6 WAKING DREAMS. Between mine eyelids and .mine eyea. Like red and satin poppy leaves. Lie soft the dreams of I'fc.radtse. They linger when my spirit irrieves; They quench the fever In my brain. And kiss my hopes to life again, lu>tween mine eyelids and mine eyes. Between mine eyelids and mine eyes, Like star-beams melting Into peace. Drift on the visions out of skies Wherein eternal years Increase; I lose my anchorage to earth. And the light of second birth BetWMt mine eyelids and mine eyes. BetwevA mine eyelids and mine eyes, With IvVs bright mystery and grace, My precivrts friends without disguise. With benedictions In each face. Walk slowly midst the trees and flowers, Or sleep within the garden bowers— Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. Between mine eyelids and mine eyes A wandering spirit sweet as sleep Comes singing where the daylight dies; And tuneful founts of tears aleap Begem the path her footsteps trod; In hers my dim-eyed soul saw God, Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. I live and conquer, see and know. 0 let my spirit on this wise Along the trackless confines go! No other universe so sweet As this—forever bright, complete— Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. —- „o believe, was on» of the true men se .etly helping the patriot cause. Of the brave gir! to whom I had sacri ficed the pass (an act 1 did not for a mo ment regret) I thought much. Like me, she was marked for destruction; like me, she had now two virulent enemies, for 1 could not help believing that Mrs. Badely was at the bottom of Clinton's desire to remove her from a field which threatened the social su premacy and interests of that lady. I won dered how she had fared and in what direc tion she had fled. But I was in no position for long wonder ment. Rising from my seat, 1 walked on un til I had reached a point opposite King street, then coming out into the Broadway, crossed it and got myself to the rear of the tavern. The man who interfered with ine now would be past praying for, but to my surprise I met with no opposition on pass ing through the kitchen and bounding up the back stairs, marking only the frightened looks of the two women who were cooking. In a moment I gained my room. It was in a terrible state of confusion. Bloody bed clothes strewed the floor, the mattress was ripped open, blood was upon the table (doubtless Scammell had been laid there on), and the dust of plaster covered every thing. Scammell himself was gone, and likewise was gone the paper I had counted on. My arms, however, were unmolested. The ammunition had been swept from the shelf to the floor in probable search for treasonable documents (which search also accounted for the general disorder), but no part, of it was missing, nor, barring the pa per, had any of my personal property been taken from the room. I felt new strength as I fastened on my sword and stuffed the pistols in my belt, and, taking my rifle, I went out, the way I had gone in, and still without opposition. And still without opposition or interrup tion I regained the burned district. It had been a miracle, but I was now no better off than before, save that 1 was armed and commanded the lives of at least three men when the attempt should be made to take me. I was aware that the wilderness of black ened walls and charred timber, which seemed such a haven at present, would be about the first region over which an or ganized search would be prosecuted. The very unlikelihood of my returning to the tavern had made it possible for me to enter, regain my arms anil leave unmolested, while the darkest holes of the city would be thor oughly scoured, and that at once. To bur row into a crcviee in this field of desolation might be possible, but it would end in starvation and final discovery. To disguise myself was not possible, nor, had 1 the means, would it have ine much, as my unusual size would have made disguise of little more than temporary benefit. My line of flight, whieh might easily be traced along the sands of the strip of beach, point ed plainly toward the region which I was now traversing, and to remain in its vicin ity was tantamount to placing myself with in easy reach of my pursuers. I had but one expedient, and that to elude capture until nightfall by placing myself where there was the least liability of search, and, under cover of darkness, boldly attempting to force the lines at a spot remote from the regular roads of travel. To this end I bethought me of taking to water, and by swimming outflank the de fenses; but I soon realized that the banks of either river would be doubly guarded by sentinels and patrol boats, though, aside from the risk, I gave over the idea, as the at tempt would necessitate my complete dis arming. Turning northward, therefore, I kept within the limits of the black desolation un til I reached its upper termination. Leaving it behind, I cut through the grounds of King's college, walking with apparent care lessness, then onto the hospital, through its confines, and still onward over a garden or two and a field until 1 had arrived at the edge of Lispenard's Meadows. 1 dared not trust myself to its broad open; I could have been too easily marked from a distance, so I turned me toward the Hud son, keeping the while close to the shrubbery which defined the meadow's limits, and finally took refuge under a chestnut tree, though ere long I was up it and as far toward its top as 1 durst venture. Years after 1 looked in vain for this tree, but it had fallen under the ax, as fell all the heavy timber on the island during the terrible winter of 1780. 1 was now wet through. The cloak 1 had continued to wear to prevent easy iden tification, together with the reeking weath er and the showers of water which had poured from the wet leaves, had saturated me, and 1 was anything save comfortable as I sat astride a bough and waited for the day to end. It was something after five o'clock, but as yet I had discovered no signs of pursuit in my direction. To beguile the time, I reload-' ed my rifle and pistols, though 1 laid more reliance on «ny strength of arm and hard ness of fist to overcome a single guard than 1 did on firearms. The great wet meadow stretched before me like a green sea, broken only by the clump of trees which was to have been my dueling ground on the mor row, and the sluggish brook taking its rise from the Collect, cutting in twain length wise and draining the plain which had once been a dangerous and pestilence-breeding quagmire. The thunderstorm had passed, but the sky was"yet heavily overcast, prom ising a dark, wet night (which suited my purpose), and by the time the sun set and I swung myself from my lofty perch the rain was coming down, not in torrents, but with a steady drip-drop that told of a decided change of weather. I had no preparations to make, nor from the point at which I had been hiding had 1 a long distance togo before coming to the line of defenses. This line was not a con tinuous embankment, but consisted of short breastworks and redoubts at no great dis tance apart, every foot of the intervening spaces being patrolled by sentinels. I had resolved to strike the line near its center, or about midway betwixt the Kingsbridge and Greenwich roads, and so walked straight over the meadows, crossing the brook and feeling my way up the rising ground of the northern boundary of the great field. It was not yet dark, but through the gloom 1 soon made out that I was exactly in the rt.tr of a redoubt. Retracing my steps, I worked eastward, then again head- 1 ed north, and this time found myself at the end of a slight dip of the ground, with forti fications on the heights at either hand. The way between appeared unobstructed by military works, though what guard was there posted 1 could not guess, and as yet it was too light to attempt the passage. Still protecting my primings, I threw myself on the sodden ground, and in this fashion lay waiting, while the minutes dragged and the half hour seemed length ened to an age. I say half hour, but it might have been more or less. There was no sound save the patter of the rain, the dismal chirrup of a forlorn tree toad, and an oc casional hail of a guard. Finally, the gloom grew to dusk, the dusk to darkness, and that to pitchiness in the tree-shadowed passage which lay before me. And now 1 girded m.vself for the attempt, fully con scious that my life and death hung finely balanced. I had first thought of crawling through the line like a snake, belly down, but theilis tance and nature of the ground made such a course impossible unless 1 was to take the whole night to it, and if discovered I would be taken at a disadvantage. Rising, there fore, 1 stepped behind a tree, slung my rifle across my back, and drew my cloak well about my sword, throwing back the garment in a manner that left my right arm free. From this cover I slipped to another and another, and so onward until 1 found my self at what I thought to be the edge of a small clearing beyond, but I could neither see nor hear aught ahead, a fact causing me some perplexity. I was debating the feasibility of advancing boldly and risking an encounter, or staying until I could locate the sentinel 1 knew must be near, when to my right 1 caught the shadow of a man walk ing across my line of progress. Ae he came close 1 heard him humming a tune below his breath, and hoped he would pass on that I might step over his beat unnoticed. 1 here was nothing white about me but my face, and 1 bent it low that it might not betray me. On he came until he reached the tree under which 1 was standing, and there halt ing, leaned his gun against the bole and put his hand into his pocket, presumably for to b«eco, for 1 heard him spit forth a quid. lliy vas within a pace of me, and why he did t feel my presence I cannot guess. Hut; I wa» in a predicament, for should he turn : I was lost. If 1 moved forward or back ! ward I was lost, but if 1 took matters into my own hand, I might clear the barrier ! with one blow, and with a sudden shifting ; of my position J tjircw the weight of my j nerves into my right arm and struck out. CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1899. My fist took the man fair in the temple. I douijt if he ever knew what struck him, for he went down with no other sound than that occasioned by the fall of his body. CHAPTER XI. THE DOVE TAVEIIN. I had never before and have never since in cold blood struck violently an unarmed man. God knows 1 recoiled as I felt the plates of this fellow's skull give beneath my fist, and, though I knew my act to be a righteous one, and that had I been discov ered I would have had a foot of cold steel in my vitals, I could not at once overcome the feeling of having committed murder. Whether or not the man was a sentinel I could not tell. The shiftless way of leaning his gun against a tree and humming made me doubt it, but it mattered little—he was an obstacle whose removal was necessary. I , was fairly sure there was more to overcome beyond, but resolved to try strategy in pass ing unless driven to open violence, and even then my fist should not be my mainstay. With my temper inflamed, it boded ill for tl* man who crossed me; with my pulr.es slow and even, it went against my grain to spill human blood, especially that of one doing his duty, and this fact alone would have made me a poor soldier for the ranks. Now I unshipped my sword, drew my cloak about me, and walked on as openly as though I was an officer of "grand rounds." It was miserable going. In the darkness I seemed to find and stub every stone and shoot into as many brambles as might be discovered in a ten-acre wood lot. I passed unchallenged through the shallow ravine, and was wondering if by chance I had al ready cleared the lines, when the works of an advanced redoubt rose against the dim sky, and at the same instant there came the ring of a musket and a voice called: "Halt! Who's there?" It was not my plan to halt, or answer either, for that matter. I had located the voice to the right, but could see no one, and was fairly sure that only the noise of mv progress had been marked, and not myself. Therefore I swung toward the left and hur ried along as rapidly and silently as I could, soon having the pleasure of hearing the sen tinel stumble across my trail some distance in the rear. I had now the redoubt to flank, and, as the woods had been cut down at its front as well as on either side, there was an open space for ine to traverse. Here I lowered my dignity by #i tting onto all-fours, and, holding my blade betwixt my teeth, I crept slowly on ward, taking advantage of every stump and fallen tree as a post to halt and listen. Hut these latter were none tao frequent, and 1 used at least an hour in getting the few hundred feet which lay between the works an»i the abatis protecting them. Having gained the abatis, I rose and felt my way through the tangled branches of the felled timber, making a deal of noise 1 thought, but finally got past and into the woods be yond. These woods proved to be but a strip, and a narrow one at that, for 1 soon came to a road which served me only in showing my location, as I knew of one crossing from the Kingsbridge road to another leading to tike village of Greenwich. I was well satisfied with myself and my progress, considering that the worst was |jpP| J| _ Jfcfl . "Get away—out of the window." passed, but my pride underwent a sudden fall when, as I was putting my leg over the snake fence, a voice came out of the dark ness: "Halt! Who goes there?" "A friend, but without countersign. Where are you?" I returned, easily, though I made a mighty start. "Then stay where you be, or I fire!" "Very good! Come to me," I answered, swinging myself back and retreating to a tree near by, and from that to another. It gave me infinite relief to hear the tramp of a horse, and know the man was a mounted vidette, and in the course of a few seconds he went by me to where 1 had an swered him, though by then I had retreated along the line of the road and was 40 feet away. Halting his horse, he again chal lenged, but, on receiving no answer, fired his pistol into the woods and began cursing like a pirate. 1 knew there would be trouble now, and, indeed, the echo of the shot had scarce died away when 1 heard galloping coming from either direction as his fellows hastened to join him. It would not do for me to linger in the vicinity, so 1 leaped the fence and crossed the highway above him, gaining the op|K>site timber just before another horse man swept by toward the point of alarm. At this juncture I thanked my stars for three things: First, for the wet and black ness of the night; second, that the lines I had run wine the third w inner lines, com paratively illy guarded and but half manned, established to be used only in case of the fall of the outer defenses; and, third, that my present destination lay not beyond the next obstruction. 1 never would have dared attempt the passage of the "barrier gates," as they were called, a strong and continuous work across the neck of land be low Fort Washington; and even had this been possible, the outpost of the British army at Kingsbridge would have floored anything without a pass or wings. There, in the face of the army of Washington, now but a few miles distant, it would have be come almost a matter of creeping betwixt the legs of the sentinels. I was not possessed with a great curiosity regarding the outcome of the trouble I had raised on the road, and got myself away from its locality as rapidly as was consistent with rough ground, thickly growing trees and underbrush and pitchy darkness. I Iclt I was safe at last, safe from immediate disaster, and then awoke to the fact that, save from being warm instcul of cold, I was in about as miserable a position as any man unhurt and shaking a free foot could well be. I had eat- H?i but little during the day, and a man of iny size and activity soon hungers, though as yet my hunger had not become a serious matter. I was drenching, without shelter , and without prospect of shelter, and miles from any possibility of a helping hand. To | stumbb onward might land me in some difli culty from which I could not easily recow. 1 was now at a distance from flu* cross road, and knew not if 1 was bear'ng out of my line northward or toward ole of the two great highways, to approach ei'.her of which was fraught with the greatest danger. Therefore I determined to settle wh-re I was until a glimmer of dawn should show me my way onward. I had no choice of spots, and so sat me down on the stump 1 had but just fallen over, and, drawing my cloak about my head, -jinalated the extremest pa tience of Job, who, for all his troubles, had never been beset as was I. Not for an instant did I nod or cease mj watchfulness through all the long hours The rain, noted for its impartiality, seemed to belie the adage arid focus on me as though I sat beneath a gargoyle. Toward daylight, which came none too early, the heat had gone from my blood, a&u something like a chill took its place, and with the first sign of lividness in the clouds above I set out, more from an instinct toward (light than from any definite plan. The Dove was my destination, but it was only to be ap proached by night, and it was scarce an hour's walk from where 1 sat. Nothing could be gained by wandering aimlessly, yet such was the spirit of flight within me that even movement partook of the natu.e of safety, and the loadstone attracting me lay still to the northward. Toward the north, then, I turned. The birds had begun to stir in their nests and twitter sleepily as 1 came to the edge of the woods and beheld the checker of farm fields and woodland from the elevation on which I was standing, a fine-drawn mist so blurring the distance that it seemed in finite. I went on, and by sunrise crossed the Minetta water, striking westward that I might get into the wilderness above Greenwich, reaching that almost primeval forest toward noon. But it is useless to follow my old trail here. I did it years after with great satisfaction to myself, calling up a cloud of memories that brought back my lost youth, albeit it brought (as it does now) a uiist before my eyes as well. Through that afternoon I wandered well toward Bloomingdale, and as the shadows fell, cut eastward near the old Apthorp mansion and across the wild land which lies a beautiful waste about the cen ter of the island. >„Now Central Park.' I was now close to the Kingsbridge road again, and not half a mile from the Dove. The storm hail cleared with the going down of the sun, leaving the air cool and pleasant, but, though 1 am a lover of nature and prone to mark the effect of storm and sunshine, 1 remember little of this evening save that it was « gorgeous one, witn a moon, something less than half-grown, swimming in the sky like a cleft coin. [TO BE CONTINUED.] FELT OF A MAN-EATER Tlie Tlirilltiif? ISxperlence of u Illieid \ative of In<]in tilth A Wild Tl^er. This is a story of a blind man who, unarmed, laid his hand upon a free tiger and lived, unhurt, to tell the tale; lived to wish that he were dead. It Is the most extraordinary adventure even in the thrilling annals of beast ridden India. T he tiger was a man-eater of Mysore, for which the government had offered a reward of 500 rupees. Many were his exploits. He would bound into a crowd of travelers on the high road and bear one of them away, or snatch the driver from the seat of a creaking bullock cart. He would even enter villages and break into huts with great blows of his powerful paws and drag forth his prey. There was a poor Dher, a low-caste man, who was not allowed to live in tTie village, but dwelt with his wife and baby in a low hut on its outskirts. He was poor, extremely poor, arJH blind. One night Ibis man was waked by a strange shuffling, snuffling noise in the hut. Upon the nameless odors of an In dian interior two new smells impressed themselves, lie knew wbat they meant later. The man called; nb voice answered. Night was as day in his sightless eyes. He crawled about the hut with a blind man's noiseless step, feeling his way with tremulous extended hand. He neared the corner of the hut, where his wife lay, prone upon the floor, and stooped. Wrist deep his inquiring hand thrust itself into deep fur, In a flash he knew; he had heard and ;melled the tiger in his hut; had punched the great man-eater's ribs. He waited for death. One startled instant the tiger waited, then bounded from the but, quick to suspect danger in the blind man's ap parently bold advance, leaving tlie man unscathed. The Dher was left alone. Lower he stooped, until his hands rested upon the lifeless forms of bis wife and child; were dabbled with the red blood that gushzd from their mangled bodies where the great brute's noiseless paw 1-ad fallen. —Wide World Magazine, ' A Charitable <«lrl. "Miss Cutting." began young Soft Isigh. "foh some time I—aw1 —aw have been sewousiy thinking, doneher know, and as a svesult, I —aw have half a mind—" "Well," interrupted Miss Cutting, "that is more than any of your ac quaintances credit you with, but I'll be real charitable and concede you that much; so pray say no more about it."— Chicago Daily News. I.vrity. Here the lecturer grew earnest. "I am com ineed." he exclaimed, "that the woman who does her own cooking is ioore likely to find a place among the angels than the woman whodoeso't." Now a voice obtruded itself harshly "If she cooks with gasoline," said the voice.—Boston Journal. Wanted u Trustful Public. Reformer—But don't you think tha: ' I üblie office should be a public trusl ? Statesman —Why. certainly! 1 don't believe in investigation committees, or anything like that! l'ucl: Gnvi Ih'i'xrll Anay. "When did they discover that the bur glar was a woman?" "When she looked in the glass if her mask wason straight." -Tit-Bit* if 100 Jlcn-nri SIOO. The readers of this paper will be pleased to learn that there is at least one areaded iiise;ise that science has been able to cure in ill its stages, anil that is Catarrh. Hall's Catarrh Cure is the only positive cure known to the medical fraternity. Catarrh being a constitutional disease, requires a constitutional treatment. Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken internally, acting directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces of the system, thereby destroying the foundation of the disease, and giving the patient j strength by building up the constitution and j assisting nature in doing its work. The i proprietors have so much faith in its cura tive powers that they offer One Hundred j Dollars for any case that it fails to cure, j Send for list of testimonials. Address F. J. Cheney & Co., Toledo, O. Sold by Druggists, 75c. Hall's Family Pills are the best. I,eft Behind. Stubb—The Shamrock has three leaves, ; hasn't it? Penn —Yes. It left England, it left Amer- i ica and left the cup.—Chicago Evening j News. SAMPLIOS MAILED FREE. One Hundred Thousand Trlnl l'arlc nice* of Catarrh Cure Sent Free to Applicant*. Dr. Blosser's Catarrh Cure is a pleasant i and harmless vegetable compound, which being inhaled by smoking, is applied di- J rectly to the diseased parts, and being ab- ; sorbed, also purities the blood it wi.l cure ninety-five of every hundred cases of : Catarrh, Bronchitis, Asthma, etc. A sample will be mailed free, and fur- i ther treatment, if you desire it, will cost onlysl.oo for a box sufficient forone month's treatment. Write at once to Dr. J. W. Blosser & Son, 114 Broad St., Atlanta, (3a. A successful man is one who attracts so much attention in the world that people consent to abuse him. —Atchison Globe. Dropsy treated free bv Dr. 11. IT. Green's | Sons, of Atlanta, Ga. The greatest dropsy specialists m the world. Read their adver tisement in another column of this paper. Somehow baldness is far more contagious than goodness.—Chicago Daily News. 25c. SAMPLE BOTTLE lOc. FOR NEXT THIRTY DAYS. How long have you p|"Cgl If IT 1 0 suffered with . .. 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C 1788 __ CIRTEtfSINK Has a pood deep color and due* not struiu the eyes*