THE - SCRANTOX TBIBUXE SATURDAY MORNING, . SEPTEMBER 28, 1895.
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0FFE1IG
BY
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10
WIITEIS
ROMANCE.
THE
Little Dramraier .
From the French of Jean Barnard.
From the Boston
The night of Dec. 14. 17S8. was a
stormy one. The rain foil In torrents;
the wind blew furiously, and at earn
' trust the dead branches fell from the
trees with noises that sounded strange
ly like groans.
It was about 1 o'clock In the morn
ing, and there was a carrlnge on the
road leading from the village of Croix
.Daurade, which is situated about four
kilometers from Toulouse, to the Cha
teau de Pallticat. The horses had their
heads turned toward the gale, and were
becoming restless and unmanageable,
when a sudden gust of wind, more vio
lent than the others, blew out the light
In the lanterns.
'Stop, Jean!" said a voice from the
Inside of the carriage.
The coachman obeyed, and descend
ed from his seat, .lie took the nervous
horses by the bridles, and calling each
by name stroked them with his hand
to quiet them.
"Can you see a light anywhere?"
asked the same voice.
"yes," replied Jean, "there's one very
near. It Is the In the cottage of the
Margarldetto, but it Is a very humble
place, and Marguerite Is very poor."
"What's the difference?" said the
man in the carriage. "We will at any
rate be much better off there than in
this raying storm."
The door of the carriage was opened,
and a man, holding a very large bundle
In his arms, stepped out and ran In the
direction indicated by the coachman.
He knocked at the door of the cottage,
which was opened by a youth of four
teen or llfteen years of age.
"You here, IMonsieur le Marquis!" ex
claimed the boy In astonishment.
"Yes," replied the iMarquis, as he en
tered and placed on a chair his precious
bundle, which was nothing else than a
young girl about the same age as the
boy who opened the door.
They were the same age, but in other
respects how different! The girl was
wrapped In a long cloak of rich fur,
through the openings of which could be
seen a dress of garnet satin. Her pretty
blond hair was covered with a lace
lined cap, under which shone her beau
tiful blue eyes. The boy was pale, thin,
and had an air of misery and timidity
about him that was pitiful to see.
The room in which the Marquis and
his daughter had sought shelter was
cold and bare, and dimly lighted by a
solitary candle. The only articles of
furniture were a few wooden chairs, a
clock and an old table, and In the cor
ner a bed on which a sick woman was
lying.
The iMarquM looked about him In
surprise; and the lad, who seemed to
anticipate his questions, said:
"Oh, we do not live In luxury here,
but, you know, my mother Is a widow,
and she has been sick for two years.
I earn barely enough to keep us from
. starving by tending the flocks."
The girl shivered with cold; and the
boy at once threw some pine knots on
the Are, which blazed up at once, fill
ing the room with bright dancing light.
The sudden Illumination awakened
the sleeping woman. Her pale and
ghastly face resembled that of a corpse.
The boy ran to her side to announce
the visit with which they had been
honored.
"Yes, my poor Marguerite, said the
Marquis, "we were overtaken by the
storm on our way back from the mid
night mass, and we have sought shelter
here."
The poor woman had barely strength
to nod her head and to murmur a few
words of welcome.
"What Is your name?" asked the
Marquis of the boy.
Francois."
! "Are you a shepherd?"
"Yes, monsieur; they are your flocks
that I tend."
'How much do you earn?"
"It depends. In the busy season
three sous a day; sometimes less than
that."
"Is that alir
"We live on that, my mother and I:
or, rather, we do not starve altogether."
"Poor people!" exclaimed the girl.
There was so much sweetness ana
genuine compassion in her tone that
Francois was greatly touched at the
words. He fixed his glance upon the
' aristocratic demoiselle, and felt one of
those Instinctive sentiments of sympa
thy -which are often experienced at the
first sight of a person whose character
harmonizes with one's own.
The storm was now almost over, ana
only a light rain was falling. The
Matquls called to the coachman, who
relighted the lantern and drove the
carriage to the door of the cottage.
XJome, mlgnonne, let us hurry to the
Chateau," said the Marquis to his
daughter .
Jeanna da Slearfl wrapped herself
again In her cloak; but, before leaving,
aba llpped Into Francois' hand a gold
coin, the first one that had ever shone
in that miserable hut.
The next day, and au the days fol
lowing'. Jeanne came to nee the poor.
Invalid. ' who, from-that time was In
need neither of food, medicines nor
bar. But Marguerite,, who was worn
out wltHi privations and disease, could
' not recover; and a month later she
bled In the arms of her son.
Francois vowed eternal gratitude to
their young benefactress. Thanks to
the tender charity of the young girl,
tils mother had died, not In the misery
and squalor hi which she bad lived so
long, but surrounded toy every comfort
that could make her end Hess painful.
On her side, Jeanne was greatly Im
pressed wlffti the mild disposition and
the honesty of tine young shepherd, and
she persuaded her father to place him
In the convent of the Jacobins at Tou
louse as an oblate. It was a great op
portunity for the young peasant; he
could receive an education, and, later
'he would be received Into the order
either as an Instructor or as a lay
brother, according to ihls disposition
and talents.
Jeanne went to spend In Toulouse the
winter which followed Francois' en
trance Into the convent. (Each Sunday
she went to mass at: the Dominican
convent, for It was there that 'the most
renowned preachers could be heard,
and the ceremonies were performed
with a pomp that was not equaled in
any of the churches of the city.
Francois assisted at these ceremonies
as an acolyte, carrying a great sliver
candlestick, or swinging ' the censer,
whose smoke filled tlhe chapel With the
Uellolous perfumes of the orient. Some
times be went around the aisles with
the monk who took up the collections;
and, In passing Jeanne deiSlcard's pew,
the' youfvg oblate could not resist lifting
up bis eyes ito her, to which timid but
heartfelt salutation she would always
reply by a sign of recognition which
was Imperceptible to every one else,
but which was not lost upon Francois,
' In the spring Jeanne returned to the
Chateau de Crolx-Daurade, and Fran
cois. might pass, and" repass her, pew,
often he pleased, -she no longer
.came to the chapel, 'This caused him a
1 deep and genuine grief,' which was all
the more bitter because there was no
one to whom he could confide It. .
'-' It. was In the month of . February of
this year that the religious orders were
' suppressed by adecree of the assembly,
and the doors of aH the convents were
thrown open.' There were many monks
who were quite wilting to break their
vows, shavs off their beards and ex-1
Home Journal
ahange their cassocks for the clothes of
civil life. Francois, who was now 1
years old and did not feel that he had
a strong vocation for the priest-hood,
abandoned the convent with the others.
On a bright day in the month of March
he found himself on the streets of Tou
louse with nothing in his pockets but
the few francs that had been given to
eat'h monk who 'had laid aside his beads
and cassock.
Hut what was the poor boy to do? He
had neither parents nor friends, and he
was a stranger In the city. His first
Idea, was to go to see his benefactress
At the Chateaux tie Crolx-Ihiurade. but
he did not dare. What could she think
of his resolution to abandon n religious
life, and what reception would the give
to one wOio had shown such a poor ap
preciation of the favors she had done
him?
As he was wandering aimlessly about
the streets, his attention was drawn to
a poster which gave notice that boys
were wanted to enlist as drummers In
the .National Uuard, which was then
being organized.
Francois presented himself at the
registrar's olllee, where he was enlisted,
clothed In a uniform and. given his
drum ami sticks on the sHt. The boy
had never had a drumstick in his hands
before, but each day he pratlscd on the
lanks of the Cannl Kiqiiet. nnd he
learned so rapidly that by July 14, the
day of the first federation, he was the
admiration of the town for the wny in
which he beat the inarches at the head
of the company.
For he really made a fine appearance
in his blue uniform, with the red trim
mings, his hat a little to one side, and a
large tri-colored plume partly obstruct
ing his face. He was now tall, well
built young man, with a frank and
'handsome face, nnd large dark eyes,
which seemed to emit sparks of 'lire,
so brightly did they shine beneath their
black lashes. Muny people in the
crowd exclaimed when they saw him
puss by;
"oh, what a handsome drummer
boy!"
In front of the Houllngrln, where the
National (luard was reviewed daily,
Francois saw Jeanne standing beside
her father. She recognized him, but
he did not have time to see what effect
the sight of him had produced upon
her; for the regiment was marching
on double-quick time, and she appeared
to him only as a sort of vision, but
one of those visions which nre never
forgotten. For a week he thought of
nothing else than Jeanne de Sloard.
Hy night he dreamed of her, and by
day, as he marched with his regiment,
'he looked, (it every street corner In the
hope thai' he would see his benefactress
there, and that -she also would exclaim,
as he had heard so many others:
"Oh, t'.ie handsome drummer boy!"
(But he did not see her again, it was
In vain that he strained his eyes to dis
tinguish every face in the crowds he
passed: she was not In. Toulouse.
" Three years passed away. Event
succeeded each other In those days
with frightful rapidity. The ancient
order of things no longer existed; the
republic had replaced the monarchy,
and the head of Louis XVI. had, fallen
under the knife of the guillotine. The
nobles had emigrated In great num
bers, and many of them had placed
themselves at the head of the armies
which were marching against France.
Francois had become a soldier, and
was taking part in the campaign of
the Rhine. He had been promoted rap
idly 'to the successive ranks of ser
geant, sub-lieutenant And captain,
which was very' easy and very usual
in those days, when our victorious
armies were commanded by beardless
colonels and. generals of twenty-one.
One day Francois was at the 'head
of a detachment In a skirmish with an
Austrian, convoy. Our ldlers, who
were as brave as lions, were not long
in putting tto flight their white coated
enemies, who loft their chief wounded
on the field.
What was the astonishment of Fran
cols when he approached and found !n
this Austrian leader the Marquis da
Slcard. Jeanne's father! The mar
quis, like many of those who had emi
grated, had taken up arms against his
country. .,
Franclos, acting on his authority as
captain, made the marquis a prisoner
on parole; and, In place of taking him
to the camp, he left him at a neigh
boring farm, where every attention
was shown him, and his wound, which
was not a serious one, quickly healed.
Thanks to the fact that the young cap
tain stood very high In the favor of the
general, It was not very difficult for
him to obtain a pardon for his former
master. . Fortunately, the property of
the marquis had not been sold, and it'
was restored to him as a mark of spe
cial favor.
When he was reinstated In the Cha
teau de Pallflcat the Marquis de Slcard
brought his daughter back from Turin,
where she had remained during his ab
sence. Francois obtained -a furlough
and came to ppend three months with
them at the chateau, where he was re
ceived, as one can Imagine, with open
arms.
"It Is the captain," said the marquis
to his daughter, "that you must thank
for the fact fhat you are not a penni
less orphan. I can truly say that I re
ceived my life and my property at his
hands."
IHut little more need be said. Fran
cols and Jeanne had loved each other
for years before the marquis had been
placed urVder such singular obligations
to the young man. Their marriage was
celebrated with much pomp In the little
church of Crolx-lDaurade and it In said
that Wielr union like those In the ro
manceswas blessed with many chil
dren. The day after the wedding Franco-Is
and his bride visited the little cottage
where the (Margarldetto had died, rtpd
where Jeanne ami her father had
sought Shelter from the storm on their
return 1 rom itihe midnight mass.
"It 1s here said Francois to his wife,
'that: I fully realize all you have done
for me, andilt Is here that I first fell In
love with yoxi." '
MR. AND MRS. RISING.
Their .Conversation Is Punetnatsd by
Certain Misapprehensions.
From the Times-Herald.
"I don't believe it," said Mr. Rising
energetically as he sank down in an
arm chair, while the door slammed be
hind him. , : , "
"Believe ' what?' asked Mrs. ' Rising.
"Why, that out cashier has uttered
false notes.v replied Mr. Rising.
"Who said he had, Jghn?" .Inquired
Mrs. Rising.
"Bill Jones was hinting around about
'fly cashiers' and the way some curious
notes were flying . around," returned
Mr. Rising, gloomily. -.
"I shouldn't care much what (BUI
Jones said," observed Mrs. Rising.'
"He' must'' have . heard i: something,
Em'ly," Mr. Rising continued. ,.(
"May be the notes were a' mistake,
anyhow, John," said Mrs. Rising, cheer
fully.. . . .
- - "Men don't make mistake of that
kind, Em'ly,", said Mr. (Rising deject
edly. ',.',' . v,
"Does tne cashier sing much, John?"
was Mrs. Rising's next Interrogo.tary.
"He'll sing low for a while now, Mrs.
Rising." Mr. Rising growled.
"Well, I never knew Kill Jones had
much of an ear for music, anyway,
J-'hii," remarked Mrs. Rising hopeful
ly. "What In the name of sense has that
to do with it. iKm'ly?"
"Why. to tell that the notes were ut
tered wrong, John," said Mrs. Rising,
and then added half apologetically,
"but perhaps he carried a tuning fork."
"Or possibly a toasting fork, or a ta
ble spoon. Km'ly," eaWllMr. Rising, with
bitter but unappreciated sarcasm.
"Wake me up, Em'ly, in five minutes.
I've got to down to a board meet
ing tonight," said Mr, Rising, throwing
himself on the lounge.
Mrs. Rising obediently roused her
husiband at the moment Indicated, and
asked. "Why is It called a board meet
ing. John?"
"Because the directors and officers elt
on the board, Km'ly," returned 'Mr. Ris
ing. "That's funn1!" observed Mrs. Ris
ing. "Is It hard, John?"
"Well, I've seen harder things,
Em'ly." replied Mr. Rising.
"How many men sit with you, John?"
was iMts Rising's next query.
I am not sure that I ought to write
about the demon bicycle, at least until
my acquaintance. Monsieur Rataplan,
has had time to get back to Paris and
patent his marvelous Invention all over
the world. Still he spoke In the most
open way a Unit this miracle, and did
not seem to care who heard him, so
perhaps he has protected his different
contrivances as he went along, after
the Edison manner, for it is well
known that Thomas A. Edison can
not sleep at night unless he has taken
out at least sixteen new patents during
the day.
1 met M. IKataplan at a mountain re
sort 5.000 feet above the sea In the
Jura range, the most western part of
Switzerland. I thought at first that he
was covered with medals of all sorts,
but a closer Inspection showed that
they were badges of various bicycle
clubs In all parts of the world. He
told me that he Is a member of every
cycle society -In the world so far as he
knew, although, of course, some of
them might have escaped him.
"Are you a record breaker?" I asked.
"No, I am an Inventor, although I
think I did break the record across
France."
"And you are here resting after your
ride?" I ventured.
"Well, yes, In a measure. Actually,
I had no Intention of coming to Switz
erland, but I could not rightly help
myself. It all came about through
the greatest Invention the world has
ever seen. Talk about pneumatic tires!
They're not In it compared with my in
vention." "You talk English." I said, "with a
colloquial fluency somewhat unusuul
In a Frenchman. Where did you learn
the language?"
"Oh, I'm not a Frenchman. My
name's Macguire and I'm from Phila
delphia. I came to France and
changed my name to Rataplan because
I couldn't get a fair show In America."
"I thought the States was the best
place In ahe world for an Inventor."
"So It Is, If you don't start from
Philadelphia. You sen, Philadelphia Is
a slow town. New York men speak of
having their country residences there.
Then Philadelphia has always been an
unfortunate city for Inventors. There's
the Keely motor man. He Is enough to
Gomorrah any town. You see, I had no
capital, and the moment I Invented
anything and tried to Interest a man
with money in It, he made fun of the
thing as soon as he heard I was from
Philadelphia asked me If I was a
friend of Keely's and all that, till I
got tired of It. Then other fellows- got
to hear of my Inventions and patented
them before me and so I never got a
chance. When I became M. Rataplan,
of Paris, I got rich Americans over
here to listen to me and I've made
money. Hut this invention beats them
all."
"Is It a secret?"
"You're not an Inventor, are you?"
"In a way. I'm a newspaper man."
"Oh, that's all rlghit. I like newspa
per men. It doesn't matter my tell
ing you, for If you did write It up, you'd
get it all wrong, and nobody would un
derstand It."
' Tnen ..t m 1iar about it."
4 lv you Know anvining ot electrici
ty 7"
"A little. I know you will burn your
finders If you don't let go a live wire
mighty suddenly."
"Qult so. You have been accurately
Informed. Well, you know what a stor
age battery Is?"
"Yes. It Is like certain kinds of in
vestments. You put In a sum of money
and get out only part of it.' '
"Darling, I fear that man; the cruel guy
can from his place as umpire do you up."
it was Gwendolln O'Toole who spoke.
She was a beautiful blonde angel, and as
she clung to her lover, Murty O'Malley,
they niailo a picture from which a painter
would have drawn an Inspiration.
"Take courage, love," said Murty O'Mal
ley tenderly; "I'm too swift for the duck."
"I know, dearest," murmured the fair
Gwendolln, "but think what's up on the
game. Ale brother,- you know him well;
the rooter prince, the bleachers' un
crowned king. He Is the guardian of me
vast estates. If 1 do not marry as he di
rects, me lands and fortune go to found
an asylum for decrepit ball tossers. To
day me brother Godfrey swore by the
banshee -of the. O'Tooles. that me hand
should belong to the man who made the
best average In tomorrow's game. Can
you win me, love?"
"twin you or break a bat," said Murty
O'Malley, as ho folded his dear one in his
arms. ' .
II.
"When that villain O'Malley goes to bat
tomorrow, pitch the ball ten feet over his
head.' No matter where It goes; I'll call a
strike." "
It was Dennis Mulcahey who spoke; the
man most feared by Uwemlolln O'Toole.
He was to be next day's umpire, and as
he thought how securely his rival Wan in
his grasp, he lauxhed low and mockingly.
Dennis Mulcahey . too loved . the fnlr
Ownndolln, but the dear girl scorned his
8(li1r68!(68.
His heart was bitter; he would be re
venged on his rival, -
"You've got It in for the mug," replied
Terry Divine, to whom Dennis Mulcahey
had spoken. Divine was the pitcher of
the opposition, and like many of his class,
a low, murderous scoundrel. "But say I
Denny, if you wants to do the sucker,
why don't youse give him a poke In the
face? Seel" ...
"Such suggestions are veriest guff," re
torted Dennis Mulcahey. "Do as I bid
you, caitiff; and presume not to give tho
hunch to such as I. A wild pitch Is what
1 want whenever Murty O'Malley steps to
the plate. I'll do the rest."
"I II trow the plg-skln over de gran'
stand," said Terry Devlne, as he and bis
fellow plotter walked away, - . .
As the- conspirators . drifted Into the
darkness a dim form arose from behind a
shrub. It was Murty O'Malley.
"Ah! I'll foil you yet," be hissed be
tween his clinched teeth, and turning In
the opposite direction he was soon swal
lowed by the night. .......
nr. ) .
"You'll not fall me. Jack?" said Murty
O'Malley to Jack, the barkeeper of the
Fielders' Rest.
"Mot on your wish-bone," said Jack.
"Alout a doxen," carelessly answered
Mr. Rising.
- "Are you crowded. John?"
"We occasionally crowd a fellowout,"
replied Mr. Rising.
"Is It narrow or wide, John?" Mrs.
Rising pursued the matter with grow
ing Interest.
"Is what narrow or wide, Em'ly," Mr.
Rising questioned in turn.
"The board you sit on," In all uncon
sciousness. "Em ly." said Mr. Rising, as he stood
by the door with his hat iirmly on his
head. "Em'ly, have biscuits for break
fast, and don't have them half baked.
There are some things a man cannot
bear," and Mr. Rising shut the door be
hind him.
"I wonder," sold Mrs. Rising to her
self, "if the blscuM weren't right this
morning, I thought they were done to
a turn. Men are queer."
"There's too much of this trust busi
ness." said Mr. Rising, as he laid down
bis morning paper.
"Do you think so, John?" Mrs. Rising
inquired anxiously, as she bustled
about the room.
"Indeed I do, Em'ly; they are grind
ing the life out of trade." ,
The Demnioini Wheel.
Robkht Baku, in Detroit Free Press.
"Kxaetly. That's the ordinary storage
battery of commerce. You get out only
a Ir.ictlon of the electricity you put in.
Ever hianl of the Macguire -Storage
Buttery? No? I thought not. It's a
small pocket battery I won't enter into
particulars 4iut by a certain interior
arrangements of the plates, it actually
Increase.; the E. M. F. of the fluid put
Into it.' '
"And what does E. M. F. stand for?"
"Electro inotcr force. I see you
don't understand even the rudiments of
electricity. Now It struck me the Mac
guire Storage Battery might be applied
to a bicycle. It worked beautifully
small and compact, you know but It
always ran out just when you were
in some part of the country where you
couldn't get It charged again. So I put
my wits to work and Invented a little
portable dynamo which could be at
tached to the driving wheel of a bicycle
and which would keep replenishing the
storage battery. I thought that the
force going down hill would run the dy
namo enough to keep the battery rea
sonably ful und so transmit the torce to
the bicycle when going up hill."
"And did It work?"
"Did it work? It did work, my boy,
In a way that would have made your
hair stand on end, and nearly ruined
my constitution, but as soon as I have
that Invention under control I'll para
lyze the world. I took my machine out
of Paris for a trial spin before I had
everything completed. I live In the
southern part of Paris and so ran down
toward Fontainebleau to try how It
would go. I had the dynamo In one
pocket It Is very small but powerful,
as I told you and the battery in the
other. Albout twenty miles south of
Paris I got off It he machine with a
smooth, empty country road ahead of
me, and attached dynamo and battery.
Hut 1 forgot one tilling, and that was
that the Macguire Storage Battery in
creased the K. M. F. of the electricity
pumped Into It. Well, I jumped on the
bicycle and ran It down the road for a
mile or so, listening to the dynamo pur
ring beautifully; then I put my two feet
on the front rests and let her spin. She
spun to the queen's taste. We went
along for about ten miles and I knew
then the little battery ought to be giv
ing out, but she didn't give out. The
machine was running faster than ever.
I reduced speed a bit with the brake
and 1 have no doubt that at that time
I could bave stopped the machine, but,
as I Cell you, I didn't realize the situa
tion. As we went on and on I noticed
the bicycle was going faster and faster.
I became just a little scared, for I re
membered I had no way of stopping ex
cept by the brake. I put that on hard,
but lit seemed to have no effect on the
wheel. It began to smoke and finally
snapped. Then I was helpless."
'Couldn't you have kicked off the bat
tery or the dynamo?"
"Have you ever ridden a bicycle?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, you know that if you
are going down a steep hill on the keen
Jump, you have all you can do to stt
there and steer the machine. That was
the way wllth me. I was not going down
hill, hut along a smooth, level road at a
greater rate of speed than any wheel
ever went down any hill, I flashed
through vllages faster than a lightning
express, ringing my bell like mad, but
I'll bet you not one ever heard a sound
till I was a mile away. Well, It struck
me at once just what the trouble was.
The more that llftle dynamo shoved
electricity Into the batltery, the more the
battery Increased the E. M. F. and the
faster went the machine, and the faster
the machine went the more electricity
the dynamo produced."
"Rut, my dear Macguire, don't you
ilurty OTlalley's
From the Washington Pott
"Leave it to me. If that snoozer pitches
this afternoon I hopes de boss will put In
a cash register."
Murty O'Maley hastened to the side of
his love. Jack, the faithful barkeeper,
went on cleaning his glasses.
"That dub Devlne will be here in a
minute," said Jack at last, "an' I must or
ganize for him."
He took a shell glnss and dipped it in
the tank behind the bar. Taking his ci
gar from between his finely enisled lips,
he blew the smoke into the moistened In
terior of the glass. This he did several
times.
"I'll smoke a glass on de stiff," said
Jack, softly,, "it's better than a knock
out drop."
A moment later Terry Divine came In.
With a gleam of almost human intelli
gence In his eye, Jack, the barkeeper, set
up the smoked glnss. Terry Divine tossed
off tho fiery potat'on, staggered to a Chair
and sat there glurlng.
A moment lator his head fell on a card
table, with a stertorian snore proclaimed
him unconscious.
"Thnt fetched do sucker," murmured
Jack, the barkeeper, and he went on clean
ing his glasses. "His light's gone out for
fourteen hours, an' he don't make no
wild pitches at Murty O'Malley today,
see!"
IV.
Ten thousand people gathered to wit
ness the lust great contest between the
Shamrocks and tho Slinnty towns.
Gwendolln O'Toole, pule but resolute,
occupied her acctitotned seat in the grand
stand. Far away nnd high above the
tumult of the bleachers she heard the
hoarse shout of her brother, Godfrey
O'Toole, the bleachers' king.
"Remember, Gwendolln," he had said as
they parted just before the gunie, "the
mug who makes tha best average toduy
wins your hand. I've sworn it; and the
word of an O'Toole Is never broken."
"Make It the best batting average, oh,
me brother," pleaded Gwendolln, while
the tears welled to her glorious eyes.
"Never," retorted Godfrey O'Toolo with
a sneer. "I'm on to your curves; you
want to give Murty O'Malley a better
show. But If the butter-lingered mutter
wins you, he must do It with his fielding
as well as with the stick."
Terry Devine was not in the box for the
Shantytowns. With his head on the sev-en-up
table he snored on, watched over
by the faithful bar boy Jack. He still
yielded to smoked glass and gave no sign
of lire.
"Curse Mm:" prowled Umpire Mulca
hey hoarsely beneath his breath, "has he
t'run me down? If I thought so, the
world is not wide though U save him
from mi vengeance.
"Dear me, John," replied Mrs. Ris
ing, "I thought It was the best and
easiest way to do business."
"Oh! there are arguments on both
sides, but I hold the principle is dead
wrong."
"But, John, how are you going to
change It?" Mrs. Rising asked, full of
confidence in Mr. Rising's power to
alter the frame of the universe.
"Can't change it, Em'ly, have to grin
and bear it, but every man ought to
think about it and go dead against it."
After a few moments' silence Mrs.
Rising said: .
"Then, John, since you think best
I'll pay .the butcher and grocer today,
but It's so much easier to run a book."
"Why, Em'ly, I haven't found fault
with your bills. You run the house
first rate. What put that in your head,
child?" said Rising, in astonishment.
"But, John, didn'it you say the trust
business was wrong, and we ought to
go dead against It?"
"Yes, Em'ly, but I was speaking In
general. You Just trust John Rising
and you'll be all right, and let the
butcher and grocer trust you."
"I suppose It's all right," mused Mrs.
Rising, "but John's conversation Is ter
ribly confusing."
see If that happened It would be per
petual motion?"
"That's it. You're not so dull after
all. That's just the point, and there's
where I'm going to paralyse the world.
It isn't what this Invention will do on
a mere bicycle that's the great thing.
That is a mere trifle compared with the
vast possibilities of the discovery."
"But what did you do on the bike?"
"What did I do? There was only
one thing to do. If I kept on I would
run smack through Marseilles and go
plump into the Mediterranean. If I
ran the machine against a wall or
building I would smash myself into a
thousand pieces. I though over the
situation for about 100 miles and then
saw that by only chance was to make
for the Alps. I knew by the rate we
were going It wouldn't take long to
reach there, and so breathing a prayer
that people would keep to their own
side of the road, I turned toward the
east and made for Switzerland. I
passed the Paris-Berne express near
Dijon and left her as If she were stand
ing still. I tell you I was a happy man
when I saw the Jura mountains loom
up ahead of me. I saw this hotel away
up among the clouds and new there
must be a road up to it, so I pointed
for the tall mountain. You see I couldn't
stop and inquire the way; I was on a
through express, and had quite enough
of riding for one trip."
"And did the mountain stop the ma
chine?" "Well, not perceptibly for the first
thousand feet. I was afraid I would
have to go clear over iMt.- Blanc. The
second thousand feet she slowed quite
noticeably; the third thousand feet still
more. The fourth thousand feet I saw
I could get on with safety, but I was
so stiff with riding I could hardly move.
At last when nearlng the top, I saw
the brute actually wasn't going to stop,
so I made an effort just at the summit
and threw myself backward over the
hind wheel, nearly breaking my neck.
But I got off, thank goodness."
"And where Is this wonderful bicycle
now?"
"Heaven only knows: the Swiss gov
ernment doesn't, for I've telegraphed
them to And out. As I sat helpless on
the summit, I saw the machine give a
wobble or two, and thought it was go
ing to fall, but It didn't. It got on the
down grade and went at a rate that
seemed to be good for another 10,000
miles. I telegraphed all down the road
from this hotel asking the authorities
to be on the lookout for It, but I've
heard nothing from it since. I expect
It took a dash off the road at one of the
turns and Is lying In the forest some
where, Perhnps Ht has crossed the
Oemmt and the Simplon and is in Italy
by this time. Next machine I fit up
you bet I'll put on a controlling gear."
"I think that would be an improve
ment." "Yes. Well, now you see my object
In telling you all this Is to give you a
chance of making your everlasting for
tune. I left Paris, as I told you, in a
hurry, not expecting to take a trip to
Switzerland, and so brought no money.
If you let me have f50 or 100 now I'll
give you a quarter share In my inven
tion. Remember Westlnghouse offered
a half share In his brake for $500 and
the other fool didn't take it. He went
mad afterwards."
"Who? Westlnghouse?"
"No. The other fellow, because of
the fortune he missed."
"You forget what I told you at the
beginning."
"What was that?"
"I'm a- newspaper man and conse
quently have no money. But I'll give
you a good notice."
And here it la.
Love.
A change pitcher took the box for the
Shantytowns. Murty O'Malley, the great
batter of the Shamrocks, stepped to the
plate.
Dennis Mulcahey girded up his false
heart, and registered a black, hellish oath
to call everything a strike.
"Never, never shall he win Gwendolln
O'Toole, while I'm umpire," he whispered,
and his was dork as a cloud.
It was the last word that Issued from
the clam-shell of Dennis Mulcahey for
many a long and bitter day; the last
crack he made.
Just as he offered his bluff the first ball
was pitched. It was as wild and high as
a bird, as most first balls are.
But Murty O'Malley was ready. He,
too, had been plotting; he would fight
Satan with Are.
As the ball sped by high above his head
Murty O'Malley leaped twenty feet In the
air. As he did be swung his unerring bat.
Just as he had planned, the flying, whlx
sing sphere struck the under side of his
bat and glancing downward with fearful
force, went crashing Into the dark, schem
ing visage of Dennis Mulcahey upturned
to mark its flight.
The fragile mask was broken, while the
features were crushed into bloody con
fusion with the awful inveteracy of the
blow.
Dennis Mulcahey fell as one dead. As
he was borne away and another umpire
was sent to assume his post. Murty
O'Malley bent a glance of Intelligence on
the change pitcher of the Bhantytowns,
who had taken the place of the miscreant
Devlne nnd whispered loud enough to reach
from the plato.to the box:
"Now, gimme a fair ball."
"vi.
And so the day was won: the Shamrocks
basted the Shantytowns by the score of
in to 2. As for Murty O'Malley his score
stood:
A.B. R. H. P.O. A. E.
O'Malley. c 4 4 4 10 14
No such record had ever been made on
the grounds. With the four times at bat
Murty O'Malley did so well withal that
he scored a base hit, two three-baggers,
and a home run. . '
That night .Murty O'Malley wedded the
rich and beautiful Gwendolln O'Toole.
Jack, the bar-boy of the Fielder's Rest,
officiated as groomsman.
Godfrey O'Toole; haughty and proud,
was yet a square sport, and gave the
bride away. .
The rich notes of the wedding bells,
welling and swelling, drifted Into the
open windows of Charity hospital and
smote on the ears of Dennis Mulcahey,
where he lay with his face,
"Curse them," he moaned.
Then came a horrible rattle in his
threat, and tha guilty spirit of ' Dennis
Mulcahey passed away. Death caught
Attn on tne dm
THE
Rill II mi. Mufru
. By JULIAN
Copyright, 1894,
CHAPTER VI.
The death of Lawyer Corvln and the
events attending it were mater of ab
sorbing interest to all the Inhabitants
of Fenbrook, and rendered the little
village famous, for a time, far beyond
its boundaries. Some curious circum
stances were brought to light in connec
tion with the affair.
To begin with, cf course, an Inquest
was held upon Corvln's body, and an
autopsy made; the proximate occasion
of death was found to be heart failure.
It cannot be said that anybody was
greatly grieved over the unhappy man's
decease; those who want friends, in this
world, must make them they do not ex
ist spontaneously. Corvln had during
"And the Mouth Grinning at Me."
his life busied himself about many
things, but he had neglected the friend
making industry. 'Nor were his sins of
omission only, illut while some of his
misdeeds came to light after his death,
that event also showed that he was In
nocent of at least one crime of which
he had been suspected.
The story came out peacemeal, as oc
casion required; but we will hear it in
its final anl connected form, along with
'Nancy and Nellie as they sat In the old
sitting room, before the wood fire, after
the vibrations of the first wonder, hor
ror and bewilderment had been abated
by time. Tom Linton was the narrator
Morford, as ho was known to t he world
of electricians and men of affairs.
"How was It that my clothes were
found on that drowned body? A simple
accident. That night In the lock-up,
Dick, the tramp iboy, and I, made a hole
through the roof he standing on my
shoulders to do It and then we made a
rope by tying his clothes and mine to
gether, up which -I climbed, hand over
hand. Then we dropped down outside
and untied the clothes, and put them
on again; but dresing in the dark and
In a big hurry, we got them changed
about. We got down to the river and
started to swim it; I got over all right
but poor Dick (I didn't And It out till
long afterwards) was drowned, and my
clothes mlsldentlfled him.
"Well, If he assumed my Individuality,
I assumed his. I became a tramp I
could do nothing else. I had plenty of
adventures, which I will tell you some
time; at last I got work to do In a store,
and from that time I began to come
up! I changed my employers several
times, getting a better berth with each
change, but nothing that quite suited
me. Finally I was taken Into an elec
trical engineer's office; and then I knew
I was right. The people soon found out
that I took an Interest In the business,
and that I was quick at picking up
ideas; so the head man began to look
after me, and give me opportunities to
learn. I studied and worked for all I
was worth. One day I made a sugges
tion about a piece of machinery; they
tried my idea and found it was an im
provement; the boss got it patented for
me, and you may imagine how pleased
I was. It brought me some money, and
I used it in books and study; I made
up my mind to be another Edison, and
then to come back and make you rich
you two girls and vindicate my repu
tation. For the last two years I worked
on a plan I had conceived of making
things grow by electricity applied
through the soil. I managed, finally,
got my patent, and you know the rest.
You can dress In gold lace and dia
monds. If you want to, Aunt Nancy;
and as for you, Nellie, you art! going to
be a famous beauty and heiress!"
"But you said you'd tell me about the
fairies," said the child.
"Oh, yes! Well the beginning of that
Is away back, before 1 was born, or
Aunt Nancy either, for all 1 know. But
my first knowledge of It was on the
very night of the Corvln robbery.
"I'd been out that night after wood
chuck, as I said, at my examination
next morning; but I didn't tell where
else I'd been. You see, I used to make
a sort of store-house and hiding-place
of the cave; but there was a secret at
the end of the cave that no one but I
knew of, and there I used to put my
most precious valuables. It was faced
up with planks then Just as you and
I saw them the other day, Nellie. I
had never explored the hole to the end;
I didn't suppose there could be any
thing interesting In It; but on this night,
when I went to put In my woodchucks,
ready to skin next day, I thought I'd
see how far it went. Somebody before
my time must have known about it, I
thought, because the entrance had been
so carefully concealed there. I had a
lantern, and in I went.
"It was quite a good corridor, and I
didn't have to stoop, though It was very
narrow. Instead of going down, as I
expected, it slanted up, and soon to my
astonishment, I came to the foot of a
sort of shaft, four or five feet In diame
ter, and going straight up. It wns like
a chimney. A kind of rough ladder was
fixed to the side of It, and I began to
climb It. At first I couldn't Imagine
where I was; the sides of the chimney
seemed to be of wood, but crumbly and
rotten. There was a strong smell of
wood dry-rotted. Sometimes I heard a
faint creaking and rustling sound.
Then, all of a sudden, I solved the mys
tery. I was in the trunk of the big
butternut!
"Up I went. I was pretty well ex
cited with the adventure by that time,
but 'I had no conception of what was to
come. I got to the top of the ladder,
and there was a little, Irregular cham
ber, In the heart of the tree, not much
bigger than a sentry box, partly floored
with plank, and with a bench or shelf
running round it. There were things
hanging or fastened to the walls; an old
gun, for one thing, and a leather bag,
and various queer odds and ends, as if
some one used to live there. On one
side of the shelf was a box of hard wood,
bound with Iron. I tried the lid and
found It unlocked. I lifted It, and saw a
great heap of gold coins and a bundle
of papers! .
"I thought I was Alladln, sure enough,
'then. I turned to find a place to hang
my lantern, so I could have both hands
free. There was a heap of something
lying or propped up on the bench be
hind me; old clothes It seemed to be; I
took hold of It to move it aside, and got
hold ot something that made my hair
rise. It felt like a bony hand. I pushed
aside the folds of decaying cloth, and
looked. It was a hand! And then,
shining yellowish white In the light of
the light of the Jantern, I saw a face a
skull, with the skin stretched dry over
the bones, and ths mouth grinning at
meP . .
HAWTHORNE. .
by Irvine Bacneller.
"Oh, land sakes, bless my hearf
Muutcicu .aney, wno naa neara ine c
ueiore, out was more scared with evi
repetition. "To think of my poor, d
Matt all those vears! Mv soul alive!
"I didn't kmnv it was Uncle Matt
that time." continued Tom. elvlne
hand to .Nellie, to cling to through t
terrors or tne narrative. "I doi
think I knew anvthlmr till I found
self out in the ODen air at the mouth'
the cave. No boy ever was more f rlgl!
ened than I. and I llvod thrnueh it.
lay awake the rest of the night. Iiv
enecesslon of cold sweats, wonderln
what It all meant, and what I shoul
do about It The next morning, before
I had made up my mind. I was arrested.
as you remember, and go was prevented
from doing anything. ..
"But I thought it over and over, for
years afterwards, and it gradually be
came clearer to me. The body must be
that of Uncle Matt. The box of money,
of course, was his; he kept It there for
safety, and, perhaps, used to go up
there to count It over, as folks of his
peculiar temperament are said to en
joy doing. That evening he disap
prcd, saying he was going to see Cor
vln, he must have gone up there to get
the deed for the ten thousand dollars;
but he died while he was up there,
whether by apoplexy, or how, of course
is that old CorVIn didn't murder him.
"From some of the indications there D
should Judge that this secret place was
known to the Hillops for may be gen
eratlons back; they made it and used H
tn Iriian valiinbiau In 4 r. nihaiutim
purpose might arise. The knowledge
of It may have been handed down from
father to son; but Uncle Matt having
no son, the secret would bave died with
him, but for the accident of my finding
it out.
"Now, when I was ready to come back
here, under the nnme of Morford, and
clean things up, I was rather bothered
how to go to work. I visited the tree
again, and found everything JuLt as
before; and noticed, among the tlihigs
up there, an old broken-down accorflion,
and a sort of speaking trumpet, that
puzzled me at tirst, until I concluded
they must have .been used by
tncle
Matt to make his ghost-manlfes;;
it'.ons
with, by way, I suppose, of add!
bonal
security against having his
lildlpx
place disturbed. That gave me ai
Mden
and I bought a new accordion.
mi; .
leai n-1 that Corvln was going td
close his mortgage; of course I
have come out In my own col
rn.r
once and paid It off, but 1 had re
fur waiting to do things in another
So the night the money was due. I
the arcordionand climb?d up in the
I took enough money out of the b
Hit In a strong paper bag, and
faMt br a string to the ned of
Jointed fishing-pole I had brought
'nAn nr nr n av n!r on fl lit. He
until I knew I had caught you
tlon. I climbed out of the hole In
of the chamber, and cot out on a
and dropped the bag down thi
nev. After that I said a few w
might feel; stuck the deed where
might find It when I took her up
next day, and went home. oi
the rest."
J nen mere were no mu tes,
Nellie, with a sigh.
-Not mui 'lime, peiuaus, u
them when they are neeaea.
"You've not told about Pete
Nancy.
Peter In New York; he was dying
sumption and hadn't a cent In his
,t. i frnr n m a irooa Deu in a. no
and used to go and see him. I.
he told me the truth about that I
'He had put up the job on me, a
father's connivance, he didn t
had put my knife where It was l
(having lirst stolen It from me)
had put the money and things ln.-my
pocket while we had Ibeen In bathing.
He not only told me this, but he, In
sisted upon having a lawyer up there
to take down his statement In legal
form, so that It would be evidence! to
clear me in court. He was very penl-
"Dropped the Bag Down ths Chimney.'
tent, and of course I couldn't help being
very forgiving. Hut I still had a crow
to pick with old Corvln himself, and as
you know I did It only too thoroughly."
"Poor man! I'm jest downright sorry
for him," said Nancy, with tears on her
cheeks. "I'm glad I never believed he
killed poor Matt. 'But whatever did
possess him to be so -hard after me, and
to want to take away the very roof over
my head? I never did him no harm
that I know of."
"That's very easy to explain, Aunt
Nancy," said Tom. "He was never
easy In his mind about Uncle Matt. At
first he thought he might come back,
and get the land away from him; and
then he thought that he must have hid
den the deed somewhere about the
place, and that you might, find it any
day. So -he never could get a moment's
peace until the house and oil about It
wns his, and you were driven out of the
way. But we were too much for him!"
"But then what under the canopy did
he ask me to marry him forr demand
ed Nancy, perplexedly.
"Who wouldn't wnnt to marry you;
If they could, you blessed old creature?"
And he would have knocked tit
down who would have venture
ge-st any other interpretation I
enigma.
THE ENID.
SHE IS REVISING IIU
Since wo met the dull world hasj
brighter.
And life ten time dearer by fn
I have lifted my load and am llgn
With vou for my one guiding stl
I confess I am gottlng quite spoonl
And hnven't a douot you n agr
fThouuh sett nir me down as a I
You ore making an angel of ml
Of course I have given up smokl
Thnnirh I notice no chance In mj
In nnlsnn vou said I was sonklntri
And slowly destroying my healtl
The club I have auiokly forsakeii
Without even a last goodby' sprA
Ami unless I am irreatly mistaken
You are making an angel of me.
The theaters have lost all their pleas
The opera makes me reel Diue,
Ami no lonirer Its music I treasure.
Though I know I'd enjoy It-wlth yo
My thoughts turn to wants tnrougn
clover,
And to chat 'neath the old sha
tree. ,
And as sure as I once was a rovers
xou srenaaingan angeiu' n.i
1
mi
1
' ... -. , , 1 1, f .