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MILLIIEIM, PA.
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R A. BUMILLEII, Editor
VOL. 60.
JOHN'S STORY.
'Well, would you like to hear my ad
venture in New Orleans?' John Bi ight
leaned his elbow on the arm of the red
plush chair in which he sat, with a
thoughtful look in his dark eyes.
'Why, yes, of course.'
'By all means.'
Eugene Carthon and his sister look
ed eagerly at the handsome, blonde hi
front of them.
They had been talking about the
New Orleans exposition, which all had
visited the winter before,and naturally
their conversation had drifted into per
sonal reminiscences and crilicisistns on
the ways and manners of the people of
that beautiful Southern city.
'Did you really have an adventure ?'
asked Nell, eyeing him questioningly
from under her long daik lashes. They
had intended to meet in the Crescent
city, but through some misunderstand
ing theCarthon family had missed him.
Nell had always lelt a little aggrieved
oym this, just as if John had really
been to blame in the matter, and all
allusion to their sojourn in the South
brought back that vague feeling of dis
appointment which had mingled itself
with all her enjoyments while there.
Not that she cared anything for John
Bri. ht. Oh, no ; not even to herself
did she ever admit that. But then he
was Eugene's most intimate friend,and
he was such a bright, companionable
fellow, how could she help liking him
a little ? 'just for Eugene's sake, you
know.' She sincerely believed that it
was her love for her brother that made
her so solicitous always for his fiiend's
comfort and so anxious to make him
always feel at home and thoroughly
welcome in her father's htmse.
'Well, go on with your story,' said
Eugene, lighting a cigarette, with his
sister's permission, and puffing away
expectantly. 'l'll be getting drowsy,
presently, if you don't wake me up
with your thrilling episode.'
'Well'—John twirled his blonde mus
tache reflectively, ignoring the last re
mark—'l was walkiug down Canal
street one afternoon, when it began to
rain, not violently,but enough to make
a man feel uncomfortably, and the
feathers on a woman's bonnet limp.
Fortunately I had an umbrella, which,
of course. I immediately raised. Just
as I did so, a young lady came out of
the large dry-goods fc'.ore behind me.
She stood irresolute for a moment as
though nonplussed by tbe rain, yet an
evident anxiety possessed her to reach
the car.
'lnstantly I found myself in astiange
dilemma. What should Ido ? There
was a youog lady, delicate and beauti
ful, richly attired in garments which
the rain would certain'y damage, with
out the slightest protection from the
elements; while I, not three feet dis
tant, was of an umbrella
amply large enough to shelter two. It
seems like a piece of impertinence, yet
on the impulse of the moment I mus
tered all my gallantry, and, stepping
foiward, offered to escort her to the
car.
'To my surprise, and I mu9t say
pleasure, she accepted gratefully, and
we walked to the corner to meet the
car. I noted then the extreme loveli
ness of her beauty, which was of the
pure Creole type, and the marvelous
finish of her toilet, which showed in its
richness of coloring the Southern taste.
I could not censure her for her hesita
tion in exposiug herself to the disas
trous effects of the rain.
'When we reached the corner there
was no car,' John contined. 'Being iu
'Mardi-gras' time, there was always
more or less delay. When the car did
arrive it was so crowded that there was
not a footho'd. The next and the next
proved to be the 9ame. Unconsciously
we walked on, the young lady by aa al
most imperceptible guidance directing
our footsteps. We walked along the
Rue Royal quite lot > tlie heart of the
old French town,the young lady scarce
ly seeming aware of the fact that we
had traversed so many blocks. I was
too delighted with her bright conversa
tion and naiyette to wish to undeceive
her, and so we walked along until she
stopped suddenly in front of one of
those gloomy French houses, so dreary
iu exterior appeal ance, but often beau
tiful and gay within. A high wall sur
rounded the dwelling, surmounted by
nails driven in so that tbe points pro
jected upward,a sure safeguard agajnst
marauders. As u9ual, a high balcony
graced the front of the house. From
the gate —a massive iron-barred one -a
stone pave led up to the old-fashioned
door.
' 'I feel very giateful,' ' she said,lift
ing her big eyes to mine with a shadow
of timidity in their depths which made
them all the lovelier; 'and,'she hesitat
ed a little, 'I know my father would
wish to thank you also, if—if '
' 'lf you only knew whom to thank,'
I added, with a conscious shame at my
own lack of courtesy. Now, I don't
know wbat prompted me to the acbiou,
MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY. APRIL 15., 1886.
but instead of handing tier my own
card, 1 nave her one of Frank Smith's,
a young fejlow rooming with me at- the
St. Charles, a drummer for a large firm
in Detroit. His name graced the card
in full, and also 'Tremoine & Leeman,'
the name of the linn he was connected
with. It was a foolish thing to do, yet
I never expected to see the young lady
again, and I suppose it occurred to mo
that it would be a good j >ke o:i Smith.
'To my great astonishment, she rec
ognized the tirm name.
'You must come in and see my fatn
er.'-she said. 'Mr. Tremolno is an old
friend of ours,and he will be so delight
ed to see you.'
'lnto what kind of a scrape had I got
ten myself V I declined as courteously
as possible, trying to hasten away ; but
just then an old gentleman appeared at
the door, in answer to our ring at the
gate, for, as you remamher, in New
Orleans most of the liells are on the
front gate.
'ln a few words the young lady ex
plained the situation. With a true
Southed! hospitality he invited me to
enter, thanking me in most voluble
terms for uiy Kindness to his daughter.
Seeing I would offr-nd by not accepting
their invitation,l stepped in with them.
As usual in those French houses, the
hall leu into a little barren-looking
court. From this, however, we enter
ed into an apartment elegantly furnish
ed.
'A servant took my umbrella and hat
and the old gentleman pushed forward
a handsome easy chair for me, seating
himself near me. The young lady dis
appeared, reappearing in a little while
in a charming diuuer-dress of garnet
satin.
*1 confess I was a little daz j d by the
sudden turn affairs had taken, and the
tetea tetc with the old gentleman [whose
name I ascertained to be De Chartre]
was most embarrassing, for he asked
me a score of questions about Detroit
and the people there, all of which I,
never having been in that city, was o
bliged to answer at random, or from
vague reminiscences of what Smith had
told me casually.
'I tried in vain to turn the subject,
and had almost given myself up to a
desparatc fibbing, when I chanced to
perceive that a piano was behind me.
During a momentary lull in the con
versation, in which Do Chartre was
probably frying to reconcile my iam
bling information with his own knowl
edge and conjectuies, 1 turned to the
young lady, requesting some music.
•To my iclief ;lie consented immedi
ately, thus saving her father from any
further surprises in the way of chaotic
guessing on my part. Bhe sang and
played quite prettily, and I found my
self even more prepossessed than I had
been at first.
'After she had played several songs,!
rose to go, but as I did so, dinner was
announced, and I was urgently invited
by them both to remain. Again I saw
that to refuse would be to offend, so,in
order to preserve Smith's reputation
from further damage, I accepted, re
solving that I would exert mv talents
to the utmost in being entertaining.
You see, I wanted them to speak a
good word for Smith if ever they should
chance to communicate with this
Tremoine, whom I heartily wished at
the bottom of the sea.
'After dinner we adjourned to the
parlor—that is, the young lady and my
self—the old gentleman going off for a
smoke, in which I declined to join him.
'The rain, which had be in uiild at
first, now turned into a raging torrent.
It beat savagely against the windows,
and the wind swept mournfully through
the court. Now and then it crept un
der the doors and into the room, bring
ing a faint scent of the mange blooms
that were being swept from their
stems on the bending tiees without.
But the inclemency of the weather out
side only made the comfort and bright
ness of the apartment s em more per
fect.
'With such a charming hostess the
moments sped swiftly. I became more
and more intliralled witn her dark eyes
and her gracious manner, so typical of
the grace which has made the Creole
women celebrated. I don't know to
what length I might have committed
myself, had not the door opened and
Monsieur de Chartre once more appear
ed upon the scene. As it was, I think
be surprised me saying some foolishly
tender things to his daughter.
•I'looked at my watch. A flush of
shame crept over me. It was past ten
o'clock. 1 fe't that I had infringed on
the hospitality extended to me. 1 be
gan to apologize, but Monsieur de
Chartre stopped me.
'My dear sir,' he said, cordially, 'you
cannot go out in such a storm. I will
not permit it. My home is large. We
have ample accommodations. Remain
with us to-night.'
'I thanked him sincerely. I could
not feel grateful enough for such a
warm and cordial hospitality. It is
true indeed that these Southerners
A PAPER FOR THE lIO.MK CIRCLE
have the kindest and must hospitable
hearts in the wnild. An old and valu
ed friend could scarcely hive bee-;
treated more kindly than I, a complete
stranger, save for the slight stamp of
genuineness which 'Treinome A Lee
man 7 gave me in this unst elegant
and beautiful home, every part of
which betakened the wealth and posi
tion of the owner.
'A few moments later Jacques came
to show me to my room. With a lin
gering glance, 1 bade the young lady
good-night. It seemed to me thai her
beautiful eyes were til led with a shadow
of regret for our brief acquaintance.
Her father followed me to the court
without,giving me several messages for
Mr. Tremoine and other friends in De
troit, all of which I promised to carry
faithfully. Then, with a courtly good
night, he intrusted me to tho care of
the waiting attendant."
'My apartment was handsomely fur
nished, in keeping with the rest of the
house. It was apparently a back room
connected with ono in the front of the
house by heavy folding doors, across
which a red crimson portiere fell.
'.Jacques brought me a pitcher of
fresh water and some clean towels, and
then, mumbling something in his unin
telligible Creole French, bo wed him sol f
out.
'I examined the room carefully,! Hik
ed all the do us except the folding one,
which I found fastened on the other
side, and went to sleep thinking what
a capital j ike that w*s on Smith, who
wasuudoubtedly reposing beautifully in
No. 10b, at the St. Charles,unconscious
of the strange escapade I had gotten
him into. I resolved to wi ite to the
young lady as soon as I left the city,in
forming her of my little deception, and
introducing the original Smith, whom
I was quite sure would fall head over
ears in love with her at first sight.
Poor Smith ! I was just mapping wit
his future mo.A beautifully, when
Morpheus seized ine and carried uie off
into dreamland.
•About midnight I was awakened by
a slight noise in the room. A terrible
presentment took possession of me. I
dared not move for a second. My knees
trembled, the cold drops of moistnre
stuod oi. my brow. I lay shivering as
though chilled bv some actual, iey
touch for a moment, then ray healthy,
vigorous physique reasserted itself I
was no coward even to myself. I rose
stealthily and crept to the light,turning
the full blazs on suddenly.
4 A change in the room startled mo.
Tne heavy portiere was thrown aside,
the folding-doors stood wide open. Re
solved tojpenetrate this mystery,l step
ped into the other room.
'A cry of horror escaped me .is I did
so. 1 stood in the middle of the floor,
petrified, the very blood freezing in my
veins. There on the bed lay a
man with his throat gashed from ear to
ear, the red blood oozing slowly upon
the white counterpane andthe'rich car
pet beneatn. His wide ees were up
turned to the ceiling, his white face
transfixed with the death agony.
'For a second I stood there as if froz
en to the spot, my senses reeling, my
hands clinched in a sudden agony ot
mortal terror; then like all ish of I'ght
ning the truth swept over me. A ter
rible crime had been committed. The
responsibility was to be laid on me. In
the morning the police would come to
arrest me. What vestige of power
would I have to disprove it ?
'With a sudden, quick energy, born
of desperation, 1 went to my room and
diesstd myself,leaving-not the slightest
trace ot my presence there. Assuring
myself that not a card or a slip of paper
was left as a clew to my indentity, I
took my boots in ray hand and crept
noiselessly down the stairway.
'When Ireached the door beyond the
cnirt I shrank back in dismay. I had
forgotten it would be locked and bar
red. I entered the apartment where I
had b en entertained the night before,
hoping to find a window unbolted. To
my surprise I heard voices and perceiv
ed a light emanating from the room ad
joining. The door between was slight
ly ajar. 1 walked breathlessly across
the room and peeped through the crev
ice.
'Horror of horrors ! What did 1 see
there? The flue,courtly old gentlemau
of the night before seated at a faro
table, surrounded by a montlep crowd
—and my fine young lady,the brilliant,
sweet-voiced enchant ress of the dinner
table, dealing out faro blanks,opposite!
'lt wa9 enough. 1 turned away, re
alizing then that I was in New Orleans,
i had gotten into one of the worst dens
of the French city, and the beautiful
Creole was probably one of tho notoi i
ous characters I li id so often read of.
•No wonder my blood ran cold. What
if I could not escape'"' These • were
desperate characters with whom I
could not cope. The outlook was ter
rifying,
'I tried each window cautiously.
They all resisted my efforts to raise
them; all but the last—that yielded a
little. I struggled mightily, with the
strength of despair. In doing so my
hand touched a spring which I had not
perceived befoie. In an instant the
shadow was pushed up noiselessly, and
with a stealthy bound I I aped through,
landing unhurt on the ground a few
feet lielow.
'But what to do next? There was
that wall, surrouoded by its rows of
sharp nails. It would have been mad
ness to liaye attempted to scale it. The
gate was barred and fastened with a
heavy chain. I could not cry out for
assistance; that would li iye meant cer
tain death from those desperate, dark
browed men at the faro table. What
should Id)? Again Lite cold drops of
moisture dampened my temple. 1 was
frantic. What should I doP
John stopped in his narrative and lit
the cigarette Eugene had handed liiin
a little while before.
'What did you do?' Eugene was
imuatieut of the delay. lie leaned for
ward anxiously. llis own cigarette
had gone out. He had forgotten it in
his absorbing interest
'Yes, what did you do ?' Nell re
peated the question with aterrible anx
iety in her brown eyes. Iler Kernsing;
ton lay unheeded on the flior, her el
bows rested on her knets, ono hand
supporting her dimpled, eager face.
Her breath came short, and fast. She
awaited the sequel with sympathizing,
anxious eyes.
'Why'—John cave an energetic pufT
at Ids cigarette—'l woke !'
Eugene sank back in his chair, and
Nell collapsed physically and mentally,
picking up her work with a disgusted
air.
'Sold, by Jove !' exclaimed Eugene,
after a pause, looking admirably at his
friend. 'lt is tho best sell of the
season. 1
'Oil, you horrible wretch 1' cried
Nell, when she had recovered her
breath ; 'and so it was all a dieam ?'
'Yes,' answered John, coldly. 'I a
woke in No. 10), at the Sr. Charles,
with Smith asking me if I mistook him
for a brick wall or a lamp p>st, that I
was p miiding him so vig irously." .
Nell did not seem to care much for
the sell s > long as the beautiful Creole
bad proved a myth. The story had
awakened her consciousness a little,
and she seemed a little shyer of John
for several days afterward. But I am
happy to say that she was a sensible
gnl, and when John asked her if she
only loved him for 'Eugene's sake,'
she answered candidly 'No.' Thus
came the sequel to 'John's Story.'
Household Hints.
When clothes are scorched remove
the "stain by placing the garment
where the sun can shine on it.
When purchasing meat, always
have the trimmings sent home, as
they help to make soups and sauces.
Every scrap ol meat aud bone left
from roasts and broils should be saved
for the soup pot.
Meat should not be placed directly
on ice, as the ""Water draws out the
juices. Always place it in a pan, and
this may be set on the ice. The hab
it of putting steaks, chops, etc., on ice
in wrapping paper is a bad one.
If you are obliged to use a gridiron
or frying-can that has previously
been used for fish, and still has the
pungent odor of the fish clinging to it,
you can remove it instantly by first
heating it and then rubbing it over
with a bit of onion. The onion will
absorb the flavor of the fish, but will
not leave the least disagreeable taste
of its own.
If, from any cause, butter becomes
rancid, to each print of it add one
tablespoon ot salt and one of soda and
mix well, then add one pint of cold
water, and set on the fire until it
comes to the boiling point. Now set
away to cool, and when cool and hard,
take off the butter in a cake. Wipe
dry and put away for cooking purpo
ses. It will be perfectly sweet.
Wax can be taken out of carpets by
several very simple methods. Lay a
thick piece of blotting paper over the
wax and apply a hot iron to it; the
paper will absorb the wax that is
melted by the heat. If, in doing this,
any dark traces should remaiu on the
carpet, rub a little benzoline carefully
on, drying the same with a cloth.
Another method is to drop a few
drops of boiling water immediately
on the spots and dry after with a
cloth ; care must be taken that the
colors in the carpet will stand hot
water. Green is the most dangerous
color to fear.
WANTED. —A lot of Cloyerseed at D,
S. Kauffman & Co's store. Fair price
paid. Bring it iu.
Terms, SlOO.per Year, in Advance.
iVJay Childron Go Barefoot ?
This question is every now and agaiii
proposed for discussion / and, when it
is so, we are compelled to give the s.im e
answer. On physiologic d grounds it is
niamfttstly a sound practice to noens
torn children to develop the circulatory
and in oscular systems of the lower ex
tremities, precisely as those of the hand
are developed, by free use and exposure.
It is not supposed to beeitlier necessary
or desirable that children should.wear
gloves for hygienic purposes. When
the hands of the little folks are thus
decorated, the parental idea is confes
sedly to give thorn wh tt is convention
ally regarded as a genteel appearance.
No one thinks a child ought to be pro
tected from the weather so far as its
hands are concerned. On the contrary,
it is recognized that tiie upper extremi- j
ties should be kept warm by exercise J
and habitual exposure.
Precisely tlie same view iiolds good
with regard to the lower extremities.
Contact with bodies that abstract heat,
even more than the eaitli abstracts it,
is an almost constant condition of'child
life. In short, it Is entirely in defer- ,
ence to fashion and the usage* of socie
ty that children wear foot coverings.
There is much to 1)3 said in favor of a
more natural practice. The foot is an
organ of woudious complexity, regard
ed as a bony uud muscular apparatus.
It is, moreover, provided with nerves
and blood vessels of especial intricacy.
The softest and most flexible shoe, to a
very great, extent, and a boot almost
entirely, reduces this organ to the char
acter of a jointed block with little self
movement. Obviously this reduction
must detract not only from the effi :ien
cy of the foot, but of the orgmfam as a
whole. If the blood vessels of the foot
and legs are fully developed, as they
can only when the foot is habitually
exposed, the quantity of blood which
the lower extremities can be made to
receive and, if need be, attract for a
time, is very considerably.
We can only say that children who
are allowed to g<> barefooted enjoy aI.
most perfect immunity from the danger
of 'cold' by accidental chilling of the
feet, and they are altogether healthier
and happier than those who, in obed
ience to the usages f social life, have
their lower extremities permanently
invalided, and. so tc say, carefully
swathed and put away in rigid cases.
As regards the poorer classes of chil
dren, tlu?re can be no sort of doubt iu
the mind of any one that it ic incompar
ably better that they should go bare
footed than wear boots that let in the
wet and stockings Lh.it are nearly al
ways damp and foul.—London Lancet.
The Buffalo in Colorado.
The buffalo which has long been
known as the noblest animal native to
this region, has become almost extinct,
having been hunted to death, and is
now found mostly in portions of Mon
tana and Dakota. It is a mild, shy an
imal, its characteristics being similar
to those domestic cattle. The male is a
proud strong-minded animal, and is fa
mous for its magnificent proportions
and stately air. Buffalo can ruu no
faster than horses, and are thus easily
overtaken and captured. Hunters
spring upon them from behind bluffs;
they become startled, and rush head
long in the greatest confusion, b7 rea
son of which they always take the
wrong course, and are almost invaria
bly captured.
They are so scarce now that their
heads are very valuable. six years ago
these heads sold for $7, now they sell
for froms 75 to $l5O. They are consid
ered invaluable in a matter of collec
tions, none, however small, being con
sidered complete without them. Last
year an Englishman who was visiting
Colorado paid the exorbitant price of
$250 for a pair ot beads which he
bought here, and considered the finest
he had ever seen.
The buffalo in the mountains are
much darker than those on the plains.
They are of a rich brown color, the
shades in their fur varying from the
darkest to the palest brown. Between
these shades there are many loyely
golden hues of a deep color, which are
never so well seen as when the skins'are
spread out before an open, b'azing fire.
The reflection of the firelight brings out
the varying .shades as nothing else will,
and makes them a subject of universal
comment among lovers of the beautiful.
A Very Suoce3sful Case.
First Lawyer—"Ah, Dobkius how
did you come out in that case you were
just beginning when I went out ?"
Second Lawyer—"Gloriously. It was
a perfect success ; created a great sen
sation ; papers full of it; got lots of ad
vertising out of it. I think it was the
making of my future."
"Good ! Glad to near it, old fellow. I
knew you had the stuff in you: and, by
the way, what did they do with your
client V"
"Oh, they hanged h\va. y '—Chicago
News.
—First-class job work done at the
JOURNAL office.
NO. 15
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Insertion and 5 Cents per line for each addition
al Insertion
A BKMfAUL
A Tramp Finds $4,000 Worth
of Diamonds. *
11l I I 111 ■ ** " S * ..!§•*
One day after I had been banging
around for several weeks as a gentle
man of leisure, says a tramp in the De
troit Free Pre#* i a policeman ran me fix
as a vagrant. Next morning the judge
heard mr .story und asked ; ? 4 <
4 A re you a good traveler V
'Spleud.d.' . ImH
I Do you want to travel ?' .
'I do.' ! '
•Then you shall have an oppor
tunity.' V ■
I had heard a good deal about De
troit at.d its kindues* to tramps, and
when I left Chioago I headed for the
Fast. Before getting clear of the city
I stole a copy of the morning paper o lt
a door-step and after n walk of three
hour* I sat down to t>ost op. Jkune
tramps don't oare for Hie news of the
day, but 1 have always felt it to bs my
duty to look oyer the dailies whenever
I had a chance, and to read everv line
of them, from congressional proceed
ings to advertisements, it so happen
ed thai oue of the ftrst things In this
pauer to attract my alteulkm was ihe
following :
•Three thousand dollars reward—
Lost, on the l.'Uh instant, from a win
dow of a coach on the Michigan Cen
tral, west of FuWraan, a reticule con
taining diamands. The tinder will
receive the above rewaul. Communi
cate with A. IL, Room 412, Palmer
House, Chicago.'
This wa3 the lttth. Five days had
elapsed since the loss, and it was prob
able that a dozen people had been sent
to 6earch over every rod of the track.
I had no more idea of finding that trea
sure than you have of flying, but as I
continued my way up the track i kept
my eyes peeled.
I put in five miles of walking and
then sat down to rest again. It was
midsummer, and my old boots distress
ed my feet. I came to a spot where a
small creek was crossed by the tracks,
and I followed it down to the fence to
find a place to wash my feet. Just at
the tence was a deep hole and a shady
spot, and I tell you it did my old feet
good to sit there and paddle the soft
and cooling waters. I had been there
twenty minutes when a bird dew down
on the feuce and hopped from that to a
stick of driftwood to secure a drink. I
was sitting stiff as a stone, not want
iug to alarm him, when all of a sudden
my eye fell upon that lost lady's reti
cule. It was jammed among a lot of
light driftwood held against the fence.
I wasn't half a minute getting posses
sion of it. The bag was provided with
a lock, and I out with my knife and
cut a hole into it. Out fell the dia
monds—rings, pius, bracelets, studs
and a gold watch set with flashing
stones. I could hold all in one hand,
and Jerusha ! but didn't the stones
sparkle and flash and shimmer and
bring my heart up into my throat ! I
sat there for ten minutes without dar
ing to move, far fear those sparklers
would suddenly disappear, but by and
by my nerves came back and I made up
my miud what to do. I had never
thought of appropriating the jewels to
my own use, but was in a hurry to re
turn to Chicago.
I wrapped the reticule up in the pa
per, put the diamonds in my pocket,
and at 2 o'clock that night I was in
front of the Palmer house. I was
about to enter when a hand was laid
on my shoulder and a gruff voice called
out:
'Now, then, what are you trying to
get away with V
It was a policeman, and he had spot
ted me for a thief.
'l'm carrying a parcel to a gentleman
in here.' I replied.
'Ah ! you are ! Who might it be ?'
'His name is Brown.'
'Oh lit is. Come along, my fine fel
low.'
'His name is Brown, and his room is
112. Come in with me. If I have lied
to you you can take me iu.'
He hesitated for a moment and then
entered the hotel with me. As we
reached the desk he asked of the clerk :
'Does a Mr. Brown occupy 112.'
'No, sir,' was the reply.
'Now, you rascal, come along,'
growled the as he seized my
arm.
It's the A. B. of room 112 who lost
the diamonds 1' I shouted to the clerk
as I was being dragged away.
'Here—wait ! What do you know
of the diamouds ?'
' Here's the reticule, sir, and I have
the jewels in my pocket. I found them
along the railroad track.'
Well, you ought to see how mad that
policeman was, and how glad A. B.
was, and how tickled I was when $3,-
000 was counted in my hands. 1 went
out of the tramping busiuess and start
ed a shop, but at the end of two yearß
w is cleaned out by the hard times and
had to go back to Foot & Walker's line
again. I'm there yet, and, if this bit
of adventure, scribbled off in a tramp's
lodging on a rainy afternoon, is worthy
of publication, giye it a place.— Del wit
Free Press.