THE Deanna-Rs MISTAKE
an A. cnnssr nonnrsoiv.
_ “I stopped during one of my trips,”
< said the‘drugdrumm'e'r, “.at one of "the
oldest hotelsin New England, for sev-
eral days. I have oftenflattered myself
that, - backed. as I am ' ‘ by constant! y
, meeting new faces and the .‘opportu-
nities for reading character, which it
is necessary for a fellow on the road to
improve, them are few persOns who
can size a man up more quickly than I.
I had noticed several times, during my
stay at the hotel, a_ fine-looking man,
* ‘who always came into the dining-
:room just at the close» of the dinner
lhour. He was about 45, with iron-
gray hair, dark complexion and very
quick and piercing black eyes. He had
2a. queer scar on one check; the flesh
was mm in three parallel-lines, and in
.-'healing had ’ left three White marks
about half an inch apart and two
inches long. I never saw him tip the
waiters, nor did I ever see'a man re-
ceive ’more obsequious attention from
' them. He had but to turn his eyes on
one"l offihose darkies, and they would
fairly jump to show their alert devo-
tion. He had rare taste in the Selec-
tion of his repast, and when that Was
chosen and placed before him it always
looked as if: it had been guided by in-
tuition, for it'was invariably the best
there was in the house.
“One morning I sat opposite him,
struggling with awery tough piece of
steak, when, with a kindly smile, he
said: ‘
“ ‘Will you permit me to send for a
better steak for you? You notice, per-
haps, that 'I have had some success in
’ obtaining a good one for myself,’ and
hepointed to his juicy bit of tender-
loin. ,
“ ‘You may,’ said I, ‘for you always
have better luck than anyone else.’
“He looked tip—every waiter was in
.an instant ready for instructions. Se-
llecting one with his eyes, he simply
pointed to my much-mangled steak
and quietly resumed his breakfast. He
had scarcely done so, when the darky
returned, bringing the most delicious
piece of meat I have ever seen before or
since.
“The next day was Sunday, and after
dinner I was wandering aimlessly
about, when I espied my friend in the
reading room alone. His feet were on
a low window-sill, and, with his chair
tipped back, he was looking thought-
fully into the street. I entered, and
taking a seat beside him, fell into con-
versation. We had chatted some time,
when I said: _ '
- “"Youfivill pardon me, .sir. I have
"some reputation as a physiognomist,
and, having noticed your marvelous
control over the waiters, I have formed
an opinion of your character and voca-
tion which is very complimentary’
- "“Indee'd ?’
“ ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘and with your per-
miSsion I will tell you what it is, for I
am curious to know if I have reached
the right conclusion.’
“ ‘I would like 'you tell” me very
much,’ he replied, ‘for I am always
curious to know how I impress stran-
gers.’ ' p .
“’ ‘Well,’ said 1,. ‘your quick,- quiet
stop, your absolute coolness, your pow-
l
“ ‘The Zulus had formed a sort of
procession, and were'mareliiag toward
a clump of trees about 500 yards in-
land, where they proposed to leave
the children to be devoured. I was
armed with my repeating rifle, a very
fine weapon of 48 caliber, a cutlass,.
and a very long and strong Zulu spear. '
Skirting the wood with great caution,
I was rapidly approaching the trees
where the procession had now arrived, ,
when I found I must make a long de- _
tour to avoid a swampy mud hole, into I
which I came very near falling. When
I succeeded in reaching the spot where
the children had been left it was very ;
dark, andthe Zulus had gone. The!
poor little things were tied to a tree,
which stood apart from the clump
about 25 feet. They were a boy and a ;
girl. The .boy was gagged, and the:
peor little girl was in a dead faint from
fright. I was about to cut them loose,
when a thundering roar, so near that ‘
\ the ground trembled, made me clutch ,
er of' enforcing obedience“? and. the"
strong outline of your nose would in-
dicate the ‘general,’ but your eye is
too quick, and your mouth, with the
corners indicating curiosity, tempt me
to believethat you are a. great traveler.
:3: Will even venture to say you are a
{hunter who has. sought the largest
ggame. Shall‘I call you an ‘Allan Quar-
iterma-in,’ or an explorer who has striv-
en to benefit the world by discovery in
‘ Afriea?’
“ ‘Well done,’ he answered. ‘I am
neither an ‘Allan Quartermain’ nor an
explorer, but I have been to Africa. I
did not go ‘to hunt or find anything
more” attractive than dyewood. Of
course, I met with some animals and
became a good shot, but not a hunter,
by any means. Stanley told me once
that he could 'trust me, alone with a
gun if it wasn’t loaded, which was his
quaint way of admit-ting that I could
defend myself.’
“‘Come,’ said I, ‘do you not think
that my remarkable guess is worthy of
a story of some adventures?’
“ ‘I will tell you one.
“ ‘Before I begin I want to say that
I am much amused at the lion stories I
read in the papers.
never seen a tropical landscape, a Zulu,
or a wild lion, and yet they describe
them all at great length, and the
papers devote their space to them I
admit they are sometimes very cleverly
written, a .d will do very well for those
who do not know where they are at
fault, but how can they describe cor-
‘ rectly what they have never expe-
rienced? I give those writers credit for
a marvelously vivid imagination. I will
tell you one of my experiences, and you
will see that it takes a man who has
— ‘been there’ to get the true ring out of
seven a slight adventure.
“ ‘I had penetrated farther than
usual that year, and having met with
; muchlfiuccess was on my way to the
my spear in horrified surprise. I dared .
not fire my heavy rifle, except as a last :
resort, for. the report would surely
bring the Zulus. I looked toward the ;
brush and saw two eyes, which glowed i
ominously in the darkness. I placed?
my spear against the tree, and hold-
ing the point in the. direction from
which the lion must spring,I awaited
the attack. '
“ ‘He evidently saw the point of. the ‘
spear, for he moved uneasily from side
to side, as if seeking a chance to jump
by it. I followed his motions, till, with
an angry snarl, he sat upon his-
haunches, thus showing his intention
to jump over it. For a moment he was ‘
motionless, and then, good heaven! he ,
came. As he went into the air, I moved
the spear quickly under him. He came
down upon it, breaking it in an instant.
His great paw struck me’—he put his
finger on the queer scar on his cheek— '
‘and I fell with awful force against the
little girl. The lion lay motionless, for
the spear had entered his heart.
“ ‘I, with some difficulty, extricated
myself from under his heavy body,
which lay across my legs. I found the
girl stone dead, but the boy was un-
hurt, and I could see by his staring eyes,
which showed white even in that dark-
ness, that he appreciated his terrible
position.
“ ‘I cut him loose, but left the gag in
his mouth, for fear he might cry out. I
placed the little fellow on my back and
set out for the boats. When I reached
the edge of the mud hole, I heard the
bushes crackling and knew at once I
must face a new danger, and a second
growl told me it was the other lion. I
hastened on, and had just reached a
narrow strip of dry clay between the
bushes and the mud hole, when I saw
the tell-tale eyes. I got as near the
edge of the slimy swamp as possible,
and began to have some hopes of es—.
cape, when she sprang at me with ter-,
rific force. I sprang down and towards
her, hoping she would jump over me.
She did, and not striking me as she ex-
pected, she hit her nose on the hard '
clay, and turning a completed somer—
sault fell upon her back in c the mud.
hole. In an instant I dealt. her able-w
with my cutlass, .which added to her
confusion. I struck her again,_but she
dashed the weapon from my hand, and
‘1'urning over, began to struggle through
I knew she would be out
and upon me in an instant. I had no
recourse but to use my rifle. I took a
quick aim, fired. and she fell dead, but
whether from the shot or the tremen-
dous blow I had dealt her with the out-
less, I could not say.
“ "I picked up the boy, who had
fallen in the struggle, and fairly ran
toward the boats. I could, however,
make. but slow progress in the dark-
ness, and besides my wounded face
caused me great agony. I had almost
reached them, when a‘tall Zulu loomed
up in my path, and the moment he
saw the boy he sprang before me. '
There was no time for hesitation new. ;
I raised my rifle and fired. Ila gave a;
frightful yell, and in a monien t. I found 3
l was pursued. I rushed on and down '
the bank, just as the foremost Zulu
reached the top. I spran into the I
boat, which was .pushed off at once. .,
and amid a shower of spears we made?
our escape. I left the boy at a villaga
the soft mud.
. cr’s where I knew he would be well;
The writers have '
c‘wast, whenlonc dayflwe came unex- ‘
rtedly ‘ u'pbn a Zulu village. The
1e were in great excitement, and
impeued by'curiosity,’ (indicated by
the turned corner ’Of his mouth,
thought I), “I moved my boat-s under
a'biufi and sent one of my men to as-
certain the cause. ‘ I learned that this
community was aboutv'to go: to war
with a neighboring tribe, and were
re
e0: 1
making ready to sacrifice two children '
'to some spirit pwhom they wished to
aid them in the? conquest. Two lions
had been prowling around for a day or
so, and the chiefs declared that they
had "been senttoreceive the sacrifice
as 3. taken of the loyalty of the tribe
to; their god of war. ‘ I determined to '
prevent such a horrible proceeding if
possible. ;I decided to act ’alone. I or-
dered my men' to hold the boats in
readiness to move at any moment, and,
at dusk set Out' on
my perilous oxpeé
Idition.‘ _ v?
l. Southey.
treated, and soon returned to America.’
“Having finished his remarkable sto— -
ry, my friend excused himself and Went l
upstairs.
“I went to the hotel clerk and asked:
“. ‘What is that gentleman's name?”
“ ‘Smith,’ he replied.
‘~‘ ‘Who is he?’
“ ‘He is the steward of the. heuse,’
was the answer.
“ ‘But he has been a great traveler,
has he not ?’ I asked. ‘ l
“ ‘Oh, no, he came here a green coun-
try boy 25 years ago and has not been
away a week since.’
“ ‘How did he get. that scar?’ I
queried, :
“ ‘Had a “scrapping match” with a
cook, and the fellow up with a three- l
tined meat fork and hit him a clip. He 3
is a queer genius,’ the clerk continued; l
‘people always try to size him up, and
no matterwhat they guess he is, he
gives them some yarn to fit the occa-i
sion.’ .
“ ‘Give me the key to 66 and send
up two pitchers of ice water at once,
please.’ ,
_ “ ‘Look here,’ said the clerk, “what
do you want with two pitchers of ice
water at four o’clock in the afternoon ?’
“‘I am going upstairs to soak my
head,’ I growled; and up I went-mad-
der than a hornet, .withthe clerk’s mer-
ry laugh jangling inmy ears.”-—N. Y.
Ledger.
.47)
"—51 have told you of the S aniard who
always put on his spectacles when,
about to eat cherries, that they might
look bigger and more‘tempting. In
like 'manner I make the most of my en-
joyments; and though I do not cast
my cares away, I pack them in as lit-
tle compass as I can, and carry them
asconveniently as I can for myself,
and never let. them annoy others.—
i' , ' A_ ROMAN LEGIbNAnY. ', _
Escape 0!. u. Brave 'YOung lsflage'ri‘fidn'i
. - ~Heavily Armed Guard. -:_ . - .
0n the bank of the, deep, and swift
river stood a fully armed soldier of that
_._._- ' 13"
terrible power w ich evershadowed all i
the known world. To Cyril, that seli- ; _ . . , A p ,
tary legionary, stationed there topre-J : though he u as, he had enouga to do.
vent such as he from crossing the
Kishon, was an embodiment of all the ‘
enemies of Israel and Judah. The sol-
dier stood erect. with his pilum, or
broad-bladed spear, in his right hand.
The visor of his bronze helmet was
open. He seemed to have understood
the trumpet-note of warning, and was
looking in all directions. His sword
hung at the left 'side, ready for use, and
on his left arm was a large round
shield, now raised a little as he scanned
the. vineyards and the river-bank, as
if he wondered from which of them an
enemy could come upon him at that
time and place. After a few moments,
re turned away and strode slowly,
vigilantly, along the river-bank, while
Cyril watched him.
“Good!” exclaimed Cyril, at last.
“lie is far enough, now. I can reach
the river.” i '
Out he darted and sprang away to-
ward the Kishon. Of course he was at
once seen by the quick-eyed patrol, and
hoarse and loud came the Latin sum-
mons to halt. To disobey was sure and
instant death if Cyril should be over-
taken, and he would be followed with
relentless persistence if he should es-
cape; but he bounded steadily“ for—
ward \ 'hile the soldier run toward him.
The soldier ran well, too, considering
theweight of arms and armor he car-
ried, for all Roman legionaries were
trained athletes; but he could not get
between the armorer‘s son and the
Kishon.
Not broad, but very deep and swift,
was the torrent that came rushing
down from its sources among the (lil-
boa hills. A spring, a splash, and Cyril
was swimming vigorously, though
swept along down-stream by the strong
current, while his left hand held his
rolled-up robe high and dry above the
water.
I
l
I
i
I
l
l
l
l
l
i
l
.
!
Fierce, indeed, were the threatening ;
commands of the lcgionary, but on the '
brink of the Kishon he was compelled
to halt and consider. I
could swim, but not well with his heavy
armor, his shield and his sword.
Lightly and rapidly swam Cyril, and
in a few moments more he was out on
the northerly banks of the Kishon,
sending back a shout of triumph and
defiance. But he meant to send back
something more. His eyes ware
swiftly searching the ground around
him, while he drew out something
which had been hidden among the
folds of his robe.
It was avsquare of leather, as bread
as his two hands, with corner-straps
as long as his arm—a. sling. such as
David used of old. In that older day,
all the tribe of Benjamin, to which the
house of Ezra the Swordinalwr be-
longed. were. noted slingers; and here
was their young representative, stoop-
ing to pick up smooth, rounded pebbles,
as David had picked up his; pebblf‘s
from the: brook in the valley of: Blah.
In airinstant he was erect again, sling
in hand, while yet the soldier stood con-
sidering the risk of swimming the
Kishon. '
Whirl went the sling, with such a
swiftncss that it could hardly cc seen,
and away kissed the stone. No doubht
the Roman had faced slingers, many a
time; but the distance was more than
50 years, and he may not have expected
. so true an aim- Up went his shield,
indeed, a secondgioo late, and well for
him that he bowed his head. for Cyril‘s
first pebble struck him iull upon the
crest. It did not knock him down, only
because, in the heat of the day, he had
s
we name or can usxr
. OF THE . .
ITED STATES
WILL BE [DNOUHCED IN
rsrsmrmv
No doubt he 3
u . 711E o .
NEW YORK
OF NOVEMBER 4. l896.
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d the scale at the last election, with the results under the administration
they elected. will make the campaign the most intensely exciting in the history of
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the coumry.
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.,
, - .* »~ .. 2.;
loosened the fastenings ofhis‘hclmet,
so that the‘blow of-the stone struck it
from hisihead', and sent it rolling away
in the grass. '
No crossing of the
that slinger to practice ripen his bare
head: all the way!~ Expert warrior‘
for the next two minutes in warding off
with his shield the well-aimed peb-
bles which rapidly followed the first-—
William 0. Stoddard, in St. Nicholas.
' A Bulldog-'8 Grip.
Most bulldogs prefer to die rather
than let go their grip, once they have
fastened their teeth into flesh. This
was the case with one at North Sayville,
L. 1. On the evening of that day a Mr.
Armbruster left a. valuable pony in
front of his house while he entered to
get something. While he was in the
house his bulldog, which was chained
in the yard, became angry at the horse,
and tugged a-t'his chain until he broke 5
it. He then "attacked the pony and .
lacerated it terribly. He bit through I
the tendons of the‘ront legs, and Was l
hanging to he pony’s throat when 3
Armbruster came out of the house.
Seeing the trouble. that the pony was ,7
in, and being acquainted with the dog's
temper, he called a hired man and they 5
attempted to club the dog of, but all
to no purpose. The beast hung on .to f
the pony’s throat. Finally Armbrusgcr
got a double-barreled shotgun, loaded ;
both barrels and blazed away at the 3
dog,— killing him instantly. The pony :
was badly torn, but will recover.———Buf- '
falo Express. .
The Hot W'inds 'of the Reckles. ’
Scientists are of the opinion that hot,
dry winds that blow over the eastern
slope of the Rocky mountains depend
upon the presence of slow-moving, low-
prcssure areas in that region, and
thence eastward, accompanied by rela-
tively high pressure over the Pacific
ocean off the coast of Oregon” It is be-
lieved that air is heated in its sudden
passing from‘the summit of the Rockies
t J the prairies below—N. Y. Ledger. l
—-He (who has been trying to get rid
of her maiden aunt for the last hour)—
“Your aunt reminds me of the Defend-
er.” She—“Defender, why ?” lie-—
SBecause she is a single sticker."-«
Brooklyn Life. -
PERSONALS FROM ABROAD.
The present- czar of Russia is one of
the few reigning monarchs who has not
insured his life. .
Prof. Archibald Geikie, the distin-
guished British geologist, is coming to
the United States soon on a lecturing
tour. .
Alfred Rothschild keeps seven chefs,
one of whom has nothing to do beyond
making curries. Rothschild 'rarely
dines away from home, frankly declar-
ing that he prefers his own table to
any other.
Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, the British
colonial secretary, has just received a
complimentary name from three Be-
chuana chiefs, who have bcen visiting
England. He is. called lfoatlhodi,
which means: “He puts; things right.” .
Prince Ferdinand and Charles of -
Bourbon, the two eldest sons of the
count of (‘nsertm who is new the head
of the Naples I'lourbons, have applied
for permission to serve in the Spanish
army that. is trying to subjret Cuba.
The mime Olga. which has been given
to the infant daughter of the czar and
carat-inn. is an ancient I). lS'-‘lf.‘.11 name. It
is also a favorite in the Russian imperial
family. It is likely that nearly all the
female children born in Russia during
the next few months will be named
Olga. ‘
\~ v- Hm- l‘ =l-r ”AZE'I‘TFL
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Ifishon now, with
‘1‘“
,. AN [someones HERO. *
nv mi M. 1.. mum.
“No‘,” Eleanor Landsberg said, as she,
crushed the cluster of fresh American
Beauty roses she held in her’ clasped
hands with painful intensity, as if they
were somehow to blame, “I cannot
marry you, Morris-you are not my
hero.”
“Heroesdo not exist out of novels,”
answered Morris Holmes, with that per-
fect inflection that good breeding gives
to its possessor; “I cannot fight- for my.
ladylove as the medieval knights did,
nor fly to the wars in these degenerate
days.”
“Then he a soldier
are daily wars to bepvaged that need
disciplined soldiers. .ne anything but
a dawdler on the :silken 'skirts of so-
ciety. You believe that because you have
inherited a. fortune that other men
earned for you by the sweat of their
brows, you are to lie idle 'in the.
lap of luxury. Shame, Morris Holmes!
from among the ranks pf the people;
my hero must do great deeds, not dream
them all day long." _. . ’
“My dear socialist,” said Morris, with
the familiarity of long acquaintance, “if
‘ you will listen to reason a. moment you
will see that with money you can rem-
edy a great many evils; without it you
are practically helpless.”
“How many evils have you rem-
edied, Morris? Answer me that.”
“Few as yet, I admit. But, Eleanor,
is it- my fault that my father left me
a fortune? Listcn,dearest. I will
call you so this once. Why not help me
become his almoner? At least I am
not a .profiigate.” _
“Pardon me,” returned the young
woman, tearing thcrheart from a rose
—-a performance which made the sensi-
tive Morris wince—“I think you are
a proillgate with time and influence,
aucl all the other good things which you
nests by lavishing' them on yourself.
How will you account for vested op‘
portunities and talents folded in a nap-
kin when the day of reckoning comes?”
“\i'hat would you have me do to
prove myself a hero?” asked Morris
Holmes, with a gently patronizing air,
as if he had been speaking to a child,
and which infuriated Eleanor,
“Do?” she repeated, with withering
scorn; “do anything to show he world
that you are a man, and atlcast capable
of managing your own affairs! Life
is full of instruction, but you have
never‘ learned one of its lessons._ You
have not even been a profitable dream-
er.” ‘ I
She was intense and angry, and at
last he was aroused. He rose without
his usual dawdling elegance of man-
ner and said:
“You have taught me one lesson,
Eleanor, that I shall not forget. I hope
when you find your hero he will love
you as truly as I have done—ms I will
continue to do, if you do not forbid
me. And now, good-by. We part
friends, do we not?”
Before she answered him Eleanor
rose and in so doing dropped the flow-
ers she had been, holding. Morris‘
sprang to pick them up, when instantly
she placed her small, imperative foot
upon thermcrushing them to the floor.
, He looked other. Shocked and wounded.
“You see how hopeless it is that you
should ever- unders—ztand Inc,” sne said,
bitterly. “You have more consilcra-
tion for these hethcuse weeds; than for
the souls of those arose-.1 you. You
hurt and wound me by your indiffer-
ence to vital questions, but you are
sorry for the roses! Good-by, Morris!”
“No berths left in the sleeper, sir.”
“But, I. tall you, I must have aberth—
I can’t sit up all night,” and Morris
Holmes shivcred at the thought of such
a hardship. -
“A great many goOd people do, sir,”
said the conductor. “There’s old Judge
Skinner and his wife, they are both
going to sit up to-night.”
“lint my man telegraphed for 'a sec;—
tion.” '
“They were all taken then, sir.”
It was strange that at the first mo-
ment Morris Holmes started out to be-
come a hero and learn the scamy side of
life he should be reduced to actual suf—,
fering like this.
dressed in his usual fashionable and
elegmit traveling attire the conductor
would have suspected that he had un-
limited wealth and would. have bought
out some less import-ant traveler or
sold him a berth already negotiated
for, as the all-powerful car magnate
has the privilege of doing.
But Morris Holmes had donned the
plain dress of the ordinary busineSS
man, and wore a hideous gray ulster
that concealed his elegant personality,
and was on his way to the mining dis-
trict, where amine was located of which
he was part owner; not a gold mine,
but one thatbrought in gold—; :1. bit-u-
minous coal mine, known as the Little
Summit. ‘ .
Morris had taken little or no notice
of this branch of his wealth. the man-v
agement and details being left to his
agent, but when he left Eleanor Lands-
berg on the occasion of her second and
final refusal of his offer of marriage,
he suddenly determined to take atrip
to the mining country and try his hand‘
at heroism, in the way of improving the
condition of the men who Worked in the
underground chambers, a. work to him
the embodiment of hardship and pri-
vation. He was going incognito, with
the feeling of one who was about to
_‘ perform' a long neglectfidduty.
A more desolate place than that in
which the Little Summit mine was lo-
cated would be hard to describe. The
mine that poured wealth into the'cof-
fers of’its owner was conducted by ill-
paid, Sodden men, scrubby boys, and
half-blind mules. The foreman was
brutalized by a long course of low
wages, heavy expenses and? sordid sur-
rounding. It was a word and a blow
with humor an oath more demdraliz-
' ing than".pluws. When a. strangerap-
peared he was received with sullen and '
If he had been.
, of peace; there .-
' When I marry I will chooseimy husband '
‘ alive.
suspicious sileneE. 'bein'gjfmore' than ‘
half suSpcrted ofsv'anting'the bread
out -of some‘other-mouth; Morris was ,
shocked almost out of recognitiOn‘of
himself by this unexpected state .of ,
things, for he felt himself pasSively‘to
blame. He could not lay the 'odium
on the shoulders of his,agent-,tfor he
had never asked him a. single question
concerning the mine or‘the moral or
physical welfare of the men. ' He had
taken the revenue‘f'rom it-as part of his
patrimony, indifferent as to methods.
He had been helping to grindwomen
and children into the dust that he
might 1011 in luxury. His-conscience
stung him with ‘reproaches which were
inadequate to make lim sufferas he’de-
served. " _' . _ ' .
“four hand, ‘friend,”~he had said to
the foreman, and noted the ugly scowl
and determined air of 9 refusal with
which the man drew back.
. “.’T ain’t as white as yours, and how
do I \know that you are my friend?”
was the reply. . '
“I am here to see what you need, and
will help ,you if you will let me,” an-
sWered Morris, gently.
“A spy or an overseer, like enough.
The sooner you get out of th‘esc quar-
ters the better for your health. If one
of the bloomin’ mine owners sent you
here, go backan’ tell him ’t ain’t safe
to come spyin’ roun’. Tell him,‘ too,
that we’ll give him a warmer welcome
--hounds that they all are!” '
The miners, dirty, black and com plain-
ing, had gathered around the foreman,
and, although they hated him, they
were bound to him by acommon grudge.
“Tell them to come and get filled with
warm lead—we’ll heat ‘it ' fur the
’casion,” said a. burly miner known as
“Old Geordie." ‘ . ‘
“‘They dassn‘t come nigh their own
property,” said another; "they’re white
livered cowards and not worth the pow-
der to blow ’em to thunder.”
“Go back to yOur'master and tell him
what his lovin’ workmen says," said the
foreman, contemptuously, “an’ get a
photygraff of some of the llllllfifi‘flClllk
dron and dyin mothers for thcfamily
album. My missus will give you hers.”
“Men,” said the stranger, unbuttbn-
ing his heavy ulster and throwing it
open, “have you ever heard of Morris
Holmes?" ‘ ' y
A groan and a series of yells saluted
“Aye, and his'father aforc him. It’s
that he might lie soft and eat fine food
that we gets lost in the choke an’ damp.
If he sent you, .go back and tell him
to come out here himself. We hev a
long account to settle, and the figgcrs
is waitin’.’ ' '
It was “Old GeOrdie” who spoke.
“I am Morris Holmes.” ,
Now, if there is any quality that the
rough and lawless of creation recognize
and admire, it is ecuragc, and after the
first start of surprise, which in thatvsod-~
den crowd was genuine and dramatic.
the men felt an instant respect for this
weakling of wealth, who was not afraid
of them, and something like a. cheer
broke from their hoarse throats. ‘
“I am here to right your wrongs,”
continued Morris, in avoice that sound-
ed like a commander ‘on the battle-
field, “but I demand protection at you r '
hands. I demand your confidence. and
that of yourwives and children. I
have the right to asx this. For the '
present that is; all I have to say.”
A few cheered him, others remained
sullen and dis .outcnted, good news be-
ing received with caution and suspicion.
Eleanor Landsberg had no word from
_:‘.Iorris for six months. Then she re-
ceived a paper marked in red ink, which
had a paragraph that interested her.
It gave a plain statement of the great
improvement that had talzcu'place in
the Little Summit mine, and went on to
describe the comfortable homes of the
miners. the new machinery which had
been put into the mines to take the place
of child labor, the comfortable stables
above the ground that had been built
for the mules, the improved social con-
ditions of the men’s families, and ended
with a’ glowing tribute to the “noble
energy of the young and athletic mine
. owner, Morris Holmes.”
Athletic? Eleanor repeated the word
with much satisfaction. - It was of
moral athletes she was thinking, and it -
pleased her mightily that this word
could thus be applied to Morris.
In a few moments she received a sec-
ond newspaper, published like the first,
in a town adjoining the mines, and giv-
ing the news of that'section of the coun- -
try. It also contained a marked para-
graph, but the marking was irregular
black lines of jagged pencil, and on the
border was drawn a rude hand, point-
ing to the notice and the badly wri tt'cn .
but legible “Old Geordie.”
Eleanor read in 'a. few intense words
the news that had been sent to her.
- There had been an accident in the mine.
. The roof of the entire chamber had fall-
en and buried 20 miners beneath it.
The men were rescued with great di'f- '
ficulty, and some of them were badly in-
jured. When all were supposed to have
been saved, there "was a wailing cry, and
the wife of “Old Geordie” struggled
from the hands of friends and tried to
throw herself. into the mine; Morris
Holmes, pale and. outlof breath, called
'for men to go down with him and res—
cue “Old Geordie.” No one responded.
The men owed their lives to their fami-
lies, and they knew the danger of a. fall-
ing roof. 89 Morris, with one look at
the blue sky above, swung into‘the cage
and was lowered alone amid an awe-
strickensilence into the bosom of death.
.There was not much to tell. When the
signal gwas given there were willing ,
hands to help deliver the two men from _
the wreckage, but only one came up
The other had succumbed to
the fatal damp. Along panegyricfoL
’lowed, but it .meant little to Eleanor.
Her eyes rested on' four oft-Quoted
hackneyed lines that closed the story
--they Would never leave'hcr:'
“For whether on the scaffold high,
01- in the battle’s van,
The fittest lace for man to die.
Is where lie dies forman.” . .
She had found; her hero, never again
to' lose "him, He had mturnedbn his
shields-Detroit Free " Press. ’
._ ______..
1.
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Norwalk Chronicler