Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 April 1891 — Page 2

THE MASTER OF THE MINE.

By Robert Buchanan.

CHAPTER XXXlV— Concluded. The next thing to be considered was my next move —what that ought lobe, I could not determine: the I fact that I must keep all knowledge from my uncle bound me hand and foot. If I denounced Redruth publicly, and made mi open scandal, the whole truth would be revealed to my. uncle, and I positively trembled at the thought of what he might do. ==|ifcwalked thus pondering for hours, finally feeling somewhat calmer; but, having anived at no definite conclusion as to my future plans I returned to my cottage. Mv uncle, aunt, and Annie were all there —morever, there was honest John Rudd partaking of my aunt’s tea and hot Daked seones. “It be loike awld times to see Measter Hugh amang us agen,” said he, as I took my seat at the board ; ‘Teckon you’ll be stayin’ naw, till after the weddin. ” I replied that since it was to take place so soon, I most certainly Should. “Ah, then yo’ll ha’ some o’ the fun!” he continued; “there’ll be rare gawins on, I re Jeon. They tell me ffierpll be a tent put up on the fields and a dinner given to ail the miners, fie that true, Mr. Pendragon?” “Mawst likely," returned my uncle. “I knaw nought o’ that; but one thing be certain —the young measter, he be a gawin’ down the mine to-morrow to see to things, and put matters right afore he gang away.” Listening to this, I inwardly thanked God that my uncle knew nothing of the real character of young Red ruth. During all this time, pier Annie had been moving about busily attending to the tame; but I saw that what she did was done to cover —Air ag tation than fiom any real necessity. Now and again, placing herself in the shadow, she tried to -read ray face—in vain. When they Spoke of the wedding, her eyes filled With tears, and her bauds trembled violently, I tried to avoid being alone with her that night, for I dreaded to tell her what had taken place; but she was over anxious, and would not let the night pass. When the house was quiet, all of us having gone to our rooms there came a gentle tap at my bedroom door. Then the door opened, very quiet and stealthily, and Annie herself app ared. “Hugh, she whispered, “are you In bed?” I answered’‘No;” and she came in, closing the door behind her. She was parti lty undressed, and had a large cloak wrapped round her. Her beautiful hair was loosened, and fell in a heavy mass upon her 6houlders; her face was very pale and her eyes were still wet with tears. She came up to where I sat on the side of the bed, and looked at me, stretching forth a trembling hand, which I took in mine. “My poor Annie I” I said involuntarily. She seemed to understand all that piy tc no implied, for with a pitiful sob, she sank down crying at my feet. *v ; ‘'Don’t cry, Annie; don’t cry!” I said. “He is a scoundrel. He is hot worth one of those tears. You must forget him!" “Forget him?” she sobbed. Ah, Hugh, dear, it is not so easy to sorbet; for I love him so much—l never knew how much till now! Hugh, pear, she will not marry him, will phe?” “I cannot tell.”

"But have you told her. Does •he know?" "That I cannot tell."" She looked at me inquiringly. "Hugh, do you know what you are •aying? Surely, if you told her, you must know." "I have-not told her; but she may Ptnaw for all that. There has been a Strange scene, Annie; and I am a bit Sled to know what is best to do. thing, however, we must be ful to do—keep this from your ; father. He and the young j master go down the mine to-' morrow. If your father guessed the -story you have told me; one of them j might not come up again. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes, ’ she answered faintly. ‘But, Hugh, you have not told me what •he said.' | ‘I would rather not do so to-night "Annie. He means to go on with this marriage if he can; but I may find a means to prevent it. There is time iet. I must think it over and see mat can be done. But don,t worry rourself, little women. I tell you he Is not worthy to possess one hair of your head.’ , At breakfast the next morning my uncle again spoke of the approaching Visit of the young master to the mine, and seemed in high spirits about it; nay more, he seemed quit proud to thiuk that he should h;. been selected above all others to t. the oartof guide. ‘Menster dawn’t take to the new overseer chap,’ said he. ‘I doubt but he’d be glad to ha’ thee back i’ thy awld place, ladL‘ I shook my head. ‘You musn’t think of that, uncle. Fm well enough placed where I am.’ Soon after breakfast he set out for the mine, where young Redruth was to join him- A couple of hours later a figure entered the kitchen, where I •at ruminating, and, looking up, I was astonished to see Madeline, Her face was very palq and sad, |>ut there was a look of determation about her eyes and mouth which I bad never seen there before. She walked in at the open door and then flood h—l fating, as if uncertain what

to do. She answered my aunt’s courtesy with a kindly nod and smile, and then she looked at Annie, who, pale as death, had shrunk from her. No word of greeting passed between these two, but I thought that the light in Madeline’s eyes grew softer as she gazed upon the pale weary face of my 1 -cousin, while poor Annie showed in her face the bitter dislike she had taken to the woman who had supplanted her. Madeline turned to me. ‘Mr. Trelawney,’ she said, I, wish to speak to you privately. Can J,T I replied in the affirmative, and asked my aunt and cousin to leave us, which they accordingly did. Left alone with Madeline, I felt my whole body tremble like a tree bending before the breath of the tempest. But I took courage to look at her, and thus I became somewhat reassured. Her whole demeanor was calm ancTcold; she made no attempt to ap proach me; tut she walked over to~ the window and looked out, turning only occasionly to glance at me while the interview lasted. ‘Mr. Trelawney,' she said, when you paid your visit to Redruth House last nighil was listening. I was in a remote and shaded part of the drawing-room when you entered;, remained there during the scene which followed. What I witnessed was too stormy to be very lucidLlX. want you to make it clear to me now. I ‘What do you wish me to do?’ ‘I wish you to tell me, if you will, the whole of your cousins unfortunate story. ’ I did as she requested; not dwelling too much upon it, but making every point clear. When I had finished, Madeline said quietly: ‘How long have you known this story, Mr. Trelawney?’ ‘Two or three days. It seems that Annie had given some promise not to betray that man, and this promise she religiously kept until ' ‘Yes, until ’ __ ‘Until she was driven to desperation by the announcement of his approaching marriage. Sick and heartbroken, she came to me and told me the story. Horrified beyond meassure, I thought of you; and I dreaded to think what your life would be married to such a villain. I came here determined to face him; and, if rssible, to prevent the marriage. went to him in all good faith — you best know how I was received.’ ‘Do you believe that his marriage with your cousin is legal?’ ‘No; I honestly believe it to be false. ’ ‘Then you mean to expose him? Since your cousin cannot get justice, do you mean to make your wrongs known? ‘I looked at her for a momect; then I answered: ‘No; I have done all that I can do. To humiliate him now would be to humiliate you—moreover, it would lead to his certain death? ‘His death! What do you mean?’ □ ‘This: that if I pointed him out as the betrayer of Annie Pendragon, my uncle would surely kill him. ’ She started and trembled. ‘Don’t fear for him,’ I said; he is safe from me. There has been trouble enough here already; God forbid that I should be the means of bringing more!’ There was a long pause. Madeline still stood at the window, gazing out with sad, wistful eyes. Then she turned and came towards me. ‘Mr. Trelawney,’ she said, ‘I think you are right when you say you will make no public scandal. Let the matter rest, and perhaps in time all may come well. You think that your cousin still lovss Mr. Redruth?; ‘God help her! Yes.’ ‘Then let sis pray that her love, and all her patient suffering, will some day be requited.’ ‘I do not understand!’ I said. ‘No? Then you think more badly of me than I deserve, though heaven knows I have not deserved that you should think well of ma I told you once that I was marrying; my cousin because he was poor and I was rich. What I told you I told him; I know I could never love him, but I wished to help him, and I should have done so. I should have married him; and once his wife, I think —nay, I am sure —I should have been able to do my duty, But when I gave that promise to him I believed him to be a good and honorable man. Now, all is changed. I believe every word of your story, Mr. Trelawney; and* believing it, I know I can never be united to him.’ She paused for a moment; but I could not speak. Presently she continued: “Mr. Trelawney, I wanj; you to give me your hand for a moment in token of your forgiveness. Heaven has not been mferciful to either of us, and I think it would have been better for us both if we had never met. 1 shall leave this place to-morrOw; but I shall never forget it, and I shall never forget you. God bless vou!’

She pressed my hand warmly in th of hers, and the next moment ;v • was gone. What followed seemed to me a wild dream. I remained for a time stupefied—drunk with mingled joy and sorrow feeling the grasp of my darling’s hand in mine, and hearing still the sound of her loving voice. Then I knew that my aunt and Annie had returned, and were questioning me as to Madeline’s visit; but their questions were soon drowned in a strange murmur which reached us from without, and the next moment a wild group surged np and surrounded the kitchen door. CHAPTER XXXV. THE COMING OP THE SEA. "What has happened?" I cried, run-

nlng np and fating the tamsMrtsldken men. « . One of them, Michael Penmaur, a stalwart fellow df five-and-twenty, stepped forward and acted as spokesman. Cr- “ What you allays said would happen, Measter Hugh. The main shaft be flooded wi’ the sea. ” What this betokened I well knew; if the sea had entered, that portion of the mine was destroyed forever. “That's a bad look-out, my lads. Well, it was bound to come about; and if there is no one down below, and no life lost, perhaps ’tis all for the best." As I spoke, I saw them look wildly at one another and whisper, and I guessed that they bad something more to telL “What is it, lads?" I cried. “Speak!” “Come outside, Measter Hugh,” answered Michael Penmaur: “I’ll tell ’ee there." But my aunt, with a wild cry, sprang forward and grasped him by the arm. “You shall tell it naw!" she tried. “I can see it in your face, and my dreams ha’ come true. Summat’s happened to my manl Hugh, make him speak! I can bear it!” At that moment Annie entered the room, descending from the chamber above, and the moment she appeared my aunt addressed her wildly. “You ha’ come in time. Annie Pendragon. All the trouble began wi’ ’ee! Bid them speak, then, an’ tell what’s happened to your father!’ “Oh, Hugh, what is it?” exclaimed poor Annie, coming to my side. I told her that the waters had flooded the mine. “And father? where is father?” she said, with a sharp presentiment of the truth. Michael Penmaur exchanged another rapid look with his companions, and then replied: “Your father be dawn belaw, wi’ the young measter!” My aunt uttered a scream, and threw her hands up into the air. “Dead!” she cried. “My dream again! You ha’killed him, Annie—you ha’ killed yoqr father!” “No, no, mother! Don’t say that!” “Speak, lads!” I said. “Tell me everything, for God’s sake!” Then Michael Penmaur, as spokesman, told me, in a few rapid words all he knew; that in the course of the afternoon George Redruth had descended the mine in company with my uncle for the purpose of inspecting the outer galleries—my uncle, indeed, having fetched him for that very purpose; that suddenly, while all were busy below, the alarm had been given, and, throwing down their tools, the men had rushed up the ladders, while simultaneously they heard a rush and roar like the sound of the entering sea; that as they ascended in wild alarm, the lower ladder broke beneath the weight of some of the men, who were precipi tated with it into the darkness; and that, finally, when they collected at the mouth of the mine, they missed, besides several of their comrades, both George Redruth and my uncle.

I rushed to the door: By this time it was quite dark, and it was blowing quite hard from the south-west, with hail and rain. I thought with horror of that submarine darkness, and of those who were lying even then within it, live or dead. My mind was made up in a moment. I did not even wait to speak to Annie or my aunt, but, calling on the men to follow me, ran right away in the direction of the mine. The men followed me in a body, When we reached the cliffs, we found the wild news had spread, and an excited throng was gathered at the mine-head, some carrying torches, which cast lurid gleams on the strand beneath, and the white billows were flashing and crashing. Suddenly a light hand was placed S>on my arm, and, turning, I saw adeline; close to her, like a gaunt spectre, Mrs. Redruth. ‘Thank God you are here!’ cried my darling. ‘ls there any hope?’ I looked into her white face, and saw’ in its wild anxiety only love for my rival; but at that supreme moment I felt no jealousy—only supreme pity for her and him. Then I glanced at his mother, and heard her quick cry of supplication: ‘Save him! Save my son!’ Dazed and horrified, I turned round and addressed the men: ‘ls Mr. Redruth below?’ ‘Ay, ay, measter!’ they answered in a chorus. ‘Who saw him last?*

‘I did,’ said MiphaelPenmaur.- ‘He was creeping wi,’ John Pendragon out beyond the bottom shaft. ’ I walked to the mouth of the mine, and threw open thdS wooden lid. Then, kneeling down, I held my ear over the mouth and listeded. A sound like thunder —a horrible rushing and roaring—came from below. I had no doubt now that the worst had happened. The sea had entered the mine. There was only one chance for those below, if by any possibility they survived. Some one must descend and make an inspection, even at the risk of his life; and, without a moment's hesitation, I determined to volunteer for the task. Strange to say, my head became quite cool and clear directly my resolve was made. ‘Listen, lads! I said. There’s hope yet, and I'm going down.’ A faint cheer, mingled with a terrified murmer, greeted my annouceraent. ‘lt be no use, measter!’ cried Michael Penmauer. The ladders be clean down.’ ‘I know that,’ I answered; ‘but if , we cauget safely down to the middle ' platform, I can descend from there

by a rope. Bun down to the office,i some of you, and bring all the and candles you can find.’ They rushed off cheering; and, turning to those who remained, I explained my plan. Several of them, Michael Penmaur among the number, agreed to descent with me to the platform, and to lower me thence down the bottorij -shaft. In less time than it takes to Write these lines the messengers rer. turned with several coils of rope an<| candles; I stuek several of the latter about my person and two or three in my wideawake hat. Then I was ready. I had set my foot on the first runs of the ladder and was about to .del scend, when Madeline bent over me. “God bless you!” she said, “and bring you safe back!” I reached up, and taking her hand pressed it to my lips. “If he lives,” I said, “11l restore him to you and to his mother. Don’t cry, Miss Graham! There’s a chance yet!” I thought her tears fell for him, and yet. strange to stay, she had my sympathy; all my wild jealousy haa fallen from me like a discarded garment. What was my amazement therefore, when, bending ovtr me,, she took my face between her two trembling hands and kissed me on the forehead. “God will bring you back!” she sobbed, and turned away. Scarcely realizing the significance of what occured I descended rapidly, followed by Michael and the volunteers. As I went the roar from below increased, and the solid rock on which the ladder was set seemed to shake as with an earthquake. In pitch darkness I reached the first platform: [To be Continued.]

Why Small Farms do not Alway Pay.

Buffalo Commercial. A good deal is said about the reasons why the farmers of this region do not succeed better in a financial way, ” said one of the larger produce buyers of western New York. “And I have seen one of the merely average young farmers of my town buy rag additional acres and new farms year after year, from the profits of his farming. I have made up my mind that there are important exceptions to any rule about the universal depression in agriculture. But there is one serious thing the small farmer has had to contend with the past, twenty years. Improved machinery has been of less proportionate benefit to him than his large competitors. The farmer with from twenty-five to fifty acres of grain has made a very little saving over the old eraddle cutting when he counts the interest on his investment in a reaper, cost of its repairs; depreciation in value, expense of horse-power and driver. With increase of laborsaving machinery have come advantage for extensive Western farming not shared by the small farmer of this region,”

A Terrible Mistake.

A gentleman had an engagement with the daughter of a prosperous citizen to at lend the theater, says the Louisville Fost. The young lady suggested that they U3e the family carriage, and the gallant was too to decliito; thd morning of the: engagement the young lady asked, her father to please stop in Mr. Bow- j ersox’s office and inquire where he wanted the carriage to call for him. The kindly old gentleman did so. He stepped in the office, and, calling tothe yonng man, said: ‘ ‘I want to>see about that carriage. ” “Wait a moment,” said the youth, evidently agitated. He laid down,, his pen*, and* coming from behind his desk, led his, visitor into a far cornerand continued: “I can’t settle that right now, as I am deucedly hard up. , I’ll fix it by the middle of, the month, dead sure.”' - = ~ “ What do-you mean?” said: the oicE gentleman. “Why, ain’t you the collector for the Gouge’em Transfer company?” “No, I’m not. I’m Miss Bondholder’s Jfather, and want to know: where iny carriage is to be sent for you to-night.” He went to the theater in the carriage, but he did not enjoy it much.

During one of his visits to Pittsburg Mr. Blaine stopped at the Anderson. Zach Males is the aged colored man who attends 4o the ladies’ entrance. When the Secretary came in the old man was there to see him with a gratified smile on his face. “How are you, Mr. Blaine?” he said. "And how are you, Zach?” the statesman answered. Poor old Zach was dumbfounded. He expected no such recognition and greeting. "Why, Mr. Blaine,” he replied nervously, "I would know you, if I had never seen you, from your pictures, but how did you know my name was Zach?”-, •‘Well, that is easy,” said Mr. Blaine, laughing. "Don’t you remember, Zach, when I went to school at the Washington and Jefferson allege fifty years ago? I lived with my uncle and you worked for him. I have not seen you for years since, but forget your face and name, Zach I never could."

Axle-Greese on Bread.

A storekeeper at Glenmoore, Montgomery county, Pa., recently had two dozen boxes of axle-greese stolen from his place, and making an investigation traced the thief to some Hurgarians employed in a neighboring quarry. He visited their huts one day, and was shocked iq find a box of his axle-greese on the table and the Hungarians eating it on their bread in place of butter with great gustax v,

CURRENCY.

Detroit Free Press. * WITCHCRAFT !!* MEXICO. f There are still several tribes of. Indians in Mexico who believe in witchcraft, and the other week a woman f was killed because it was contended that she drove the sun over into the United States and filled up the space with rain.— NOTHING IN IT. The old legend that an Indian never forgave an injury or forvot a favor is declared to be all bosh by the men who know best. 'He hates no worse than a white man, and like the general run of white men doesn’t slop over to any great extent to re-i turn favors. GUARD YdU& SPEECH. Elmer Young, an Oswego man, felt funny the other morning, and ho said to Mrs. White, who was going to the grocery, “Trot along after you* coal oil, sissy.” She had him arrested, and the court decided that “sissy” was slander, and gave her a verdict for SSO. BAD EATING. ' V- 1 -' I ~ : —---------- T -. ■ -•= A native of Borneo stole a hammock belonging to a missionary, and bis chief sentenced him to eat the plunder or lose his head. He waa given seven days in which to tickl« nis palate with the outfit, and he accomplished the feat. He is now “heap honest.” it’s no go. The three or four French artists who started out two or three yean ago to introduce men angels in theij pictures of heaven have had to give it up and return to all females. II there is any heaven for men the public won’t admit it, at least in the angel business. DRAWING THE LINE. A native New Zealander was induced to wear a shirt, a paper collar, shoes and a hat, and he almost concluded to eat with a knife and embrace Christianity. Then they asked him to wear suspenders, and he went out and hanged himself. It was pushing civilization too far.

A BIT RECKLESS.

A man in Cincinnati has made affidavit that he called up an acquaintance by telephone and had a five minutes’ chat, and then learned thal the man had been dead two hours when he helloed him up. It is hoped the dead man got satisfaction ovei the wire. That is more than any live one will ever get.

OF COURSE SHE WON. A Mrs. Williams, of Valley City, Dak., wagered that she could put the slips on five pillows while any man presept at a church, fair could encase one, and seven different men took hex up and suffered defeat. No man ean ever acquire the knaek of holding a Eillow in his teeth to work with both ands. ENOCH is OUT. Wisconsin is known to have a law which provides that when a husband disappears and is not heard of for three years by his wife she is divorced without further notice. The Enoch Arden business in that State will re eeive a black eye, and the man wh< goes out to feed the hogs will bt quite apt to return. COME TO STAY. ?*he grip was simply experiment ing on the American people last winter, to see how they would take it. ft has been present in every county in the land this winter, and the doctors have every reason to believe that it will abide with, us for two or three more winters to come: JUSTICE IS SLOW. IL speaks well for Idle laws of this country that eighty-two different men have been arrested within the last two years as the murderer of Snell, the Chicago banker. It was a case of mistaken identity in each instance, but proves that the law is leaving no stones unturned to find the right man. HIS REWARD. A useless member of Cincinnati’s population leaped into the Ohio from the suspension bridge the other day and was not killed. As a reward for his daring three different saloons set up the beer for him free gratis, and another man gave him a cigar. It paid him to take the drop.

WILLING TO CHANGE. A man undergoing a sentence of twenty-five years in the lowa penitentiary has expressed his willingness to change off and enlist in the United States navy for three years, if it will be any special favor to the Secretary, who complains of a scarcity of men. This shows that good men often get into prison. IN THE SHADOW. The coming of death does stir up a guilty conscience, after all —at least with most people. It was a terrible thing for Mrs. Quigley to swear her brother’s life away as she did at Welland, and her deathbed confes sion? is one to be bought up by the dime museum men and placed in th chamber of horrors. A twenty-acre pond bubbled u out of the earth In Center Co., Pa. recently, in twenty minutes.

AN UNKNOWN LAND.

A ImMm of tk» VHM S total Smr Washington has her great unknown land like the interior of Africa, says the Seattle Fret*. The country shut in by the Olympic? mountains, which includes an area of abont ( 2.6oo miles square, has never, to the positive knowledge of old residents of the territory, been trodden by the foot of man, white or Indian. These mountains rise from the level country within ten to fifteen miles of the straits of San Joan de Fnca in the north, the Pacific ocean in the west. Hood's canal in the east, and the basin of Quinanlt lake in the south, and rising to the height of 6,000 to 8,000 feet, shut in a vast unexplored area. The Indians have never penetrated it, far their traditions say that it is inhabited by a very fierce tribe, which none of the coast tribes dared molest Though it is improbable that such a tribe eould have existed in the mountain country without their presence becoming known to the white men, no man Las ever ascertained that it did not exist White men, too,- have only vague accounts of any white man having ever passed through this country, for investigation of all the edaims of travelers has invariably proved that they have only traversed its outer The most generally accepted theory in regard to this country is that it consisted of great valleys stretching from the inward slopes of* the mountains to a great central basin. This theory is supported by the fact that, although the country around has abundant rain, and clouds constantly hang over the mountain tops, all the streams flowing toward the four points of tho compass are insignificant, and rise only on the outward slope of the range, none apE earing to drain the great area shut in y the mountains. This fact appears to support the theory that the streams flowing from the inner slopes of the mountains feed a great interior lake. But what drains this lubeP It must have an outlet somewhere, and as al£. streams pouring from the mountains rise on their outward slope, it must have a subterranean outlet into the ocean, the straits, or the sound. There are great discoveries in store for some of Washington’s explorers.

A gentleman named Drew, now r®r siding at Olympia, states that he has climbed to the summit of the eastern range from Hood’s canal, and looking down could see great valleys stretchiug toward the west. A party of railroad prospectors claim to have penetrated the interior, but could give no account of it. and appear only to have skirted the outer slopes ten or fifteen miles from Hood’s canal. A party of United States soldiers are said to have traversed the country from Port Towuseud, but no data is obtainable as to what they saw. Numerous attempts have been made to organize exploring parties, but they have invariably fallen through, the courage of the projectors oozing out at the last moment. There is a fine opportunity for some of the hardy citizens of the sound to acquire fame by unveiling the mystery which wraps the land encircled by the snow-capped Olympic range.

Lem Hill's Funeral.

Another of the queer characters in White Horse camp wa3 a man known at Lem Hill. He was,says the New Sun,as mild asbnttermilk and as dull at a hoe, and no one ever thought of asking his advice or interesting themselves in bis affairs. One day ha took sick, and after a period lasting about three weeks it was seen that hej must die. It was deemed best that some one should break the news to him, and so “Judge" Kelso dropped In and said; “Lem, you are going to turn up your toes before another sunrise?” The Judge didn't mean to be sutb den or unfeeling, but that was hit whjl _ -- •*F guess I am, quietly replied Lem. “Well, that pint being settled and no exceptions taken, what last request hev ye got to make? We want to dg the fair thing, you know, although it’t a busy time.” “Kin 1 hev a funeral!" queried Lem. “You kin.” “Keg’lar procession?” “Yes." I don’t expect any coffin, of course, but I'd like to hev the affair pulled off reasonably decent. You kin plant me on the hill beside the Frenchman. I guess we won t quarrel." “Yes, we’ll do that, though it’s purty hard diggin’ up thar.” “Needn’t mind going over a couple of feet,” said Lem, “and the fellers with the body had better take the lefthard path as they go up; it’s easier t« climb.” “Got any wealth?” asked the judge! after a moment’s silence. “A oouple of ounces, mebbe." “Mighty slim show for a big spread on that, but we can’t help it Well, Lem, it’s my busy day, you know, and 1 must cut this short Hope you won’t take offense.” “Oh, certainly not Don’t neglect work on my account Suthin’ «ai<l ad tho grave?” “Just a few words, Lem, and I'll say ’em myself. I’ll practice up this afternoon and git some whisky to cleat my throat I want to make a decent job of it” “What’ll you say?” “Why, that you died happy—bet left an aching void—we shall all mis* ? r ou—cut down in yer prime. Til lay t on purty thick.” “.Well, I’m sure I couldn’t ask for more, and perhaps it’s better than ] could expect So long, judge. Ga back to your work, and I’ll go on with my dying.” And the judge- left,the Pbenty whittling as was his wont and Lem had been dead over an hour before word came to us down in the gulch. Tbs funeral came off the next morning, and it has always been a pleasant remembrance with me that the judge did considerable better than he agreed to. He gave two eulogies in place of one, and after the burial he licked one of the men who wouldn’t knock off work to attend. .