“ONLY A FRAEND.” “Only a friend" of a summen, “Only a friend,” that is alll But, ob, the brightuess and sweetness Of the day we can never recall Only one warm, sunny morning One long, golden afternoon, Only a stroll in the starlit evening, Where the sea lay so calm, "neath the moon. “Only a friend” of a summer, “Only a friend,” that is all Only asail {n the sunlight, Over the waters so bluse, Bat, oh, the tender light that shone In your dear eyes, so loving wud true. Only a ride to the light-house, Only a ride—and yet, The sweet, peaceful calm of that afternoon, I shall never, never forget, “Only a friend” of the summaer, “Only a friend,” that is all, "Twas only by chance—a meatiy Of two, mere strangers before, "Twas only a few words spoke By Lipy to be dumb evermore; Only a sorrowful parting, In the morning chill and gray, And a promise made Lut to be broken By the heart that is breaking to-day. “Only a friend’ of the summer, “Only a friend,” that is all Only a heart that 1s breaking, Awoman's heart, bre king today For love she might have While the world calls her happy aud gay; i Q, must it thus be foever, i Turomgh each weary night and day, Must fife flow on with laughter and song, While the white lips duawbly say— “Only a friend" of the sumer, nly a friend,” that is been sharing i Ald. AT THE MINES. As the adventurous traveler turns from the narrow strip of prairie land, | and follows the Oid Rolton Shaft road, where it winds in and out among the snow-decked cedars of the mountains, he will come unexpectedly upon a small white wooden cross, standing, as if on guard, over a grave close beside the | trail, its only surroundings being the moaning pine trees and the endless waste of snow. On that simple cross. rudely carved by « knife in some friendly band, is the | name and date: i * HILIP M'GINN, April Tth, 1885 itile above, certainly many aundred vards, but out of sight around the sharp spur of the mountains, are | situated the great Bolton mines, their | tall wooden shafts rising up in the midst of the solitude, noisy with never-halting | machinery. and surrounded by marks of never-ending toil, Here and there, along the gulches | and the canons, which are crossed in every direction by black-ash paths, can | be seen the little wreaths of smoke curling up into the blue sky, showing where the dark-browned delvers in the | depths below make their humble homes. The snow lies trampled and dirty | from the pit-house in every direction, and the great heaps of slack show the | employment of a large force of workers, | Not one of them all to-day but as he passes that lonely grave beside the trail, will reverently bow his head and feel | that, standing there, he is very close to | God, If you have Lime to listen, I will tell the simple little story again for you. {i was acting as foreman over the night shift at the “Mohawk mines all thas winter; a hard, rough job enough | it was, but was all I could get to do; | and this boy McGinn, was a “‘helper’’ | in Shatt No. 3. I remember well the night he first game to us, It was in December, rough and blustering outside, so that | even the thin boards of the littie shaft- house afforded a small protection from | the wind. I was huddled close toa roaring fire, trying to study out some | plan for makmg the Snake river dam safer before spring floods should come. Close as I kept, the red flames roaring up the chimney, yet I would shiver, as | a heavier blast would come sweeping | around the edge of the mountain and shake the cabin as if it were in air, Just then some one knocked at the low door, and without even glancing up | 1 bade whoever it was come in. A burst of ey wind swept over me, a foot ahinfflefl along the floor, and I turn- od — 10 see a strange boy standing before me, his ragged, patched clothes covered with snow, his face red from the wind, and a pair of big blue eyes looking up | anxiously into my face, “What is it, my lad?” I asked gently, | for something about his forlorn appear- | ance had touched my heart with pity. His eyes feli to the floor, and he stood there for an instant twirling his ragged hat in his cold hands without saying a | word. Then he gulped out, asif man- fully trying to keep back the tears: “Please, sir, 1 want somes work!” His voice was honest, his face ear- nest, hus words true, “Sit down, my little man,” 1 sald kindly. ‘‘Where are you from?’ He put his well-worn boots out to- | ward the heat of the fire and looked straight into my face as he made an- swer: “From Trinidad, sir. this morning.” “Trinidad?’’ 1 echoed, in surprise, glancing at the snow beating against the windows almost like hail. “Why, that is fifteen miles from here!” “f know it, sir.” He little. *‘It was very cold, but they said I evnld get work here.’ “You are rather young for the mines,’ 1 began, but he leaned forward eagerly. “Oh, sir, don't say that! Father is dead, and I must work, I am strong indeed 1 ath, and I must work, or what will become of Mary?" I feit the tewrs mn my eyes in sympa- thy with his. “Mary[" said. “And whois Mary?’ “She is my sister, sir, She is out there now waiting to hear;” and he pointed over his ulder to the door, “Your sister out there in this storm!’ and in surprise I started to my feet. “Yes sir. She is peculiar, Mary is; and she would walt there till I came I» " “Then for heavens sake, bring her in; she shall share my fire anyway.” Without answering, he opened door snd went out in the snow. Ina not 1 loft there For a moment none of us spoke; then she looked up anxiously into my face, “Did you give Phil something to do, sir?” she asked. To resist the pleading hope in her soft voice was more than I could do. Swept by a sudden thought of my own sisters, far off in an Eastern city, I bent down and kissed her white cheek, ly, *"1f I have to make a place for him.” And the sudden light of happiness which sprang into the blue eyes was my grand reward. But this is MeGinn's story and not mipe, and I must hurry on its sad and I found the boy odd advanced him in a few days and placed him upon the night shift as a ‘‘helper”’ at the fool of the shaft, The girl and boy—for she was the elder of the two; aud quite a woman— took possession of an old, tumble<lown fit it up as best we might to keep out the cold winter wind, and there she kept house for the brother, and as the there afternoons just to cheer her up a she made the lonely place very pleas ant in so many simple ways, and, in- a8 the flush of health came back on her clear cheeks and ihe light of conmifort brightened her eyes again. Often as I passed up the road to my work just in the edge of evening, I used to stop before the cabin and listen, si she sang some old sweel voice floating up the monoptains across the snow like the notes of a lost Li on into the dangerous spring—danger- ous in all mines, but doubly 80 inours, because the rising river were only kept from flooding our We watched with anxious the mountain snow, steadily crept up r; the owners bad pronounced it safe, and we had to believe them, Such was the unchanged situation of ings, When one night highe to my work, her poor shanty shading ber eyes with her hands and pended upon that. Impulsively I step- ped forward and clapped my hands on his shoulders. “I had forgotten,” I sald. ‘We wii go together, my lad,” Hand-in-hand, to steady our steps over the wet rocks, we went down into the water, already sweeping to waist, We could distinguish some cries far off in the mine, and hear the frightened bats fitting about our heads, as we finally struggled up to the heavy tim- bers, and 1 hacked at them with an ax, They would not start! every man in the stables hung my ing up, until it had reached the boy's throat. Like rain I showered my heavy feet in the sweep of the current. “For God’s sake, lad!” 1 groaned in despair and agony, “whut can we do?” “1 know, sir,” he cried could not see him in the And catching the lower timbers he clamber- What he succeeded In cutting 1 completely blocking the and sending an immense my head, and clear to the top of tu i. Oh, heaven, what a night of hon thar was! I have not turn my hair to snow. passage the of we yawning barricade and on every side the eddy In vain I called for Phil, and felt my back and forth along the wel rocks, ting of the bats and the gurgling of the Sobbing, crying praying, half crazed the long night wore away; sometimes I saw the boy's face darkness—calling to him only to have the echoes of my own voice come back in mockery. I think I was truly mad when the party of rescuers came Cries, In the flickering rays of their lights, i hill lying crushed under the timbers Al the sight and before they cou her and marked the light of welcome in Oh. sir,” she said looking up into my face, as if reading every thought, have wanted heard some of the that the mines were he laughed at jut oh, sir, is it true?"’ 1t was hard for me even to attempt a lie to her, yet could 1 tell the truth just me, “Dolton and the engineer both pro- nounce them safe,” I said gravely; “and of us.” She read my face while listening to *But you? you do not?” she eried. I struck my tin pail against the post and drew a long breath, “Mary,” I said, with a tenderness She stood there as if the news had “Poor Phill” almost in a whisper, him.” It was ap in the pit-house, with a crowd of rough sympathetic faces about and looked eagerly around, first thought, where is the girl?” in the corner. figure, The lads tenderly, “Mary,” I whispered, taking her cold bheiped me to She looked up at me, ber face $e “Itisso hard to leave him hers, *I think so, and you must trust me, Mary.” “Yes " toward their little cabin. she stopped and “Oh, Phil,’ she sobbed, “you were I asked, longingly. “It makes stronger to think some one remembers them at home,”’ moment with tear-dimmed eyes, then placed both her little hands in mine, “I have always remembered you," a shrill whistle came duty. 1 followed the impuise of is hard to tell, but I turned away hap- i had been in many years. that night together, and I remember grand scene as we sank going down behind the ridge, and the like cathedral spires against the rosy golden wire seemed suspended in the air; and then we dropped away into the at work, | ied a small party up into one of the side tunnels to fix up some props which had fallen down, It was hard work, pressed together as we were in that narrow space and miner's cap. with the timbers, and for over an hour breathing of the men, and occasionaily a low-spoken order. I thought over my little talk with Mary as | stood there leaning against the rocky side, and was building air- castles and making ber their queen, when suddenly we were startled at hear- ing swift footsteps echoing along the tunnel, and the next moment, with face ghastly white, under the glare of his hat-lamp, McGinn burst in among us, “Run!” he cried, ‘Run, lads, for 3he Stabjes} Snake river has broken out!” With pale faces and cries of fright, the men dropped everything to plunge into the darkness, and we stood there alone, | needed to ask no questions, I was miner eno to understand it all, “Come, Phil,” I said, for the boy stood there panting for breath; *“‘we musk got od of this!” He looked up startled at hearing my volee. “You here!” he cried, “why didn’t you go with them? Dont wait, ser, I must cat the barricade.” Like a flash the whole situation burst oust.” iivecy life in the mine do- the pitiful loneliness of that cry, and 1 knew I loved her. “Not all, Mary, I whispered, tender ly, “not all, if you will turn te me.” She looked up into my face bending earnestness, “You were good to him,” she said, i The early morning sun came out her into the Little house alone. » * » » That is Phil's grave out yonder, by the trail, with the white cross and the snow-covered cedars years, I think, God has wiped away the trouble, has covered up the roughened hands of toil, and rewarded the boy according to his deeds, . Montana Womans Herolsm. A woman living near Glendive, Mon- taun was the owner of a pet dog, which recently, was playing, when it gave a yelp of almost mortal terror, than a blacksmith's apron, swooped down and picked up the little cur in his muscular talons, With the true Western woman, brought up amid all the dangers of a rough border life, and with no Ught fitting skin to prevent the free movement of her lunbs, to think is to act. On the instant this iuto the kitchen, where her husband early days, when bloodthirsty Indians were rampant on the plains, he had often gone out and shot fool hens, She bounced out of the front door, gun in hand. In an instant she directed her eagle eye into the air, where soar. ing about ten feet distant, she dis. cerned the emblem of our national lib- erties with her yellow poodle grasped convulsively, but firmly, in its claws. For a moment she ran tratned along the barrel of the gan in the rection of the bird, closed her hquid orbs with a shudder, and banged away. When she opened them the eagle was An Bventtul Liny. “It's those worn-out shingles on the roof,’ eaid Mrs. Barr in the melancholy half whine which was habitual to her. “The rain leaked in on the boarder’'s bureau all pight long; and she says she won't stay here if she isn’t to be proper- ly protected against the elements, *? Janie tied the last puce-colored tulip to its stake and straightened herself up. “We must have the roof mended,” said she, “And if Mrs. shall we do about the interest on { father’s old note?” “She won't go away, mother, never said Janie brightly. “Don't You'll see that things will come ’ Lepell goes away what your | fear,” fret, right.’ awav,” said Mrs. Barr, “They shall be fixed, mother,”’ sai Janie, “Who wil! do it?” impatiently repeat- ed the widow “I willl” said Jame, “That's all nousense!’’ groaned Mrs, | Barr. Bat Janie had never been more ser- | iously in earnest in all her life, society that afternoon. Colonel Addison, from the i hotel, who was paying his addresses to Mrs. Lepell, the boarder. spirited horse and a buggy | to the sea beach, “Now is my time," said Janie exult- antly, to herself, to take her she had got 25 yards away from the house, “Janie, i you that I left my three diamond nngs { in the little left han rea. 1 might lose them in the [ though. I would tell you water. in case fire, You Know, or any “Yas 1 | be any accident. Mrs. Lepell laughed, and the carriage and the in Aud not until then did J { that a tall, balf- grown lad, | hind the porch was waiting peak with her. RV hie * What do you want? No, we haven't any old If you really vork you had better go on tothe new buildings: about a mile up the road. I are say they can find something for vou to do there,’ The lad mumbled t something, whether thanks otherwise could not discriminate, and shuffiad away. And owr heroine, slipping on her hat and bolting the front door, ran scross the back meadows to Ralph Par- i sons’ carpenter shop, some quarter of a mile by the wood path “I want a few “and a pound of shingle nails, “What for?" sand Ralph. “No matter.” calmiy retorted Janie. { She nodded good-by and hurried { away under the canopy of pink apple blossoms, talph looked admiringly after her, “She's a regular clipper of a girl, that Janie Darr!” said be, “If | able to support a wife, that will be the one 1'd choose.” JAght as a thistiedown, Janie hurried back with her precious bundle of shin- | gles, and the pound of nails in her pock- | ot. ‘Now 1'll show him whether 1 can mend the roof or not,’ said she, as with a hammer added to ber stock in taade, | she ascended to the garretl and climbed lan odd little jadder that Jed out | through a rusty trap door to the sleep | roof, sid there { $F» nt colonel. ile perceive to TALS, { jot hes, ou Or shingles.” sald she, ’s gles were wet with the recent rain and | slippery with green moss incrustations, | but Janie Barr was not one lightly to | herself neatly balanced, with her feet | bow leaning on the roof, and the other hand busily tearing away the cld shin. gles and replacing them overlapping rows of new, wood. fragrant the nails was hike mwusic in her | like a squirrel on the slanting roof, the sound of voices struck on her ear. She | paused to listen, “Three diamond rings! I heard her | say 80 herself. In the left hand drawer of some burean,’’ said the same accents | which baif an bour ago had asked her | for charity. ‘*And no one but a woman | in the house.” | “spre of that?” said a deeper voice. “Yes, plam sure,’’ was the answer, “And I wouldn't wonder if there were other things for the picking up.” *Coine on, then," said the other one; “aud step lively. We can’t stand here | jawing all day. The door is bolted, is tit? Wait a minute; I've got a little joker here as would start any staples this side of Denver. Janie had listened in breathless hor. ror. In an instant, as it were, she com- prehended the full danger that mena- od Mrs. Lepell’s treasured gems--the three diamond rings that the boarder had once told her were worth thousands | of dollars. And here she was alone and helpless! Hurmedly she turned over the crisis in her mind, If she were to re-enter | the house by the same way in which she | had left it, she must certainly meet the ruffians, and any resistance which she could offer would be speedily overpow. ered, Janie Barr was not cne to hesitate long. While the thoughts yet careered throngh her brain, she shang from the eaves into the blooming boughs of the great cherry tree which grew so close to the house that its branches seraped to do who was not swift of limb and so- bist Jane wiiginton, like a She told him as well as she could for excitement and breathlessness, “Come,” she cried, “Oh, do make haste!” He paused only to blow a small wil- low whistle waich hung on his steel watch guard, “This will bring my workmen,” he sald, * It’s a signal we Fave agreed upon, among ourselves, for just such an emergency as this, You and Jones, Janie, shall go around to the back door Hall and Robbins will watch the front, | and 1’il go up and settle the fellows.” Janie glanced with shy admiration into his set, determined face. After all, it was something Lo be a man. The littie campaign was skillfully | conducted. The two thieves were | taken redhanded, the diamond rings | were delivered into Janie Barr's keep | ing and the ruffians were dragged to i the nearest jail, { “Oh, Ralph,” said Janle, when all | the little crowd was gone, “how can | aver thank you?” He smiled, | “By lettmg me put on those shingles { for you,” said he, blushing, ‘They are put on already. i | carpentering.”’ always, Janie?" he asked. “Will you promise one day to be my wife?” The words had risen almost involun- tarily to hus lips as he held her hand in | his——the words he so longed yet dreaded | Lo speak. And Janie hung her head and colored | like a carnation, and said ‘‘she would | see,” And Ralph Parsons knew that hehad won the day. Mrs, Barr and the boarder were alike amazed when they returned home. “Our Janie tocircumvent a gang of burglars!’ said the proud mother. **To save my three diamond ringsl” | hysterically cried Mrs, Lepell. ‘But that isn’t all I have mother,” said Janie, laughing. ! have shingled the roof. promised to marry Ralph Parsons next i spring. Upon the whole, I think it has | been rather an eventful day, molber, {don't you?” “| Whistling, I never knu a good whissler bot hed a good counsttution. Whissling iz eom- posed of pucker and wind, aud these tew accomplishments denote Bam thare iz danger. This they do to keep the fraid out of them. When 1 was & boy, I always considered whiss- ling the next best thing to a kandle to go down cellar with in the nile time The best whisslers 1 hev ever herd, hev been among the negroes, (I make this remark with the highest respekt to the scoomplishments of the whites.) [ have herd a South Earoliny darkey whissle so natural that a mocking-bird would drop a worm out ov his bill, and ta:k back to the old boy. A fust rate whissler ix like a midd- lingsized fiddle, good for nothing else; aud although whissling may keep keep him from gethoy ragged. I never knu a bee hunter but what was a good whissler, and I don’t kno of any bizness on the breast ov the earth, | that will make a man so lazy and use- i less, without aktually killing ham, az | hunting bees in the wilderness, Hunting bees and writing sekond- rate verses, sre evidences of sum geen- yus, but either of them wil unfii a msn for a good day's work, I don’t want any betler evidences ov the general onesiy there is in a whissle, than the fact that there ain't nothing a dog will answer quicker than the whissle ov his master; and dogs are as good judges of onesly as any critter that lives, lis next to impossible to phool him a | sekond time. I ain't afraid to trust enry man for a small amount, who is a good whissler, ————————— A Scrap of Tartar History. The remarkable swordsmsuship of { the Tartars is proverbial. Their fa. vorite weapon is a long, ourved cime- | tar, quite different from that of the | Tarks, It 1s made of the finest steel, | richly alloynd with miver, and a sword | becomes an heirloom in a family sod descends to the first born so long as the family exists. When the lsst rep- | resentative of a race dies hus sword, | which may have come down to him {from a hundred generations, is broken | and buried with him. The blades of the weapon, which are beaten oat ou | city of Tastohistsy (the Holy Place), are very thin and the wonder- ful feats performed with them sare as. tonishing,. Once when Robo, the cousin of the great Mogul, was canght lin a rebellion, his execution was or- dered. The most skilful swordsman of the empire was provided for the be- heading, and the great Mogul and his court assembled to see il. For a seo ond the keen Tartar biade flashed in the sunlight and then descended upon the bare neck of Robo, who stood upright to receive the stroke, The sharp steel passed through the vertebrae, muscles and organs of the neck, but so swift was the biow and so keen was the blade, that the head did I i 2 £ HAT hi ¥ i ready-w il A Bilent Wiiness. Uncle Grinder was one of the closed fisted maen that was ever permitted to { tive in civilized America. He was a | bachelor, and rieh, but not a farthing did he ever bestow on charity, He re- sided with his old housekeeper In some low-lying out-of-the way plae near Morrisania, because of its cheapness and railed at us whenever we saw hun for our extravagance in preferring a healthy place to live in. We—bye the bye, ‘we’ rueans iny- self and my cousin Ned, Uncle Grine i der’s two nepbews and sole relatives { we, I was about to remark, should have { cut him dead long before, but couldn’ for we were in his power, | Ned and [ had startea in the world together, but at first, having little | means to carry on our business. we ap- plied to our Uncle Grinder, whom we | didn’t thoroughly know then, just fora He granted it, but with | interest, What we considered suffi. | clent when we began trade sunk to the | smallest dimensions, We oblained | more at a higher interest, Then we | had to ask for time—of course paying | for the favor—until we got 1 a fearful tangle of embarrassment. Rain oon- | fronted us, “If we were only free of the ururer,” | said we, “we'd be all right!” | Ned was a passionate fellow of a | flerce nature, capable of strong feelings i and of losing his head under the sense fof wrong. And I, of a quieter disposes i sition, felt some uneasiness about him, | especially when he began absenting { himself from my soclety, and on occa | sions taking more than was good for | him, | “He'supto no good,” I reflected, | “and it’s all owing to ruinous debt. If | anything, Uncle Grinder prefers Ned, I'll try once more to move him. I" tell him my fears concerning him and ask his help or advice in the maller, I consulted Katie, Katie and [ were engaged, but our union was probiema~ tical while I was in such straits, Didn't she hate Uncle Grinder—and rive me a woman for hat ing as for lov- g downright. She, who much liked agreed with me and my idea, so I | started. It was ar awful dark night, | A fog burg like a curtain over the low | fields through which I passed on the will train rain, As we rushed through the Har. lem tunnel atrain coming in the oppo- site direction flashed past us. As it did ), chaneing to lovk up, I saw a scene that chilled my blood with horror. In a second it was gone, “Horrible!” 1 cried, leaping up, alarming all the rest. “A foul deed is | being perpetrated. 1 saw a man assis. sinating another in a carriage that just passed us!" What could we do? Nothing. We must go to the next station, where, on | alighting, I acquainted the station-mas- ter with what I had seen. Then I went { to Uncle Grinder’s. His old housekeep- | er to'd me he had gone to town that eve- | ning on business, didn’t believe her, {but 1 had to accept the intelligence, Next worning | was in town and read: “lorrible tragedy—A man found | killed on the rails of the Harlem road. ** I waited —1 knew what wonld come. Having given my address to the station master, | was summoned at the inquest { and recounted what I had seem — a man crouched back on the seal, another with his knees against his chest, his hands about his throat. Could I describe thelatter? No. Not only did he ap- pear muffled, but he had his back toward me, “We must view the body gentlemen,’ {| Bald the coroner. We went. The mutilated remuins were those of Uncle Grinder. Search was made for the assassin, but without resuit. The crime bad been for robbery as both walch and purse had disap- peared, A week later | sal in my room Wobe dering where Nad had gone, when the | door opened and be entered. I shall never forget the feeling that came over ' me when I looked at him. He was hag- gard, hollow eyed and like a ghost. “Look here, Ned,” | said, “Don’t speak,’ be put in, hurriedly. | “I'm off to South America, but 1 could | not go without letting you know we are | free—you are free by my hand. Yes, don’t start—I killed Uncle Grinder 1 | pouldn’t bear it anylonger. The misera~ | ble wretch drove me to it. 1 wentdown | disguised, 1 sent a false telegram call- ing him totown. From the papers you know the rest. His watch and purse 1 took to throw off suspicion. They are at the bottom of the Hudson. I wouldn't | touch a penny of the hateful money.” “Oh, Nea!” I gasped. horror struck. | “Yes, itis terrible, isn'Lit?'’ he inter. { rupted. ‘But such men are better out of the world than in it, though I wish he | had gone by better means. Good-bye, { You can marry Katie now. Will you | shake hands?’ i grasped the one band he extended | firmly. 1 couldn’t help it. Poor Ned! Holding it I would have detained him, ay ¢ i i well and was gone. I never saw nor heard of him again, When Night Workers Should Wat, For night workers the best regimen includes a hearty breakfast when they rise, which is generally from 12 to 3 o'clock; after this some moderate out door exercise, which should be fol- on i
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