Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 February 1891 — Page 6

THE MASTER OF THE MINE.

By Rebert Buchanan.

CHAPTER XVlH— Contixuxd. *•1 have been expecting thia for a tong tine, and it has oome. Well, so much the better. I warn you, however, that I shall do my duty, and let the oompany know the exact state of aftelrs.” Be turned to Johnson, and I aaw the twe exchange a significant smile; thee his face hardened as hs replied contemptuously: •You will, of course, do as you pteaas; only oblige me by getting out of my employment as quickly as poon •It will be a good riddance!" mutter■od Johnson, breaking in .for the first time ‘ -Trelawney haa always been a croaker.’ The fellow's insolent leer provoked me far more than his master’s sangfroid. •TH croak to some tune,” I cried teeing him. “if you presume to talk to OMB —Preaum, indeed*!" he repeated, turning white with fear or malice. ~'Taint much presumption, I guess, to take down a young oock-o’-the-walk who puts oh airs aa if he was a gentleman. If Mr. George had listened to my advice, he'd have got rid of you long ago!” •Come along, Johnson." said Red* wth; “he’s not worth talking to." But I clenched my fists and blocked iKs way. I suppose there was somei thing in my face which looked ugly, ter the two men recoiled before me. Several of the miners, attracted by our high words, had now gathered, and were looking on in astonishment. “I know well an honest man is not wanted here," I said. *Tve known that for many a long day. Like master. like man. You, air, want a scoundrel to do your dirty work; and here he is, ready made, to your hand r-as mean and cowardly a scoundrel as ever drew breath.” ‘•Out of the way. you ruffian!" cried Redruth, lifting his cane.

But hejcnew better than to strike me; he knew that, if he had dona so, I would have thrashed him within an inch of his life; and he knew, too, that sot one, man tiaere would have rais&d a finger to protect him, though he was the master of the mine. But the presence of the onlookers, I suppose. made his companion foolhardy; for stepping forward, livid with passion, he shook his fist in my 'faee. “Who are you calling a scoundrel?" tee cried. “Do you know who I am? I'm overseer of this here mine, and jou. you're a beggar, that’s what you are! Why, darn you! I could eat you up and spit you out, and twenty more like you!”

He had proceeded thus far, garnishing his address with innumerable expletives, which will not bear transcription, when, without more parley, unable to resist the provocation of his close proximity, I quietly knocked him down. As he felt George Redruth sprang towards me, and struck at me with his cane; but I tore the cane from his hand, broke it into pieces, aad flung It away. J •Take care, sir!” I said; ‘‘l may hurt you too, if you go too far.” He drew back trembling. “You shall smart for this, Trelawwey? Before the day is out you shall lie fa gaol!"

“You know where to find me.’’ I answered, and then, without another word, I walked away. Il waa not for hours afterwards that I realized what I had done; and even lhen I am afraid I did nqt regret my hasty conduct Young and rash, I did not fear to faoe the world, though the mine was my bread, and I had no other means of maintenance. As for Bodruth’s threat of invoking the law against me, nothing came of it. Doubtless, as his own sacred person had not suffered, he thought it best to hold his tongue. CHAPTER XIX. THE NEW OVEBBEEE. The news of my dismissal from the mine was received by my aunt with infinite wailing. The poor soul, knowing that for some time past I had been the mainstay of the house, saw nothing before her but misery and starvation; indeed, she was for going straight to Redruth House and appealing to -the master, but I checked her. •’Don't grieve, aunt,” I said. “It 'will all be ’right, by-and-by. Sa/ 1 am dismissed from the mine—what Mthen? The mine isn’t all the world. I shall get something, never fear.” But my aunt shook her head. ■**ll be like young folk to make light eP things. When you’m a bit awlder, Hugh, you'll see things as I do—trouble ahead. Tis vary easy to talk, but what is there in the village but the mine?" —But I’m going up to London, aunt.” “To Lunnon! Lawdsave the lad!— and what for should ’urn gaw to Lunwon?"

-*I am going up to see the company, wed tell them what’s going on at the mine. Keep your mind easy till I come % ck. aunt. 'Twill, maybe, all be right then." ■ r But my aunt continued to cry quietly. and grieved as bitterly as if she | knew of the dark clouds which were gathering above. As for my uncle, he sat and listened, and made no remark whatever, JL -con duded he did not understand, so I made no attempt to trouble him at all. There was no time to be lost, and as soon, therefore, as I had finished my task of .comforting my aunt, I be* gan to turn over in my mind what it would be best for me to do. I was as fully conscious of the gravity of tho situation as my aunt herself, though I .had thought fit to make light of it in

order to lesson her pain. To be tamed from the mine meant facing starvation—unless 1 co Jd find n similar situation to the one 1 had tost; the only way to facilitate thia being to aee the company, who might consent to place me over some other min* Bej sides, it was necessary that I should I Seo them and plead the cause of the wretched creatures who dafly faced death at George Redruth's command. Having fully made up my mind that the journey must be taken, I resolved to starton the following morning, and began making my preparations accordingly.

During the years that I had been overseer of the mine my salary had not been large, but I had been able to put by a small sum weekly. My first care was to break into thia, to put into my pocket-book sufficient for my journey, and give a sum to my aunt. ••Don’t be afraid to use it,” I said; “there is more yet; and before it's all gone I’ll have work, please God!" My hopefulness, somehow, soon infected my aunt, and she set about putting my things together with a brighter face. She dried her tears, and talked quite cheerful of my going.

••They do say,” she said, “that everything’s for the best, and maybe ’tis saw naw, though us can’t just see IL Mayhap you’ll meet our Annie in London and bring her back to us, Hugh.” •'lt’s more than likely,” I returned. ••Our black cloud won't last forever; the silver lining must be coming round.” When all was ready, I stepped down to the village to tell John Rudd to call for me on the morrow, when he was to start before daybreak. Having done my errand. I lit my pipe and strolled slowly back to the cottage. It was a splendid night. All the earth, hardened by the keen touch of frost, was flooded by the brilliant moon-rays; and the sky was thick with stars. All was so qtllet and peaceful, I could hear the click-clack of my footsteps on the frosty road. My mind was sorely troubled; I walked up and down the road until my pipe was finished, then I knocked out the burnt ashes upon the ground and turned to re-enter the cottage, when I started back with a half-suppressed cry. There, not very far from me, standing in the shadow of one of the laurel bushes in Annie's garden, was the tall figure of a woman. She came quickly towards me, and laid her hand upon my arm.

“ “Madeline!" I murmured, for it was indeed she, dressed in her evening dress, with her mantle thrown lightly over her head and shoulders, and her dear face raised wistfully to mine. "Mr, Trelawney," she said quietly,” “is it true that you have been dismissed from the mine?" “Yes; it is quite true, Miss Graham.” “Oh, why will you not be as you were just now, and call me Madeline?” she cried passionately. “Why have all those years come and gone since we were children, and left us so far apart, Mr. Trelawney? Hugh, let us be children again! I was your help and solace once, let me be so to-night!” She had spoken truly; why should a few years separate us? Once before she had offered me her friendship and I had accepted it; why not accept it now? I took her hand and kissed it “You shall be the tame to me now as you were then,” I answered; “you shall be my friend."

I think she understood me. She made no reply, but for a moment .she turned her head aside; when she was as calm as the moonrays which lay all about her. “Tell me what has happened," she said, “and what you are going to do." “Very little has happened," I replied. “I have got my dismissal, which I have all along expected, and I' am going away." “Mr. Trelawney, it waamorethan sympathy Which brought me here tonight. I want to ask you a question." “Yes?" “Jf my cousin offers you the post again, will you take it?" I saw in a moment what she meant: that she would intercede for me; that the fact of my being reinstated would give that villain George Redruth a stronger hold over her; so I answered firmly: “No; the situation will not be offered to me, and if it was I should refuse it . ”

“Your uncle and aunt are dependent upon you, are they not?” “Not entirely. My uncle is sufficiently recovered now to resume his work. For the last week he has been employed at the mouth of the mine. If my sins are not visited on his head, and he is allowed to remain they will do very well. As for myself, I am young and strong; there is no fear for me.” She made no answer; and I, looking at her. noticed for the first time how thinly she was clad. “Madeline,” I said, “you will get your death; let me take you back.” I drew the shawl closer about her shoulders, put her hand upon my arm, and led her away. ‘•Hugh,” she said presently, “you have not told me the cause of all this trouble. Why have you and my cousin disagreed so terribly?” The very fact that he was her cousin sealed my lips. | ‘There is nothing," I said, “but what had best be kept between man and man." “Then you absolutely refuse to make any concession?” •‘I refuse to receive any favor from Geo re Redruth.” •Or from me?” “From you, Madeline?” “Yes. lam rich, you know—very . rich; and now that you are in trouble , I might help you.” “No,” I answered quickly; “don't I think of it. It is impossible." I 1 Impossible?” she replied. ■The

word frieodHtip to you means notefag," ■•lt means that you may give me your sympathy. lam gratofai for that, but I can not accept money from you. ” I walked with her as far as the entrance to the' grounds surrounding Redruth House, then I left her. Her eyes were full of tears as she said good-bye. and her little hand clung to mine with a persistence which well-nigh unmanned me. I was too much beside myself to return to the cottage, so, far about half a mile I followed the road which led to-the mine. It was too late, there was not a living soul abroad it seemed to me; yet, as I returned to retrace my steps, I came face to face with a man who had evidently been following dose upon my heels. It was Johnson.

Madeline’s softening influence was still upon me. Yet at sight of this evil face it seemed to fade, and rite within me all that was worst in my soul. He paused blocking my way. and sneerlngly addressed me: •‘l* guess, young man,” he said, “you’ll get into worse trouble before you’re done. Just you let the governor see you as I saw you with Miss Graham to-night” The mention of her name by his foul lips aroused me to frenzy. ••You scoundrel!” I cried, “mention that lady’s name again and by Heaven I’ll strike you dead where you standi” “Oh," he sneered, “killing’s your game, is it? Repeat that to-morrow before witnesses, young man, and your doom’s sealed.”

He passed me by, and walked on towards the mine, while I,glad at heart to be safely away from him, walked with some speed towards home. I found my aunt alone; I asked for my uncle. • *He be gone back to the mine Hugh,” she returned. “But dawn’t ’ee sit up for ’un, lad. I dare say Jim Rivers ’ll bring un hame." As I knew I should have to be ready to join John Rudd at five o’clock in the morning. I took my aunt’s advice and went to bed; and so soundly did I sleep, that I heard nothing wathever of my uncle’s return. When I awoke it was still pitch dark. I struck a light, and found that it was four o’clock. I therefore got up and began to prepare for my journey. I went about my work as quietly as possible, hoping'to disturb no one; but shortly after I entered the kitchen, my uncle appeared fully dressed for the day. He looked so white and strange that, for a moment, I was startled into the belief that something was the matter. As nothing seemed to have transpired, however, QI concluded it was sorrow at parting with me. My God, how the memory of that white wan face came back to me in after days! It was the memory of It, and of the patient, pitiful eyes, which cealed my lipe when one word might prove my salvation. When John Rudd made his appearance, and my aunt came out of the bedroom, and began crying on my shoulder, I saw the wan, sad eyes of uncle still fixed upon me. As * I left the cottage, I looked back and found them gazing after me still.

GAITER XX. IN LONDON. On reaching London, I secured a room in a small coffe-house in Soho; and, having deposited my luggage, I started off at once to offices of the mining company. It was three o’clock and I counted I might just arrive before they closed. I was astonished, on arriving at my destination, to find that the ‘‘Offices” consisted only of couple of grimy rooms in a side street off Chancery Lane. I was received by a dilapidated and somewhat dirty old clerk, who was crouched upon a high stool and scribbling away at a desk. He informed me that the head of the firm was. ate» that moment in his rooml I was taken to him and made haste to state my case. I soon found that my presence there was comparatively useless. Like mas-> ter, like man, they say. and certainly George Redruth, in forming a com- 1 pany to conduct the mine, had been careful to select men whose views accorded with his own; besides, my character had preceded me; they had been forewarned of my visit, and to all my complaints they had nothing to say. Sick at heart, I left the place and walked slowly back toward Charing Cross. What my next move would be I did not know. It was certain I could do nothing for the Cornish miners; and since they could not starve they must be left to trudge on with that grim I skeleton Death forever by their side, I Pondering thus, I made my way slowly along the crowded streets, abstractedly gazing at the sea of faces surrounding me. It was Saturday afternoon and the Strand was thronged. The hum of the busy crowd distracted me. I turned, intending to pass down one of the side streets and gain the Embankment, when suddenly I stepped face to face with a woman who was coming towards me, and uttered a cry. It was my cousin Annie! But so changed was she that I hardly knew her. She was dressed like a lady and looked like one; but her face was pale, her eyes looked troubled and sad. She must have been walking rapidly, for as I turned to faee her she almost fell into my arms. The cry I gave attracted her attention; she looked into my faoe and knew me. She paused, uncertain what to do. My sudden appearanee there was so unexpected that it completely unnerved her. For a moment she seemed about to fly; then, recovering herself, she stood her ground. “Hugh!” she excalmed. -You here?’’ “Yea,’* I answered, sternly enough. “I am here.’’ I felt no joy in meeting her. Had she come to mA poor, despised, with the taiat of sin upon her. I should

huu* taken her to mgr arm* and saM, •<oa poor, repeataat child, come home;" but when she stood before me fa her fine raiment my heart hardened, for I thought of the heartbroken old people whom left My . appearance - must have been strange, for I began to attract some attention, when Annie took me by the arm and led me down the side street I had intended to take. We passed on, never uttering a word, until we came to the Embankment. Then she let go my arm and spoke. “Hugh," she said, “did you come to London to look tor me?” “No. I came on other business, but I promised to seek you and take you back.” •I cannot go home, Hugh; not yet," she said sadly. ••Not yet?” I repeated. “Will it ever be better for you than it is now?” “Yes, Hugh; and soon, I hope, I shall be able to go and cause them no trouble.” I shrugged my shoulders and half turned away, when she laid her hand upon my arm again and said. “Dear Hugh, you have never once taken my hand; you have not looked at me as you would have done some months ago. You think I have brought shame upon you all; but, indeed, it is not so bad as that—l am a lawful wife.” •‘A lawful wife? Whose wife?" “Ah! do not ask me that. I cannot tell you. But lam a wife; and some day, very soon, I shall be acknowledged. Hugh, will you not take my hand, and say that you forgive me?"(To be continued.)

BUFFALO BILL’S START.

Ned BuntHne, of Dime Novel Fame, - Responsible for His Discovery. Kansas City Times. Mr. W. C. Gaylor, of New York, for seven years the companion and agent of Buffalo Bill, is at the St. James Hotel. Mr. Gaylor accompanied the great Cody to Europe and has been with him in many of his trials, adventures and triumphs. Speaking of the “Messiah” craze among the Indians, Mr. Gaylor said: •‘ ‘Buffalo Bill” owes his name, fame and fortune to the newspapers. He was born out on the prairies and hts father was shot down before his eyes near Lawrence during the ‘Border Wars. Buffalo Bill drifted over the West as cowboy, hunter, scout and soldier. He got his name by a daring exploit while the Union Pacific road was building. He had a contract to supply the workmen with ten head of buffalo a day for meat One day he dashed into a herd of buffaloes and was attacked by a hundred Indians who were hunting the buffaloes at the Same time. Bill came off victor and drove the ten head of buffalo into camp and killed them as if nothing had happened. It was daring, dashing, reckless acts like this that won him ■ the sobriquet of ‘Buffalo Bill.’ • T have said that the papers were responsible for the popularity of Buffalo Bill. One day Street & Smith, the publishers of the New York Weekly, ealled Ned Buntline, a well known writer, into their office and said; “We are tired of these stories of Spanish villains and English lords and French women. They are monotonous. Go out into the W est, travel at our expense, take your own time, only find us a man!’ That was a lucky day for ‘Buffalo Bill.’ Buntline wandered over the prairies trying in vain to find his ‘man.’ One day, while riding along with Major North, the only white chief that the Pawnees ever had, that well known character said: ‘Buntline, lam not the man you want Don’t waste any more time with me. But I can tell you' where you can find vour man. He rode leisurely over to a prairie wagon under which Cody was sleeping, kicked •Buffalo Bill’ gently in..theba»k a fashion the cowboys have in the West—and said: "Get up Bill!’ That was another lucky day for ‘Buffalo Bill.* He was the man that Buntline had been trying to find. His name became famous to the reading public, and a* short time afterward he embarked in the amusement business. We all know of the success that has followed his ventures. 'Buffalo Bill’ has cleared f 1,000,000 in the last five years and he is worth to-day $250, - 000,000 at least He might have been worth more, but he is a princely liver and a princely giver. He will give a porter or hackman a handful of gold and silver and never stop to think of the thanks or the change. No wonder that he is popular with all classes,”

Ecomomy in a Family.

There is nothing which goes so far toward placing young people beyond the reach of poverty as economy in the management of their domestic affairs. It matters not whether a man furnish little or much for his family, if there is a continual leakage in the kitchen or in the parlor. It is the husband’s duty to bring into the house, and it is the duty of the wife to see that nothing goes wrongfully out of it—not the least article, however unimportant in itself, for it establishes a precedent—nor under any pretense, for it opens the door for ruin to stalk in, and he seldom leaves an apportunity unimproved. The husband's interest should be the wife’s care, and her greatest ambition should carry her no farther than his welfare and happiness together with that of her children. This should be her sole aim, and the theater of her exploits in tbe bosom of of her family, where she may do as much toward making a fortune as he in counting room or in the work shop. It is not the money earned that makes a man wealthy—it is what he saves fron his earnings. A good and prudent husband makes a desposit of the fruits of his labor with his best friend, and if that friend be not true to him, what has hs to hope? If he dare not place confidence in the companion of his bosom, where is he to place it?

TEMPERANCE COLUMN.

MEDICAL USE or ALCOHOL. The best medical authorities fa tbs world are now on record asagalastthe use of alcohol for the treatment of dis* eases. The Popular Science Monthly for November reprints from the London Lancet a valuable paper read before the -Esculapian Medical Society of England on * ‘The Use of Alcohol in Medicine,” by A. G. Bartley, M. D., M. R. C. S. The writer’s opinion is against the use of stimulants, and a long list of cases are recited to substantiate his argument As. surgeon in a battery of artillery in the-Punjab, the writer had a number of cases of delirium tremens in his hands, all o' which were successfully treated without the use of stimulants. Of other cases the writer says: “There were many cases of acute chest disease In the cold weather. On admission to hospital, they had plainly one thing in common with those suffering from alcohol: they were exhausted from sheer want of food. It was the first and main point of my treatment that this should be met by prompt feeding, most generally by repeated cupfuls of ar* rowroot and milk. I gave nitre or other neutral alkaline salt, and morphine for a hacking cough. The tongue began to clean at once and the temperature to fall, and the haggard and worn patient got refreshing sleep and began to convalesce. In fact, the cases ran parallel with the former ailments I have mentioned, and I soon ceased to employ with them any form of alcohol.

AFRAID OF HIMSELF.

A big, tall Westerner staggered into a well known hotel the other night at about eleven o’clock, and demanded his money, which was locked up in the safe. The clerk bluntly told him that he couldn’t have it. • ‘Ain’t the monish mine?” he asked wrathfully. “Yes; but you can’t have it till to-morrow. You’d better go to your room.” The guest begged and threatened and demanded, but to no purpose.. Then he let a bell boy take him upstairs. When he had gone the clerk said to a bystander: “To-morrow morning that man will come down here and thank me for refusing to let him have the money. Whenever he comes to town with the intention of going on a spree, he takes out of his wallet all the money he wishes to spend that night, and hands me the remainder, telling me to lock it up for him and refuse to let him have it till he gets sober. About midnight or a little later he will come in and do as he did just now: try to make me give up the cash. But tomorrow morning he .will come down and thank me for refusing."—-New York Tribune. — ' ATTRACTING ATTENTION. In an English exchange a temperance worker thus describes a novel method for arousing the attention of idle people: “I have a notice board in front of my hov.se, a private one, on which 1 tack posters of important meetings, diagrams, drink maps, pictures, sayings of eminent men. scraps of poetry, etc. Some are exhibited one week, some for two, and it is astonishing the number of passers who stop and look. They closely inspect and read what is on the board. All classes are attracted, gentry,* traders, mechanics, farm laborers, and even sots, so that a good diagram or a striking picture is as useful as an ordinary lecture, and really more so, because it catches the attention of so many who never attend our meetings.

Poor Show for Funny Men.

New York Sun. Drollery, humor and wit are appreciated in the United States. Yet practical people are apt to doubt the seriousness of any funny man. Such a man is rarely elected to any high office or intrusted with any important administrative duty. As we run over the list of Presidents for example, we find that they were all staid personages. Washington rarely indulged in jocularity. John Adams was vivacious in youth, and enjoyed merriment at times, but in mature life rarely gave way to it. Jefferson, during his resis deuce in France, got a certain brilliancy of language which whiles became y[it. Madison and Monroe were men of gravity. Jackson was not afraid to make people laugh at time» by his keen language, his stories ant retorts, but his most mirthful things were not of the style of modern jesting. From his term to that of Buchanan there was no humorous occupaht of the Presidential chair. Abraham Lincoln had a vein of rare humor in his nanature; but the same thing can not be said of any of his successors down to Harrison. A genuinely facetious man rarely turns up in Congress, though funny speeches, some of which may be intentionally funny,are sometimes delivered there. The British Parliament, Lords and Commons, is singularly destitute of humorous members, though tpe reports of the proceedings in the Commons show that “laughter,” which is generally of the sardonic kind, is not unknown there. In the French Chambers, even in serious debates, there are sometimes flashes of French wit. In the German Reichstag the prevailing spirit is that of heavy gravity, and a funny man would not be tolerated. In the Italian Parliament also gravity i» dominant.

A Pushing Agent.

New York Weekly. Peddler—Please, mum, Pm sellin’ a polish to clean silver. Housekeeper (sharply) Don’t want none. Peddler—Very soapy, mum, but I see the neighbors were right. They said there was no use callin’ here [because you didn’t have no silver. Houskeeper (wildly)—Gimme six boxes,

WRONGS OF THE SIOUX.

Farber Stepban on 1 heir Grtevaucw Washington Poat. Father Stephan, who .is at the head of the Bureau of Indian Catholic Missions in this city, and who has just returned from Pino Ridge, was seen this afternoon by a representative of the Sun. Father Stepban said the one underlying cause of the trouble with the Indians sprang from the radically wrong system of their management, or rather mismanagement, by the government, by means of which they were made merely the prey of party politicians. The government employes at the agencies were placed there solely in reward for party work or in fulfillment of political bargains. Whether honest or dishonest, they regarded their offices in tbe light of a personal' perquisite out of which they were to make as much as possible before their successors stepped into their shoes, what one set of employes did the next set was sure to undo, and between them> the Indians were sure to suffer. The chief cause of tbe recent outbreak is undoubtedly the non-fulfill-ment of tfce treaty of 1889. The rations last year were insufficient, espedaily in view ol the serious deiay attending their distribution. The appropriation bill was passed in August, but the first consignment of clothing arrived at Rushville only on Jan. 6 this year. Father Stephan was present when the goods were received by Inspector Gardher. The consignment ought to have arrived, at Rushville in September Or October. Meanwhile the Indians have been without hats, coats, shoes, etc., throughout two or three months of severely cold weather. Their last years’ clothes were worn out, and they are no longer able to make garments for themselves, as the buffalo and deer are gone, Excited and irritated by these privations and by the failure of Congress to fulfill the agreement to increase the rations and pay for the ponies taken away from them some years ago, it was no wonder that the Sioux revolted. Father Stephan bears emphatic testimony to the good behavior of the Indians whenever they are treated property. His experience with them establishes beyond contradiction the foot that the Indian will worg if he has the incentive,op portunities and facilities tor work which all men need and demand. He cites his experience at Coeur d’ Alene, where the Flathead Indians have developed a splendid system of farms, under as excellent cultivation as any white man could show; also at Standing Rock, where he once acted as agent, the Indians evinced the greatest desire and most admirable aptitude for farming. But under the present system of management the Indian is told to go to work without the means and implements to .work successfully. The offer of farms In severalty is highly commended by Father Stephan, but what can the Indian do with lands unless he has the tools to work with, and unless the lands are fenced? At Pine Ridge, for instance, he says, there are 5.000 Indians, more or less, capable of working on farms, and most of them are willing to do so, but only forty plows are there to be distributed among them all. Then, even if they had a sufficient number of plows and other implements, they would yet be without seed, and if they had both plows and seed in abundance and started crops in good condition, of what avail is it to them so long as their lands are unfenced? While the Indians are gone away to get rations at the agency, thirty or forty miles off, the cattlemen and other white raiders invade their possessions and destroy or carry away all that they possess. A number of such cases have come under the notice of Father Stephen. He would have a radically different system inaugurated at once. Whatever Government control is to be exercised over the Indians should be vested in practical, sensible men, who would treat the Indians fa the same way as other men are treated, neither as savages by the army nor as children by the sentimentalists. The Indians must be civilized and saved through work, education and religion. just as other races are civilized and saved. In order to work, the Indian must have the means for working. In order that they may be educated, schools must be established among them. In Father Stephan’s opinion the Government schools are not at all satisfactory, because they are officered by incompetent teachers and superintendents, selected by tbe same political methods that obtain in the choice of the agents and other Government employes, and besides, the school-houses are made a part and parcel of tbe Government fortlfica-. tions, and represent to the Indians the idea of force and compulsion. He does not approve of the policy of bringing the Indians East for their education, only to make a few favored ones ashamed of their origin and neighbors, and unfit them to live afterward with their own people while creating envy among the mass of less favored Indians, who have not thus been singled out for special education. They should be managed just as sens sible men manage people everywhere. Given the same conditions, there would be just as much violence and lawlessness fa New York City or Washington as among the Sioux.

A Short Story.

She. Please make me up a dose of castor oil. Smart Clerk (after a lapse of five minutes). Have a glass of soda, won’t you? She drinks soda and waits for tho oil. - < Smart Clerk. Anything else. Miss? She. The castor oil, please? Smart Clerk. Why, I gave you tho oil in the soda! She. Well, I didn't want it for myself. It was for my brother.