j s r r5j V2ys -.ft?"" VOL. XII. NEW BLOOMFIELr), TUESDAY, JUNE 18, 1878. NO. 25. THE TIMES. ' An Independent Family Newspaper, 18 PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY BT F. MOllTIMElt & CO. 0 SUBSCRIPTION 1 It I V E . (WIT1IIK TUB COUNTY. One Year fl 2 Six Months,.... 75 (OUT Of THE COUNTY. One Year. (PtwtaRO Included) (1 N) Six Months, (Postage lucluded) H5 Invariably la Advance I - Advertising rates furnished upon application. $eledt 'Poeti'v. OLD MEMORIES. How many Aprils have I roamed beside thee O'er the brown hills where now alone I tread T And though far realms of wonder now divide thee From our dim world, I cannot deem thee dead. And held thee In my arms while life was failing, Close in my arms and watched thy fluttering breath, Till the red sunset In the west was paling And twilight veiled the awful calm of death. In that white calm I saw then and forever The grandcnr of thy spirit and Us power j E'en as Its mortal vestment seemed to sever, I saw the Immortal bursting Into flower. That soul, so lofty In its Isolation ; So strong In weakness, resolute In pain; So self-reliant in its reprobation Of servile arts and custom's Iron reign ; Mid alien crowds alone, with none to know thee, With nothing left behind to regret, Save one sad heart that love's sweet debt doth owe thee, One lonely heart that never can forget. A LIFEJSTAKE. A STORY OF THE GOLD DIGGINGS. IHAUNCEY DISBROWE was the J most reckless, dare-devil sort of fel- qw I ever saw. It is necessary that you tnderstand that, else the story I am ibout to relate will seem incredible. IMany a man beside myself remembers iow one day, when he and I were in the lontana gold-fields together, and Sac- imento Jem (otherwise known as the alifomia Qiant) came along, and, puli ng up one of our stakes, put it down gain to suit himself, how Chauncey oked up at him coolly, and requested ita to put it back where he took it rom. J em laughed coarsely. "Not much, my bantam," said he. Who's boss o' this yere ranche, I eh'd keterknow?" 4 Whereupon Chauncey answered, care- ssly : "Very well: suit yourself." And "diking away a few steps, turned sud- enly, drew a pistol as quick as light ing, and shot the bully dead. Then he ent back, quite unconcernedly, and re- laced the stake. That was just the kind of man" Chauncey was, only t me add, that in spite of it all, he was thoroughly good fellow, one of those len whom you can " tie to," as we say ut there. .There was not a man in the imp but respected him all the more fter he shot that fellow. But Dlsbrowe had other accompllsh lents besides his shooting. He was the iost perfect gambler I ever knew. .osing or winning was apparently the i me to him." Let the cards turn as they ould, he never showed in his face that e cared a pioayune either way. Only . who knew him best, always could tell hen he was losing, by his extreme tyety and unconcern, I saw him once, an hour's time,lose what it had taken m two years of hard work to get, me thirty thousand dollars' worth of ld; and yet he laughed as merrily Y er it as though It had heea the best ke in the world. , And once I saw him lay for a still higher stake than that, thing less than ' his pwn life. And, hen be found that he had lost, he stood to pay the forfeit, with a smile so relesa and genuine that there was not man In that crowd of lookers-on, ughs and gamblers though they were,1 it worshipped him for it. It Is of this desperate stake I am going to tell you now. We were down at " Frisco" one day. last winter, Chauncey and I, when all at once he stopped Just, before the office of the " Life-nnd-Death Insurance Com pany." " Reddy," said he (my name is Red wood, but I've always been "Reddy" to him), " Reddy, I'm going in for a policy." "What have you to get insured?" I Inquired, wonderingly. I knew that he had not a thousand dollars in the world just then. Only a week before he had borrowed five thousand of me, which he had at once deposited in a flourishing faro bank down town, and from which he was not likely to soon draw it out again. " I have myself to insure," he replied. " I don't feel just right about that five thousand dollars. If anything should happen to me you'd lose it sure." " If anything should happen to you, old boy, I shouldn't care whether I lost it or not." " I know it, Reddy ; but I should. You are the nearest to me of anybody now. I'm going to take out a policy for twenty thousand dollars, and in your favor.k Then, if I go under at any time, you'll be all right." Of course 1 objected to this squarely, though to no effect. We entered the office, and Disbrowe announced his er rand. He was well known in the city, and much respected notwithstanding his wild life. No one ever spoke of him but as a man of honor. He had no dif ficulty at all now in obtaining a policy. They knew that he carried " his life in his hand," and who was careless of any peril; but they knew too that he was a hard man to kill. He had been hard-hit more than once, and came out all right. It was a common supersti tion West of the mountains that Chaun cey Disbrowe was not born to be Bhot. And as for his health, it was simply per fect. A more splendid specimen of phys ical manhood did not live. So a policy was made out, a policy for twenty thousand dollars ; and, pay ing his first premium at once, Chauncey handed the document to me. I declined to take charge of it. Had I foreseen what was to come of that bit of paper, I would have torn it to atoms on the spot. " All right," said he, coolly, when I shook my head ; "I suppose it's just as well for me to keep it. We're always together." And he buttoned it up in his pocket. It was not long after this that we went East as far as Denver City ; and, as ill luck would have it, there we fell in with Richmond again. Richmond was a cold-blooded, out-and-out rascal. Chaun cey knew that as well as I did,and there fore I never could understand why my friend did not cut the man dead, and have nothing more to do with him. It came out, however, this night we met Richmond at Denver, that Chauncey had lost money to him at cards some time before; and, though the debt ground him a good deal, still.as he could not pay the money, he was to a certain extent in Richmond's power. The latter was a smooth, oily kind of fellow, one with whom it would be difficult to quarrel. It was at a rather low place I think it was a den known asBuckner's Bower that we met Richmond that evening. As a general thing, I tried to keep my friend away from such places ; for, as I have said,he was an inveterate gamester and the very sight of play always gave edge to his appetite. But ou this night I did not take much thought on the mat ter, and I knew he had very little mon ey about him, and I myself had still less. ' , At most of the tables " sell pitch" ap peared to be the chief occupation. There was one, however, in the middle of the room, where, from the large num ber of lookers-on, we concluded that " bluff" must be the attraction ; and to this table we made our way. True enough, bluff was the game; and, sit ting there, coolly shuffling his cards, and betting with unwavering confidence on his own hand, with apparent reck lessness, but, really with consummate cunning and calculation, was Rich- mond. He nodded to us, and his eye sought Chauncey 's with a peculiar gleam as we drew near. Disbrowe stood for a long while be. hind Richmond's chair, looking over that gentleman's hand, and watching his play. As for me, I took little inter est in the game, and most .of the time was watching Chauncey himself. I could see by his eyes that the demon of play was again awake In his bosom. Moreover, he despised Richmond, and it provoked him to Bee how the fellow was fleecing his opponent, a drover from up country. Not that Richmond was play ing an unfair game, but his superior skill and discernment enabled him to judge his hand much more certainly than the other. Chauncey felt that if he could only be in the countryman's place the thing would be a trifle more equal. Onoe he looked over at me with an imploring glance, as much as to say, "Old fellow, haven't you got any cash about you 'i I know I could win to night." But I shook my head; and I was glad too that I could do so honestly. Then I saw Chauncey more than once look wistfully at the diamond on his finger, a valuable stone, worth some thing like a thousand dollars. I knew that he prized that ring very highly, and had never allowed himself to risk it. Presently the drover pushed back his chair, and arose. " I've had enough, I ealkerlate," he said, rather crestfallen. "What col latyral I've got I'm ruther disposed to hold on to. Anybody want to take my place V" ' And he looked around in quiringly. Chauncey stepped quickly forward to the empty chair. " I'll take it," said he, without hesi tation. "I'll give you a chance to win what little I have, Rich." And he took out about fifty dollars, and laid them on the table. Richmond did not answer a word, but went on shuffling the pack. On the very first hand Chauncey risked his whole " pile," and lost it. "Is that the way ofltV" he said, pleasantly. " Well, well ; let's see what this will do." And he drew the dia mond from his finger and flung it on the table. " You know the ring, Rich. Of course you'll go me a thousand for It V" Richmond simply bowed, and the game went on. Disbrowe evidently meant to " put it to the test to win or lose it all." Again he kept on betting, with perfect assurance, and staked the entire value of the ring. Then he " called" his opponent's hand,and,upon its'being shown, I was surprised and de lighted (for I was really feeling anxious about it) to find that my friend had won. Richmond merely bit his Hp disdainful ly, and motioned Chauncey to cut. It was Richmond who was leading the betting this time. He ran the stake up to two thousand dollars, the exact amount In Chauncey's possession reck oning the ring; and then the hands were again dropped. I could hardly retain myself. Chauncey had again won, and had now three thousand dollars, still re talaing his ring. I stepped forward and begged him to leave off before he became himself the loser ; but at that Richmond spoke up In his cold, sneering way, " Mr. Disbrowe will certainly not think of going without giving me satis faction ; especially since ho is already In my debt to the amount of sixteen thou sand dollars." Disbrowe sprang to his feet, his eyes fairly blazing. " Sir," he cried, " none but a coward and blackguard would 6peak like that. You shall never fling that debt into my face again, sir. I'll play it out with you to-night If I die for it. Then he unbot toned his coat, and drew out a paper, which I at once recognized as the in surance policy. "Here," he went on, excitedly, "is a policy on my life for twenty thousand dollars. It is payable to Redwood. He shall assign It to you, all but five thousand dollars, which give him. Then I will put another thousand to it, and play it against the sixteen thousaud which I owe you. If I win, I am clear of you forever ; if I lose, then" Disbrowe lifted his hand solemnly in the air, and the whole room was breath less, hanging on his words, which rang out loud and clear" then, upon my honor as a gentleman, uiW shoot my. self dead at thin table, and the money will be yours. You know me, Gaunt Richmond, audyou kuow that I will do as I say." He drew his revolver from his pocket, cocked it, and laid it significantly ou the table. Then he sat down again, and looked inquiringly at his adversary. " In which case I can merely get the sixteen thousand already due me," Rich mond answered, with a sneer. " How ever, inasmuch as the debt was good for Just nothing, I accept. Send for a lawyer." While we were waiting for the notary's appearance, I, with many others in the room, tried to dissuade Chauncey from his desperate purpose; but I knew well we might as well have tried to soften a rock. I offered to raise the sixteen thousand dollars, and pay the debt; but in vain. Nothing would satisfy him but to play out the stake he had pro posed. "It's no use, gentlemen. I know what I'm about," was all we could get out of him. One thing I managed to do, unnoticed by Chauncey or Rich mond, and, as far as I knew, by any one else present. I took my revolver, whose chambers had recently been emptied, though the " dead cartridges" were still there, and substituted it for Disbrowe's on the table. Presently the notary public made his appearance, and the policy was duly as signed to Richmond. Of course I had no choice but to sign the paper. I really felt a good deal as Chauncey did about the debt, that it must bo paid. But, standing there, with Disbrowe's loaded revolver in my breast, I made up my mind that, If Chauncey's life was for feited Richmond should not long out live him. The cards were now dealt. I looked over Chauncey's hand. He certainly had an unusually good one, one that It would have been safe to bet on nine times out of ten. There was indeed but one combination could beat it. The drover looked a moment, and then turned to me. " Look here, Mr. Redwood" (I was well known In Denver) " I'd like to bet sixteen thousand dollars on that hand myself. What d' ye say I've got the money right here." " But I haven't," I answered. " Wal," said he, " yer friend thar,he's a winnin' man ter-nght. You see, he's put that thar ring on again for ther ex try thousand. I'm superstitious, I am. I'll make ther bet with yer, an' then, ef you lose, why, I know all about yer. I'll take your note for the money." I looked Into the man's honest, kindly face as he made this proposal, and I saw that he was in earnest. If Chauncey lost, he meant for me to win enough to pay the stake and save his life. I made up my mind at once of course. "All right; I'll takeyourbet,"Isald. Richmond had merely glanced at his hand, and then laid it, face down, upon the table. " Well," asked he, careless ly, " are you prepared to back your hand V" " YeSjBir," Chauncey answered .curtly. "For how much." "Sixteen thousand dollars." " Richmond raised his eyebrows just a trifle at this. " Very well," said he, quietly ; " I call you, and showed his hand. It was the one combination to be dreaded. Chauncey had lost. There was an awful stillness all through the room. Chauncey just glanced at the other's hand, and per ceived that he had lost ; but nota muscle of his face changed. " I am quite satisfied, sir," he said, to Richmond. "You will let me redeem the ringl"' And he took up the dia mond, putting down a thousand dollars in its place. " Reddy, old fellow, you'll wear the ring for the sake of old times V And here are a couple of thousands you had better take. I shan't want it, you know." Then he turned to Richmond again, and, saying, " I am glad that you and I are quits, sir," he suddenly, be fore any one could lift a hand, seized the revolver, placed it close to his temple, and pulled the trigger. Of course no re port followed. He glanced at the weapon in surprise ; and,undertandingat once the deception, he looked around at me. It was the first time I had ever met that angry flash in his eyes that others had felt so often. " You had no right to do that, Red wood," he said sternly. " Nor was it kind. It would have been all over now. Where is my revolver V But now the drover came forward. "Here's suthlu' better'n that," he said, hastily. Yer friend here hes jest won what you hev lost. Yer'd better take back yer life, and let him pay ther debt." Disbrowe looked at me again ; and, taking the money, I explained just how I had " hedged" his bet by backing Richmond's hand. Chauncey's look did not change in the least. " Very well," he said. "I do not see but that is perfectly fair. You'll lend me the money, of course?" Then he turned to the table and pick ed up the policy again, puttlngdown the money in exchange, acting all the while as though life and death were one and the same thing to him. " Wal, by Mustapha I" ejaculated the drover, admiringly. " That feller's game every time. He's wuth savin', he is." All this while Richmond sat there with a sneer. " Hold on, sir !" he said, as Chauncey took up the policy. " I don't want your money. I prefer the original stake, your life. I have a right to that, I think." Chauncey looked at him, deliberating coolly with himself. "Well," said he at length, "perhaps you are right. How, Is it gentlemen V And he looked around upon the faces about him. "No, no, no!" burst forth in a kind of Indignant roar from the crowd. "Put out the blackguard ! Throw him into the street 1" Then Chauncey's voice rang out again. "No, no, gentlemen; let him alone. May be it is his right. If so, if my life belongs to him, let him come and take it!" And he drew a big bowie-knife from his breast, and stood there looking so fierce and defiant that it would have, taken a braver man than Gaunt Rich mond to claim his blood. Badly Mixed Up. THERE is a young lady In this city who says she has more parents and step-parents living than any one she ever heard tell of. This is the way she tells the story : " You know papa and mamma never could agree, and so finally they got di vorced. I don't say whose fault it was, but mamma really did behave ugly some times, and even I could not get along with her. So when the separation came I went to live with papa. Shortly after wards mamma married again, and papa was not long in following suit. I did not like it very well at first, but my step mother turned out to be first-rate and I got to like her splendid. Then papa seemed to get infatuated with another woman that he got acquainted with, and she wheedled around him until she made trouble, and the result was another di vorce, and papa soon married the woman that made the trouble. When the sec-: ond separation took place T went with my stepmother, because I loved her and because my services were necessary to help take care of the baby. Then what does she do but go and get married. I declare I never saw so much marrying in my life. It only happend a little while ago, and my step-stepfather I suppose he is treats me in a very kindly sort of way, as if he felt he couldn't help him self, but didn't exactly likeltj and I don't like it a bit. I can't go back to mamma, because she la mail with me for going with pa in the first instance, and I can't go with pa because of that wheedling woman, and I can't bear to stay where lam. It is too bad that a girl should have a father and a mother and two step fathers and two stepmothers.all living at once, and not a home that she can feel at home in." St. Louis Republican. 63" A good wife is to a man wisdom, strength and courage. A bad one con fusion, weakness and despair. No con dition is hopeless to a man where the wife possesses firmness, decision and economy. There is no outward proprie ty that can counteract indolence.extrav agance and folly at home. No spirit can " long endure bad Influences. Man is strong, but his heart is not iron. He needs a tranquil home, and if he is an intelligent man, he needs its moral force in the couflict of life. To recover hia composure, home must be a place of of peace and comfort There his soul renews its strength and he goes forth with renewed vigor to encounter the labor aud troubles of life. But if at home he finds no rest, aud there is met with bad temper, jealousy and gloom, or assailed with complaints and censure, hopes vanishes and he sinks to despair.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers