Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 November 1887 — Page 2

THJE INDIANAPOLIS JO DRXAL. SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 18S7 -TWELVE PAGES.

Printed hytpeial arrangement Copyrighted, 1SS7.J

TEE MISADVENTURES OF JOIN NICHOLSON Christmas Story in Three Parts. BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVESSOU, JLcthos or "Teeasurb Island," axd Mb. Hyde," Etc. "Dr. JzKYHi CHAPTER L ,IS WHICH JOBS SOWS THE WIUD. John Yarey Nicholson was stupid; yet, stupider men than he are now sprawling in Parliament, and landing themselves as the authors of their own distinction. He was of s fat habit, eren from boyhood, and inclined to a cheerful and cursory reading of the face of life; and possibly this attitude of mind was the orisinal cause of bis misfortunes. Beyond this hint philosophy is silent on bis career, and superstition steps in with the more ready explanation that he was detested of the gods. His father that iron gentleman had long ago enthroned himself on the heights of the Disruption Principles. "What these are (and in spite of their grim name they are quite innocent) no array of terms would render thinkable c the merely English intelligence; but to the Scot they often prove unctuously nourishing, and Mr. Nicholson found in them the milk of lions. About the period when the churches convene at Edinburgh in their annual assemblies, be was to be seen descending the mound in the company of divers red-beaded clergymen; these voluble, he only contributing oracular nods, brief negative, and the austere spectacle of bis tratched npper lip. The names of Candlish and Begg were frequent in these interviews, and occasionally the talk ran on the Residuary Establishment aod the doings of one Lee. A stranger to the tigbt little theological kingdom of Scotland might have listened and gathered literally nothing; And Mr. Nicholson (who was not a dull man) knew this, and raged at it He knew there was a vast world outside, to whom Disruption Principles were as the chatter of tree-top apes; the paper broneht him chill whiffs from ,it; he had met Englishmen who had asked lightly if he did not belong to the Church of Scotland, and then he had failed to be much interested by his elucidation of that nice point; it was an evil, wild, rebellious world, lying sunk in dozenedness, for nothing short of a Scot's word will paint this Scotsman's feelings. And when he entered into his own home in Randolph Crescent (Southside), and shut the door behind him, his heart swelled with security. Here, at least, was a eitadel impregnable by right-hand defections or left-hand extremes. Here was a family where prayers came at the same hour, where the Sab- . bath literature was nnimpeachably selected, where the guest who should have leaned to any . false opinion was instantly set down, ana over which there reigned all week, and grew denser on Sundays. & silence that was atrreeable to his ar, and a gloom that he found comfortable. Mrs. Nicholson had died at about thirty,and left him with three children, a daughter two years, and a son about eieht years younger than John, and John himself, the unlucky bearer of a name infamous in Englisp. history. The daughter, Maria, was a good girl dutiful, oio ns, dul', but eo easily startled that to speak to her was quite ft perilous enterprise. "I don't think I care to talk about that, if yon please," she would say, and strike the boldest speechless by her unmistakable pain; this upon all topics dross, pleasure, morality, politics, in which the formula was changed to "my papa thinka otherwise," and even religion, unless it was approached with m particular warning tone 01 voice. Alexander, the yonnger brother, was sickly, clever, fond of books and drawing, and full of satirical remarks. . In the midst of these, imagine that natural, clumsy, unintelligent, 'and mirthful animal. John; mighty well-behaved in comparison with other lads, although not up to the mark of the house in Randolph Crescent; full of a sort of blundering affection, fnll of caresses which were never very warmly received; full of sudden and loud laughters which rang out in that still house like curses. Mr. Nicholson himself had a great fund of bunr, of the Scots order Intel lectual, turning on the observation of men; his nvn ()irftnf at fn in at n ni f Vi a .An11 h.va seen it in another would have been arare feast to him; but his son's empty guffaws over a broken plate, and empty, almost light-headed remarks, struok him with pain as the indices of a weak mind. Outside the family John had early attached himself (much as a dog may follow a marquess) to the steps of Allen Houston, a lad about a year older than himself, idle, a trifle wild, the beir to a good estate, which was still in the hands of a rigorous trustee, and so royally content with himself that he took John's devotion as a tbiog of course. The intimacy was gall to Mr. Nicholson; it took bis son from the house and he was a jealous parent; it kept him from the office, and he was a martiuet; lastly, Mr. Nicholson was ambitious for his family (in which, and the Disruption Principles, he entirely lived,) and he hated to see a son of his play second-fiddler to an idler. After some hesitation, he ordered that the friendship should cease an unfair command, though seemingly inspired by the spirit of prophecy; and John, saying noth- ' lng, continued to disobey the order under the rose. John was nearly nineteen when he was one day dismissed rather earlier than hsual from his father's office, where he was studying the practice of the law. It was Saturday; and except that he had a matter of four hundred pounds in his pocket which it was his duty to hand over to the British Linen Company's bank, he had the whole afternoon at his disposal. He wens by Prince's street enjoying too mild sunshine, and tha little thrill of easterly wind that tossed the flags along that terrace of palaces, and tumbled the green trees in the garden. The band was playing down in the valley under the castle; and when it came to the turn of the pipers', he heard their wild sounds with a stirring of the blood. Something distantly martial woke in him; and he thought of Miss Mackenzie, whom he was to meet that day at dinner. Now, it is undeniable that he should have gone direetly to the bank, butjrieht in the way stood the billiard room of the hotel where Alan was almost certain to be found; and the temptation proved too strong. He entered the billiard room and was instantly greeted by his friend, cue in hand. "Nicholson," said he, -I want you to lend me a pound or two till Monday." "You've come to the right shop, haven't yout" returned John. "I have twopence." "Nonsense," said Alan. "You can get some. Go and borrow at your tailor's; they all do it. Or I'll tell you what: pop your watch." - "O, yes, I daresay," said John. "And how about my father?" "How is he to know? He doesn't wind it up for you at night, does be!" inquired Alan, at which John guffawed. "No, seriously; I am in a fix," continued the tempter. "I have lost some money to a man here. I'll give it to you tonight, and you can get the heirloom out again on Monday. Come; it's a small service, after all. I would do a good deal more for you." Whereupon John went forth, and pawned his gold watch under the assumed came of John Froggs, 83 Pieasance. But the nervousness that a sailed bim at the door of that inglorious haunt a pawnshop and the effort necesssay to invent the pseudonym (which, somehow, seemed to bim a necessary part of the proeednre), had taken more time than he imagiued; and when he returned to tbe billiard-room with the spoils, tbe baoK had already closed its doors. This was a shrewd knock. "A piece of business baa been neglected." He heard these words in bis father's trenchant voice, and trembled, and then dodged th thought. After all.

who was to know? - He must carry four hundred pounds about with bim till Monday, when the neglect would be surreptitiously repaired; and meanwhile be was free to pass the afternoon on the encircling divan of tbe billiard-room, smoking bis pipe, sipping a pint of ale, and enjoying to the mast-head the modest pleasures of admiration. None can admire like a yonng man. Of all youth's passions and pleasures, this is the most common and least alloyed; and every flash of Alan's black eyes; every aspect of his curly head; every graceful reach, every easy, stand-off attitude of waiting, ay, and down to bis shirtsleeves and wrist-links, were seen by John through a luxurious glory. He valued himself by tbe possession of that royal friend, hugged himself upon the thought, and swam in warm azure; his own defects, like vanquished difficulties, becoming things on which to plume himself. Only wben be thought of Miss Mackenzie there

fell upon bis mind a shadow of regret; that young lady was worthy of better things than plain John Nicholson, still known among school mates by the derisive name of "Fatty," and he felt, if he could chalk a cue, or stand at ease, with such a careless grace as Alan, be could re proach the object of his sentiments with a less crushing sense of inferiority. Before they parted, Alan made a proposal that was startling in the extreme. He would be at Colette's that night about twelve, be said. Why should not John come there and get the money? To go to Colette's was to see life, indeed; it was wrong; it was aeainst the laws: it partook, in a very dingy manner, of adventure. Were it known, it was the sort of exploit that disconsidered a young man for eood with the more serious classes, but gave him a standing with the riotous. And yet Colette's was not a hell, it could not come, without vaulting hyperbole, under tbe rubic of a gilded saloon: and, if it was a sin to go there, the sin was merely local and municipal. Colette (whose name I do not know how to spell, for I was never in epistolary communication with that hospitable outlaw, was simply an unlicensed publican, who gave suppers af tereleven at night, the Edinburgh hour of closing. If you belonged to a club, you could get a much better supper at the sam hour, and lose not a jot in public esteem. But if you lacked that qualification, and were an hungered, or inclined towards conviviality at unlawful boura. Colette's was your only port. You were very ill-supplied. The company was not recruited from the Senate or the church, thouzb. the bar was very well represented on the only occasion on which I flew in the face of my country's laws, and, tasing my reputation in my hand, penetrated into the grim supper-house. And Colette's frequentersthrillinely conscious of wrong-doing and that "two-handed engine (the policemen) at the door," were perhaps inclined to somewhat feverish excess. But tbe place was in no sense a very bad one; and it is somewhat strange to me, at this distance of time, how it had acquired its dangerous repute. In precisely the same spirit as a man may debate a project to ascend the Matterhorn, or to cross Africa, John considered Alan's proposal, and,, greatly daring, accepted it. Ashe walked home the thoughts of this excursion out of the safe places of life into the wild and arduous stirred and struecled in his imagination with th image of Miss Mackenzie incongruous and yet kindred thouehts, for did not eaoh imply unusual tightening of the pegs of resolution? Did not each woo him forth and warn him back again into himself? Between these two considerations, at least, he was more than usually moved; and, when he got to Randolph Crescent.be quite forgot the 400 in the inner pocket of his greatcoat, bung np the coat with its rich freight upon his particular pin of tbe hat-stand, and in the very action sealed his doom. CHAPTER IL IN WHICH JOHN REAPS THE WHIRLWIND. About half-past 10 it was John's brave good fortune to offer bis arm to Miss Mackenzie, and escort ber home. The nlsht was chill and starry. All the way eastward the trees of the different gardens rustled and looked black. Up the stone gully of Leith Walk, when they came to cross it, the breeze made a rush and sent the flames of the street lamps quavering; and, when at last they bad mounted to the Royal Terrace, where Captain Mackenzie lived, a great salt freshness came in their faces from the sea. These phases of the walk remained written on John's memory, each emphasized by the touch of that lieht hand on bis arm; and behind all these aspects of the nocturnal city he saw, in his mind's eye, a picture of tbe lighted drawingroom at home where be had sat talking with Flora; and his father, from the other end. bad looked on with a kind and ironical smile. John had read tbe significance of that smile, which micht have escaped a stranger. Mr. Nicholson had remarked his son's entanglement with satisfaction, tinged with humor; and bis smile, if it still was a thought contemptuous, had implied' consent. At the Captain's door tbe girl held ont her band with a certain emphasis, and John took it and kent is a little longer, and said, "Good night, Flora dear," and was instsntly thrown into much fear by his presumption. But she only laughed, ran up the steps, and rang the bell; and, while she was waiting for the door to open, kept close in the porch, and talked to him from that point as out of a fortification. She had a knitted Bhawl over her head; her blue, Highland eyes took tbe licbt from the neighboring street lamp and sparkled; and, wben the door opened and closed upon her, John felt cruelly alone. He proceeded slowly back along the terrace in a tender glow; and wnen he came to Greenside Church he halted in - doubtful mind. Over the crown of the Calton nnl, to his left, lay the way to Colette's, where Alan would soon be looking for bis arrival, and where he would now have no more consented to go than he would have willfully wallowed in a bog; the touch of the girl's hand on his sleeve, and the kindly light in bis father's eyes, both loudly forbidding. But right before him was the wav home, which pointed only to bed, a placo of "little ease for one whose fancy was strung to the lyrical pitch, and whose not very ardent heart was just then turn ultuously moved. The hill-top, the cool air of the night, the company of the great monuments, the sight of the city under his feet, with its hills and vallevs and crossing files of lamps, drew him by all he had of the poetic, and he turned that way, aud by that quite innocent deflection, ripened the crop of his venial errors for the sickle of destiny. On a seat on the hill above Greenside he sat for perhaps a half an hour, looking down upon he lamps of Edinburgh, and up at the lamps of heaven. Wonderful were the resolves he formed; beautiful and kindly were the vistas of future life that sped before him. He uttered to himself the name of Flora in so many tonching and dramatic keys, that he became at length fairly melted with tenderness, and could have sung aloud. At that juncture a certain creasing in his great coat caught bis ear. He put bis band into bis pocket, pulled forth tbe envelope that held the money, and sat stupefied. The Calton hill, about this period, had an ill-name of nights, and to be sitting there with 400 that did not belong to bim was hardly wise. He looked up. There was a man in a very bad hat, a little on one side of bim, apparently looking at the scenery; from a little on the other a second night-walker was drawing very quietly near. Up jumped John. The euvelope fell from his bands; be stooped to get it, and at the same moment both men ran in and closed with bim. A little after, he got to bis feet very sore and shaken, tbe poorer by a purse which contained exactly one penny postage stamp, by a cambrio handkerchief, and by tbe all-important envelope. Here was a young man on whom, at the highest point of loverly exaltation, there bad fallen a blow too sharp to be supported alone; and not many hundred yards away his greatest friend was sitting at supper ay, and even expecting him. Was it not in the nature of man that he should run there) He went in quest of symnatby in q lest of that droll article that we all suppose ou-selves to want when in a strait, and have agreed to call advice; and be went besides, with vague but rather splendid expectations of relief. Alan was rich, or would be so wben be came of age. By a stroke of the pen he might remedy this misfortune, and avert that dreaded interview with Mr. Nicholson, from which John now shrank in imagination as the hand draws back from fire. Close under the Calton Hill there runs a certain narrow avenne, part street, part road. The bead of ii aces tbe doors of tbe prison; Its tail descends into the sunless slums of tbe Low Calton. On one hand it is overhung by tbe crags of the hill, on the other by an old graveyard. Between these two tbe roadway runs in a trench, sparsely lighted at night, sparsely frequented by day, and bordered, when it has cleared the place of tombs, by dingy and ambiguous houses. One of these was the house of Colette, and at bis door our ill-starred John was presently beating for admittance In an evil hour he satisfied tbe jealous inquiries of the contraband hotel-keeper; in an evil hour be penetrated into the somewhat unsavory interior. Alan, to be sure, was there, seated in a room lit by noisy gas jets, beside a dirty tablecloth, engaged on a coarse meal, and in tbe company of several tipsy members of the junior bar. But Alan was not sober; be had lost a thousand pounds upon a horse-race, had received the news at dinner time, and was now in default of any possible means of extrication, drowning the memory of bis predicament. He to help John! The thing was impossible; he couldn't help himself. "If you have a beast of a father," said he, "I can tell you I have a brnte of a trustee." "I'm not eoing to hear my father called a beast, "said John, with a beating heart, feeling that he risked the last sound rivet of the chain that bound bim to life, But Alan was quite good-natured. "Al! right, old fellow," said he. "Mos" resneo'ble man your father." And ha intro

duced his friend to his companions as "Old Nicholson the what-d'ye-eall-um's son." - John eat in dumb agony. Colette's foul walls and maculate table linen, and even down to Colette's villainous casters, seemed like objects in a nightmare. And just then there came a knock and a scurrying; the police, eo lamentably absent from the Calton Hill, appeared upon the scene; and tbe party, taken flagrante delicto, with their glasses at their elbows, were seized ma-ched up to tbe police officer, and all duly summoned to appear as witnesses in the consequent case against that arch-shebeener Colette.' It was a sorrowful and mightily sobered company that came forth again. The vague terror of public opinion weighed generally on them all; but there were private and particular horrors on the minds of individuals. Alan stood in dread of his trustee, already sorely tried. One of the gronp was the son of a country minister, another of a judge; John, the unhappiest of all, bad David Nicholson to father.the idea of facing whom on such a scandalous subject was physically sickening. They stood awhile consulting under the buttresses of Saint Giles; thence they adjourned to the lodgings of one of the number in North Castle street, where, for that matter, they might have . had quite as good a supper, and far better to drink, than in tbe dangerous paradise from which they had been routed. There, over an almost tearful glass, they debated their position. Each explained he had the world to lose if the affair went on, and he appeared as a witness. It was remarkable what bright prospects were just then in the very act of opening before each of that little company of youths, and what pious consideration for the feelings of their families began now to well from tbem. Each, moreover, was in an odd state of destitution. Not one could bear his share of the fine; not one but evinced a wonderful twinkle of hope that each of the others, in succession, was the very man who could step in to make good the deficit. One took a high hand; be could not pay bis share; if it went to a trial, he should bolt; be bad always felt tbe English bar to be his true sDhere. Another branched out ihto touching details about bis family, and was not listened to. John, in the midst of this disorderly competition of poverty and meanness, sat stunned, contemplating the mountain bulk of bis misfortunes. At last, upon a pledge that each should apply' to his family with common frankness, this convention of unhappy young asses broke up, went down the common stair, and in the gray of the spring morning, with the streets lying dead and empty all about them, the lamps burning on into the daylight with diminished lustre, and the birds beginning, to sound premonitory notes from the groves of the town gardens, went each his own way with bowed head and echoing footfall. The rooks were awaks in Randolph Crescent; but tbe windows looked down, discreetly blinded, on the return of the prodigal. John's pass key was a recent privilege; this was the first time it had been nsed; and, O, with what a sickening sense of his unworthiness, be now inserted it into the well-oiled lock and entered that citadel of tbe proprieties! All slept; the gas in the ball had been left faintly burning to light his

return; a dreadful stillness reignea, orosen oy the deep ticking of the eight-day clock. He put the gas out. and sat on a chair in the hall, waitinz and countine the minutes, longing for any human countenance. But when at last he heard the alarm soring its rattle in the lower story, and the servants beginning to be about, he instantly lost heart, and fled to his own room, where he threw himself upon the bed. CHAPTER III. IN WHICH JOHN ENJOYS THE HARVEST HOME. Shortly after breakfast, at which he assisted with a highly tragical countenance, John sought bis father where he sat, presumably in religious meditation, on the Sabbath mornings. The old gentleman looked up with that sour, inquisitive expression, that came so near to smiling and was so different in eaect. "This is a time when I do not like to he distnrhed." be said. "I know that," returned John; "but I have I want I ve made a dreadful mess or it, no broke out. and turned to the window. Mr. Nicholson sat silent for an appreciable time, while his unhappy son surveyed the poles in the back green, and a certain yellow cat that was perched upon the wall. Despair sat upon John as be gazed; and he raged to think of the dreadful series of bis misdeeds, and the essen tial innocence that lay behind them. "Well," said the father. with an obvious effort, but in very quiet tones, "wnst is m "Maclean gave mo 400 to put is the bank.sir," began John, "and I'm sorry to say that I've been robbed of it." "Robbed of it?" cried Mr. Nicholson, with a strong rising inflection. "Robbed: Be careful what vou sav. John?" "I can't say anything else, sir, I wasjnst robbed of it, said desperation, suddenly. "And where and when did this extraordinary event take place? inquired the father. .'On the Calton Hill, about 12 last night." "The Calton Hill?" repeated Mr. Nicholson. "And what were you doing there at such a time of the night!7 "Nothing, sir," says John. Mr. Nicholson drew in his breath. "And how came the money in your hands at 12 last niehti" he asked, sharply. "I neglected that piece of business," said John, anticipating comment, and then in his owu dia lect: "I clean forgot all about it. "Well," said his father, "it's a most extraor dinary story. Have you communicated with. the police? "I have." answered poor John, the blood leap ing to his face. "They think they know tbe men that did it. I daresay the money will be recovered, if that was all,'' said he with a desper ate indifference, which his father set down to levity, but which sprung from the consciousness of worse behind. "Your mother's watch, too?'' asked Mr. Nicholson. "O. the watch is all right?" cried John. "At least, I mean I was coming to the watch the fact is. I am ashamed to say, I I had pawned the watch before. Here is the ticket; they iin'f 4inA that tilA vpui f'n fan Ta T1 am m aAthey don't sell pledges." The lad panted out these phrases, one after another, like minute guns; but at the last word, which rang in that stately chamber like an oath, his heart failed bim utterly; and the dreaded silence settled on father and son. It was broken by Mr. Nicholson picking np the pawn ticket "John Froggs, 85 Pieasance," he read; and then turning upon John with a brief flash of passion and disgust, "Who is John Frogsrs?" he cried. "Nobody," said John. "I was just a name." "An alias, his father commented. "O! I think scarcely quite that," said the culprit; "its a form they all do it, the man seemed to understand, we bad a great deal of fun over the name " He paused at that, for he saw his father wince at the picture like a man physically struck; and again there was silence. "I do not think," said Mr. Nicholson, at last. "that I am an ungenerous father. I have never grudged you money within reason, for any avowable purpose; vou had just to come to me and speak. And now I find that you have for gotten all decency and all natural feeling, and actually pawned pawned vour mother's watch. You must have had some temptation. I will do you the justice to suppose it was a strong one. v bat did you want with this money? ' "I would rather not tell you. sir." said John. "It will only make you angry." "I will not be fenced with, cried his fatrer. "There must be an end of disingenuous an swers, w natdid you want witn this moneyr "To lend it to Houston sir," says John. "I thought I had forbidden you to speak to that young man? asked the father. "Yes, sir," said John; "but I only met him." "Wheref came the deadly question. And "In a billiard-room," was the damning answer. Thus, bad John's single departure from the truth bronght instant punishment. For no other purpose but to see Alan, would be have entered a billiard-room; but he had desired to palliate the fact of his disobedience, and now it appeared that he frequented these disreputable haunts upon his own account. Once more Mr. Nicholson digested tbe vile tidings in silence; and, when John stole a glance at his father's countenauce, he was abashed tb see fie marks of suffering. "Well," said the old gentleman, at last, "I cannot pretend not to be simply bowed down. I . rose this morning what the world calls a happy man happy, at least, in a son of whom I thought I could be reasonably proud " But it was beyond human nature to endure this longer, and John interrupted, almoBt with a scream: "O, wheest!" he cried, "that's not all; that's .not the worst of it it's nothing! How could I tell that you were proud of me? O. I wish that I bad known; but you always said I was such a disgrace! And the dreadful thing is this: We were all taken up last night, and we have to pay Colette's fino among tbe six. or we'll be bad up for evidence shedeening it is. They made me swear to tell you; but for my part," be cried, bursting into tears, "I just wish that I was dead!" And he fell on his knees before a chair and hid his face. Whether his father spoke, and whether he remained long io the room or at once departed, are points lost to history. A horrid tnrmoil of mind and body; bursting sobs; broken, vanishing thoughts, now of indignation, now of remorse; broken elementary whiffs of consciousness, of tbe smell of tbe borse-bair on tbe chair bottom, of tbe jangling of church bells, that now began to make day horrible tbronghout the confines of tbe city, of tbe bard floor that bruised his knees, of the taste of tears that found their way into bis mouth; for a period of time, the duration of which I cannot guess, while I refuse to dwell longeron its agony, these were the whole of God's world for John Nicholson. When at last, as by the to uching of a spring.

he returned to clearness of consciousness and even a measure of composure, the bells bad just done ringing, and the Sabbath silence was stiil

marred by the patter of belated feet. By the clocK above the tire, as well as by those more speaking signs, the service had not long begun; and tbe unhappy sinner, if his father had really gone to church, might count on near two hours of only comparative unhappinesa. With his father the superlative degree returned infalli bly. He knew it by every shrinking fiber in his body; he knew it by the sudden dizzy whirling of bis brain at the mere thought of that ca lamity. An hour and a half, perhaps an hour and three-quarters, 11 the doetor was Jongwinded, and then would begin again that active agony from which, even in the -dull ache of the present, he shrank as if from tbe bite of fire. He saw. in a vision, the family pew, the somnolent cushions, the Bibles, the psalm-books, Maria with ber smelling salts, his father sitting spectacled and critical; and at once he was struck with indignation, not unjustly. It was inhuman to go off to church, and leave a sinner in suspense, unpunished, unforgiven. . And at tbe very touch of criticism the paternal sanctity was lessened; vet tbe paternal terror only grew. and the two strands of feeling pushed him in the same direction. And suddenly there csme upon him a mad fear lest his father should have locked him in. The notion had no ground in sense; it was prob ably no more than a reminiscence of similar calamities in childhood, for bis father's room bad always been the chamber of inquisition and tha scene of punishment; but it stuck so rigorously in his mind that he must instantly approach tbe door and prove its untruth. As he went, be struck upon a drawer left open in the business table. It was the money drawer, a measure of his father s disarray; tbe money drawer per haps a pointing providence! Who is to decide, when even divines differ, between a providence and a temptation? Or who, sitting calmly un der his own vine, is to pass a judgment on the doings of a poor, hunted dog. slavishly afraid, slavishly rebellious, like John Nicholson on that particular Sunday? His hand was in the drawer, almost before his mind had conceived tbe hope; and rising to his new situation he wrote, sitting in his father's chair and using his father's blotting-pad, his pitiful apology and farewell: "My Dear Father I have taken the money. but I will pay it back as soon as I am able. You will never hear of me again. I did not mean any barm by anything, so I hope you will try and forgive me. I wish you would say good-bve to Alexander and Maria, but not if yon don t want to. I could not wait to see you, really. Please try to 'forgive me. Your affec tionate son, John Nicholson." The coins abstracted and tbe missive written. ho could not be gone too soon from the scene of these transgressions; and remembering how bis father had once returned from church, on some slight illness, in the middle of the second psalm, he durst not even make a packet of a change of clothes. Attired as he was, he slipped from the paternal doors, and found himself in the cool spring air, the thin spring sunshine and the great Sabbath quiet of the city, which was now only pointed by the cawing of the rooks. There was not a soul in Randolph Cres cent, nor a soul in Queensferry street: in this outdoor privacv and the sense or escape, John took heart again; and with a pathetic sense of leave-taking, he even ventured up tbe lane and stood awhile, a strange peri at the gates of a I "Quaint paradise, by tbe west end of St. George's cnurcn. iney were singiDE wnum; iuu uy a strange chance the tune was M. Georges, Edinburgh," which bears the name, and was first sung in the choir of that church. "Who is this King of Glory?" went tbe voices from with in: and. to John, this was like the end of all Christian observances, for he was now to be a wild man like Isbmael, and his life was to be cast in homeless places and with godless people. It was thus, with no rising sense of the adventurous, but in mere desolation and despair, that be turned his back on bis native city, and set Out on foot for California, with a more imme diate eye to Glasgow., CHAPTER rv. THE SECOND SOWING. - It is no part of mine to narrate the adventures of John Nicholson, which were many, but 6imply bis more momentous misadventures, which were more than he desired, and. by hu man standards, more than he deserved; how he reached California, bow he was rooked, and robbed, and beaten, and starved; how he was at last taken up by charitable folk, restored to some degree of self-complacency, and installed as a clerk in a bank at San Francisco, it would take too long to tell, nor in these 'episodes were there any marks of tbe peculiar Nicholsonic destinv, for they were just such matters as befesome thousands of other young adventurers in (be same flays and places. But once posted in the bank, he fell for a time into a high degree of good fortune, which, as it was only a longer way about to fresh disaster, it behooves us to explain. It was his luck to meet a young man in what is technically called a "dive, and thanks to his monthly wages, to extricate this new acquaint ance from a position of present disgrace and possible danger in the future. This young man was the nephew of one of the Nob Hill magnates who run tbe San Francisco Stock Ex change, much as m ore homble adventurers, in tbe c rner of some public park at home, may be seen to perform the simple artifice of pea and thimble: for their own profit, that is to say, and the discouragement of pnblic gambling. It was thus in his power and as he was of grateful temper, it was among the things that be desired to put John in the way of growing rich; and thus, without thougnt or industry, or so much as understanding tbe game at which be played. but by simply buying and selling what he was told to buy and sell, that plaything of fortune was presently at tbe head of between eleven and twelve thousand pouuds, or, as be reckoned It, of upwards of sixty thousand dollars. How he had come to deserve this wealth any more than how be had formerly earned disgrace at home, was a problem beyond tbe reach of his philosophy. It is true that he had been indus trious at the bank, but no more so than the cashier, who had seven small children and was visibly sinking in decline. Nor was tbe step which determined his advance a visit to a dive with a month's wages in bis pocket an act of such transcendent virtue or even wisdom as to seem to merit the favor of the gods. From some sense of this, and of the dizzy see-saw heaven-high, hell-deep on which men sit clutching; or perhaps fearing that the sources of his fortune might be insidiously traced to some root in the field of petty cash; he stuck to his work, said not a word of bis new circumstances, and kept his account with a bank in a different quarter of the town. The concealment, innocent as it seems, was the first step in the second tragi-comedy of John's existence. Meanwhile, be had never written home. Whether from diffidence or shame, or a touch of anger, or mere procrastination, ot because (as we have seen) he had no skill in literary arts, or because (as I am sometimes tempted to suppose) there is a law in human nature which prevents young men not otherwise beasts from performing this simple aet of piety months and years bad gone by, and John bad never written. The habit of not writing, indeed, was already fixed before be had begun to come into his fortn n a nnH it. waa nn!v th 1iffinltr nt hrAnVini this fling silence that withheld him from an infctant restitution of the money he had stolen or (as he preferred to call it) borrowed. In vain he sat before paper, attending on inspiration; that heavenly nymph, beyend suggesting tbe words. "My dear father," remained obstinately silent; and presently John would crumple up the sheet and decide, as soon as he had "a good chance," to carry the money borne in person. And this delay which is indefensible, was his second step into snares of fortune. Ten years had passed, and John was drawing near to thirty. He had kept the promise of bis boyhood, and was now of a lusty frame, verging towards corpulence; good features, good eyes, a genial manner, a ready laugh, a long pair of sandy whiskers, a dash of an American accent, a close familiarity with the great American joke, and a certain likeness to a R-y-1 P-rs-n-ge, who sball remain nameless for me. made np the man's externals as he could be viewed in soci ety. Inwardly, in spite of his gross body and highly masculine whiskers, be was more like a maiden lady tban a man of twenty-nine. It chanced one day. as be was strolling down Market street, on the eve of bis fortnight's holi day, that bis eye was caught by certain railway bills, and in very idleness or mind be calculated that be might be home for Christmas if he started on the morrow. The fancy thrilled him with desire, and in one moment he decided be would go. There was much to be done: His portman teau to be packed, a credit to be got from tbe bank, where be was a wealthy customer, and certain offices to be transacted for that other bank in which he was a bumble clerk; and it chanced, in conformity with human nature, that out of all this business it was the last that came to be neglected. Nigbt found him. not only equipped with money of his own, but once more (as on that former occasion) saddled with a considerable sum of other people's. Now it chanced there lived in the same boarding-bouse a fellow-clerk of his, an honest fellow, with what is called a weakness for drink though it might, in this case, have been called a strength, for the victim bad been drunk for wee&s together without the briefest inter mission. To this unfortunate John intrusted a letter with an inclosure of bonds, addressed to the bank manager. Even as be did so be thought he perceived a certain haziness of eye and speech in his trustee; but he was too hope ful to be stayed, silenced tbe voice of warning in his bosom, and with one and the same gesttnre committed the money to the clerk, and himself into the hands of destiny. I dwell, even at tbe risk of tedium, on John's

minutest errors, his case being so perplexing to the moralist; but we have done with them now, tbe roll is closed, the reader has the worst of onr poor hero, and I leave him to judge for himself whether he or John has been tbe less deserving. -Henceforth we have to follow the spectacle of a man who was a mere whiptop for calamity; on whose unmerited misadventures not even the humorist can look without pity, and not even tbe philosopher without alarm. That same night the clerk entered upon a bout of drunkenness so consistent as to surprise even his intimate acquaintances. He was speedily ejected from the boarding-honse: deposited his portmanteau with a perfect stranger, who did not even catch his name; wandered be knew not where; and was at last hove-to, all standing, in a hospital at Sacramento. There, under the impenetrable alias of the number of his bed. the crapulous being lay for some mora days unconscious of all things, and of one thing in particular, that the police were after bim. Two months had come and gone before tbe convalescent in the Sacramento hospital was identified with Kirkman, the absconding San Francisco clerk; even then, there mnst elapse nearly a fortnight more till the perfect stranger could be bunted up, the portmanteau recovered, and John's letter carried at length to its destination, the seal still unbroken, the inclosure still intact Meanwhile, John had gone upon his holidays without a word, which was irregular; and there had disappeared with him a certain sum of money, which was out of all bounds of paliation. But be was known to be careless, and believed to be honest; the manager, besides, had a regard for him; and little was said, although something was no doubt thought, until the fortnight was finally at an eno, and the time had come for John to reappear. Then, indeed, the affair began to look black; and when inquiries were made, and the penniless clerk was found to have amassed thousands of dollars, and kept them secretly in a rival establishment, the stoutest of his friends abandoned bim, tbe books were overhauled for traces of ancient and artful fraud, and, though none were found, tbere still prevailed a general impression of loss. The telegraph was set in motion; and tbe correspondent of tbe bank in Edinburgh, for which place it was understood that John had armed himself with extensive credits, was warned to communicate with the police. Now, this correspondent was a friend of Mr. Nicholson's; he was well acquainted with the tale of John's calamitous disappearance from Edinburg: and, putting one thing with another, basted with the first word of this scandal, not to the police, bat to his friend. The old gentleman had long regarded his son as one dead. John's place bad been taken, the memory of his faults had already fallen to be one of those old aches, which awaken indeed upon occasion, but which we can always vanquish by an effort of the will; and to have the long lost resuscitated in a fresh disgrace was doubly bitter. "MacEwen," said the old man, "this must be hushed np, if possible. If I give you a cheque for this sum. about which they are certain, could you take it on yourself to let the matter rest?" "I will," said MacEwen. "I will take the risk

of it." "You understand," resumed Mr. Nicholson, speaking precisely, but with asheu lips, "I do this for my family, not for that unhappy young man. If it should turn out tbat these suspicions are correct and he has embezzled large sums, he ranst lie on bis bed as he has made it." And then looking np at MacEwen with a nod and one of his strange smiles. "Good-bye, said he. and MacEwen, perceiving the case to be too grave for consolation, took himself off, and blessed God on his way home tbat he was childless. (TO BE CONTINUED NEXl SUNDAY.) Written for the Sunday Journal. A Gray Day. The sky is wrapped ia tender gray, And gray the fields below; The lacy tracery of the tree Sways softly to and fro. In feathery fringes from the roof The gray clematis clings. And to the tall gray gable peak A pearly pigeon wings. The distant hills are felt more near. And in clear silhouette Against the far horizon's rim Their cresting woods are set. All hues are toned to one soft tint, Yet such the truth it brings That closer than by blinding sun 1 touch the heart of things. Evaleen Stein. Written for the Sundny Journal. Winter. A SONNET. ' Slow southward through tbe melancholy sky, lib. shrill complainings and unsteady night The flocks, wing-weary, disappear from sight. Ana m the reeling-, rainy woods, toe cry Of cawins; crows, in querulous reply. sounds through the short wet days whose smoky lieht Grows dull and dark, then fades into a night Of weeping, wailing, ominous prophecy. All through the long hours beats the low tatto Of muffled fingers on the window ledge. And when the white earth meets the eastern glow, And hlmy laces drape tbe foliage. Soft as a rabbit's tread upon the snow Chill winter has crept on us like old age. Edwin Sylvester Hopkins. jEFTEBSONVILIiE, Nov. 19, 1887. Written for the Sunday Journal. For Her. For her dear sake I breast the gale, For her the mighty walls I scale; Though high and grim their towers frown, And strong hands reach to pull me down, I think of her and never quell. My love is like a coat of mail, And human skill caunot avail To daunt the soul that seeks renown For her dear sake. Let envy stand below and rail; I shall the upper air inhale, Far from the laughter of the clown, And if her love be not my crown My bone will fail, yet gladly tail . For her dear sake. Richard Lew Dawson. Song from "Locrio e." "Had I wi-jt." Quoth Spring to the Swallow, "That Earth could forget me, kissed By Summer, and lured to follow Down ways that I knew not. not I, My heart should have waxed not high, Midmarch would have seen me die, Had I wist." "Had I wist, 0 Spring," said the Swallow, "That hope was a sunlit mist. And the faint light heart of it hollow. The woods had not heard me sing. Thy winds had not known my wing, . It had faltered ere thine did. Spring, Had I wistl" Algernon Charles Swinburne. Tbe Record of a Veteran. What, lost an eye, a leg, ai arm. And of your nose bereft! For veterans, sir. my heart is warm; Let's shake the hand that's left. A comrade I am proud to see, A comrade of the war. Pray tell me, sir, aro you, like ma One of the G.A.R1 I never joined the G. A. R., The stranger thus began. And I became not in the war A mutilated man. Ho drew his form erect with pride, And flushed his visage pale As in exulting tones he cried, I nsed to kick with Yale. Boston Courier. The Small Roy in High Clover. We're livin' on the toppest shelf, We've evervthinjj from goose to grouse, Ilia'n't been licked for most a week, 'Cause we've got comp'ny 't our house. When we're alone my ma is strict. An' makes me keep as still's a mouse, But now I make a heap o' noise, 'Cause we've got comp'ny 't our house. We've "peach preserves an pumkin pie. An' jelly cake three times a day, An' I'm bavin' such a bully time 1 wish 't our comp'ny come to stay. New York Evening Sun. Now. My life slips out its pat and is-to-be And hugs the present tigbt; Though pain acd darkness fill futurity, What matters it to-night? My life and heart were dreary yesterday; I lived scarce caring how! Smiling, 1 cast the memory away, Pressing tbe lips of Now. Charlotte Flsk Bates. In Lippincott's. The gray clouds gather, fold on fold. Above the blurred and dripping wold; The litjbt is growing pile and cold. And ghostly mists steal o'er the plain. A robin in the elm ia crying; Aboat the eaves the wind is sighing; O, dismal day! my heart is lying In yon fresh grave drenched with the rata. James Beojamiu Keuyon. Come then, days bright and strange. Quiet, while this mad world whirls reckless by, Restful, amidst this life of reckless change, Shine on, sweet Indian summer, tender, calm. The year's lst thankful psalm To God you smiling bring. We, too, will smile, aud wait the eternal spring. Dinah Maria Mulock craik.

WOMEN'S GOSSIP. The Latest 'Whim ofth Semi-Literary Society Dame College Alumnae. Special Correspondence of tbe Indianapolis Jonrnal. New York, Nov- 26, It is getting to be tha ambition of every New York woman, as it has long been that of every Parasian dame, to have) a ealon. To catch adesirableassortmentof lions, to pars their claws, to induce them to roar gently as any sucking dove, to knot colored ribbons in their tawny manes and to lead them about like tha sawdust procession at Barnum's on a more delicate and rose-scented scale; this is the new ideal, and social menageries multiply. The salon proper, that is the political salon, does not exist in New York. Partly from th nature of New York politics, and partly because the woman who could hold one has not yet appeared. In spite of the new interest of women in practical matters, even m politics, the woman at whose house statesmen supposing statesmen abundant in New York could rendezvous , discuss all sides of a question fairly and without heat, and feel as in the old French days that there was an open Parliament with a charmingly intelligent Speaker, whose smiles were sufficient guerdon for their oratory; a woman at whose house politicians could be encouraged to defend, their convictions or abandon them, has not yet been evolved. The New York salons are literary, musical, artistic or all three mixed- Politics is almost an unknown subject to them- None of them as yet is very extensive, though several are growing. A New York salon commonly takes the the form of a "Sunday evening," and a woman to have an attractive gathering every week must be an agreeable hostess, have plenty of tact, be above jealousy, and have more than an average share of brains. The gatherings that come nearest to deserving the ambitious term of salon are not the result of lion-hunting. They have grown of their own accord almost without knowledge of the woman who is their center. They are impromptu, so to speak, and the pleasantest meeting places of the city. Miss Mary L. Booth, editor of Harper's Bazar, has a salon of this kind where one see the people best worth, knowing in the city. Kate Sanborn, who has a pretty suite of rooms at the Windsor, is so witty and vivacious that witty and vivacious people gather to her by instinct. Mme. Demorest s receptions are rather more of dress occasions, but are frequented by people who can write, and people who speak, and people who can appreciate other folks who do these things. Wis. Martha J. Lamb, of the Magazine of American History, is a delightful hostess, as people who are fortunate enough to be her guests know. -Mrs. Croly, "Jenny June." and her daughter Vida have pleasant "at homes." where pleasant people go. Miss Laura O. Holloway lives in Brooklyn, and Her Sunday evenings touch a wider circle of human interest than such gatherings often do. Miss Lillie Devereux Blake, the woman suffrage writer and speaker, is at home to people with ideas, not all of them, by any means, of the more radical sort. Mrs. Frank Leslie's evenings are cosmopolitan, and include about as many varieties of people, of the more interesting sorts, as there are in . the the world. Ella Wheeler Wilcox has not entertained in New York much as yet, but her evenings are expected to be informal and on a more or less original plan. The salon, as I said, is becoming popular, and a great many women try to hold an imitation of one who can't. This leads to the multiplication of mutual admiration societies, which of all stupid ways of entertaining are about the most insufferable. It is for the better success of the cotton and wool salons of this sort that a new code of etiquette for the government of lions ought to be formulated. The lion masculine has an inconvenient way at inopportune moments of sulking and refusing to roar, in striking contrast to the behavior of the lion feminine, who on an average is more amiable and ready to go through her programme of tricks. Co)! Alumnae. Special Correspondence of tbe Indianapolis Journal. New York, Nov. 26. The New York Association of Collegiate Alumnae held the first of its winter meetings in the library at Columbia College last Saturday afternoon. Collectively the representatives of the higher education made a nice looking set of girls. There were one hundred or more of them, all in demi-dress, with dainty little bonnets and pretty gloves They were well groomed, as horsey New York likes to put it. fresh and wholesome looking, and very simply and quietly gowned. Not one in two dozen wore any jewelry, and there weren't cosmetics enough, in the crowd to bring a blush to the cheek of a plaster of paris angeL

The results of calesthenic training were evident in the superb carriage of the head, the erect grace of the figure, and the ease with which every girl walked. They had mastered the art of locomotion. There wasn't a suspicion of a swing or a sidelong mince to them, and whether gloved or ungloved they knew just what to do with their hands. They were a fine set of women physically, and if girls who don't go to school looked half as healthy there would be a splendid next generation. There wasn't a hint of slang, and, by the shades of tutti f rutti, they wouldn't have known what to do with gum. They talked about philanthropy, socialism and anarchy, and there seemed to be a good deal of sound political and social economy stowed away in their heads. A number of thoughtful women who are not "graduates' meet with them as guests very frequently. Miss Grace H. Dodge, the School Commissioner. Mrs. Josephine Shaw LowelL sister-in-law of the poet, a phalanx of women physicians, and one or two women dentists being fairly constant attendants. A Costly School-Honce. Correspondence of the Indianapolis Journal. New York, Not. 26. Mrs. Young, of Fall River, has given half a million dollars, well, if not wisely, to build a common school-house in that city. The munificence of the gift, in comparison with its object, is explained by the claim that the school, when completed, will be the finest in the world, and that it will be provided with a big telescope and a fine gymnasium. All these things are, very good, but it seems to the unprejudiced observer that a good enough school-house, all things considered, might be built for a small fraction of that money, the remainder of which might be devoted to more pressing work. Astronomy is a very interesting study, but one that is hardly likely to be carried far enough in a public school to need the use of a big telescope, while a gymnasium, though a great necessity, needn't cost much. But how much actual suffering there exists ia : the mill district, of which Fall River is the center, only those who have investigated it can know. The Legislature of Rhode Island was compelled, a few years ago. to pass a law compelling women who habitually work in the shop3 to stay at home at least three weeks wben a child is born. Before that the poor mothers had often been driven by actual want to reenter the shop with only a few days' respite, Vnd the gravest dangers to public health were the natural result- But the kindly meant prohibition is sometimes evaded, and, where enforced, often entails as much hardship through need of ready money as it was designed to prevent. The children, too, are put to work so young, and kept at it so steadily, that they don't learn much of writing and arithmetic, to say nothing of astronomy. Undoubtedly a $500,000 school is a good thing, but somehow it doesn't seem to come first. The Marriage Notice of the Future. Life. A fashionable wedding notice last week gave the genealogy of the bride, as well as the occupation aud connections of the groom, his father's titles and decorations thrown in, and closed with tho announcement that so and so furnished the decorations. This is what realism is leading us to. But why not carry it all the way through to its fullest extent. Thus, for instance: MARRIED. Jinldns Jones On the 20th of October, at No. 4672 Ninth avenue (John P. Robinson, architect; Theodore Brown, builder) by the Rev. Pierre K. Goodman, author of "Side Lights of the Gospels,, published by Harping 6s Bros., 12mo, cloth $1, paper 50 cents, for sale by all respectable newsdealers. Anna Jones, daughter of Charles P. Jones, wholesale grocery, of 9576 Pearl street, and sole agent in New Yoric for Spile's Gurline. 15 cents per package, and granddaughter of Midshipman Easy, author of the Century's articles on "The Navy at Gettysburg," to Patsy J. P. Q. Jinkins, of the Sandwich Islands custom house, and Son of Gen. Bolivar J. D. Furioso Jinkins, P. P. C. J. A. C. K., C D.. of her Ma jesy's forces inManitotoba. Rebellions a specialty. Office hours 6-4. Decorations by J. Kearney. 626 fourteenth avenue, third son of P. Kearney, caterer, of 33 Floyn-Jones Street. Furnace fire by James HigginbethamrGas by the United States Gas Trust of New York. Supper and flowers by Blunder, nephew of Lieutt Charles K Bombastes. of the New York Gazette: terms $1.50 per annum, payable in advance. Conversation at reception by the World's Entertainment Emporium, talented conversationalists and raconteurs, etc., furnished at short notice and at moderate prices. To be sure, this would cost money, but what i money conpared with the advantages accruing from the system!