Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 19 July 1895 — Page 7

SEE'S ILL TEE WORLD T# ME.

1

By HALL OAINE,

Author of "The Manxman," "The Deemster," etc.

CHAPTER V.

It was late when young Christian Mylrea got back to Balladhoo that night of Kerruish Kinvig's visit. "I've been up for a walk to tlio monument on Horse hill," he remarked carelessly as he sat down at the piano and touched it lightly to the tune of "Drink to me only with thine eyes." "Poor old Corriu," lie said, pausing with two lingers on the keyboard. "What a crazy old heretic he must have been to elect to bury himself up yonder." Then in a rich full tenor Christian sang a bar or two of ".Sally In Our Alley."

The two older men were still seated at opposite sides of the table smoking leisurely. Mylrea Balladhoo told Christian of the errand on which he had wished to send him. "The light? Ah, yes," said Christian, turning his head between the rests in his song. "Curious that, wasn't it? Do you know that coming round by the pier I noticed that the light had gone out, so''—a run up the piano—"so after ineffectual attempts to rouse that sad dog of a harbor master of yours, dad, I went up into the box and lit it myself. You see it's burning now." "Humph—so it is," grunted Kerruish Kenvig, who had got up in the hope of discrediting the statement. "Only the wick run down, that was all," said Christian, who had turned to the piano again and was rattling off a lively French catch.

Christian Mylrea was a handsome follow of Ave or six and twenty, with a refined expression and easy manner educated, genial, somewhat irresolute, one might say, •with a weak corner to his mouth naturally of a sportive disposition, but having an occasional cast of thouglitf ulness loving a laugh, but finding it rather apt of late to .die away abruptly on his lips.

Getting up to go, Kinvig said: "Christian, my man, you've not seen my new net looms since you came home. Wonderful inventions! Wonderful, extraordinary! Talk of your locomotive—pshaw! Come down, man, and see them at work in the morning."

Christian reflected for a moment. "I will," he said, in a more serious tone than the occasion seemed to require. "Yes, I'll do that," he said. "In the morning!" said Mylrea Balladhoo. "Tomorrow is the first day of the herrings—no time for new net looms tomorrow at all." "The herrings!" shouted lvinvig from the door in an accent of high disdain. "Nothing like leather," said Chi'istian, laughing.. "Let it be the morning after," lie added, and so it was agreed.

Next day Christian busied himself a little among the fishing smacks that were the property of liis father, or were, at least, known by his lather's name, lie went in nud sat among the fisher fellows with a cheery voice and pleasant face. Everywhere he was a favorite. When his back was turned it was: "None u' ver ratisy tansy tisimitee about Misther Christian none o' yer 'Well, my good man,' and the like o' that. Awful big and could, sem as if they'd jist riz from the dead."

Or per­

haps. "No criss crossing about the young must her, allis preachin and 'I'll kertnoonieate yer bad behavior' and all that 5*w." Or again, more plaintively, "1 wish he were a bit more studdylike and savin. Of coorse, of coorse, ine and him's allis been middlin well acquent.

CHAPTER VI.

The morning after the fleet left the harbor, Christian walked down to Kerruish Kinvig's house, and together they went over the net factory. In a large room facing tilt! sea a dozen hand looms for the manufacture of drift nets had been set up. Each loom was worked by a young woman, and she had three levers to keep in action—one with the hand and the others with the feet.

Kinvig explained, with all the ardor of an enthusiast, the manifold advantage of the new loom over the old one with which Christian was familiar dwelt on the knots, the ties and the speed, exhibited a new reel for the unwinding of the cotton thread from the skein, and described a new method of barking when the nets come, off the looms. Pausing now and then with the light of triumph in his eyes, ho shouted: "Where's your Geordie Stephenson now? Eh?"

Christian listened with every appearance of rapt attention and from time to time put questions which were at least respectably relevant. A quicker eye than Kerruish Kinvig's might perhaps have seen that tho young man's attention was, on the whole, more occupied with the netmakers than with their looms, and that his quick gaze glanced from face to face With an inquiring expression.

A child of very tender years was working a little thread reel at the end of the room, and on some pretense Christian left Kinvig's side, stepped up to the child and spoko to her about the click clack of the levers and cranks. The little woman lifted her head to reply, but having a full view of her face Christian turned away without waiting for her answer.

After a quarter of an hour all Christian's show of interest could not quite conceal a look of weariness. Ono would ftave said that he had somehow been disappointed in this factory and its contents. Something that he had. expected to see he had not seen. Just then Kinvig announced that the choicest of his looms was in another room. This one would not only make a special knot, but would cut and finish. "It is a delicate Instrument and wants great care in the working," said Kinvig. In that regard the netmaker considered himself fortunate, for he had just hit on a wonderfully smart young woman who could work it as well, Kenvig verily believed, as he could work it himself. "(Wh° is she?" 6aid Christian. "A stranger in these parts—came from the south somewhere, Castletown way," said Kinvig. And ho added with a grin, "Haven't you heard of her?"

Christian gave no direct reply, but displayed the profouiidest curiosity as to this latest development in netmaking ingenuity. He was forthwith carried off to inspect Kinvig's first treasure in looms.

The two men stepped into a little room apart, and there, working at the only loom that the room contained, was little Ruby's sister, Mona Cregeen. Tho young woman was putting, her foot on one of the lower treadles when they entered. She mado a slight but perceptible start, and the lever went up with a bang. "Tut, my girl, how's this?" said Kinvig. "Set—you've let that line of meshes off the hooks."

The girl stopped, replaced the threads one after ono with nervous fingers, and then proceeded with her worl^ in silence.

Kinvig was beginning an elaborate engineering disquisition for Christian'sbeneflt—Christian's head certainly did hang rather too low for Kinvig's satisfaction— when a girl comes in from tho outer factory to say that a man at the gate would like to se.3 the master. "Botheration!" shouted Kinvig. "But wait here, Christian, and I'll be back." Theu, turning to tho young weaver "Show this gentleman tiio action of tho loom, my giri."

When tho door had closed behind Mr. Kinvig, Christian raised his eyes to tho young woman's face. There was sileneo between them for a moment. The window of the room was open, and the salt breath of the ocean floated in. The sea's deep murmur was all that could bo heard between tho clicks of the levers. Then Christian said softly: "Mona, have you decided? Will you KO back?"

The girl lifted her eyes to his. "No," she answered quietly. "Think again, Mona think of me. It isn't that I couldn't wish to have you hero —always here—always with me"—

The girl gave a little hard laugh. "But think of the risk!" continued Christian, more eagerly. "Is it nothing that I am tortured with suspense already, but that you should follow me?" "And do I suffer nothing?" said she.

Thero was no lauehter on Christian's ups now. Tho transformation to earnest pallor was startling. "Think of my father," ho said, evading the girl's question. "I have all but impoverished him already with my cursed follies, and little does he dream, poor old dad, of the utter ruin that yet hangs over his head.''

There was a pause. Then, in a tender tone: "Mona, don't add to my eternal worries. Go fcack to Derby Haven, like the dear girl thai you are. And when this storm blows over, and it will soon bo past, then all shall be mado right. Yes, it shall, believe me."

There was no answer. Christian continued: "Go at once, my girL Here," diving into his pockets, "I've precious little money left, God help me. but here's enough to pay your way and something to spare."

He offered a purso in his palm. The girl tossed up his hand with a disdainful gesture. "It's not money I want from you," 6he said.

Christian looked at her with blank amazement. Slio caught the expression and answered it with a haughty curl of the lip. The sneer died off her face on the instant, and the tears began to gather in her eyes. "It's not love a girl wants then?" she said, struggling to curl her lip again. "It's not love, then, that a girl like me can want," she said.

She had stopped the loom and covered up her face in her hands. "No, no," she added, with a stifled sob, "love is for ladies—fine ladies in silks and satins—pure, virtuous. Christian," she exclaimed, dropping her hands and looking into his face with indignant eyes, "I suppose there's a sort of woman that wants nothing of a man but money—is there?"

Christian's lips were livid. "That's not what I meant, Mona, believe me," he said. The loom was still. Tho sweet serenity of the air left hardly a sense of motion. "You talk of your father, too," the girl continued, lifting her voice. "What of my mother? You don't think of her. No, but I do, and it goes nigh to making my heart bleed." "Hush, Moua," whispered Christian but, heedless of the warning, she continued "To bo torn away from the place where she was born and bred, where kith and kin still live, where kith and kin lie dead —that was hard. But it would have been harder, far harder, to remain, with shame cast at her from every face, as it has been every day for these five years."

She paused. A soft boom came up to them from the sea, where the unruffled waters rested under the morning sun. "Yes, we have both suffered," said Christian. "What I have suffered God knows. Yes, yes. The man who lives two lives knows what it is to suffer. Talk of crime! No need of that, as the good, goody, charitable world counts crime. Let it be only a hidden thing—that's enough. Only a secret, and yet how it kills the sunshine off tin green fields!" Christian laughed—a hollow, hard, cynical laugh. "To find the thing creep up behind every thought, lie in ambush behind every smile, break out- in mockery behind every innocent laugh. To have the dark thing with you in the dark night. No sleep so sweet but that it is haunted by this nightmare. No dream so fair but that an ugly memory steals up at first awakening—that, yes, that is to suffer!"

Just theu a flight of sea gulls disporting on a rock in the bay sent up a wild jabbering noise. "To know that you are not the man men take you for that dear souls that cling to you would shudder at your touch if the scales could fall from their eyes, or if for an instant, as by a flash of lightning, the mask fell from your face."

Christian's voice deepeued, and he added: "Yet to know that, bad as one act of your life may have been, that life has not been all bad that if men could but seo you as heaven sees you perhaps—perhaps you would have acquittal"—

His voice trembled, and he stopped. Mona was gazing out over tho sea with blurred eyes that saw nothing.

Christian had been resting one foot on the loom. Lifting himself he stamped on the floor, threw back his head with a sudden movement and laughed again slightly. "Something too much of this," he said. Then sobering once more: "Go back, Mona. It shan't be for long. I swear to you it shan't. But what must I do with debts hanging over me"— "I'll tell you what you must not do," said the girl with energy.

Christian's eyes but not his lips asked, "What?" "You must not link yourself with that Bill Kisseck and his Curragh gang."

A puzzled look crossed Christian's face. "Oh, I know their doings don't you doubt it," said the girl. "What do you know of Bill Kisseck?" said Christian with some perceptible severity. "Tell me, Mona, what harm do you know of Bill and his—his gang, as you call them?" "I know this—I know they'll bo in Castle. Rushen one of these fine days."

Christian looked relieved. With a cold smile he said: "I dare say you're right, Mona. They area rough lot, the Curragh fellows, but no harm in them that I know of." "Harm!" Mona had started the loom afresh, but she stopped once more. "Harm!" she exclaimed again. Then in a quieter way: "Keep away from them, Chi ist'!u Vim'vd se.e.n too much of *,hf»n

of late." Christian started. "Oh, I know it. But you can't touch pitch—you mind the old saying."

Mona had again started tho loom and was rattling at the levers with more than ordinary energy. Christian watched her for a minute with conflicting feelings. He felt that his manhood was being put to a severe strain. Therefore, assuming as much masculine superiority of manner as he could command, he said: "We'll not talk about things that you don't quite understand, Mona. What Kisseck may do is no affair of ours unless I choose to join him in any enterprise, and theu I'm the best judge, you know."

The girl stopped. Resting her elbow on the upper lever and gazing absently out at the window where the light waves in the bay were glistening through a drowsy haze, she said quietly: "The man that I could choose out of all the world is not one who lives on his father and waits for the storm to blow over. No, nor one that clutches at every straw, no matter what. He's the man who'd put his hand to the boats, or the plow, or the reins, and if he hadn't enough to buv me a ribbon I'd say to myself proudly, 'That man loves me.'

Christian winced. Then assuming afresh his loftier manner, "As I say, Mona, we won't talk of things you don't understand. "I'll not go back," said the girl, as if by a leap of thought. The loom was started afresh with vigor. "Then let me beg of you to be secret," whispered Christian, coming close to her ear.

The girl laughed bitterly. "Never fear," sho said. "It's not for the woman to blab. No, tho world is all for the man and the law too. Men make the laws, and women suffer under them— that's the way of it."

The girl laughed again and continued in mocking tones: "'Poor fellow he's been sorely tempted,' says the world. Tut on her, never name her,' says tho law."

And once more the girl forced a hollow, bitter laugh. Just then a child's silvery voice was heard in the street beneath. The blithe call was: "Sweet violets and primroses the sweetest."

The little feet tripped under the window. The loom stopped, and they listened. Then Christian looked into the young woman's face, and blinding tears rose on the instant into the eyes of both.

1'Mona,''

he cried in low passionate

tones and opened his arms. There was an unspeakable language in her face. She turned her head toward him longingly, yearningly, with heaving breast. Ho took one step toward her. She drew back. "No, not yet!" His arms fell, and he turned away.

Then the voice of Kerruish Kinvig could be heard in the outer factory. "I've been middling long," he said, hurrying in, "but a man, a bailiff from England, came bothering about some young waistrel that I never heard of in my born days had run away from his debts and so on had been traced to the isle of Man and on here to Peel. And think of that tomfool of a Tonuny-Bill-beg sending tho man to me. I bowled him off to your father.'' "My father?" exclaimed Christian, who had listened to Kinvig's rambling account with an uneasy manner. "Yes, surely, and the likeliest man too. What's a magistrate for at all if private people are to be moidered like yonder? But come, I'll show you the sweet action of this loom in unwinding. Look now—see? Keep you eye on those hooks."

And Kerruish Kinvig rattled on with lis explanation to a deaf ear. "Mr. Kinvig," interrupted Christian, "I happen to know that father is not risen ywt this morning. That bailiff"— "More shame for him. Let him be roused anyhow. See here, though. Press your hand on that level so. Now, when Mona puts down that other level, do you see? No! Why don't you look closer?" "Mr. Kinvig, do you know I half fancy that young fellow the man was asking for must have been an old college chum of mine. If you wouldn't mind sending one of your girls after him to Balladhoo to ask liini to meet me in half an hour at the harbor master's cottage on the quay"— "Here, let it be here." Calling, "Jane!" "No, let it be on the quay," said Christian. "I have to go there presently, and it will save time, you know." "Bless me, man! Have you come to saving your days at last?"

Kinvig turned aside, instructed Jano and resumed the thread of his technical explanations. "Let me show you this knot again. That bum bailiff creature was bothering you before. Look now. Stand here—so." "Yes," said Christian, with the resignation of a martyr.

Then Kinvig explained everything afresh, but with an enthusiasm that was sadly damped by Christian's manifest inability to command the complexities of the invention. "I thought once that you were going to be a bit of an engineer yourself. Christian. Bless me, the amazing learned you were at the wheels, and the cranks, and the axles when you were a lad in jackets but," with a suspicious smile, "it's likely you're doing something in the theology line now, and that's a sort of feeding and sucking and suction that won't go with the engineering anyhow." Christian smiled faintly, and Kinvig, as if by an afterthought, shouted: "Heigh-ho! Let's take the road for it. We've kept this young woman too long from her work already." (Going out.) "You didn't give her much of a spell at tho work while I was away." (Outside.) "Oh, I saw the little bit of your sweethearting as I came back. But it's wrong, Christian. It's a shame, man, and a middling big one too." "What's a shame?" asked Christian, gasping out the inquiry. "Why, to moider a girl with the sweethearting when she's got her living to make. How would you like it, eh? Middling well? Oh, would you? All piecework, you know so much a piece of net, 100 yards long and 200 meshes deep work from 8 to 8 14 shillings a week, and a widowed mother to keep and a little sister as well. How would you like it, eh?"

Christian shrugged his shoulders and hung his head. "Tut, man alive, you flne fellows browsing on your lands, you scarce know you'ro born. Come down and mix among poor folks like this girl, and her mother, and the little lammie, and you'll begin to know you're alive." "I dare say," muttered Christian, making longish strides to tho outer gate. A broad grin crossed the ffice of Kerruish Kinvig as he added: "But, I tell you what, when you get your white choker under your gills, and you do come down among the like of tlieso people with your tracts, and your hymns, and all those rigs, and your face uncommon solemn. and your voice like a gannet—none of your sweet hearting, my man.. Look at

that gin juona, now. it isn~c reasonaoio to think you're not putting notions into the girl's head. It's a shame, man." "You're right, Mr. Kinvig,"said Christian, under his breath, "a cursed shame." And lie stretched out his hand impatiently to bid good by. "No. I'll go with you to Tommy-Bill-hog's. Oh, don't mind me! I've nothing particular on hand, or I wouldn't wasto my time on ye. Yes, as I say, it's wrong. Besides, Christian, what you want to do now is to marry a girl with a property. That's the only thing .that will put yonder Balladhoo right again, and—in your ear, man—that's about what your fatlior's looking for."

Christian winced and then tried to laugh. "Oh, that's it, is it?" he said absently. "But leave the girls alone. They'ro amazing like the ghos'es are the girls. Once you start them you never know where they'll stop, and they get into every skeleton closet about the house—but of course, of course I'm an old bachelor, and, as tho saying is, I don't know nothing." "11a, ha. ha, of course not!" laughed Christian, with a tragic effort.

They had stopped outside tho ivy cottage of the harbor master, and that worthy, who was standing there, had overheard the last, loud words of Kinvig's conversation. "What do you say, Tommy-Bill-beg?" asked Kinvig, giving him a prod in tho ribs. "I say that the gels in tlieso days ought to get wedded while they're babbies in arms"— "That'll do. that'll do," shouted Kinvig, with a roar of laughter.

At tho same moment ono of the factory girls appeared side by side with a stranger. "Goodby, Mr. Kinvig," said Christian. "Good day," Kinvig answered, and then shouting to the stranger, "Thisgentleman knows something of tho young vagabond you want." "So I see," answered tho stranger, with a cold smile, and Christian and stranger stepped apart.

When they parted, tho stranger said, "Well, one month let it bo, and not a day longer." Christian nodded his head in assent, and turned toward Balladhoo. After dinner he said: "Father, I'd like to go out to tho herrings this season. It would be a change." "Humph 1" grunted his father. "Which boat.?" "Well, I thought of tho Ben-my-chree she's roomy, and, besides, she's the admiral's boat, and perhaps Kisseck would not much like to hear that I'd sailed with another master." "You'll soon tire of that amusement," mumbled Mylrea Balladhoo.

CHAPTER VII.

Some months later as tho season was chilling down to winter the Ben-my-chree, with the fleet behind her, was setting out from Peel for her last night at. "tho herrings." On the deck, among others, was Christian Mylrea in blue serge and guernsey, heavy sea boots and sou'wester. It was past sundown. A smart breeze was blowing off the land as they rounded Contrary head and crossed tin? two streams that flow there. It was not yet too dark, however, to see the coast line curved into covelets and promontories and to look for miles over the hills where stretched the moles and hillocks of gorse and fussacks of long grass.

The twilight deepened as they rounded Niarbyl point and left the Calf islet on their lee, with Cronte-nay-Ivey-Lhaa towering into tho gloomy sky. When they sailed through Mesliwick bay, the night gradually darkened, and they saw nothing of Ennyn Mooar. But the heavens lightened again and glittered with stars, and when they brought the lugger head to the wind in six fathoms of water outside of Port Erin die moon had risen behind Brada, and the steep and rugged headland showed clear against the sky. "Have you found the herring on this ground at the same time in former seasons?" asked Christian of Kisseck. "Not for seven years." "Then why try now?" "See the gull there? She's skipper tonight. She's showin us the fish."

And one after another tho fleet brought to about them. Danny Fayle had been leaning over the bow and occasionally rapping with a stick at the timbers near the water. "Any signs?" shouted Kisseck. "Aye," said Danny. "Tlio mar-fire's risin."

The wind had dropped, and luminous patches of phosphorescent light in the water were showing Danny that the herring were stirring. "Let's make a shot. L'p with the gear," said Kisseck, and preparations were made for shooting the nets over the quarter. "Davy Cain [the mate], you see to the lint. Tommy Tear, look after the corks. Danny—whore's that k.dr—look to the seizin's d'ye hear?"

Then the nets were hauled from below and passed over a bank board placed between the hatchway and thcto|)of the bulwark. Davy and Tommy shot the gear, and as the seizings came up Danny ran aft with them and made them fast to the warp near the taffrail.

When the nets were all paid out, every net in the drift being tied to the nest, and a solid wall of meshes nine feet deep had been swept away for half a mile behind them, Kisseck shouted, "Down with the sheets.''

The sails were taken in, the mainmast —made to lower backward—was dropped, and only the drift mizzen was left to keep the boat's head to the wind. "Up with the light there," shouted Kisseck.

On hearing this Danny popped his head out of the hatchways. "Ah, to be sure, that lad's never ready. Gerroutof that, quick."

Danny took a lantern and fixed it on the top of the niitohboard. Then vessel and nets drifted together. Christian and the skipper went below.

It was now a calm, clear night, with just light enough to show two or three of tho buoys on the back of the first net as they floated under water. The skipper had not mistaken his ground. Large white patches came moving out of the surround ing pavement of deep black, lightened only with the occasional image of a star where the vanishing ripples left the sea smooth. Onco or twice countless faint popping sounds were heard, and minute points of silver were seen in tho water around. The herrings were at play about them. Shoals on shoals were breaking the sea into glistening foam.

After an hour had passed Kisseck popped his head out of the hatchways and cried, "Try the look on."

The warp was hauled in until the first net was reached. It came up as black as coal save for a dogfish or two that had broken a mesh here and there. "Too much moon tonight," said Kisseck. They see the nets, and the'cute they are extraordinary."

Half an hour later the moon went out behilid a thick riUre of cloud that. (looted

over the land. Trio sky became gray arid leaden, and a rising breeze ruffled tho sea. Some of the men on deck began to sing. "Hould on there!" shouted Kisseck. "D'ye want to frighten all the herrin for ten miles?"

Hour after hour wore on, and not a fish came to the "look on" net. Toward 1 o'clock in the morning the moon broke out again ill full splendor. "There'll be a heavy strike now, "said Kisseck, and in another instant, a luminous patch floated across the lino of nets, sank, disappeared and pulled three of the buoys down with them. "Pull up now," shouted Kisseck.

Then the nets were hauled. It, was Dnnny Fayle's duty to lead the warp through a snatch block fixed to the masthole oil to the capstan. Davy Cain disconnected tho nets from the warps, and Tommy Tear and Mark Crennel pulled tho nets over the gunwale. They came up white in the moonlight as a solid block of fish. Bill Kisseck and Christian passed tho nets over tho scudding pole and shook the herrings into the hole. "Five barrels at least," said Kisseck. "Try again." And onco more tho nets were shot. The other boats of the fleet were signaled that tho Ben-niy-chreo had discovered a scale of fish. Tlio blue light was answered by other blue lights on every side. Tho fishing was faring well.

One, two, three o'clock. The night was wearing on. The moon went out onco more, and in the darkness that preceded the dawn the lanterns burning on the drifting boats gave out an eerie glow. At bust the gray light camo in the east, and tlio sun rose over the land. The breeze was now fresh, and it was timo to haul in tho nets for tlio lost time.

In accordance with ancient custom, tho admiral's flag went up to tho masthead, and at this sign every man in tho fleet dropped on ono knee, with his face in his cap, to offer his silent thanksgiving for the blessings of tho season. "Tumble up the sheets—bear a hand there—d—n tho lad—gerr out of tho way.''

In five minutes tho lugger was running home before a stiff breeze. "Nine barrels—not bad for tho last night,'' aid Christian. "Souse them well," said Kisseck, and Davy Corteen sprinkled salt on tho herrings as they lay in tho hold.

Mark Crennel, who acted as slushy, otherwise cook, came up from below with a liugo saucepan, which ho filled with the fish. As ho did so, tho ear was conscious of a faint "cheep, cheep"—tho herrings were still alive.

All hands then went below for a smoke, except tho man at tho tiller and Kisseck and Christian, who stood talking at the bow. It is true that Danny Faylo lay on the deck, but tho lad was hardly an entity. His uncle and Christian heeded him not at all, yet Danny heard their conversation, and, without thought of mischief, romenibered what ho heard.

Christian was talking earnestly of some Impending disaster, of debts and tho near approach of the time when his father must bo old. "I've put that man off time after time," he said. "He'll not wait much longer, and then—God help us all!"

Kisseck laughed. "Yer allis in Paddy's hurricane—right up and down," ho said jeeringly. "Yer raely wuss til! ever." "I tell you, tho storm is coming," said Christian, with some vexation. "Then keep your weather eyo liftin, that's all," said Kisseck loftily.

Christian turned aside with an impatient gesture. After a pause ho said: "You wouldn't talk to me like that, Kisseck, if I hadn't been a weak fool with you. It's a true saying that when you tell your seiVant your secret you muko him your master."

Then Kisseck altered his manner and became suave. "What's to bo done?" said Christian, Irritated at some humiliating compliments. "I've somethin terrible fine up here," said Kisseck, tapping his forehead mysteriously. Christian smiled rather doubtfully. "It'll get you out of this shoal of water anyhow," said the skipper. "What is it?" asked Christian. "The tack we've been on lately isn't worth workin. It isn't what it was in tho good ould days when tho Frenchmen and tho Dutchmen eatno along with the Iujin and Chinee goods and we just run alongside in whoTies and whipped them up. Too many hands at the trade now." "So smuggling, like everything else, has gone to tin dogs," said Christian, with another grim smile. "But I've a big consarn on now," whispered Kisseck. "What?" "Och, a shoekin powerful skame. Listen."

And Kisseck whispered again in Christian sear, but the words escaped Dannv. "No. no. That'll not do," said Christian emphat ieally. "Aw, and why not at all?" "Why not? Why not? Because it's murder, nothing less." "Now, what's the use of savin the lek o'that? Aw, the sliock notions! Well, well, and do ye raely think a |t. r. on's got no feelin's? Murder? Aw. well now, well now! I didn't think it of ye, Christian, that 1 didn't."

And Kisseck took a step or two up and down the deck, with the air of an injured man.

Just then Crernel, the cook, came up to say breakfast was ready. All hands, save tho man at the tiller, went below. A huge dish of herrings and a similar dish of potatoes stood on the table. Each man dipped in with his hands, lifted his herrings on 'o his plate, ran his fingers from tail to head, swept all the flesh off the fresh fish, and threw away the bar*! backbone. Such was the breakfast, and while it was being eaten there was much chaff among tho men at Danny Fnyle's expense. It was: "Aw, you wouldn't think it's true, would ye now?" "And what's that?" with a"glime" at Danny. "Why, that tho lek o' yander is tackin round tho gels." "Do ye raely mane it?" "Yes, though, and sniflln and snullin abaft of them astonishin." "Aw, well, well, well."

Not a sign from Danny. "Yes, yes, the craythur's doin somethin in the spoony line," said Kisseck. "Ilim as hasn't got the hayseed out of his hair yet." "And who's tho lady, Dannv?" asked Christian, with a smile.

Danny ts silent. who else but that gel of Kinvig's, Mona Cregeen," said Kisseck.

Christian dropped liLs herring. "Aw, well," said Tommy Tear, "d"\: mane that gel on the brew with thowidda, and tho wee crayt.hur?" '\es, tho little skito and tho ould sukee, the liiawthcr," said Kisseck.

Davy Cain pretended to come toDannv's relief. "And a ial good gel, anyhow, Danny," ho Riid in a DatronLdnir wav.

"Amazin thick they are. Oh, ayo, Danny got to tho lee of her—takes a cup of ay up there, and tho like of that." "Aw, well, it isn't raisonable but tho lad should be coortin some gel now," said Davy. "What's that,?" shouted Kisseck, dropping the banter rather suddenly. "What, and not a farthin at, him? And owin 1110 a fortune for the bringin up?" "No matter, Hill, and don't ride a man down like a mai'itack. One of these lino mornin's Danny v. ill be pay in his debt to you with the fitretojisji.il." "And le. at. him then!," said Tommy Tear, reaching round Davy Cain to jirod Danny in the ribs, "lookat him prct.endiu he never knows notion."

Hut the bitears wore near to toppling out of Danny's eyes, lie got. up. and leaving .his un'inH'.ed breakfast, began to climb the hatchways. "Aw, now. look at. that," cried Tommy Tear, with affected solemnity.

Davy (lain followed Danny, jut ail arm round his waist, and tried to draw him back. "Don't mind tlio loblolly boys, Danny vog," said Davy eoaxinu'ly. Danny pushed him away, with an angry word. "What's that, ho said?" asked Kisseck. "Nothin. Ho only cussed a bit." said Davy.

Christian got. uj) too. "I'll tell von what it is, mates," he said, "there's not, a man among you. You're a lot of skulking cowards."

And Christian jnmjted 011 deck. "What's agate of the young masther at. «*ill, nt. all?"

Then followed some talk of the herring Meaillcy (harvest homo), which was to bo celebrated that night, at tho .lolly Herrings.

When tho boats ran into Peel harbor, of courso Tommy-Bill-beg was 011 tho quay, shouting at, this man and that. As each boat got into its moorings tho men set off to their owner's house for a final squaring up of tlio season's accounts. Kerruish and his men, with Christian, walked up to Balladhoo. Danny was sent home by his uncle. The men laughed, but the lad waa accustomed to be ignored in tlieso reckonings. His share never yet reached him. Tho wives of the fishermen had come down on this occasion, and they went oil with their husbands, Bridget,, Kisseck's wife, being among them.

When they got to Balladhoo, tho calculation was made. The boat had earned in all £800. Of this the master took four shares for himself and his nets, tho owner eight shares, every man two shares, a share for tlio boy, and a share fort ho boat. Tho men grumbled when Christian took up his two shares like another man. He asked if ho liud not done a man's work. They answered that he had kept regular fisherman off the boat. Kisseck grumbled also said I10 bought homo 300 pounds and got less than 510 pounds of it. "Tho jirovisioning has cost too much," said Mylrea Balladhoo. "Your tea is at, 'I shillings a pound, besides fresh meat and fine Hour biscuits. What can you expect Christian offered to give half his sha.ro to tho man whoso berth he took, and the other half to Danny Faylo. This quieted Kisseck, but the others laughed ar.d muttered among themselves, "Two more shares for Kisseck."

Then tho men, closely encircled by their wives, moved off. "Remember tho Meailley!" "Tonight. Aw, sure, sure!"

(TO BK OQNTINUKL).)

Nicholson I.IIIV CUIIM-H Sill)' till'. SioYMotnt. hid., July Hi.—John C. 1 louser. aged

.V.)

years, and one of the

oldest saloon men here, was found dead sitting by a small table in a room buck" of Lis saloon by his wife, with a bullet hole in liis right temple. In his right hand he still held a .'!S-ca liber revolver with one chamber empty. On a table lay two iettei's addressed to members ot his family. Depression in business caused by the going into effect of tho Nicholson law, which deprived him of the larger part of his income, is tho reason.

Jlotli I,o«rs Broken by a Jof». Exdi.tsn, Ind., July 10. —Hen K. Temple had both his legs broken just above the knees by a large dog running squarely against him. The dog belonged to Bryant Dav's, town marshal, and he will be asked to pay heavy damages. Mr. Temple had scarcely recovered from several weeks' sickness. and his weak condition makes it questionable whether he will recover, liis legs may have to be amputated.

Itrothorn Writ Sinter*.

(IOSIIK.V, ind., July Hi.—Two brothers were the bridegrooms and two sisters the brides at a double wedding*--solemnized at the residence of Mrs. E. ]'. I lardesty, a sister of the brides.: A nine I towers was united to Christian Stringier ani .Mary Bowers to MartinStringier. Samuel Rough, aged 74, was wedded to .Miss Nelson Lnlce, aged til.

Fort 11110 Tor a Coat Miner. hid., July Hi.—Mrs. Thomas

Lewis, wife of 11 poor coal miner of Knightsville, this county, received won! that her uncle had died in San Francisco, California, leaving her a fortune exceeding 5100,000. Mrs. Lewis has not heard from her uncle for thirty ye«ns and did not know his whereabouts until informed of his death.

Woman (JOUIIHVIH a Murder.. VAI.I'AKAISO, Ind., July 1(1. Mrs. John Ueddington was arrested here on a charge of having attempted to hire men to murder Prosecutor Heard, of l'orter and Lake counties. The official has been particularly active in his warfare against evildoers and his name lias become a terror to them.

a Drowned.

Four WAYNE, Ind., July 1ft.—A sad accident occurred Sunday at Lake Jauies, near Angola. Augustus Burton. aged lfi, son of George and Ella Burton, of Chicago, was in bathing with three companions and getting be* j'ond his depth he drowned before aa bistance could reach him.

Ac({uittul.

LA I'OKTK, lud., July 16 —Charles J. 'felines, landlord of the Hotel Vreeling, who was arrested for violating the Nicholson law, was acquitted. Tonnes' bar-room fronted upon an .lley. The question raised was whether an alley, under the Nicholson law, was a public highway.

A Merchant

Full*.

CoM'MLSL.S. Ind., July 10—John I{. Cent, merchant and miller, made a voluntary assignment for the benefit of his creditors. His liabilities will run from Sl..,U00to 530,000 ami assets in the same proportion.