People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 June 1894 — Page 3

FIVE SONGS OF MONEY.

FIRST SONG. It Jingled, It tingled—it warmed the eold palm* Of a miser A man, singing psalms In rags of wretched linen—bowed down to the sod. Heard the chime of the dollars and smiled, and thanked God! SECOND SONG. It Jingled, it tingled—it flashed through the night To a beggar who knelt near a mansion of light; And he said: “I shall win her, if life will but holds” And he climbed to her heart on a:ladder of gold! THIRD SONG Iljingled, it tingled: A man heard the sound. And over him gathered the darkness profound; And he said: ‘“There is never a God that shall now" As he strangled the life in the sleeping man’s throat. FOURTH SONG It Jingled, it tingled: A woman made wild, Hushed in her mad bosom the cries of a child; And she said: “How the black night falls hateful and cold! And the wolf at the door would have virtue for gold!" FIFTH SONG. A world with thy splendors, thy hopes and thy fears; Thy plenty of charity—plenty of tears! We know there’s a rainbow for every dark sky— We know there’s a love that no money can buy! But the rainbow still lingers—the love may be lost. While the tradesmen still cavel and cast up the cost It is Jingle, and tingle, in rags and in lace; But we kneel and thank God for the smile of His face! —Frank L. Stanton, in Atlanta Constitution.

THE OLD MILL MYSTERY

By Arthur W. Marchmont, B. A. Author of “ Miser Iloadicy’s Secret,” “Madeline Power,” “By Whose Band,” “ Isa,” Ac , Ac. fCoprnght. ISM, by the Author.] CHAPTER Vll— Continued. “Stand back there!” he cried, tn a threatening tone. “If you try to attack me I’ll raise every soul in the village. I know your game, Jack Dilworth; but it won’t do with me.” “Come on, Jack,” cried another of the men. “Leave the scallywag alone. We shall have a chance yet of squaring things up with him.” “1 shan’t,” replied the man, doggedly. He had been drinking. “I mean to have a go at him now. Look out for yourself, you young devil,” he called to Tom, and as he spoke he made a savage run to the latter, struck fu'iously at him, and tried to wrest awk; his stick. But £\e reckoned without his host. Tom brought down the stick with a heavy blow on his assailant’s arm, and, parrying the blows aimed at him, struck out with his fist, and caught nim on the chest and sent him staggering back. The man changed his tactics then, and, stepping back a pace or two. made a running kick at Tom with all his force. Tom stepped aside and avoided the kick, and then struck the other with all his strength on the leg. With a crj’ of pain and foiled rage, he fell to the ground, crying to the others to help him. They were enraged, and, seeing the issue of the struggle, with a few muttered threats they closed round Tom to attack him. “ Kill the young devil,” shouted the man who had been knocked down. “If you don’t silence him there may be no end of trouble out of this job. Here, help me to get up. I’ll soon do *or him,” said he, with a horrible oath. “Don’t you think you five bullies have about done enough?” said a calm, even voice, just at this juncture. AU the men looked up at the words and found that they were being watched from the upper window of one of the cottages by a man who was observing the whole scene leisurely. “Who’s that?” growled the man who was lying on the ground. “Ofc. you know very well who it is, Jack Dilworth, just as well as Dick Crook there, or young Tom Roylance himself. You’d better give this kind of game up, all of you. You, Tom, needn't be so handy with that bit of oak of yours. You might have broken Jack’s leg,” and the speaker, Peter Foster, a clog and boot maker, laughed. “Jack’ll bear ye a grudge for that; see if he don’t. You’re not the lad to forget you’ve been knocked over. Jack, are you?” The man whom he addressed growled out an oath by way of answer, and his companions coming to the conclusion that it was no use carrying the scene any further lifted the fallen Dilworth and helped him away, leaving Tom alone and master of the field. “You’d better go home, Tom Roylance,” said the old clog-maker, with a dry laugh, “and be thankful that you’re able to walk the distance instead of being carried, clogs foremost.” “Aye, you’ve saved me a cracked vkin. Pete,” said Tom, and with a cheery good night he walked away homewards with some words of warning from the old man. After that, bad blood and black looks were to be seen in many directions. Tom said nothing to either Mary or Savannah for fear they should be alarmed on his account; but he began to take precautions lest he should be again attacked. Theonly person he told was Reuben Gorringe. “Some of the strikers are getting a bit restless,” he said. “Howdo you mean?” asked Gorringe, looking keenly at him “Have you heard anything outside?” "Last night there was az attempt to give me a thrashing," and Tom told b*in briefly what had happened. “Do you know the men?” asked Gorrloge. “Oh, yes.” “Then we’ll prosecute them. I care nothing for their threats, but when it comes to attacking those who stand by me, it’s a different thing. Look here.” He gave a short ’augh as he took out from a desk half a dozen threatening letters, written 'u »U sor*«

of language and threatening violence if ho did not give way to the strikers. “They little know me,” said Reuben Gorringe, his eyes glistening with a hard light as he spoke. “By heavens, if they pulled the mill down stone by stone, and threw every spindle in a different direction, aye, and limbed me into the bargain, I wouldn’t give in, now.” “I don’t care to prosecute,” saiji Tom. “I’m for not giving way now; but Jack Dilworth got a good bit more than he gave me, and I don’t want to stir up more bad blood than’s necessary.” “What, are you afraid of 'em, then, if you go too far?” asked Gorringe, with a sneer. “No, I’m not afraid,” answered Tom, quietly. “But I’m none too fond of running for police help.” “Yes, but I wish to make an example of some of them,” returned Gorringe. “Then you’ll have to find somebody else than me. I’ll stand firm enough by you while the strike lasts; but I’m not going to be the means of putting those chaps in prison.” Reuben Gorringe looked after him with a gleam of anger in his eyes. “All right, you obstinate young puppy. Take your own line now, while you can. You’ll pipe a different tune by and by when things are a bit riper. I wish they’d broken his thick don key’s skull for him. If they’d knocked the life out of him at the same time, it would have saved alotof trouble, too,” he muttered. The attack on Tom came to the ears of the two girls in a roundabout fashion. Mary's mother heard of it and told the girls. “No, they didn’t hurt him, but he hurt that Jack Dilworth. Pretty nigh broke his leg, so they tell me,” said Mrs. Ashworth. Mary was very frightened at first. “He said nothing to me when I saw him at dinner time; but I thought he looked ill and worried. Do you think he is hurt and won’t say so, mother?” she asked. “Should think not,” answered the old woman, w’ith a short laugh. “I never knew the man yet that didn’t shout loud enough when he had ever so tiny a tittle of ache or pain.” “But Tom’s not like others in that,” said the girl. “He might think I should be afraid.” Savannah lowered her head at this so that her face was hidden from the other’s eyes. “I wonder why he hasn’t come in tonight?” continued Mary. “It’s the first night he's missed for a long while. I hope he’s not ill.” “Afraid of his skin, I should think,” sneered Mrs. Ashworth, who did not like him, and had always tried to get Maty to marry Reuben Gorringe. Mary made no reply, but Savannah spoke. “He’s very wise if he does keep in,” she said. "Savannah,” cried Mary, indignant at what sounded like an imputation of cowardice to Tom. “I mean it,” she said; “for Gibeon Prawle and the men with him mean worse than you think. They mean murder!” She spoke deliberately, and her soft voice, full and sweet, seemed to vibrate through the little room. “You can’t read these men as I read them. Gibeon Prawle has a murderer’s thoughts.” * Savannah!” said Mary again. "It is true,” she continued. “I know the man by instinct. He is dangerous. I have caught his look fixed on Tom, and read it in murder. I have listened to his voice, and I heard in it cruelty and death. I know what I say—he means murder.” She looked at two scared, wondering faces that were fixed on her, and then laughed, strangely. “You think this queer talk for me. But it’s true.” “Lor! girl,” said Mrs. Ashworth, shuddering. “Whatever puts such thoughts in your head? You make me feel creepy all down my back.” “Why do you fix on Gibeon Prawle?” asked Mary. “He wasn’t one of those who attacked Tom.” Savannah looked quickly at the other girl, and was on the point of saying something of what she and Tom had overheard, when she checked herself and answered somewhat irritably. “Nonsense, Savannah,” cried Mrs. Ashworth, angrily. “It’s rank downright absurdity to talk in that way. Anyone to hear you rant would think you mad, that they would.” Savannah started violently at the words, and bent on Mrs. Ashworth such an eager, piercing look that both mother and daughter were startled. They had never seen so strange a light in her eyes; and in Mary the fear which she had felt on first seeing the other revived.

CHAPTER VIIL DOUBT AND DANGER. The alarm which Mary had felt at Savannah’s strange words and even stranger conduct caused her some uneasy wakeful thoughts during the night, and she resolved to tell her lover what had passed and what her fears were. She found an opportunity that evening. When she left work he was waiting by the mill gates. He was really waiting in the hopes of seeing Savannah, and when Mary came out alone his face fell a little with disappointment. "Well. Mr. Truant, this is good of you to wait for me,” she said, joining him, her face alight with pleasure and love. “I think I shall have to begin and call you Mr. Roylance if I don't see more of you than 1 did yesterday. Where were you last night, sir?” she asked, smiling trustfully and Lappily into his face. The question bothered him. He bad always been so open and frank with her that the new necessity for ptacticing deceit perplexed and worried him. Yet he could not tell her the true cause of his absence So he said something about having been kept away in consequence of the trouble »♦, the mill, and the girl was too glad to be with him to observe

anything itrango ur hesitating in hta manner. “Well, I have you now at any rate,” she said; “and as I have heaps 1 want to say I shall just take possession of you,” and she linked his arm in his to walk away. “Where is—where’s Savannah?”asked Tom. “Oh, we don’t want her for a bit,” answered Mary, “for to tell you the truth it’s about her I want to say a word or two. Look here, Tom, I want to ask you a riddle that has been bothering me. What special reason can Savannah have for thinking Gibeon Prawle means to do you mischief?” “What do you mean, lass?” he asked, somewhat anxiously. "Does that puzzle you?” she asked. “It puzzled me, I can tell you. Savannah thinks that Gibeon has some great spite against you, and that he is reckless enough to be dangerous. Can she have any reason? Does she know anything special about him? What can it be?” “How shall I tell, Mary?” answered Tom Roylance somewhat uneasily. “You've seen more of her than anyone else in Walkden Bridge and ought to know.” He colored a little at thus evading the question. “I don’t know anything of her in that way,” answered the girl, drawing closer to his side and taking a firmer grip of his arm, as if growing more confidential. “But I'm going to make a little confession to you. Do you know, Tom, I think I’m afraid of Savannah.” “Afraid of her!” cried Tom Roylan*w with a laugh. “Afraid of Savannah! Why, she’s one of the gentlest creatures that ever breathed,” he cried, enthusiastically. “She may be; and I daresay I’m very stupid and ridiculous, as you say, but I don’t—l can’t trusther. She—l—don’t know how to explain the effect she has on me. She sets my teeth on edge sometimes, and I shudder and am afraid of her.” “It’s not like you to be so foolish, lass,” said Tom. “I thought you and Savannah were such good friends; but you women folk are always curious.” “No. I know I’m stupid; but I can’t help feeling as I do. Just think what she said about Gibeon last night.” And then she told him what Savannah had said, and the strange way in which she had said it. “It was only a strong way of putting her dislike and distrust of the fellow,” was Tom’s comment. “We all distrust him, and know that he is a hot-tem-pered chap, likely to kick up no end of a fuss if he can do it safely. She must have heard that said a hundred and fifty times about the place.” “But what could she mean by saying she could read murder in his looks, and all that?” “Why, just whsts a gypsy might mean by saying she cox Id read all sorts of rubbish in the palm of your hand. Remember, Mary, what gentle ways she has, and what kindness she has shown to my father.” “If you had seen her last night you wouldn’t have thought she looked very fentle.” said Mary, who was anything But pleased to find Tom taking the other’s part so readily. “Surely, you don’t wish to turn me Against the lass,” said Tom. “It’s not like you to set folks by the ears.” “I am sorry I mentioned it at all,” replied the girl, and after that said no more on the subject. Tom. finding that Savannah did not come home from the mill, soon began to get restless and fidgety, and rose to go, thinking that she had possibly gone to sit with his father. “Must you go now?” asked Mary, feeling disappointed, and showing it in her looks. “Yes,” said Tom, fidgeting with his cap. “I have to get back to my father; and I —l have to go back to the mill. There’s something that Gorringe wants me to meet him about there.” “Very well. Of course, you know best,” she said, as brightly as her disappointment would let her. He left then, and as soon as she was alone something of her old misgivings troubled her. He had gone away without kissing her. But she tried even in thought to find excuses for him and consolation for herself. “The trouble at the mill makes him so anxious and worried,” she told herself, “that 'he has no time even for me. Though I think he might have remembered to kiss me once. Heigho,” and then she sighed, as she put her hat on to go for a walk by herself. She had not taken many steps when she met Reuben Gorringe. walking quickly, and carrying a small handbag. “Ah, Mary,” he cried, as they met. “I am glad to meet you. I wanted to see Tom before he left the mill, but I didn’t catch him. Tell him I’ve had information that he had better take care of himself, and not go wandering about too much by himself. I can’t stop now, as I’ve to catch the seven-ten for Presburn. Will you tell him?” “Yes, Mr. Gorringe. I’ll tell him. Do you think there’s anything serious meant to be done?” “Oh, no, nothing very serious. But now that I've taken the fortunes of you two into my care, I want to make sure that you don’t run risks through sticking to me. Don't be frightened.” “Is there no chance of things being settled?” she asked. “Well, you’re a stanch lass and I can trust you. I have good reasons to think that in a day or two the best part of the strikers are coming in. Don’t say anything about it. But I can trust you, 1 know.” “Yes, Mr. Gorringe. you may. I’ll say nothing. May I toll Tom?” “Yes, if you like. But don't tell that girl who’s with you. Savannah Morbyn. I don’t trust her. Good night. Mary;” and he hurried off. Mary hurried in the direction of Tom's cottage to tell him what she had heard. It pleased her also to think that an Mr. Gorringe was going to Precbun*. Tom would not be wanted at the mill, and would be able to go with her for her walk; and ’in anticipation of thia

the walked qwiskly And happOy to hti cottage. But Tom was not at home, and old Mr. Roylance did not know where hr had gone. “I hope he has not gone far. I don't like his being out much just now 1 wanted to see him about that ” The old man laughed —a confidenteasy, proud laugh. "You may trust the lad to give a good account of himself. I’ll warrant thee, lass. ’Tisn’t on his account you’ve any call to fear, so much as for them a? touches him. Ask Jack Dilworth, eb. ask Jack Dilworth,” and the old man chuckled. “Aye, that may be, where it’s one to one or two to one, and the fighting’s fair and square And in daylight; but it’s another thing when cowards slink about in the dark, and four or five set on one,” answered Mary. “But 'twere in the dark last time, weren't it; and there were four or five to one, weren't there, and Tom slogged ’em, didn't he —aye, and would do it again. Have no fear for him. lass.” “I shall go and sec if I can meet him,” she said. “Where’s Savannah?” asked the Invalid, as she was going. “I don’t know. Hasn’t she been here?" "Not these two days," said the old man, rather dismally. “Tell her I miss her bonny face.” When she left the cottage she did not know which way to go. Tom had told her that he wanted first to go to his father, and then that he might have to go to the mill. But he had not attempted to stay with his father, while, as Reuben Gorringe had left the town by train, there could bo no necessity to go to the mill. Where was he, then? He must have had some other reason for not staying with her, and she asked herself what it could be. She walked slowly in the direction of the mill, but saw njthingof Tom, and, though she lingered about, chatting and keeping her eyes about her all the time, she saw nothing of him. Then she went out into the outskirts of the village when the dusk had grown into darkness, and traversed some of the paths and byways that ran round about the mill. But she saxv nothing of her lover; and when twilight faded into dark her nervousness deepened into serious alarm on his account. She resolved to go back to his cottage, and if he had not returned to cau.se some inquiries to made. When she formed this decision she was walking in a little, frequented footpath. It was a warm night, but dark, the air a little heavy, though very calm and still. The girl’s thoughts were all of Tom, and she was adding largely to her fears by imagining many causes of harm. Suddenly she stopped. The sound of men’s voices fell on her ears, voices deep, gruff and angry, speaking words which riveted all her attention instantly. For she heard her lover's name uttered threateningly and coupled with violent curses. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

DESERVED TO LOSE IT.

From Behind the < ounter a Good Plat , to Study Human Nature. A bare-headed blonde rushed out tl,e carriage entrance yesterday and looked wildly about; then, dashing along fora hundred yards, she stopped and touched a woman who had a child by the hand upon the shoulder. “Did you just come out of that store?" she asked. “Yes,” the woman answered tartly. “What department were you in?” The woman started and jerked the child, who was restless. “I mean,” said the breathless blonde, “what were you buying?” “Handkerchiefs!” snapped the shopper, shortly. “What’s that to you?" “Why,” said the saleslady, “1 think you left some of your money,” and sbe held up a bill. “Well, for goodness’ sake, why didn’t you tell me before I got out of the store?” demanded the owner of the wealth, and she took possession of her cash and started off without a thank you. The pretty money finder looked at me and blurted out: “Well, did you ever?” I assured her I never had. “Why,” she continued, "it wasn’t he: change, you know. She was taking be> pocketbook out of her bag and she drew the bill with it. I was not wait ing upon her, but I happened to notice it, and flew after her as fast as I couid. “1 tell you we have an awful lot to put up with. You never know until you get behind a counter how many strange and unreasonable people there are in the world. I got a breath of fresh air, anyway,” said she, and smilingly went back to the shop.—Chicago Journal.

Spilling the Salt.

Spilling the salt is usually held to be a very unlucky omen. Something evil, | it is believed, will happen to the family or the person spilling it. According to a general supposition this sign date* back to the time of the last supper, when one of the disciples—perhaps Judas—overturned the saltcellar. An old English paper contains the follow- ' ing lines: •• We’ll tell you the reason Why spilling of salt Is esteemed such a fault: Because it does everything season. The antiques did opine 'Twas of friendship a sign To serve it to guests in decorum; And thought love decayed When the negligent maid Let the saltcellar tumble before them.” It is generally believed that, the evil I consequences of an accident of this i sort may be averted by eating a pinch of what was spilled or throwing it in the fire or over the left shoulder. Many persons will not be helped to salt because they keep in mind the old ! saw: "Help to salt, help to sorrow.” A gentleman renting a house in Wales, i and purchasing part of the furniture of the former occupant, was advised te buy the salt box, which he did. no ons ; bidding against him. He was after ward told that ill-luck would have fol lowed him if he had not ko-ygUt ts. Waahiagtoa Peat

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McCLURE’S MAGAZINE For 1894. Th* editors of McClure's Magae sine aim to publish the Best Literature ...AND THE... Most Interesting Knowledge and to make every line in the magazine both instructive and enter* taining. 100 hbn and wohen famous literature and achievement win b« represented In McClure's Magazine, either M authors of articles or as participants la dialogues aad Inter views, nr as subjects sS articles. Stevenson’s New Novel. A ROMANCE OP THB _ ■ SOUTH SEAS, by Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd L Ozbourne, will run through four (7 numbers, beginning with Jan- JV nary. This story is one of thrillIng adventure and mysterious zyj. happenings, reminding one of ? J» “Treasure Island,” and of "The • Wrecker." William Dean Howells contribute a serial stssyt A t 0 Yun through three numbers, more especially for younger readers, and, like all his stories IoT young people. It will be Just ** ,ntereMln < t 0 thelr elders. Short Stories will be contributed by —r ny well-known writers, among others t Bret Harte, Joel Chandler Harris, Conan Doyle, Prank R. Stockten, Harriet Prescott Spofford. "Q" Clark Russell. Rudyard Kipling, Octav. Thanet, and I. Zangwlll. Real Conversations. Interviews, Intimate Personal Sketches, and' Studies ol Great Hon In Action, will continue to be marked features of coming issues. Under this heading are announced the following t D. L. HOODY, the Han and his work, bp PROFESSOR HENRY DRUrtnOND. This is the first complete study /***W »t Mr. Moody's career which has ever been prepared. J& Gladstone, 7/1/ U* a Leader of Men, ’f] By HAROLD FREDERIC. > Philip D. Armour. Bf ARTHUR WARREN. Mr. Armour to gta* bably the greatest merchant in the history of the world. He Is also a great pliflanthropisu Thte article will present tbe many sides of his acii*. kies, and will be fully illustrated. Bismarck, u 9reatMt, N sv— ARCHIBALD PORBBC Rußkin at Home. By H. H. SPIBLIWL Pierre Loti, A personal sketch, by HADAHB ADAfL Alphonse Daudet, Jul.s Verne, | Bardou, Andrew Carnegie Archdeacon Farrar, * Dumas, the Younger, fl Camilo Flamarion, ■ M and CHARLES A. DANA Si tb * tut 9 ect * ot • nicle * mV* the form of interviews, in which the matter is mainly autobio-, graphical. These articles in many —c»s«« give full length portraits ot tb,ir • üb J ectt > th * taw their lives, struggles, achieve ■ents and eucceases. These snides will be fully Illustrated. Famous Contributors. In addition to the special announcements abov«b Important contributions, some of which are uniqut are in preparation by: Prof. Henry Drummond, Herbert D. Ward, William Dean Howells, Bret Harte, H. H. Beyesen, fl. ds Biowits, Thomas Nelson Pngs, Prank R. Stocktota W. B. Henley, Andrew Lang, Margaret Deland, Archdeacon Parraft Robert Louis Stevenson, Charles A. Dana, Georgs W. Cabls. Gilbert Parker, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. Edge of the Future. Articles under this head will deal with the Mam Vela of Science, and interesting subjects in the fields sf Railroading, Electricity, Ships, Arts Relating ta the Prolongation of Life, Explorations, etc. NOTABLE FEATURES of the Magazine: Timely articles, Papers of Adventure, Progressive Portrait, nre, Stranger than Fiction, which have proved m popular, will continue to characterize coming isauta The regular price of McClure’s Hagazino to 15 cents a Copy. $1.50 a Year. How to Get this Magazine. We Have Made Special Arrangementa With the Publishers, S. S. McCLURB, Limited, BP 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, Whereby We Can Offer the people's Pilot AND McCLURE’S MAGAZINI In Gomblnation for Only $2.25 a Ytar, Payable In Advance; Subscribing for the ftODIG’S HIOI Yos C-itj Have this Splendid Magazine tar Oub »i » a Year, or luH oenta a Copy, address PILOI' PUBLISHING CD, W NS4ELABB. INU.