Ethel. "My -fingers fairly itch. I want to paint those copper cans, and brass -kettles, and iron pots with exactly this light upon them—and -those vegetables, too! Oh, if I only could, while the impression is so -fresh and strong upon me!"</p> - -<p>"Well, so you can! you have only to fetch your easel and box and -begin at once."</p> - -<p>"But I have not got permission, and there is no one here to ask!"</p> - -<p>"No matter at all about that! These peasants are the most amiable -beings on earth. I have come to understand them very well. Go to work -and do your picture, and I promise to make everything right when the -family returns."</p> - -<p>Urged by Florence, Ethel, who was really longing to make this -picture, ran back to the little inn for her box and easel, and was soon -at work, sketching in her picture rapidly, with an absorbed face, while -Florence sat by her and watched its progress and prepared herself to -explain things on the return of the family.</p> - -<p>Ethel sat at her easel in the center of the old, low-roofed room, -her scarlet cap flung on the floor beside her and her golden head -shining tenderly under the smoky rafters. Her picture seemed to grow by -magic, and as she brought out the brilliant polish of metal on the old -vessels, and the soft bloom of vegetation upon - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 18]</span> - -the cabbages and carrots, etc., on the table beneath, she was feeling -that triumph of achievement which sometimes comes to reward a -painstaking artist for much discouragement.</p> - -<p>So absorbed was she that she did not notice Florence when she -rose, at the end of about two hours, and slipped quietly out of the -house. She had seen the family returning, and she went to meet them. -Her explanation, graciously and smilingly given, was received in the -same spirit, and the two women and several children had soon filed -noiselessly into the rear of the room and stood there, silent and -delighted, watching the progress of the young artist's work. Florence -had given them some coins, which to their frugal minds seemed an -inordinate price to pay for the privilege accorded, and they were -evidently in high good humor.</p> - -<p>Presently Ethel, in a pause of her breathless interest, happened -to turn her head and catch sight of them. She had a brush between her -white teeth, but she smiled radiantly, and, taking it out, came forward -to greet them. She felt, however, a certain hesitation as to how to -deal with this strange people, and was glad to accept the word of -Florence that she had made everything right, and to express her thanks, -merely. At the same time she offered to stop work, in order that the -details of her study might be put into more active use. But the women -protested, declaring that dinner could wait until the picture was done, -and showing such evident desire that she should not interrupt her work, -that she consented to go on a little longer.</p> - -<p>"But why does she not paint the Holy Mother and the Blessed Child, -if she can paint like that?" said one of the women aside to Florence. -"My nephew, Anton Wald, is a painter. He made the picture of the Holy -Family on the outside of our house, but he would not paint such things -as kettles and cabbages! He is the finest painter in the whole valley, -though he is angry if I say so, and sometimes he throws down his brush -and will not paint again for months, because he says the pictures in -his mind are beautiful, but that they are hideous when he puts them -down. That is only his strange way, though, for his pictures are most -beautiful, as you can see from the one on my house, and all the new -head-marks in the church-yard are done by him, and some most beautiful -<i xml:lang="de" lang="de">andenken</i>. The picture of Frau Muhlau's son, - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 19]</span> - -who was mashed under a great rock, is a lovely thing; the saints have -mercy on his soul!" she added, reverently crossing herself.</p> - -<p>"Where does this Anton live?" said Florence; "he would perhaps -like to see the Fraulein paint. She has learned in the greatest -painting-schools in the world, and has had the makers of the most -beautiful pictures to show her how they did it."</p> - -<p>"He will be here to get his dinner by and by. He has no parents or -home, poor boy! he is a good lad, though queer at times, and I am glad -to have him to live with me. Ah, here he comes now!" she exclaimed. -"Hans ran to fetch him, I see, and has told him about the beautiful -lady and the picture."</p> - -<p>At the same moment there appeared, through the back doorway of the -house, the figure of a tall young peasant, not dressed in rough farming -clothes, but in a nearer approach to the holiday attire of the Tyrolean -of that vicinity. He wore corduroy knee breeches, gray stockings, and -a brown coat which flared over a red waistcoat and broad striped belt. -The facings of his coat were also striped with red, as were his sleeves -about the hands. On his head was the wide Tyrolean hat of tan-colored -felt, faced with bright green, and trimmed with a bright green ribbon, -with streamers falling behind.</p> - -<p>As he noiselessly entered the room and stood gazing at the beautiful -figure whose back was turned to him, he seemed not to see it, or be -conscious of the others who were present, for his eyes fixed themselves -eagerly on the canvas, and, as he looked, the eagerness deepened and -strengthened, until it changed into a radiance of delight that seemed -scarcely unmixed with awe.</p> - -<p>As if unconscious of himself and his own act, he slowly removed his -hat and stood bareheaded and as if spellbound in his place, his gaze -fairly devouring the picture.</p> - -<p>"The saints preserve us!" whispered the woman. "What a strange lad -this Anton is! one would think it was the Holy Virgin herself, in the -picture, instead of those old pans!"</p> - -<p>"I don't think it is the subject that interests him so," said -Florence, "I think it is because he has never seen painting like that -done before. The Fraulein is a beautiful painter, and he—being a -painter himself—would be quick to see that."</p> - -<p>Ethel, meanwhile, painted on unconscious. She was always - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 20]</span> - -wholly absorbed in her work when it was "going," and Florence knew that -she had been as oblivious as sleep could have made her of all that had -happened around her.</p> - -<p>But now, becoming conscious of her cramped position, and also of the -fact that she had successfully secured her impression, which was all -that she had aimed at, she laid her palette down, and, rising, turned -and looked about her. Satisfaction in her work had made her feel very -content, and she remembered also her obligation to these good people, -and the two things made her always beautiful smile now seem unusually -winning, as it rested upon Anton, who had advanced nearer to her than -had the others, and who now turned his worshiping gaze from the picture -to the painter's lovely face.</p> - -<p>So ardent, concentrated, eager was that gaze that Ethel flushed -under it, looking lovelier than ever. Turning to the group who stood -near Florence across the room, she seemed, by a look, to ask an -explanation.</p> - -<p>"It is the young painter who did the Virgin that you admired," said -Florence in English.</p> - -<p>Ethel's face lighted up with pleasure and recognition, and making -a step toward him, she held out her hand, and said in her pretty, -half-timid German:</p> - -<p>"As we are both painters, we must shake hands."</p> - -<p>But the young peasant, very white and startled looking, stepped -back.</p> - -<p>"It is not true," he cried. "Who has told you that I am a painter? I -am only a wretched dauber and cheat. I will never touch color or brush -again."</p> - -<p>Ethel looked at him with a fervent gentleness.</p> - -<p>"You are wrong," she said. "You will go to your work again, with a -love and earnestness such as you have never known. You think my little -picture here is good, and so it is, because I have been taught the way -to do a thing; but I, with all my study, have never done and can never -do such a picture as the one you have made on this house. The spirit -and soul of creation has been born in you, and not in me. You have only -to learn how and you will be an artist. I have already learned how, and -I am only a workman. Listen," she went on eagerly, "I am going to stay - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 21]</span> - -here all the summer, and I am going to give you a lesson every day. I -can teach you all I know, and if you do as well as I expect, you will, -after that, go to Munich and study, or to Paris. The time will come -when you will offer me your hand, and I shall not dare to take it, as -you have not dared now."</p> - -<p>The group of peasants, now augmented by the arrival of two men, -looked on in astonishment. Florence, comprehending both their wonder -and the cause which had produced it, made a hasty explanation, and -hurried Ethel away, helping her to gather up her belongings and to -express her thanks.</p> - -<p>Just as they were ready to go, the young girl, with a quick impulse, -held out her little canvas to Anton, saying impulsively:</p> - -<p>"I will give it to you. You can take it and study it carefully. It -may teach you something. When you are a great painter you shall give -me a picture of yours. And, remember, I shall expect you at the hotel -to-morrow, to arrange for your first lesson."</p> - -<p>That was the way it began,—this intercourse between the two -young artists.</p> - -<p>That evening, Ethel, looking more lovely than ever in a soft blue -gown, with her hair loose about her shoulders, sat alone in her room -writing, with a look of joy on her face. She wrote some of these sheets -every evening, and sent them off by post, twice a week. She had written -several pages with rapidity, and now paused and read them over with a -look on her face which showed how much her own subject interested her. -She took up her pen and went on:</p> - -<p>"Now that I have described to you my wonderful young painter and his -really remarkable mural work, I must tell you about his painting on the -little wooden head-boards in the church-yard. Such a picturesque little -church it is, perched on a steep cliff, overlooking the lovely valley -through which the river winds, and beyond which the great mountains -rise immeasurably high! There is a cunning priest's house near the -church, with a fascinating old sun-dial on its walls (one never sees a -clock here). This little house is also founded upon a rock—but, -oh, how barren and empty it looks! and how lonely! You would be filled -with pity to see it! The church-yard is the tawdriest thing you can -imagine, with the graves hung about with bead flowers, faded - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 22]</span> - -immortelles, and as many little images, and medals, and crosses as can -be got together; but the awful thing is the head-boards! These are -made of wood and every one is decorated with a picture of the departed -and his family, the living members of which are kneeling around his -dying bed, while the dead ones appear in a bank of clouds above. The -horrible distortion of these figures, and the grotesqueness of both -the earthly and heavenly garments, is something ghastly—and yet -I could single out, every time, those painted by my young Anton, by -that truly wonderful feeling and aspiration. Oh, I shall be proud of -my pupil yet—and already his feeling for his teacher amounts to -veneration. (You, sir, have never looked at me with such worshipful -eyes, in your life!) I gave him his first lesson to-day, and it was a -thrilling experience! He is going to take to it like a duck to water, -and his love for beauty is absolutely touching. I saw him looking, with -a sort of hungry delight, at the opal in my ring (my <em>dear</em> ring!) -Its marvellous color changes were an evident feast to him. Oh, I am so -glad Providence guided me to this place. My Anton is such an interest -and impulse onward to me, and will help to beguile the long, weary, -desolate, empty days—until you come!"</p> - -<p>In due time there came an answer to this letter, and, in turn, an -answer to that. And meanwhile every day Anton received a painting -lesson, and advanced by strides. It was a deliriously happy life into -which he had entered, and he seemed to others, and still more to -himself, to be new made. The glow of health which came into his cheeks, -and of fire into his eyes, made the strong young peasant suddenly -develop a radiant beauty, which was so striking and extraordinary that -Ethel could not resist such a model, and set to work to paint him.</p> - -<p>She made a spirited and beautiful study of him on a small canvas, -painting him full length, in his Tyrolean costume, with the black -pointed hat, ornamented with its proud group of rare and perilously -purchased little feathers, for Anton was a sportsman as well as an -artist, and had won these trophies by his own skill and daring, and -many was the votive offering, so procured, which he laid at his young -teacher's feet. It was but natural that he should wish to make some -return for the hours of patient instruction which she daily bestowed -upon him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 23]</span></p> - -<p>So thought Ethel, but did her correspondent, perhaps, have, some -other idea?</p> - -<p>One day she got a letter from him which contained this paragraph:</p> - -<p>"You want me to explain why it is that I always refer to your -pupil as 'poor Anton!' It is truly because I pity him,—you most -bewitching of women! My own blessed ownership of you makes my heart -gentle to the rest of men—even including lowly Tyrolean peasants, -who are, by circumstances, quite removed from you. And I wondered if it -were only the dear opal ring which he looked at so hungrily that day. -Do not forget that it is far less beautiful than the hand which wears -it. In short, my own child, I would wish to put you a little on your -guard—for this poor Anton's sake!"</p> - -<p>After this letter it seemed as if the serpent had entered into Eden, -for a fear was in Ethel's heart which she had never known before. Anton -had lately been engaged in doing a portrait of her, and while she posed -for him she gave him lessons. The ardor which she had thrown into this -piece of work and the extraordinary success he was having with it came -to Ethel's mind now with a new and disturbing significance.</p> - -<p>Next morning she got Florence to go to Anton with a message to say -that she was not well and could not pose for him, so that he would -have to work without her that day, in the little studio which they had -improvised.</p> - -<p>"But how can he work without his model?" asked Florence.</p> - -<p>"Oh, he can go on with the hair to-day. I gave him a great lock of -mine yesterday to paint from, when I had to leave. I wish I hadn't!" -she added, with a tone of sudden compunction.</p> - -<p>Florence returned from her mission to say that Anton had decided not -to paint at all that day, and was full of concern for his teacher's -illness. But again the next day Ethel did not go, but remained in her -room writing page after page of one of those long letters. Anton passed -her window and looked up at her. His face was flushed and eager, and -very beautiful. In spite of all this, however, Ethel gave him a more -formal bow than he had ever received from her before. He had become -"poor Anton" - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 24]</span> to her also, now, and she was -doing her best to manifest her true sympathy for him.</p> - -<p>The next morning when Ethel failed to come again, Anton went -hunting. Florence, who saw him just as he was setting out, learned that -he was going in search of a certain bird, whose wings Ethel had once -expressed a wish to have for a hat. The capture of these birds was a -somewhat dangerous enterprise, and when Ethel heard where he had gone -she felt a vague alarm.</p> - -<div class="center"> - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * -</div> - -<p>All this was long ago.</p> - -<p>Now, when tourists go to the Oetzthal, as they do in far greater -numbers than they did then, one of the sights pointed out is a certain -<i xml:lang="de" lang="de">andenken</i>, high up the mountain side, done with an exquisite art, -which separates it conspicuously from the rest of its class.</p> - -<p>It has two sides. One is a fine portrait of a young Tyrolean -peasant—a model of fresh and vigorous beauty,—and the other -is a representation of the very spot on which it stands—not -covered with verdure and flowers, however, but with a great mass of -sliding snow, whose terrific rush downward is depicted with the power -of a master hand.</p> - -<p>Underneath there are a few words in German and in English, asking -the passer-by to pray for the repose of the soul of Anton Wald.</p> - -<p>It was painted, the tourist is told, by a young American lady, who -spent a summer at Oetz, and was married immediately afterward. She -had given painting lessons to the young peasant, and had left this -<i xml:lang="de" lang="de">andenken</i> of him.</p> - -<p>No record exists of the additional facts that when Anton's body was -found the coveted bird was in his hand, and that in a little silk bag -around his neck was a fair tress of shining hair.</p> - -<p>This <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">andenken</i> Ethel carries in her heart.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 25]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="The_Man_from_Maine" id="The_Man_from_Maine"></a> -The Man from Maine.</h2> -</div> -<p class="center">BY J. D. ELLSWORTH.</p> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_025.png" width="100" height="100" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">AS a Westerner, I -was amused by the discreet sinfulness of Boston; but when business -called me to Maine, our down-east sister, whose temperate example is -always held before our eyes, I felt that I was about to set foot on -the stepping-stone of heaven. To provide against the serpent that -must inevitably haunt such an Eden, I filled my pocket flask with the -standard Western remedy for snake bites.</p> - -<p>The train left the Union Station at nine in the morning, and -anticipating a stupid ride I went into the smoking-car to enjoy a cigar -and read my newspaper. The car was fitted up with mahogany card tables -and stationary cribbage boards. In the seats in front of me were three -traveling men.</p> - -<p>"Play euchre?" said one of them, looking toward a lean, lanky -stranger.</p> - -<p>"Does it cost anything?"</p> - -<p>"Not a cent."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, I guess I'll come in," and he opened himself like a -jack-knife and strolled to his place. His thin, freckled face looked as -if it had been carved with a chisel, and his clothes were economically -cut to save cloth. Altogether, he had an air of Yankee thrift that -might suggest to a cynical observer that he had taken the rear seat to -save the interest on his fare while the conductor was making his way -through the car. There was a chill about him that suggested a diet of -ice-water, and when he cut the cards I half expected that they would be -frost-bitten by his touch.</p> - -<p>As the train rushed over bridges and through suburban cities the -novelty of my surroundings so engrossed my attention that I did not -notice the card-players again until I heard the lean stranger say:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 26]</span></p> - -<p>"I guess I'm going to be real sick. I never had such a fearful pain -before in all my life."</p> - -<p>He put his hand on the pit of his stomach, and there were sharp -lines in his face that indicated intense agony. The dealer looked up -sympathetically, and his partner said:</p> - -<p>"I've got a little something with me from Kentucky. Perhaps it might -do you good."</p> - -<p>"I come from Maine," said the stranger, "and we don't drink rum down -there. But, as a medicine, I might take a few drops, if you don't think -it would go to my head."</p> - -<p>The drummers assured him that something warming was just what he -needed, and a bottle was brought forth. The man from Maine took a -drink, cleared his throat, and seemed better at once. Then the game -went on.</p> - -<p>Lounging back in my seat and watching the dissolving panorama of -snow-bound villages, I ruminated on the incident. It was impossible -not to pity the people of Maine, whose strict prohibition principles -deprived them of the gracious influence of a little stimulant in cases -of sudden illness.</p> - -<p>At Lynn I was reminded of the euchre players as one of the drummers -got out and another passenger took his place. The last comer carried -a gun case and was dressed for a hunting trip. When we reached Salem -at 9.35 the two remaining drummers left. The lean stranger and the -sportsman found two new partners and continued playing.</p> - -<p>As I had finished my cigar and exhausted my newspaper, I tried to -amuse myself by watching the game. When the cards were passed to the -lean stranger he shook his head and pushed them over to his partner.</p> - -<p>"Deal for me," he groaned; "I've got an awful pain in my side. It -seems like pneumonia, but it may pass in a minute."</p> - -<p>The group looked solicitous, and the sportsman, taking a black -bottle from the pocket of his hunting-bag, said:</p> - -<p>"Take some of this, man; you musn't fool with a pain like that."</p> - -<p>"I come from the State of Maine," said the sufferer, "and I'm -opposed to strong drink. But, rather than delay the game, gentlemen, -I'll take a little as medicine."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 27]</span></p> - -<p>"Of course; it's the only thing to do," interrupted the other -players.</p> - -<p>The man from Maine put the bottle to his lips, and then coughed -and said that he didn't know whether the liquor did it, but that he -certainly felt better.</p> - -<p>At the town of Newburyport the lanky representative of the Pine Tree -State was left alone at the card table. I was becoming interested in -him. As we crossed the bridge over the Merrimac I lost sight of him for -a moment, but when the train had passed the State line I walked forward -in the car. My invalid friend was playing seven-up with a swarthy -stranger.</p> - -<p>Dropping into a seat, I patiently waited for developments. We were -due to reach Portsmouth at 10.40. I looked at my watch from time to -time and then at the man from Maine. I saw that he began to get uneasy. -His face showed signs of suffering and he coughed violently. He went -from one spasm into another until it seemed that he could not recover -his breath.</p> - -<p>The brakeman brought some water in a tin cup. The suffering man -motioned him away, gasping, "I wouldn't dare (cough) to take water -(cough); it makes it worse."</p> - -<p>The swarthy stranger drew from his grip a pocket flask and handed -it to the sufferer. The spasmodic cough ceased for a moment, and a -familiar voice said:</p> - -<p>"My friend, I hail from the State of Maine and believe in total -abstinence. I can't take a drink, but I'll just swallow a few drops as -medicine."</p> - -<p>We rolled into Portsmouth as he handed back the half-emptied bottle. -There were tears in his eyes, but his cough was stopped.</p> - -<p>When we reached North Berwick it seemed as if the very air was -different. It was Maine air and evidently agreed with the man who -claimed that State as his home. He settled himself in the corner of a -lonely seat and figured industriously on both sides of an envelope.</p> - -<p>The car was almost deserted after we left Biddeford, and another -change came over the unfortunate representative of prohibition. In a -very low tone he asked a question of the conductor, who replied by -shaking his head decidedly. Then the man from Maine went forward into -the baggage car and returned with a - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 28]</span> - -pale, haggard face. I wondered how his complaint would develop. Perhaps -it was smallpox or measles by this time.</p> - -<p>A glance at my watch assured me that the sun had passed the -meridian. Bringing out the flask I had filled at Boston, and unscrewing -the top, I said, "Stranger, will you join me?"</p> - -<p>"Thanks, very much," he replied; "I am a Maine man—"</p> - -<p>As the train slowed up at Portland, the remainder of his sentence -was drowned in the gurgling sound of liquor that flowed gently and -smoothly as in a familiar channel.</p> <div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_028.png" alt="" width="400" height="129" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 29]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="A_Wedding_Tombstone" id="A_Wedding_Tombstone"></a>A Wedding Tombstone.</h2> -</div> -<p class="center">BY CLARICE IRENE CLINGHAN.</p> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_029.png" width="100" height="100" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">SO you never heard -tell of Melindy Barbour's weddin' tombstone?" said grandma in a tone -of surprise. "For the land's sake, I thought everybody knew about -that."</p> - -<p>I confessed the most abject ignorance and immediately drew up to the -fire. This was partly to gain information and partly because, although -the fireplace was wide and deep throated and big logs were blazing in -it, there were biting draughts of stinging November air coming in at -the loosely fitting door. For grandmother would not be persuaded to -leave the home that had been hers for fifty years, and which now showed -some signs of decay. She sat knitting vigorously by the firelight, for, -although she had all the modern conveniences of heating and lighting, -her big fireplace cast its ruddy glow out into the room through all the -long winter evenings. I was an angular schoolgirl of fifteen then, with -a great love of the romantic, and was on a four weeks' visit at the -old homestead. It seemed never to occur to grandma that, having been -raised in a different part of the country, the happenings at Ragged -Corner (where she lived) would naturally be unknown to me. She always -expressed fresh surprise at my ignorance on these subjects. After -knitting a few minutes in silence, she began:</p> - -<p>"You've seen the old stone house down on the bank of the river, all -shut in with pines and evergreens? It's nigh a hundred years old. When -I was born it had been built ten years. When I was a young married -woman the Barbours came to live there, and they was proud, high-feelin' -people that nobody could get acquainted with. That's what made 'em take -it so dretful hard when—but here I am, way ahead of my story. You -see, Mr. Barbour embezzled or did something of that kind, and went to - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 30]</span> - -prison. After he had been there a year he up and hung himself, and that -is the last of him so far as my story goes.</p> - -<p>"Then his wife and little boy shut themselves up in the stone house -and never went outside the gate hardly. She'd had a good deal of -schooling, his mother had, and she taught him herself as long as she -could, and then he bought books and studied by himself. He tried going -to school when he was a small boy, but one of the scholars threw it at -him about his father, and Mortimer nearly killed him, and after that -his mother kep' him home. And she was such a proud woman, was Mis' -Barbour, and lofty and severe in her ways. She wouldn't let nobody -sympathize with her, which everybody wanted to, as there's so little -going on in a place like Ragged Corner. Mis' Barbour was real selfish -with her grief, so she got herself disliked, besides folks bein' -suspicious after the way her husband turned out. What did they live on? -Oh, the boy farmed it, and later they do say he wrote books on what -they call natural history, though to my mind it was the most unnatural -stuff I ever heard tell of,—all about beetles and bugs with three -hundred muscles in their heads, and as could carry twelve hundred times -their own weight on their own backs, which everybody knows he must have -got up as he went along. They were dretfully taken up with each other, -he and his mother, and she believed everything he said was so, even -about the bugs and beetles. But she was his own born mother, and that -explains it.</p> - -<p>"When she died, Mortimer liked to went crazy. He planted her grave -with vi'lets and pansies, and at the head was a white marble monument -he had gone to the city for—nothing nearer would suit him. But -he didn't display no taste. Nothing on it, my dear, but the old lady's -name and the date she died—not an angel, nor a cherub, or a lamb, -or a broken rosebud, nor a bit of verse. And yet he always seemed to -set store by her.</p> - -<p>"Then Mortimer, he just stuck to the old house, same as ever, though -now he was alone. I used to wonder how it seemed to him late at night -hearin' the swash of the river and the sighin' of them pine trees. He -wore his hair long, as was the custom in them days, and it was curly up -at the ends, like the picture of John Wesley. But he had eyes that went -right through you and - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 31]</span> - -came out the back of your head. And he never set foot into the -meeting-house, nohow.</p> - -<p>"Now, he was the last man in the village I'd ever said would got -married. But as sure as you set there, when the little milliner, -Melinda McAllister, came into the place, he was struck. That wasn't -nothing strange—all the young fellows was—but, mind you, -<em>she was struck, too</em>. No, you wouldn't 'a' thought it. Everybody -warned her, and told her about his father's hangin' himself in prison, -and how queer his mother was, and that Mortimer was as odd as Dick's -hatband and wouldn't come to no good. She listened, with her eyes big -and cool and a little hot patch of red on her cheeks like a daub of -paint, but she never said a word. That was Melindy McAllister all over, -never to say a blessed word, but go and do just as she saw fit. First -we knew they was engaged, and it was given out in meeting. Next day her -aunt she lived with came in to see me, and wrung her hands, sayin' she -wouldn't be surprised if Melindy was murdered before the year was out. -What can you think of a man who lives like a hermit, and had a crooked -father and a peculiar mother?</p> - -<p>"But we wasn't prepared for the worst. A day or two before the -wedding, in comes old Mis' Johnson, and says, 'Shut up the doors -tight,' says she, 'and the winders. I've got something to tell you -that'll make your hair rise up,' she says, whisperin'-like. So I shut -the door, she a-workin' her hands together like one possessed. 'It's -about Melindy,' she went on. 'He's been and got a tombstone for her.' -'Who?' asked I, as if I didn't know, but my knees knocked together and -I felt a bit sick. 'Mortimer Barbour,' says she. 'My grandson, Johnnie, -was after a bird's nest in a tree over in his yard. The limb broke, -and down he went right onto the roof of the old cornhouse, that hasn't -been used for years. It went in under him like tinder, and as soon as -he could pick himself up and found no bones broke, what should he see -but a new white gravestone, a-settin' up quite pert in a corner against -some rubbish. He went up to it, and he says as true as the Bible he -saw 'Melinda Barbour' cut on it, and the date she is a-goin' to die.' -'I don't believe it,' says I, but I was all a-faint, and had to go and -make us each a cup of tea, so we could bear up under it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 32]</span></p> - -<p>"As soon as I said I didn't believe it Mis' Johnson said we'd go -ourselves and <em>see</em>. And we did go, Mortimer bein' away in the -fields, and got into the cornhouse. It was towards dark, and we shook -with the cold, though it was a warm day in June. We'd brought a bit of -candle with us, and Mis' Johnson lit it, and then we saw—land -sakes, child, how scairt you look; don't get so near the fire, honey, -you'll be all ablaze. Where was I? Oh, we saw the stone, just as -Johnnie said, a real gravestone of white marble, and on it the name -'Melindy Barbour,' with the date 'Sept. 5, 18—,' below it. But -the rest we couldn't make out. 'He's going to let her live three -months, may heaven forgive him,' says old Mis' Johnson, meanin' -different from what she said.</p> - -<p>"The next day I went to Melindy, and told her the whole truth. And -would you believe it, she said she thought Mis' Johnson and I had no -business prying about other people's affairs? 'If he had bought me a -thousand gravestones I'd have him just the same,' says she. So they was -married the next day in the meeting-house, but Melindy was white as a -ghost, and she trembled so she could hardly walk. They went right away -on the cars, and we threw some old shoes after 'em, but all the wishin' -of joy was make believe, and I never saw a bride with such a white, set -face, never looking at her husband nor yet at us.</p> - -<p>"They was away nearly three months; then they came back to the -old house. But folks said they wasn't happy, that she was as cold as -a stone, and he was always at his books and old insects. One day I -got a letter askin' me to come and see her. She was lyin' down on a -lounge when I got there, white and so thin, with big eyes with a sorry, -hungry look in 'em. But she had on a smart gown, and was as pretty as a -picture. As soon as we'd shaken hands and I'd taken off my bonnet and -mantilla, she says, 'Do you know what day to-morrow is?' Then I thought -it up, and said it was the 5th of September. 'The day I am to die,' she -says in a soft, quiet way. Then I up and asked her if Mortimer had been -ill-treatin' her, but she put up her finger, and said, 'Not a word to -my husband; he doesn't know I know it.' Then she said he was awful good -to her, but she couldn't get that gravestone out of her head day or -night. All at once it came to me - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 33]</span> - -how matters was; she'd been too proud to give him up, besides her -likin' him, too; and she'd been too proud to tell him about it; and -so betwixt the two the poor child was almost beat out. She asked if I -would go out to the cornhouse with her to see the stone. She wanted to -see it and was afraid to go alone.</p> - -<p>"Then a queer thing happened. Mortimer had come into the next room -while she'd been talkin', and heard every word. I never saw anybody so -stirred up as he was when he came in. 'Is that tombstone what has stood -between us?' he said, and went on to explain that it had been ordered -for his mother. He was such a bad writer that the stone cutter mistook -the name Malviny for Melindy, and after the stone was half done it -was found out, and they made him pay for it. So, as it was his, they -brought it to him, and, not knowin' what to do with it, he'd just set -it up in the cornhouse and forgot all about it. Melindy, she began to -cry, and then they fell to huggin' and kissin' each other, as if they -hadn't met for years. I tried to put in a word to ca'm 'em, but they -saw me without seeing me, and heard me without hearing me, so I put on -my bonnet and mantilla and came away and left 'em.</p> - -<p>"After that? Dear me, they was the happiest couple you ever saw. -They used the gravestone for a front doorstep, wrong side up, and it -was real pretty. Melindy was dretful proud of him, and believed every -word he wrote about them bugs and beetles, just as his mother did, -which only goes to show that the old sayin' is true, that love is -blind."</p> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_033.png" alt="" width="400" height="157" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 34]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="The_Other_One" id="The_Other_One"></a>The Other One.</h2> -</div> -<p class="center">BY A. H. GIBSON.</p> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_034.png" width="100" height="100" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">I NEVER recall it -without shuddering, though it happened over thirty years ago.</p> - -<p>I was then a young man, occupying a position of trust in the banking -firm of Dillard & Hatch. One day I was sent to carry five thousand -dollars in gold to Caleb Parton, a very eccentric man living in an -isolated house in a wild, hilly part of West Virginia.</p> - -<p>Parton was the bank's heaviest depositor, and his wealth was said to -aggregate a half million. The day before, his servant, a large negro, -had appeared at the bank with a message requesting Dillard to send him -eight thousand dollars in gold. He arranged that I was to be the one -to carry the amount to him, and further suggested that I should make -the trip in a wagon, so that I could take back a cask of rare old wine, -which he begged to be permitted to present to the firm.</p> - -<p>It was a hard journey over rough, stony roads, which were seldom -traveled, except by the plodding mountain folk of that region; and -not until two hours after sunset did I reach the queer stone dwelling -where Caleb Parton lived a hermit-like existence, shut away from all -the world. The place was a lonely one, in the heart of an uninhabited, -hilly tract of country covered with extensive forests.</p> - -<p>I was impressed with the deepest sense of this loneliness, as I drew -rein before the solitary stone house. Hitching the horse to a tree, I -was guided up the indistinct path by a meager, yellowish light that -struggled through the panes of an upstairs window.</p> - -<p>Although I knocked loudly at the door, it was fully ten minutes -before I heard any sound within. Then, half cautiously, the thick oaken -door opened, and a dark-faced, wiry man, somewhere between fifty and -sixty, looked out at me.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 35]</span></p> - -<p>"Who are you?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>"Hope, of the firm of Dillard & Hatch," I returned.</p> - -<p>"Ah! It's you, come at last, is it?" he said, holding the lighted -candle so as to get a better view of my face. "Well, come in, Mr. -Hope."</p> - -<p>He led the way up a flight of stairs and through a hall into a wide -room, lighted by a brass lamp. The furniture was scant, but of a heavy, -antique pattern. A faded Brussels carpet covered the floor, and in one -corner stood a desk with a small iron safe near by. A narrow table in -the center of the room held a decanter and glasses with the remnants of -a lunch.</p> - -<p>Motioning me to a chair, my strange host took the sacks of gold, -which I carried in a stout bag, and threw them against the safe. -The clang of the falling coins sounded dismally through the silent -apartment.</p> - -<p>"What a curse love and gold can be to a man!"</p> - -<p>He spoke bitterly. I had never met Caleb Parton before, and as he -uttered these words I looked at him carefully. His face was of a dark -olive tint, while his deep-set eyes were small and intensely black. -They were full of magnetism and subtle cunning.</p> - -<p>He became conscious of my scrutiny, frowned a little, then turned -toward the door.</p> - -<p>"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Hope," he said, "I'll bring you up some -refreshments. You must be tired and hungry after your long ride."</p> - -<p>In a short time he returned, bringing a tray on which was a choice -repast, with a bowl of strong coffee.</p> - -<p>"You see I'm my own servant, Mr. Hope," he said, putting the tray -on the table. "My man, Joe, is off to a camp-meeting and won't be back -before daylight."</p> - -<p>As I ate the lunch which Caleb Parton had brought me, he emptied the -gold from the sacks upon the floor and counted it over carefully.</p> - -<p>"Correct!" I heard him chuckle to himself, as he flung the refilled -sacks into the safe.</p> - -<p>After I had finished my lunch, Parton exhibited two fine pipes and -invited me to join him in a smoke.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 36]</span></p> - -<p>"Excuse my oversight. There's not a drop of wine left in this -decanter," he said, after examining it.</p> - -<p>"No matter," I returned. "I never drink wine."</p> - -<p>"Tut, tut, man! you miss half your life. Now, I have a very choice -collection of wines. Come, I'll give you a peep at my vaults."</p> - -<p>He arose as he spoke and took up a candle. I had no interest -whatever in wines, but I accompanied him.</p> - -<p>Descending to the lower hallway, we passed through a long, dreary -room, then down narrow stone steps into a capacious cellar, walled on -every side with heavy masonry.</p> - -<p>The place was damp and musty. Dust and cobwebs covered the casks and -bottles that littered the whole end of the cellar. My host did not halt -till we reached a heavy iron door fastened with a large, rusty padlock. -I noticed a demoniacal expression on Parton's face, as he held the -light close enough to the lock to examine it.</p> - -<p>"No, it's never been meddled with," he remarked with a chuckle. "Ten -years is a very long time for a man to live on wine—but he was -very fond of wine—very—ha, ha!"</p> - -<p>I looked at Parton in amazement, much puzzled as to the import of -his strange words and manner.</p> - -<p>He turned to me with a quick gesture.</p> - -<p>"A thousand pardons!" he said. "You think my actions strange. -But—shall I?—" a wild flash in his eyes. "Yes, Mr. Hope, -you shall have the story. I must tell it to some one. It's too good to -keep. Ha, ha!"</p> - -<p>"Take a seat," he continued, pushing a cask towards me, upon which I -dropped, not certain that I was not in the presence of a madman.</p> - -<p>Taking up a bottle, he brushed the cobwebs from it, then, breaking -off the neck, passed it to me, saying:</p> - -<p>"Take a pull. It's damp in this cellar, and this will take the chill -out of your blood. This is an excellent wine—it was a favorite -brand with Judson Pickford. Yes, sir; and Judson was a competent judge. -Ha, ha!"</p> - -<p>His laugh made me shiver. It sounded like the exultation of a fiend. -But I declined the wine, and Parton himself drained the bottle.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 37]</span></p> - -<p>"You've never heard of Judson Pickford?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Of course not. That was before you came, and it isn't likely -that excellent Messrs. Dillard & Hatch would mention him to you. -But they could tell you a great deal about Judson if they were so -disposed."</p> - -<p>"Judson Pickford was a strange, dark man. I met him first in society -in Baltimore. And, strange to say, many declared that there was a -strong resemblance between Pickford and Parton. Be that as it may, -fate decreed that we should both love the same girl,—beautiful, -winsome Mabel Raymond. I loved her from the hour we first met, and I've -no doubt my rival's passion was as intense as my own. I was a rich wine -merchant, and Pickford a wealthy, brilliant stock-broker. Both of us -vowed to win Miss Raymond, but from the first I saw that she favored -Pickford's suit. This made me hate my rival with deepest hatred. After -they were married I went about for months like one stupefied. In losing -the only woman I loved I lost all interest in life. I drank heavily, -but the more I drank the more I felt myself urged on to revenge. Then I -began to lay plans for Pickford's ruin.</p> - -<p>"When he and his wife were in Europe I saw an excellent chance to -mature my scheme for his destruction. I first converted all my property -into cash. Then I came to this secluded place and had this house built, -where I might live apart from the world I hated. Afterward I went to -Dillard & Hatch, and placed five hundred thousand dollars in their -bank. I knew Dillard to be a noted schemer, so I took him into my -confidence, and got his promise to help me. Hatch, being a weak man, -was not hard to rope into the plot. No need for me to go into details -of the steps by which Dillard and I artfully spread a net for our -unsuspecting victim. It is enough to say that soon after Pickford's -return from abroad he was a ruined man. Penniless though he was, he -didn't lose heart. He moved into plainer quarters and took up the -practise of law, a profession which he had followed before he became -a stock-broker. But my vengeance was not yet satisfied. Mind you, -though, I took pains never to let him suspect I was even most remotely -connected with the cause of his ruin.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 38]</span></p> - -<p>"Just when Pickford was having his hardest struggle I went to him -with an offer to start him in business. He gratefully accepted my -offer. I sent him alone to New York with a large sum of money. Then, -disguising myself, I followed him. In the city I removed my disguise -and sought out Pickford, telling him I had changed my plans for him. -I directed him to come here the next night, but to tell no one of our -business. He kept the appointment. We met at the station, six miles -below the hills, and walked here to this house. It was a dark night. No -one saw us. He was fond of wine, so after I had urged many a glass upon -him I conducted him to this vault. In his drunken condition I had no -trouble to get him to enter it. Then I shut and locked that iron door -upon him. He had only a cask of wine to keep him company. That was ten -years ago, and that door has never been opened since."</p> - -<p>A low laugh from the narrator ended his grewsome tale, while a gleam -of fiendish triumph flitted across his swarthy face.</p> - -<p>A cold chill crept up my spine, and I arose involuntarily.</p> - -<p>Was there truth in his awful narration, or was it merely the ravings -of a maniac?</p> - -<p>"A wholesome tale to go to bed on, eh, Mr. Hope? Ha, ha!" he -laughed, as he arose and led the way upstairs.</p> - -<p>When I was alone in the room where I was to spend the night, I -decided that the wine which Parton had drunk was responsible for the -horrible story to which I had listened.</p> - -<p>Next morning, while I was despatching an early breakfast, Negro -Joe and Parton carried out a cask of wine, which they placed in my -wagon.</p> - -<p>Just before starting, my strange host handed me a sealed letter, -saying:</p> - -<p>"Give this to Dillard, and tell him I hope he'll find the wine -superb. Good-by, Mr. Hope," and he waved me off.</p> - -<p>When I reached the bank I gave the letter to Mr. Dillard. As he -read it his face turned a sickly hue and his mouth twitched nervously. -Recovering himself, however, he ordered Hatch and me to open the cask -which Parton had sent him.</p> - -<p>We obeyed at once. As the top of the cask was broken open, we -started back in horror.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 39]</span></p> - -<p>There, preserved in wine, was a <em>human head</em>,—the head -and face of Caleb Parton, the recluse millionaire!</p> - -<p>Then Dillard explained that his letter was from Judson Pickford, -who, with the help of Negro Joe, who hated his harsh master, Caleb -Parton, had effected his escape from the vault. But a month later, his -wife having died, Pickford had returned one dark night and killed the -man who had so cruelly ruined him. The head of his enemy had been put -in a cask of wine to send to the banker, who had aided in accomplishing -his financial ruin. With peculiar cunning, he had appropriated not only -the name and looks of Parton, but his property and bank account as -well. In carrying out this deception, he had a faithful ally in Negro -Joe.</p> - -<p>It was Pickford himself who had related the dark story to me. It -seemed almost incredible. A visit to the lonely stone house with two -officers discovered a headless body in the vault. But Pickford and his -ally had disappeared.</p> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_039.png" alt="" width="400" height="223" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 40]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Stateroom_Six" id="Stateroom_Six"></a>Stateroom Six.</h2> -</div> -<p class="center">BY WILLIAM ALBERT LEWIS.</p> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_040.png" width="100" height="100" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THINGS have changed -greatly on the river. There are no open bars, no card playing, no -shooting; much less travel, for that matter.</p> - -<p>We were a half dozen at supper. I sat opposite a gray-bearded -man, who, when he had completed his meal, closely scrutinized a -modest-appearing young woman quietly supping at another table. She -finished and departed. When she was gone my neighbor leaned across and -said:</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you thought it funny I watched that lady so closely? But -that's 'Sis.' I remember her twenty years back, on this very boat. My! -but what a look at her brings to my mind!"</p> - -<p>He leaned back, his eyes on the table, a grim smile broadening a -kindly countenance, and pushed both hands deeply into his pockets.</p> - -<p>The man had something he wanted to tell.</p> - -<p>"A romance, I suppose? I'd like to hear it."</p> - -<p>"It was twenty years ago, and on this boat, the Hester Hale. -Professional gamblers were always aboard, looking for victims. None -were more daring nor more lucky than 'Ready' Rankin. A handsome fellow, -of good family, with a heart big and manly, if he was a cut-throat -gambler and a bad man all around. Down at that landing we left before -sundown,—Kellyville,—an old man was waiting, one night, -with a wee tot of a girl. He brought her aboard. You know how natural -it is to consign children to the care of some person? The child was the -old man's granddaughter. She was to get off at Low Water Landing, which -is the next stop we'll make, a few minutes from now. He happened to put -the child in 'Ready' Rankin's care. He agreed to see her safely ashore -and to deliver her to her ma. 'Ready' got a stateroom, put the child in -one of the berths, and gave her a bag - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 41]</span> - -of candy to keep her from crying. Then he went below for a game. -The play chanced to be tolerable heavy that night, with Rankin an -eight-thousand-dollar winner. But it ended in a row; and Rankin, seeing -trouble ahead, rolled his pile in a newspaper and laid it beside the -sleeping child in the stateroom. The boat was then a half hour from the -landing. 'Ready' got into a fight with the man he beat at the table, -and was badly shot. His last words were confused. He said something -about:</p> - -<p>"'Stateroom six—little one—Low Water -Landing—money.'</p> - -<p>"The boat made the landing. They woke the child up, put all the -bundles into her arms, and turned her over to her ma.</p> - -<p>"Sis's mother soon discovered the package of money, and met the boat -at the landing on her down trip next night, to make inquiries of the -captain. But he knew nothing. Rankin had been buried that day up river. -Nobody knew anything about any money. So Sis's mother kept it, trying -all the time to get some knowledge of Rankin's family. That she could -not do. They had disowned him.</p> - -<p>"About three years ago a party of young men came up the river -hunting. They stopped off at Low Water Landing and boarded with Sis's -ma. One of the young fellows was teller in a bank down in Natchez. He -fell head over ears in love with Sis. You can't much blame him, can -you? She's awfully handsome. Naturally enough, they got to comparing -notes; and the story of the money came out. Do you know, sir, it turned -out that the young bank teller was Rankin's son? Fact! He and his -mother and step-father lived together, and all they'd ever heard was -that 'Ready' had been killed in a fight on the river. They didn't mourn -overmuch, although 'Ready' wasn't the worst chap that ever lived.</p> - -<p>"There! We're just blowing for Low Water now. Let's go on deck and -see Sis land. Up to visit her ma, I reckon."</p> - -<p>"Rankin's son is going to marry her, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Married, man! Year ago, last Christmas. They live as cozy as you -please down in Natchez. He's cashier of that bank now."</p> - -<p>We stood by the rail as the boat made fast. The young lady tripped -lightly ashore and greeted a white-haired old lady.</p> - -<p>The Hester Hale resumed her way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 42]</span></p> - -<p>"Step this way. I'll show you where 'Ready' was killed."</p> - -<p>We strolled to the gangway. He pointed to a little bullet hole in -the casement.</p> - -<p>"There were three shots fired. 'Ready' fired one and I—"</p> - -<p>I looked up quickly into his patriarchal face. He paled, and fixed -his eyes on me.</p> - -<p>"I didn't mean to say so much, friend; but I believe you are a -square man. This spot has a fascination for me. And it is twenty years -ago, twenty—years—ago."</p> - -<p>His head drooped. He seemed to be thinking of something beside what -he uttered.</p> - -<p>"I understand you," I said.</p> - -<p>I pressed his hand, and went to bed.</p> <div -class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_042.png" alt="" width="200" height="314" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 43]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="Her_Eyes_Your_Honor" id="Her_Eyes_Your_Honor"></a>Her Eyes, Your Honor.</h2> -</div> -<p class="center">BY H. D. UMBSTAETTER.</p> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div> - <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_043.png" width="100" height="100" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE witness is yours."</p> - -<p>As the prosecuting attorney sat down, the spectators craned their -necks and eagerly leaned forward. Every one expected a merciless -cross-examination, as the reputation of the young lawyer, who had been -brought two hundred miles to defend the prisoner, had preceded him. And -though Delos McWhorter had thus far taken no part in the proceedings, -he was the most conspicuous figure in the great trial. One person -alone rivaled him,—the mysterious woman who stood at the bar, -charged with murder. The hush that fell upon the packed courtroom as -the man slowly rose to his feet resembled the awful silence with which -the death sentence is awaited. As he stood silent and irresolute for -a moment, the color rising to his plain, youthful face, his fingers -nervously fumbling with a pencil, the spectators were conscious of a -feeling of disappointment.</p> - -<p>With almost boyish embarrassment, his eye sought that of the -presiding judge; next he scanned the faces of the jury, and then, -turning to the witness, in a voice at once gentle, sarcastic, and -magnetic, he began:</p> - -<p>"Mr. Slade, I will trouble you to look once more very carefully at -the prisoner. Perhaps she will rise that you may see her better. You -have testified that shortly before eight on the night of the murder you -saw this woman enter the apartment house of which you are the janitor, -and in which the body of Charlotte Ames was found. Now, I would like to -have you tell the jury just what it was in the appearance of the woman -you say you then saw that enables you to swear to-day that she and the -prisoner are one and the same person."</p> - -<p>The witness, fearing a trap, hesitated, and nervously eyed the -lawyer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 44]</span></p> - -<p>"I would like you to tell us," calmly continued the questioner, -"whether you took such particular notice of her height, her face, her -complexion, her hair, her nose, and her teeth during the few moments -that you say you saw her in the dimly lighted hallway, four months -ago, as to enable you to swear to-day that you cannot be mistaken. Was -it her size, her apparent age, perhaps, or the color of her hair, or -what?"</p> - -<p>"It was her looks," answered the witness, squirming in his seat. -"It's the same woman."</p> - -<p>"Yes, her looks; but I must trouble you to answer my question so -that the jury may have the whole truth before they are asked to send -any one to the gallows. Remember, Mr. Slade, you are under oath. Now -tell us, what was it?"</p> - -<p>"We object," came from the prosecuting attorney as he sprang to -his feet. "We object, your honor, to this attempt to intimidate the -witness."</p> - -<p>Before the court could pass upon the objection, the witness, turning -from his questioner to the court, exclaimed half defiantly:</p> - -<p>"It was her eyes, your honor!"</p> - -<p>"That is all," came from the lawyer for the defense, as he resumed -his seat; and the spectators relaxed into a condition of restlessness -that clearly showed their further disappointment.</p> - -<p>Each of the succeeding witnesses declared without hesitation that -the prisoner was the woman they had seen near the scene of the murder, -either just before or shortly after the deed was discovered. As one -after the other was dismissed by the defense, upon insisting under -cross-examination that he could not possibly be mistaken, the faces -of the government counsel beamed with satisfaction, while those of -the spectators assumed the blankness of mystification. What was the -strange lawyer there for? they whispered among themselves, and many -turned toward the prisoner as though to ascertain whether she realized -how surely her life was being sworn away. In his opening address the -prosecuting attorney had said:</p> - -<p>"On the second day of last November, a woman residing in this town, -young, rich, and notorious for her gay and reckless career, was found -murdered in her bed at half past eight at night. - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 45]</span> - -Everything about the room was in perfect order. There had been no -robbery, and the instrument used was found in her breast, where it had -been driven to the heart. It was a gold ornament, such as a woman wears -in her hair.</p> - -<p>"We shall not attempt to defend the character of the dead woman, but -we shall ask that justice be done.</p> - -<p>"It is true that many a woman in this town had good reason to wish -the murdered woman ill. It is true that there are men in the community -who might have been driven by desperate hate, desperate love, or -desperate jealousy, to do the deed, but, fortunately, before cruel -suspicion made any blunder of that sort the police discovered the -criminal. Almost simultaneously with the rumors of the murder came the -reports of a mysterious woman found leaving the city. Within twelve -hours this woman, who now stands at the bar, had been identified by no -less than four people, who saw her in the vicinity of the scene of the -crime either before or after it was committed.</p> - -<p>"No one knew her. She refused to give any account of herself. She -appeared to be in a state of great nervous excitement. The government -will show that she entered the house shortly before the murder was -committed; that she left it a few minutes after the deed was done; that -on the very day of the murder she had high words with the dead woman, -and that the instrument with which the deed was done was such an one as -the prisoner was known to possess. Gentlemen of the jury," he concluded -dramatically, "Fate plays no tricks of that sort. Fate fashions no such -chain of circumstantial evidence as that which establishes the guilt of -this woman and upon which we ask her conviction."</p> - -<p>These were his words, and now that the janitor had testified that -he saw the prisoner enter the building, a patrolman had declared that -he saw her leaving it within fifteen minutes before the crime was -discovered, and the dead woman's coachman had sworn to having overheard -the prisoner using threatening language to his mistress,—after -this and other circumstantial evidence had gone before the jury and -remained unshaken by cross-examination, the prosecution announced that -the case for the government was in.</p> - -<p>In spite of the disappointment with which the spectators regarded - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 46]</span> - -Lawyer McWhorter, a nervous dread of the man possessed the minds of -the opposing counsel, as he rose slowly and deliberately clasped his -hands behind him. He was so calm. His methods were so unfathomable that -they began to feel a vague conviction that he mastered them and their -methods, while to them he was a closed book.</p> - -<p>A moment he stood silent, and when he spoke, utter consternation -fell upon the court. The words were the last they had expected.</p> - -<p>"Your honor, the defense has no evidence to offer."</p> - -<p>Even the court could scarce control its amazement. Inch by inch the -ground upon which the prisoner stood had been carried away, until now -nothing but the personal appeal of her counsel could save her life. -Was this possible? Did this young stranger really possess that rare -eloquence, that fatal magnetism, that sometimes blind strong men to -all sense of reason and right? Did even he hope to save his client? -His looks betrayed nothing. As he took his seat his face was that of a -sphinx.</p> - -<p>The attorney for the government lost no time in beginning his -closing speech. "We commend the judgment of the distinguished counsel -for the defense," he began, "which deterred him from attacking the -overwhelming proofs we have submitted of the prisoner's guilt. We -commend the keen judgment which prompts him to rely upon the famed -magic of his own voice rather than to seek hope for his client in the -uncertain words of unreliable witnesses. The defense, too clever to -attack such proof as we have presented, will now rely upon silvery -tongued oratory and superb rhetorical appeals to secure from these -twelve men a verdict of acquittal. But, may it please the court," he -concluded, "our learned brother mistakes the intelligence of these -gentlemen of the jury, if he supposes, for one moment, that fervent -appeals to their sympathies can make them forget their duty to -themselves, to civilized society, and to womankind." So well satisfied, -however, had the spectators become of the prisoner's guilt, and so -completely did all interest now center in McWhorter's anticipated -speech, that the remarks of the prosecuting attorney were listened to -with indifferent attention.</p> - -<p>Now, surely, the brilliant advocate would demonstrate his ability, -even though he could not save his client.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 47]</span></p> - -<p>"The woman," he began, amid oppressive silence, "who was arrested -on the second day of November last, stands charged with murder. As -no testimony has been offered to show that she committed murder, -the defense will not waste your time or insult your common sense by -unnecessary argument. You have been told with great clearness by the -witnesses for the prosecution that the prisoner was seen to enter and -leave a certain house at certain hours; also that on a certain day she -had high words with a certain woman. But, gentlemen of the jury, under -the laws of your State that doesn't constitute murder. A woman may pay -a visit to an apartment house at eight o'clock at night, she may have -high words with another woman in the public highway, she may even wear -a gold ornament in her hair,—she may do all this without becoming -a murderess. The evidence adduced is purely circumstantial. No proof -whatever has been offered that the accused woman killed Charlotte Ames. -In the absence of such testimony, it is your duty to yourselves, to -civilized society, and to womankind, to acquit the prisoner." Before -the last word was spoken he sat down.</p> - -<p>The entire courtroom was again taken by surprise. While the brief -speech had the ring of cleverness, it fell far short of the general -expectations.</p> - -<p>After hearing the judge's charge to the jury not one person in that -vast assembly doubted the result. Few felt any sympathy for the woman, -and those few were men. The members of her own sex were as a unit -arrayed against her. The pride of her pale beauty antagonized them. The -very women who in their hearts had wished the dead girl ill and who -would have committed the crime themselves, except that they lacked the -courage, had no pity for the accused. There was something in her beauty -above and beyond them, and, womanlike, they hated her for it.</p> - -<p>Not a soul left the courtroom as the jury filed out, for all -expected a prompt verdict. In this they were not disappointed. Ten -minutes later the twelve men filed solemnly back. Not an eye sought the -face of the prisoner, who, like her counsel, sat entirely unmoved.</p> - -<p>As the clerk rose the silence became deathlike. "Prisoner, - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 48]</span> - -look upon the jury. Jury, look upon the prisoner. Have you agreed upon -a verdict?"</p> - -<p>"We have."</p> - -<p>"Is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty of the crime -charged against her?"</p> - -<p>"Guilty."</p> - -<p>With difficulty the demonstrations of approval that broke out in -every part of the room were checked by the court officers.</p> - -<p>Moved by that inevitable heart-stopping vision of "hanged by the -neck," every spectator turned to the handsome woman in the dock.</p> - -<p>The calmness with which she received the stares of a thousand eyes -was marvelous. No one expected that she would now break her mysterious -silence. When, therefore, she rose and turned her eyes towards the -court the spectators sat fairly spellbound with surprise.</p> - -<p>"May it please your honor," she began in a firm, clear voice; then, -lifting one slender white hand, she pointed to the door at the back of -the witness stand.</p> - -<p>Every eye followed her gesture. A tall female figure, heavily -veiled, accompanied by one of the associate counsel of the defense, -stood in the doorway. The next moment she raised her veil, advanced -rapidly, and took her place beside the prisoner.</p> - -<p>The scene that followed resembled a street riot, rather than the -solemn proceedings of a courtroom. Men, wild with excitement, mounted -their chairs, women rose in their seats, pushing, jostling, and -crowding each other in their frantic efforts to get a better view of -the highly sensational proceedings. The confusion was indescribable, -the noise deafening. Not until McWhorter was seen to spring to his -feet did the court officers' vigorous rapping and loud cries for order -produce any effect. Instantly all was silence. Rigid suspense held -the spectators breathless. With the light they had missed in his eye -and the fire they had longed for in his voice the young lawyer spoke, -addressing the judge:</p> - -<p>"May it please the court,—nice customs must bow to desperate -needs. When a man is called upon to face in defense of a woman's life -such odds as I found in this case, when he sees justice outwitted by -the devil's trick,—circumstantial evidence,—he must resort - -<span class="pagenum">[Pg 49]</span> - -to the devil's weapon,—cunning. Such evidence as has been here -given has hanged many a man, and I believe that when a man of any -heart, any soul, any chivalry, sees that it is likely to hang a woman -it becomes his duty to combat fate as the defense has done in this -case.</p> - -<p>"I ask your honor, I ask the jury, I ask the witnesses, to look upon -these two women. As they stand there side by side, there is a marked -difference in their heights, a decided difference in the color of -their hair, a striking difference in the color of their eyes, a very -perceptible difference, even at this distance, in the tone of their -skin; and, I may add, a difference of eight years in their ages. The -woman who has just been pronounced guilty of murder is the wife of a -gentleman who throughout this trial has sat within the shadow of the -jury. She is innocent, as God is my judge. Every moment of her life -up to this very instant can be accounted for. In substituting her -to-day for the real prisoner, the defense had no desire to circumvent -justice. We merely wished to save this court, this community, from the -everlasting shame of hanging a woman whose guilt has not been proved. -We wished to show to your honor and to these gentlemen of the jury that -it is monstrous to accept as conclusive such evidence as has been given -in this case. May it please your honor, this jury has just pronounced a -verdict of 'guilty' against my own wife. I move that here and now this -verdict be set aside."</p> - -<p>The request was granted, and, although McWhorter was charged with -unprofessional conduct and threatened with disbarment, his client was -promptly acquitted on the new trial which the court ordered.</p> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_049.png" alt="" width="400" height="137" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 50]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><a name="ADVERTISEMENTS" id="ADVERTISEMENTS"></a>ADVERTISEMENTS.</h2> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_050.png" alt="" width="600" height="904" /> -</div> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="drop-capc">NOTWITHSTANDING -the great number of imitations and substitutes advertised to be twice -as wide and twice as cheap, has a hold upon the fashionable dressmakers -and fashionable women that cannot be shaken. It was only a matter -of time for the old adage, "<em>The best is the cheapest</em>," to be -proven, and now the demand for the genuine Hair Cloth Crinoline, of -which every strand of the weft is <em>pure hair</em>, promises to exceed -the output. Experience has also taught the best manner of using it, and -the fault of shrinking or cockling, which by the unthinking ones has -sometimes been attributed to hair cloth, without for a moment looking -for the real cause, <em>that of putting two fabrics of different nature -together, either of which may shrink a little</em>, has been overcome -by scientific methods of interlining. Shrinking, ironing, and binding -hair cloth before putting into a dress has also produced satisfactory -results, more than compensating for the little extra trouble in so -doing. To make certain of the genuine hair cloth take out a few strands -of the weft, pull them, and if found to be elastic it is hair cloth, -otherwise imitation.</p> - -<p>It is quite easily understood why hair cloth is so elastic and -resilient if one will only stop to think that, no matter how many ways -human hair is combed, whether twisted, curled, braided, crimped or -frizzled, wet or oiled, it will resume its natural position, and, so, -too, will Hair Cloth Crinoline, having a weft of <em>pure hair</em>, -resume its normal condition.</p> - -<p>Such <span class="smcap">Hair Cloth Crinoline</span> as above -referred to is made by the American Hair Cloth Company, of Pawtucket, -R. I., the largest hair cloth manufacturers in the world, whose goods -are recognized as the leaders throughout the country, and are superior -to any foreign or domestic make. They manufacture several grades, -suitable for skirts and sleeves, for both day and evening dresses; -<b>10/4</b>, <b>14/4</b>, <b>10/5</b>, <b>200/4</b>, <b>98/3</b>, -usually sold for Skirts; <b>84/3</b>, <b>146/3</b>, <b>170/3</b>, -<b>200/4</b> for Sleeves.</p> </div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xlarge">American Hair Cloth Company.</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Pawtucket, R.I.</span><br /> -<hr class="r15" /> -<span class="smcap large">Charles E. 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BRIDGEPORT, CONN.</span><br /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 54]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_054.png" alt="" width="600" height="921" /> -</div> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<div class="topspace2"></div> -<span class="smaller"><i>It cures from head to foot.</i></span><br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Puritana</span><br /><br /> -<span class="smaller">Trade Mark Registered.</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Nature's<br /> -Cure</span><br /> -</div> - -<div class="adindent12"> -For diseases of the<br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad10 center"> -<span class="large">Stomach<br /> -Liver<br /> -Blood<br /> -Kidneys</span><br /> -</div> - -<div class="adindent12"> -And for<br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad10 center"> -<span class="large">Weak Lungs<br /> -Starved Nerves<br /> -Fagged Brain</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad9"> -<span class="smaller">It cures after everything else has failed. It cures -cases that have been given up as hopeless. It cures -pleasantly. It cures positively. It cures permanently.</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<i>It cures from head to foot.</i><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -Puritana is the prize formula of -Prof. Dixi Crosby, M.D., LL.D., for -over 30 years at the head of Dartmouth -Medical College. -</div> - -<div class="topspace1"></div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad9"> -<span class="smaller">If you are a sufferer, get of your druggist this -great disease-conquering discovery (the price is $1 for the complete -treatment, consisting of one bottle of Puritana Compound, one bottle of -Puritana Pills, and one bottle of Puritana Tablets), or write to the -undersigned, and you will bless the day when you heard of Puritana. The -Puritana Compound Co., Concord, N. H.</span> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="large">The Story of</span><br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Puritana.</span><br /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace1"></div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad9"> -Prof. Dixi Crosby, M. D., LL. D., who for thirty-two years was at -the head of Dartmouth Medical College, belonged to the famous Crosby -family of physicians, which for several generations has furnished more -distinguished medical men than any other family in America. His father -was Dr. Asa Crosby, of Dartmouth, who procured the charter of the State -medical society, of which he was for thirty years a conspicuous member; -one brother, Dr. Josiah Crosby, invented the invalid bed and the method -of making extensions of fractured limbs by adhesive strips; another -brother, Dr. Thos. R. Crosby, was chief surgeon in Columbian College -Hospital during the war, and later professor of animal and vegetable -physiology at Dartmouth College; while Dr. Dixi Crosby himself was -the inventor and discoverer of various important improvements in -medicine and surgery, including a new and unique mode of reducing -metacarpophalangeal dislocation, opening of abscess at hip-joint, etc., -etc. - -At the early age of twenty-four his extraordinary skill and success in -overcoming disease had already attracted the attention of medical men -throughout the world, and won for him the highest honors. His greatest -achievement was the discovery of an original method for perfecting -and compounding in permanent form what has become known as his "prize -formula," and which, under the name of Puritana, is legally protected. - -The foundation of this remarkable medical discovery consists of simple -New England roots and herbs, and the original family recipe for it has -descended to the long line of Crosby physicians from their Puritan -ancestors. Its peculiar vegetable composition rendered it necessary to -brew it whenever needed in the early days of its history, and after -the scattering of the Puritan families to remote localities, where the -necessary ingredients were not to be found, many attempts were made to -put it up in permanent form, all of which failed until Dr. Dixi Crosby -discovered means and methods, the result of which is: Nature's Cure -compounded in the laboratory of Common Sense. -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 55]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_055.png" alt="" width="600" height="932" /> -</div> -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="smaller"><i>It cures from head to foot.</i></span><br /> -<span class="xxxxlarge">Puritana<br /> -Nature's Cure</span><br /><br /> - -<span class="xlarge"><b><i>OFFICIAL.</i></b></span><br /> - -<p class="adindent4">Seal of New Hampshire.</p><br /> - -<div class="blockquote-ad16 large"> -The cures effected in this State by Dr. Dixi Crosby's prize formula -Puritana are so astonishing and the results with which we personally -have used this remarkable medical discovery are so entirely -satisfactory that we deem it our duty to accord it our public -indorsement and private recommendation. -</div> - -<div class="large"> -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Governor of New Hampshire.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Ex-Governor of New Hampshire.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Secretary of State.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>R. R. Commissioner.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Mayor of Concord.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Sec'y Board of Agriculture.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>County Solicitor.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Insurance Commissioner.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Cashier Merrimac Co. Bank.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Practising Physician.</i></p> - -<p class="center">Signature of the<br /> -<i>Treas. Loan and Trust Savings Bank.</i></p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad2 large"> -Puritana has cured case after case that had been given up -as hopeless.<br /><br /> - -It has cured case after case from head to foot, whether the -suffering was due to disordered <em>Blood</em>, <em>Liver</em>, <em>Stomach</em>, <em>Kidneys</em>, -<em>Lungs</em>, <em>Brain</em>, <em>Nerves</em>, or <em>Skin</em>. A trial proves its worth. -<br /><br /></div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad2 smaller"> -If you are a sufferer get of your druggist this great -disease-conquering discovery (the price is $1, for the complete -treatment, consisting of one bottle of Puritana Compound, one bottle of -Puritana Pills, and one bottle of Puritana Tablets), or write to the -undersigned, and you will bless the day when you heard of Puritana. The -Puritana Compound Co., Concord, N. H. -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 56]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_056.png" alt="" width="600" height="955" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.'S<br /> -<span class="xxxlarge"><b>AUTUMN FICTION.</b></span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>A Singular Life.</b></p> - -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By <span class="smcap">Elizabeth Stuart Phelps</span>, author of "The Gates Ajar," etc., 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p>A story of remarkable power and significance, depicting the heroic career of a singularly -conscientious minister among fishermen, and the sublime success he achieved.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>A Gentleman Vagabond, and Some Others.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By <span class="smcap">F. Hopkinson Smith</span>, author of "Colonel Carter of Cartersville," "A Day at Laguerre's," -etc. 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p>A book of short stories by a man who always has exceptionally interesting stories to tell and -who tells them wonderfully well.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>The Life of Nancy.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By <span class="smcap">Sarah Orne Jewett</span>, author of "Deephaven," "A Native of Winby," etc. 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p>A book of short stories as good as Miss Jewett has ever written, and who has written better?</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>The Village Watch-Tower.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Wiggin</span>, author of "The Birds' Christmas Carol," etc. 16mo, $1.00.</p> - -<p>Several short stories containing admirable studies of New England village life—bright, witty, -extremely readable.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>The Wise Woman.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Burnham</span>, author of "Sweet Clover," "Miss Bagg's Secretary," etc. 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p>The aim of this charming story is to do away with artificial conventionalities and promote a more -sincere social life.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>The Coming of Theodora.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By <span class="smcap">Eliza Orne White</span>, author of "Winterborough," "When Molly Was Six." 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p>A novel that may well cause discussion. The scene is a semi-rural neighborhood, the characters -true to life, the incidents natural and the narrative fresh and attractive.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>Clarence.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>. 16mo, $1.25.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>In a Hollow of the Hills.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>. 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p>"Clarence" is a story of war time and introduces President Lincoln. -"In a Hollow of the Hills" is a story of far Western life, in which -figure robbers, a mysterious lady, a lonely young girl. The incidents -are highly dramatic and the story is told as only Bret Harte can tell -such a story.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By <span class="smcap">Charles Egbert Craddock</span>, author of -"The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains," etc. 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p>A book of several powerful stories of the region and characters which Miss Murfree knows -so well and "plays" so effectively.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>The Cup of Trembling, and Other Stories.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>By <span class="smcap">Mary Hallock Foote</span>, author of "Cœur -d'Alene," "The Chosen Valley," etc. 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p>A collection of short stories, admirable in plot, characters, narrative, tone, and purpose.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>The Madonna of the Tubs.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p><cite>New Popular Edition</cite> of one of Miss <span -class="smcap">Phelps's</span> most striking and touching stories. With -illustrations. Uniform with Mrs. Wiggin's "The Birds' Christmas Carol." -75 cents.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>Mr. Rabbit at Home.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>A sequel to "Little Mr. Thimblefinger and His Queer Country." By -<span class="smcap">Joel Chandler Harris</span>. With 25 illustrations -by Oliver Herford. Square 8vo, bound in very attractive style, -$2.00.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p class="xlarge"><b>The Nimble Dollar, and Other Stories.</b></p> -<div class="adindent"> -<p>A group of capital stories for boys. By <span class="smcap">Charles -Miner Thompson</span>. With a frontispiece illustration. 1 vol. 16mo, -$1.00.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center">Sold by Booksellers. Sent postpaid by</p> -<p class="center xxlarge">HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., BOSTON.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 57]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_057.png" alt="" width="600" height="958" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxxlarge">Free for a Postal</span><br /> -If you want to obtain WITHOUT COST a -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<p>Bicycle, Piano, Organ, Sewing Machine, Fountain Pen, a Carriage Lamp, -Bicycle Lantern, Camera, Winchester Rifle, a Revolver, Typewriter, Carpet -Sweeper, Roll-top Desk, Frank Leslie Pipe, Etchings, an Encyclopedia, any -Standard Work, Popular Books, Silverware, New Sets of Standard Works, etc.</p> -</div> - -<p class="center small">Send us your name and address and mention <span -class="smcap">The Black Cat</span>. These substantial and valuable -premiums,<br /> the best ever offered by a reliable publishing house, -are given <em>absolutely free</em>, with the wonderfully improved</p> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge">Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly,</span><br /> -The Great Family Magazine.<br /> -</div> - -<p class="center smaller">Contains each month: Original Water Color -Frontispiece. Over 100 New and High Class Illustrations,<br /> 128 -Quarto Pages of Reading Matter.<br /><br /> - -<b>Publishes more illustrations and literary matter than any other magazine in America.</b></p> - -<p class="center"> -<b>25 Cents. $3.00 a Year.</b><br /> -</p> - -<div class="blockquote-ad8"> -<p><b>Frank Leslie's Pleasant Hours for Boys and Girls.</b> -A Bright, New, Wholesome, Juvenile Monthly. -Fully illustrated. The best writers for young people -contribute to it. 20c. a copy. $1 a year.</p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad8"> -<p><b>Frank Leslie's Budget</b>. A monthly of humor, -satire, and tales of adventure. Thoroughly up -to date, and fully illustrated. 20c. a copy. $1 a year.</p> -</div> - -<p class="xxlarge center"><b>20c.</b><br /></p> - -<div class="blockquote-ad8"> -sent at once, in stamps or coin, will -bring you a specimen copy of all -three magazines.<br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxlarge">Frank Leslie's Publishing House,</span><br /> -42-44 Bond Street, New York.<br /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="large">"The Handsomest of Special Numbers."</span><br /><br /> -<span class="large">The Magnificent</span><br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Christmas Double Number</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">OF</span><br /> -<span class="large">THE</span><br /> -<span class="smcap xxxxlarge">New York Ledger</span> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad12"> -Forms will close Monday, November 25. -Unusually large extra edition to be printed. -Limited space.<br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -Send order and "Copy" at once to<br /> -EDWARD P. CONE, Manager Advertising Department,<br /> -Ledger Building, New York City.<br /> -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 58]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_058.png" alt="" width="600" height="948" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xsmall">"GOLD MEDAL AND DIPLOMA, CONSTITUTING HIGHEST AWARD, -MUNICH INTERNATIONAL EXPOSITION, 1895. AN<br /> -UNPARALLELED VICTORY IN THE VERY HOME OF BREWING."</span><br /><br /> - -<span class="large">THE HISTORY OF BREWING BEGINS WITH EGYPT</span><br /><br /> - -<div class="center xxxlarge"> -PABST<br /> -MILWAULKEE<br /><br /> -</div> - -<span class="large">SUPREME AWARD<br /> -WORLD'S FAIR</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxlarge">Life's</span><br /> -<span class="xxlarge">...Struggle</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad16"> -Becomes more and more intense as the Nineteenth Century advances. -Mentally and physically we must conserve our energies, build up our -strength, and equip ourselves for the contest. We must have sleep, good -digestion, steady nerves, bone and muscle, clear minds. These can be -secured, maintained and enhanced by the use of<br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge"><b>Pabst...</b></span><br /><br /> -<span class="xlarge">MALT EXTRACT<br /> -The "Best" Tonic</span><br /> -</div> - -<p class="center xlarge"> -MILWAUKEE BEER IS FAMOUS<br /> -PABST HAS MADE IT SO.<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 59]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_059.png" alt="" width="600" height="961" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge">T<sup>he</sup> Hook<br /> -That's<br /> -Flat</span><br /> -<br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad8"> -The Hook that shows isn't so good as the Hook that doesn't. There's no -show to the Singer Hook and Eye. Sold everywhere.<br /><br /> - -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xlarge">Singer Safety Hook & Eye Co.,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">Grand Rapids, Mich.</span><br /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge">The Barta Press</span><br /> -Printers of The Black Cat.<br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge">Artistic,</span><br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Original</span>,<span class="xxlarge"> and</span><br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Unique<br /> -Typography.</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<p class="xlarge center">Boston, Mass.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxxlarge">The Ink</span><br /> -used in<br /> -printing<br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">The Black Cat</span><br /><br /> -is manufactured<br /> -by<br /> -<span class="large">Geo. H. Morrill & Co.,</span><br /> -Boston, Mass.<br /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Hyacinths. - -Tulips.</span></div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xlarge smcap"><b>Elegant flowering<br /> -BULBS.</b></span><br /> -<span class="center smaller"><i>Sent by Mail, postpaid, at the following</i><br /> -<i>special prices.</i></span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<table summary="plants"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><b>3</b> named <b>HYACINTHS,</b> different colors, fine, for </td> -<td class="tdr"><b>10c.</b></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><b>5</b> " <b>TULIPS </b>, -lovely sorts, all different, "</td> -<td class="tdr"><b>10c.</b></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><b>4</b> " <b>NARCISSUS</b>, - " - " - " - "</td> -<td class="tdr"><b>10c.</b></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><b>3 JAPAN LILIES,</b> -  " - " - " -    "</td> -<td class="tdr"><b>10c.</b></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><b>10 CROCUS</b>, 5 sorts, named, -  - - - -  " -</td> -<td class="tdr"> <b>10c.</b></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><b>10 FREESIAS</b>, fine mixed sorts, - - - - -     "</td> -<td class="tdr"><b>10c.</b></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><b>1 BLACK CALLA</b>, new, from Palestine -  - -   "</td> -<td class="tdr"><b>10c.</b></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<div class="center small">or the whole <b>36 Bulbs</b>, postpaid, for <b>50 cents</b>. -<br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxlarge"><b>Our Catalogue,</b></span><br /><br /> - -<div class="blockquote-ad"> -<b>ELEGANTLY ILLUSTRATED</b>, of all kinds of Plants and Bulbs, for -Fall Planting and Winter Blooming, also new Fruits, Shrubs, etc., is -now ready, and will be mailed <b>FREE</b> to all who apply. Choicest -Hyacinths, Tulips, Narcissus, and other Bulbs, at greatly reduced -prices. Write for it at once. Address<br /><br /> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="center smaller"> -JOHN LEWIS CHILDS, FLORAL PARK, N. Y. -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 60]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_060.png" alt="" width="600" height="946" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xlarge">"My Boy—</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">L</span><span class="xxxlarge"><sup>E</sup></span><span class="xxxlarge"> PAGE'S</span><br /> -<span class="xxlarge">LIQUID</span><span class="xxxlarge"> GLUE</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="xlarge">will not mend broken<br /> -bones but I don't know<br /> -anything else it won't<br /> -mend—and mend it so<br /> -that 'twill stay mended,<br /> -too."</span> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="center"> -Ten-cent bottles for household use.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Cans</span> with patent cover for Mechanics. -</div> - -<p class="center">Copyright, 1895, by Russia Cement Co., Gloucester, Mass.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 61]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_061.png" alt="" width="600" height="947" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<p class="center">Copyright, 1895, by The Shortstory Publishing Co.</p> - -<p class="center xxxlarge">5<br /> -CENTS<br /></p> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> - -<cite><b>New York Tribune</b></cite>:—The average American can always -find time to read such fascinating stories as are published in the -attractive new story magazine, The Black Cat. Brief, stirring, well -handled, and uniquely original, these tales are distinctly a new -departure in story-telling.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Boston, Mass., Daily Herald</b></cite>:—The Black Cat has -reached the climax of the story-telling art. Both press and public seem -to have agreed upon this. In street cars and hotels, in drawing-rooms -and in railroad stations, this magazine's outward attractiveness and -interesting inwardness are the subject of continued conversation.<br -/><br /> - -<cite><b>Philadelphia, Pa., Evening Telegraph</b></cite>:—The new -Boston short-story magazine, The Black Cat, with its complete, stirring -tales, exquisite cover, clear type and captivating initial cuts and -tail-pieces—all for five cents—will repay the buyer a dozen -times over.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Woonsocket, R. I., Daily Reporter</b></cite>:—The Black Cat -presents an entire departure from the beaten path. It is marked to -become <em>the</em> magazine of story lovers.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Cumberland, Md., Daily Times</b></cite>:—The prettiest, most -unique, and most interesting story magazine on the market is The Black -Cat. It is a gem and will become a great pet.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Hartford, Conn., Daily Times</b></cite>:—What sets the Black -Cat magazine apart from any other is the fact that its stories are not -only absolutely new, but that they are well told, and offered on their -merits as stories. 'Tis unique in contents, unique in make-up, and -compact in form.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Springfield, Ill., Daily News</b></cite>:—The Black Cat is -exactly such a new departure in story-telling as any man or woman will -appreciate. It furnishes the most delightful five cents' worth ever put -into print.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Boston, Mass., Daily Post</b></cite>:—Surely any one who -buys a copy of the new five-cent story magazine, The Black Cat, will -pronounce it the most fascinating five cents' worth on earth.<br /><br -/> - -<cite><b>Portsmouth, N. H., Daily Post</b></cite>:—The Black Cat, with -its clever, original stories—all good stories, well told—is -undoubtedly destined to become the most popular magazine ever -published.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Detroit, Mich., Journal</b></cite>:—In The Black Cat the -reader will find, not fairly good stories, but the best stories, gotten -up in the cleverest form, and offered for the least money,—five -cents.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Burlington, Vt., Free Press</b></cite>:—The outward -attractiveness of the Black Cat magazine is more than fulfilled by the -interest of the original, stirring, complete tales that make up its -contents.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Boston, Mass., Daily Globe</b></cite>:—Its captivating -contents,—stories that <em>are</em> stories,—render The -Black Cat emphatically the periodical for the story-loving public -everywhere.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Manchester, N. H., Daily Mirror</b></cite>:—The most uniquely -fascinating magazine ever published is the Black Cat. Certainly any one -who spends five cents for a copy will find his investment repaid many -times over.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Lynn, Mass., Daily Item</b></cite>:—The Black Cat is the most -original and captivating story teller ever published. It lives up to -its watchwords—fascinating tales, cleverly told.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Baltimore, Md., American</b></cite>:—The literary contents of -the unique new Boston magazine, The Black Cat, are quite as fascinating -as its exquisite covers.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>Evansville, Ind., Daily Courier</b></cite>:—With its -beautiful appearance and excellent short stories—all for five -cents—The Black Cat is bound to become a general favorite and -popular success.<br /><br /> - -<cite><b>New York Mail and Express</b></cite>:—The Black Cat will prove -a literary pet. It publishes good, strong short stories,—the -most difficult literary product to obtain. It is clean, stirring, -enterprising.<br /><br /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 62]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_062.png" alt="" width="600" height="945" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center xxxlarge text-ad-decor"><b>Story Tellers</b><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<span class="xlarge"> -Will simply waste time and postage in sending us manuscripts which do -not in every particular meet the following requirements:— - -We can use only such stories as, both in plot and handling, are of -striking originality and universal interest, stories which never, -either in whole or part, have appeared in print before, and which are -free from padding, commonplace and attempted fine writing. No dialect -stories, poetry, or translations will be considered. The Black Cat will -give space only to<br /><br /></span> -</div> - -<div class="xxlarge center"><b>Fascinating Tales, Cleverly Told.</b><br /><br /></div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> -<span class="xlarge"> -To receive attention, all manuscripts must bear the writer's full -name and address, together with the number of words, which may range -from fifteen hundred to five thousand, but must in no case exceed the -latter number; they must be very legibly written, sent unfolded, and -accompanied by sufficient stamps for their return. Manuscripts will -be received and returned only at the contributor's risk. All stories -will be judged purely on their own merits, and the writer's name -or reputation will carry no weight whatever. Payment for accepted -manuscripts will be made not according to length, but according to the -editor's opinion of their worth. Manuscripts will be paid for on the -day of acceptance.<br /><br /></span> -</div> - -<p class="center"> -THE SHORTSTORY PUBLISHING CO., 144 High St., Boston, Mass.<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 63]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_063.png" alt="" width="600" height="947" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center xxxlarge"><b>Some New Fiction.</b><br /> -</div> - -<hr class="r25" /> - -<div class="blockquote-ad5"> -<b>Jude, the Obscure</b> (Hearts Insurgent). By -<span class="smcap">Thomas Hardy</span>. Illustrated. Post 8vo, -Cloth, Ornamental. (<i>About Ready.</i>)<br /><br /> - -<b>The Red Cockade.</b> By <span class="smcap">Stanley J. Weyman</span>. -Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. $1.50.<br /><br /> - -<b>Against Human Nature.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maria Louise -Pool</span>. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. $1.25.<br /><br /> - -<b>Sunshine and Haar.</b> By <span class="smcap">Gabriel Setoun</span>. -Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. (<i>Ready.</i>)<br /><br /> - -<b>A Cumberland Vendetta</b>, and Other Stories. -By <span class="smcap">John Fox</span>, Jr. Illustrated. Post 8vo, -Cloth, Ornamental. $1.25.<br /><br /> - -<b>The Veiled Doctor.</b> By <span class="smcap">Varina Anne Jefferson -Davis</span>. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. -$1.25.<br /><br /> - -<b>My Lady Nobody.</b> A Novel. By <span class="smcap">Maarten -Maartens</span>. Author of "An Old Maid's -Love," etc. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, -Ornamental. $1.75.<br /><br /> - -<b>His Father's Son.</b> A Novel of New York. -By <span class="smcap">Brander Matthews</span>. Illustrated by -<span class="smcap">T. de Thulstrup</span>. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. -$1.50.<br /><br /> - -<b>People We Pass.</b> By <span class="smcap">Julian Ralph</span>. Illustrated. -Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. -(<i>Just Ready.</i>)<br /><br /> - -<b>Red Men and White.</b> Stories. By <span class="smcap">Owen -Wister</span>. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. -(<i>About Ready.</i>)<br /><br /> - -<b>The Day of Their Wedding.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. D. -Howells</span>. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth. -(<i>Just Ready.</i>)<br /><br /> - -<b>The Sowers.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Seton Merriman</span>. -Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. $1.25.<br /><br /> - -<b>With the Procession.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry B. Fuller</span>. -Post 8vo, cloth, Ornamental. $1.25.<br /><br /> - -<b>The Front Yard</b>, and Other Italian Stories. -By <span class="smcap">Constance Fenimore Woodson</span>. Illustrated. -16mo, Cloth. $1.25.<br /><br /> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center xxlarge">HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York.</p> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"><i>Every Description of Printing Plates made by us, by every -process.</i></div> - -<div class="center xxxxlarge"> -<span class="smcap">C. J. Peters & son</span>,...</div> - -<div class="center xlarge">Finest Half-Tones<br /> -a Specialty.<br /></div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge">Photo Engravers</span><br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Electrotypers</span><br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Wax Engravers</span><br /> -<span class="xxxlarge">Typographers</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<p class="center xlarge">BOSTON, MASS.</p> - -<p class="center smaller"> -<i>Special Designs and Drawings made to order.</i><br /> -<i>References in all parts of the United States.</i> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 64]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_064.png" alt="" width="600" height="960" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center xxxlarge"> -PACKER'S<br /> -TAR<br /> -SOAP<br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="large">EXQUISITE CLEANSER. SOOTHING. ANTISEPTIC.</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">FOR THE</span><br /> -<span class="xxlarge">HAIR </span><span class="large"> -AND</span><span class="xxlarge"> SKIN</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad16"> -<div class="xlarge"> The antiseptic quality of Packer's Tar Soap is a -protection against contagion. Its balsamic properties make it useful -in irritated conditions of the skin. For washing the Hair and Scalp it -is without a rival; it removes dandruff, allays itching, does not dry -the hair, but leaves it soft and lustrous. 25 cents. All Druggists. The -Packer Mfg. Co., New York. -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxxlarge">Honesty<br /> -<i>IN</i><br /> -BRAID.</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -GOFF'S BRAID<br /> -IS THE<br /> -BEST MADE. -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge text-ad-decor">Why</span><br /><br /> - <div class="blockquote-ad8"> - <div class="xxlarge"> - Is <span class="large">GOFF'S BRAID</span> - preferable to anything - else for binding - skirts and - dresses?<br /><br /> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad8"> - I.—Does not hold the dirt like -Velveteen.<br /> - - II.—Will not chafe the shoes like -Mohair.<br /> - -III.—Easily and quickly replaced -when soiled.<br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxlarge">A Pure Worsted Braid</span><br /> -<span class="large">(Like Goff's)</span><br /> -<span class="xxlarge">is superior to anything<br /> -else.</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="xlarge"> -<table summary="materialcost"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">5</td> -<td class="tdl">yds.,</td> -<td class="tdl">any color</td> -<td class="tdl">matched, for</td> -<td class="tdr">8c.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">3¾</td> -<td class="tdl"> "</td> -<td class="tdl"> "</td> -<td class="tdl"> " - "</td> -<td class="tdr">6c.</td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class="center"> -If you cannot obtain it of your<br /> -dealer.<br /><br /> -<span class="xxlarge">D. Goff & Sons, Pawtucket, R. I.</span><br /> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 65]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_065.png" alt="" width="600" height="931" /> -</div> - -<div class="topspace2"></div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<p class="center large">"The most fascinating five cents' worth -on earth."—<cite>Boston Post.</cite><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<div class="center"> -<span class="xxxxlarge">The Black Cat</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">FOR</span><br /> -<span class="xxlarge">DECEMBER, 1895,</span><br /><br /> -</div> - -<p class="center large">Will contain the following Original and Complete Stories.<br /></p> - -<div class="blockquote-ad9"> -No magazine ever issued at any price has presented in one number a -collection of stories marked by such originality and fascinating -force as those contained in this issue of <span class="smcap">The -Black Cat</span>. As the edition is limited, those desiring copies -should not fail to place orders with their newsdealers in advance of -publication.<br /><br /> -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad3"> - -<p><b>The Great Star Ruby. By Barnes MacGreggor.</b></p> -<p class="adindent">In this highly dramatic story the action, -which centers around a fifty-thousand-pound ruby, moves swiftly and -stirringly from Australia to India, thence to the Continent, and then -back to Australia.</p> - -<p><b>The Interrupted Banquet. By René Bache.</b></p> -<p class="adindent">The startling experience of a man who, without -warning, found himself and sweetheart the guests at a phantom dinner -party.</p> - -<p><b>The Archangel. By James Q. Hyatt.</b></p> -<p class="adindent">A clever account of the strange incidents -resulting from the introduction of a matrimonial journal into a -bachelor mining camp, during Gold Time.</p> - -<p><b>Asleep at Lone Mountain. By M. D. Umbetsetter.</b></p> -<p class="adindent">A graphic tale of overland travel, abounding in -pathetic and absorbing incident.</p> - -<p><b>Kootchie. By Harold Kinsabby.</b></p> -<p class="adindent">A Boston butler, an aristocratic pug known as -Buttons, and a missionary cat, are the chief characters in this brief -comedy of real life.</p> - -<p><b>Frazer's Find. By Roberta Littlehale.</b></p> -<p class="adindent">No more powerful and humanly interesting story of -the California pioneer days has appeared than this tale of one man's -struggles for the gold and the love that came too late. The story gains -rather than loses by the womanly delicacy of touch that is united to -the vigor of its theme.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="blockquote-ad9"> -<span class="smcap">The Black Cat</span> is issued monthly at five -cents a copy. It is sold only by newsdealers. If yours hasn't it, -and won't get it for you, get another newsdealer.<br /> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<div class="center"> - <span class="xxlarge">The Shortstory Publishing Company,</span><br /> - <span class="large">144 High Street, Boston, Mass.</span> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 66]</span></p> - -</div> -<div class="center"> - <img src="images/i_back.png" width="650" height="1013" alt="Advertisement." /> -</div> - -<div class="adcontainer-4"> -<div class="center"> -<div class="blockquote-ad1"> - <span class="xxxxlarge">USE IT<br /> - EVERY<br /> - DAY</span><br /> - <span class="xxlarge">IN THE</span><br /> - <span class="xxxxlarge">WEEK</span><br /> - <span class="xxxlarge">&</span><br /> - <span class="xxlarge">THEN</span><br /> - <span class="xxxxlarge">REST</span><br /> - <span class="xxxlarge">ON</span><br /> - <span class="smcap xxxxlarge">SUNDAY</span>. -</div> - -<div class="blockquote-ad1"> - <div class="xxlarge"> - <span style="color: red;">S</span> - <span class="small">MONDAY</span><br /> - <span style="color: red;">A</span> - <span class="small">TUESDAY</span><br /> - <span style="color: red;">P</span> - <span class="small">WEDNESDAY</span><br /> - <span style="color: red;">O</span> - - <span class="small">THURSDAY</span><br /> - <span style="color: red;">L</span> - - <span class="small">FRIDAY</span><br /> - <span style="color: red;">I</span> - - <span class="small">SATURDAY</span><br /> - <span style="color: red;">O</span> - - <span class="small">SUNDAY</span><br /><br /> - <span class="sig-right xsmall">Armstrong & Co. Boston, Mass.</span> - </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> -<p><span class="smcap">Transcriber's Notes.</span></p> -<p> 1. Table of Contents created by the transcriber.</p> -<p> 2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK CAT, (VOL. I, NO. 2, NOVEMBER 1895) ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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