Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 18, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 31 October 1874 — Page 6

assii

rv' •6

9

If

I

THEJVLAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

[Prom Holland's "Mistress the Man*e."]

1 SLEEP. Oh bleased sleep! lnwhich exempt From our tired selves lung hours we lie pur vapid wortble—aiw undreamt, 1 And our poor spirits

saved thereby

From penbtog of saif-oontempt. "We weary of our petty alms 4?|Wesicken with oar selfish deeds

We shrink and shrivel In the flames That low desire ignites and feeds. And grudge the debt that duty claim*.

Oh sweet foigetftilnees of sleep! Oh bliss, to drop the pride of drew, ^Aad all the shame ec which we weep, «And, toward our nativ« nothlngnww. X&To drop ten thousand fathoms deep!

[From the Atlantic Monthly .f

Larcom's Little Chap.

AN INCIDENT OF THE WAR»

BY JAM SB T. MKAV.

The'military prison at Flnchley was very much like the rest, I suppose. Lar,oom was one of a lot of twenty or thirty who had come in together more than a rear before. He was a big, eoaunonlooking fellow, and very clever, and pretty rough. Brown was from the same neighborhood, and he and Larcom were "mates all hrough. He was a sharp little fellow, this Brown, quick-temper-ed and wiry, and might have been anywhere between twenty-live and forty. He would have been free or dead long before that, bnt for sticking by his halktag comrade,—Larcom rather anchored him. Luco was a sergeant in the twen-ty-third, when taken he had been a mere boy two years before, bnt he was not a boy now and he looked as though a little more of the same sort would make him neither boy nor man.

Laroom had been married to a German woman a short time before his second enlistment, and just before their capture he had received news of the birth of a .child. Everybody knew about his Katy and the boy, and by that time there was not much left of the letter that* had .] brought the news. He liked to talk about them, and the men liked to hear him in that dismal place laughed at him and poked weak fun at him. He had plenty of leisure to think about his wife and child, and he thought and talked so constantly of them that he gradually built up a kind of romance about both, but principally about the child, perhaps from there being less troublesome ground-work of fact to clear away and accommodate. He knew no more about it than his audience, but he came to more than half believe in the description and history he gave of the little one he had never seen. The fellows made a

Btanding joke of asking after the baby's health, ms weight, and the number of his teeth, and absorbing interest and sympathy were manifested in critical periods of measles and whooping oough.

The fttn was weak, no doubt, and not too fine-drawn. That was in the first months of their imprisonment. By and by they ceased to quiz Larcom, partly because he took it less and less kindly, and partly because they came to have .amallstomach for pleasantry themselves. There was only one thine that made the life tolerable at all, and that was the hope of escape. And they never ceased to plot and plan for that. Some got away by dexterous and instant use of fortunate chance, by desperate defiance of risk and reason, by strategem devised and worked out with incredible means and success. But most of the plots were discovered at Flnchley, by the cunning of one of the guards. He was a low, brutal fellow, with a retreating chin and forehead, and a peculiar leer for his ordinary expression. This fellow had a habit of snapping his jaws convulsively When he laugnea, and from that and his ftrret keenness of scent and success in unearthing tunneling plots and the like, he had got the nick name of "Steel-trap," and was known by no other. The hatred of the prisoners for this man was •imply murderous, and tfa® best of the

guards themselves despised him. His ingenuity in thwarting attempts at escape were beyond belief, and his enjoyment of success quite inhuman. During the progress of the great tunnel of July, which was dug with infinite patience and skill and with the most elaborate caution and secrecy, he was watched by a regular system of espionage, and when the men lay down o® the night of the twentieth of July to wait with fear and trembling for the signal, not a man of them believed Trap had any suspicion, and twenty-one men passed through that hundred feet of burrow that night. The twenty-second was Baker. Who had sworn be would new oome back alive. He thought he heard gome strange noise when Whitelaw went oat last ahead of him, and when he emerged and saw the hated leering fSoe ana more armed men behind, he leaped on the guard with a terrible curse, and the next minute lay dying oa the grass. The rept were all taken quietly as they came out, and passed J* teok inat the gates, with what bittern*** may be imagined.

Laroom ceased altogether to talk of 'ft the ohild and to mother after a while, got to be very quiet indeed, and towards the end of theyear he brooded a mod deal. One Thursday morning vary early, those lying near him who were awake heard him swearing to himaeif. Then he turned over to Brown, who lay next to him, sad said "firowny, I want to see her and the littler chap.

Then he turned away his free and lay Ifaere long whUe quite still. That afImxHt,asSatan would have it, Luce, Brown and Laroom were detailed upon parole to bring water from a spring o«taide the walla. Wells were low from the long drought. Tboy bad a barrel upon 'Vi a haad-cart, and a pal) apteee^and went in and out several times. The spring was out of sight of the gates, about a sj quarter of a mile to the west. It ran 1 wt of a tcoucfa at the roadside In a bend 0t the fisnc :ind behind a clump of 1 boshes. They were neither of them too strong, aad water to not so light as some

Z"8 things. It was nearly sunset when they came to the spring tbe last time. Lar3 cosh filled h» pall and then stood up and poured it out on the ground.

Boys," he said, "I ain't going to carry any more. im going home." The quiet words fired Known like a match to .'powder. He sprang up and ftung away ,' the pail be was filling

Come on" he cried fiercely, "I'm if 111 go back to that bell." IAwe sat on the edgo of she ewt, and looked down at his toss working ta and rat of his shoes. Like enough he did not see either iusi then talinug of home made a babv him.

At* you coming, Loea t" Laitwin asked. And Luce looked up and an-

"1 right. Lai'-." said} "I'm giad you ain't, ttot mnt stand It any longer. Tell the hoys eouldsi\ Luce, Take «an of yourself. Joodfcy,"

iftliii

He gave a quick, hard grip of the hand, and Luce said,— "Good-by, hoys. I hope you'll get through."

He turned his back and put down his head, where he heard nothing but the splash Ot the water in the pail. It had run three or four times full before he got up, and then there was no one in sight. He fitted the barrel alone. Then he sat down and waited for some one to come. When some of the guard came running after a while and demanded where were his companions, and which way they had gone, lie answered that he didnt know.

The feeling in the prison toward the two fugitives, when it was known that they had broken parole and run. was no kind one. It was an additional straw upon backs already bowed to breaking it put a taunt Into every word and look of their hated keepers, and made more Intolerable and hopeless the life of every man within the loathed walls, and re-' moved further from eachthe light of the hope of escape.

A week or two after that the news was passed through the wards one afternoon that Larcom had been

brought

and

bads,

and was then in the hospital across the yard. A day or two later, Doctor Farmer came up into Larcom's old wawlon the third floor. Farmer was one of the prisoners being a doctor of skill and experience,

doctors being searoe, the

commander had put him in charge of the hospital in the place. He sat down and beckoned to some of the men, and they came round to hear what he had to say, but without any qjdckness or eagerness, and in a stolid, silent, dogged way that had become the dismal 1 of the place.

Boys," the grave doctor began, perhaps a little graver than usual, "you know who we've got in the hospital now Nobody answered, and some of them turned away and muttered.

Look here, boys," he went on, "I'm as sick of this as you are I want to get away as bad as any of you. Storrs and I could have had a good deal of liberty and gone out and in about as we pleased these last six months, if we'd given our word not to run, but we wouldn't do it. I know how you feel about this. He'll be back with you in a few days he's nearly starved to death, and has a cut on his head. He was quite crazed when they brought him in, and may be was a little wrong before he went, with thinking so much about bis wife and the little fellow be has never seen. You mustn't be rough on him when he comes up."

Larcom came up one morning, and back to his old bunk. They meant not to be unfriendly with him, and Dexter met him and gave his hand and said,—

Come in, old man. Hovvd' do, Lark We're glad you've come back." The double meaning of the words was no less evident for being unintentional, and the welcome on the whole was not a pleasant one. They meant to make allowance for him, but they were too low. They were so close to the wall that thev could not see more than their own side, and not much of that. He was ghastly to look at, his f&ce white, Mien in, his eyes a little wild yet, his clothes hanging shapelessly over his bones, and his head bound with a cloth. He crept away to his old bunk and lay there most of the next three days. That crowded room was more terribly lonely to him than any wilderness. At the end of three days he went and begged the officers of the guard to put him in some other place, and they had mercy on him and put him below. And though it was afar worse place, and the old one was by no means pleasant, he was thankful to creep awav and hide his head anywhere out of sight. He had turned his hand against every man of them, and every man's hand heart was against him, whether they smiled or looked black. He had thought his lot and theirs too hard to be borne before now be envied them. The common sympathy and confidence in one another, of which he bad never thought before, seemed inestimable things now, as he slun away to his ungeon. His was a prison within a prison. He kept apart from all, was shut up within himself in that dreadful loneliness he devoured his soul with brooding and yearnings that had no escape in spoken words. He went back to the hospital after a while and brooded there, and the doctors knew that he must soon die or go mad.

One afternoon in October, a short, thick, sturdy little German woman came to the gate of the prison, carrying a year-old child in her arms. She looked worn, her dress was soiled and rag-

gutohandshe

xi, and walked in her slow, fiat, way, like one who had come a long distance. 8he asked in her broken English if that was Finchley military prison, and if John Lsircom was there confined.

I reckon ho is." was the answer, "You've como to the right number." And to her demand to see him, the answer was bluntly given that it was contrary to rules, and could by no means be done.

Trie guard was a lank, straddling fellow, and he ambled his six steps back and forth across the gate with an attempt at a soldierly carriage. haf draft! nigh Umsand mile," tho woman said |n ber slow, stolid way, "I haf walk, unt mit garry mein papv, mora as aree hoontret mile. Ha is main mon. I must to see hiin." it ain't na use, ma'am," the guard said. "Nobody gets in or oat of here. Don't say no more. Go along now, that's good woman/' And the big sentinel straddled on back and forth.

Katy looked after him a minute or two, and tben sat down on a stone and waited. She did not despair that was ber Journey's end she never thought of going back. As she sat there, Trap came out. He stopped when he saw her, And quimed tha long-legged guard. "This your youngeut, Staples? Jilee: cub looks like you.'

There was plainly no love lost on Its way from Staples to Trap the guard •oowled and turned awav his head, and marched back and forth, forgetting to be awkward in the dignity of aoorn. Trap turned to the woman then, and she stood tip and told him the same story. Trap seemed not to notioo what she said, much he was bending forward grinning to tbw child, and he chucked him unner the cbin, and said,—

Cbweky, ctraflry! Larcom's kid, b*»y Bow wow, gobble, oobb!©trt snapping his jaws and grinding his toeth in mock tleroeness. "First young BOB of

A

Yank I ever see." And he

leered dose to the child, wad made hideous grimaces in his jfcea. The mother clasped the child tighter, and draw back a step. But he was a bold little fellow he scowled back, and glanced at his mother as rnueh as to say, .Don't be afHH, struck the grinning race with hi* el it bed little fist, and gripped Ms lit:li lingers in the man's beard. the little devil!" cried Tmp. "Lord, ju n't he spunky, though

Katy looked a little alarmed, and the guard stopped and nut in,— "Say, now, you Trap, let up on that now. You better

mmy

now. you had."

"Oh, you choke, Staples," Trap aaawerad and more that was not of the kind that tarns away wrath, and need sot be repeated hers but he moved out of reach of the long guard's bayonet.

Woman and child were dusty and hot looking. Trap tarned and asked her abruptly if she didn't want some cold watdr. Staples knew Trap was upon some trick with her then, and he warned her against him bluntly enough. 14 you want to drink, and wash the young one," Trap said, *I'll show you the place." He stood feeing her, with bis hack to the guard, as he spoke, and Bhe looked at him a minute, tben turned and went with him. They turned the angle of the prison-walls, and walked along the road to the west a quarter of a mile, turned out through a fringe of bushes that hid the road, and found a spring splashing out of a wank through a trough. He did not speak all the way. She took a tin cup from her pocket, and Trap lay down on the grass and watched her washing the child's and her own hands and face, and the little fellow drinking with his ftice in the cop, and his two hands gripping it hard. Trap moved round and held his head under the spout, and let the cool water dash upon his head, shaking it like a dog at first, and then lying still and grimacing out of the shower-bath at the child. Katy paid no heed, but stolidly mopped the water from the little neck and face. The baby stared fixedly at Trap a while, after the solemn

The child's staring eyes shut down after a little, and he lay over and went fest asleep with his head on the soldier's arm. Trap curled down beside him, without moving his arm, and held the branch lower so that it hid the two faces that were so very far apart.

Katy went on with her story. Brown told lier how he had escaped and her husband had been wounded, taken, and fetched back. She took Brown in when he had done and gave him some food, and ate herself, and fed tho child. When Brown was rested and started out, she came out too, and locked the door. Brown asked her what she was going to do.

I go to Chon." she answered. With her child-in her arms, without money or friends, calmly and undoubtingly, this stolid, slow-witted German woman set out to go a thousand miles. He had tried to come to her and his child and could not then they must go to him. That was all. She did not hurry or fret if she went wrong, she turned back as calmly as she had come. She had infinite patience and endurance,unwavering purpose and the faith that removes mountains. Almost everywhere she got help for the asking. They gave a free ride on the railroads most of the way to the scene of war. By the same untiring persistence she got herself passed

Her simplicity was better than any art she had nothing to hide, no part to play, no disguise to maintain. They asked her if she was this and that.

I know not do bolidick, vas es is," she answered. "I am not dis und somcding else, I odly poor Detch woman, und I go to mein mon in milidairo chail. You will not to mo stop

No one did stop her long almost no men and very few women gave her hard looks or words. She walked on day after day with a patience and pertinacity almost sublime. She carried nothing with her but a tin cup and maybe a cake or a slice for the child. They never lay down hungry but twice or thrice and tben they were lost in the wild country, away from any house. The two won hearts wherever they came they wore doubly armed. Men were kind to tho woman women were kind to the child.

Heat, cold, dust, rain, hunger, weariness, kindnoss and cruolty hard, bare and desolate lodging these were the daily incidents through which she went sturdily, stolidly trudging southward by the week together. They made little figure In her narrative to Trap, but he knew them all, nevertheless. And all the while she talked, the child lay placidly sleeping in the shadow on the grass, with his cheek on the soldier's arm. Trap let the branch swing up then, and showed himself coiled ungainly by the boy and chewing a great cud of leaves ana grass. bad a chap like him once," he said, without any special expression in his fkee, and putting one finger on the child's cheek. "He's dead, and I'm glad of it. His mother wouldn't walk ten rods to keep from being huug."

He got tip and went away Without another wortL A few minutes later he came slouching in at the prison gate, leering savagely at long 8taples with his tongue in the corner of his mouth, and the sentry turned away his head and would have liked to run him through with his bayonet on the spot. Trap crossed the prison yard and entered the rickety outbuilding which had been made the hospital. There were plenty in the place, deapettrto and desolate enough but Trap aaw at a glance that his asual luek was with him. There was none of the guards within. Store*, the dispenser of medicine, and one OT two other attendants from the prisoners, ware all beside tbe sick. He pushed through to tbe far end where Laroom lay, alone In that crowded house of misery. His ftwe was turned to the trail, aad he did not look o» mom Trap took him by the shoulder and shook him roughly.

Now then, you dam Yank," he said, "do you want to see your Dutch Kate and her young one

t"

The prisoner turned over with a single motion as

If

TBKRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

manner

of nis

kind, and then broke into abroad smile, at which the fellow grimaced and snapped his teeth more hideously than ever. Then he came out of the waterfall, and shook the water from his eyes.

Now then," he said to Katy, "tell all about it." In her grave, stolid way, she even told him her little story. Larcom had bought her a poor Utile shanty and a good bit of garden ground with his bounty and what he had saved by a northern country roadside. There she had lived, and there her little boy was born. She had not wanted she raised a good bit of vegetables on the bit ol ground, and the towns-people did not forget the soldiers' wives, She was hoeing among her cabbages one morning, when a ragged, hungrv-lookiug stranger came to the fence and asked ff her name was Katy. He said his name was Brown, and he told her how her John had broken away, and tried to come to her. "It was py der spring, wasser liko das, he say to me, dot mein Chon say he can not longer to wait," she said, and looked up at Trap, inquiring. The child had slid down from his mother's lap and sat in the grass bolt upright, his oaby eyes staring unwinkingly in Trap's face. Trap was holding down a branch of a bush over the little fellow's head, to keep off the sun, looking at him and listening to the woman's quiet talk. He looked up and answered then,— "Jes so, ma'am. This yere's the spot."

Deyond the lines and into the

enemy's country. It made no difference to her whose ground it was it was to be got over, that was all. She used no artifice whatever everywhere she had the one story to tell,— "I go to mein mon. He is in milidaire chail. He was dry to me come, he is cut on de bet, ho will die und not to see his papy. I must to him come."

She's the biggest fool Chad ever made." the fellow went on. And he sneered: "If I let you.out to see her, you'll come back again, won't you "Iwill," was the low reply. "God help you, if you're hoaxing me!" '•Speak for yourself," Trap snarled. "I don't want no help." He threw off his cap and coat. "Get up and put them on," he commanded. Laroom did not stop to think whether he was abla or not. He got up and put on tho hat and coat. Trap fished out a pair oi boots and trousers from under tne rude bed, and bade him put them on. He did not care much who saw or heard him if he had taken a prisoner's arm and walked him but of the gate in broad day, it would have been an oven ehance whether the guards would have stopped them or said Trap was up to some new deviltry, and the Yanks bad best lie low. Now it was dusk and be knew there was no one there who would interfere. The boots had fitted Larcom once be pat bis feet into what was left of them without any heed of pulling.

They're at JOrby's spring you ought to know it." The brutal guard Bneered again. "Now git J"

Laroom marched out and across the yard. Staples was still on guard at the gate. He recognised Trap's coat and cap as they came near, and turned his back. The uniforms of the guards had reached that degree of tatters and patches that they had acquired an individuality easily recognized. Larcom walked out at the gate and round the angle of tbe walls, and was a free man once more. You and I must have the like experience (and I pray God that neither we nor any may ever again,) before I can tell or you understand what those words mean. In five minutes more the battered fellow is where we will not follow him. But we may picture him lying among the bushes, the stolid woman whose love and faith have conquered all things for bis sake mourning and rejoicing Drokenly over him. And he has the little chap at last, pressed ever so near to his heart.

Night settled down upon Finchley prison one evening after its desolate fashion. Just at dusk there came walking up the stairs and into the old ward a man In tho uniform of the guards. He crossed the room to Brown's and Larcom's old bunk and sat down. The places were vacant, and had bpen since the two men left. The prisoners drew away from tbe stranger, talking together sullenly and looking over their shoulders at him with no friendly faces. Then Dexter strode up to him and spoke. "Now then, you Reb, what do you want here Move on now, or you'll get hove out."

The stranger took off his cap and showed his face, about as ghastly and deathlike as ever walked on feet. He smiled in their angry faces, and said,— "It's only me, it ain't no Reb. Don't you know me, Billy?"

And Dexter cried out, "By Judas, it's old Lark. How are you, Lark and he offered his hand.

But Larcom put it away weakly. "Thank y', Billy not just yet. Wait till I tell y' how't is. Come round, boys, and give me a chance I'm about played out. Boys, I went back on you that time, and you was pretty heavy on me, and I don't know as I can blame you. But I calculate I've made it even now. I've seen my little chap, boys I've been out with him and his mother for more'n a week. She come all the way to see me, and lugged the boy. It's hard to believe it, boys, but it's truo, and I seen them a good ways towards home, and I bid them good-by and came back." Here he stopped a minute and made Trap's cap do service as a handkerchief, though the weather was not too warm and the cap none too clean. "I thought I should never get here, boys y' see there's plenty'11 lend a handgoin' away, but nobody won't help you to come back. It's been pretty nard on me, and I guess I shat»'t have much further to travel. But I come back, and here I am and I guess that's about all."

He looked around at their dusky forms and faces, sitting before them in the dark corner, and then he added,—

And now, mates, as you and me has been sort of 'stranged, and I not saying not by rights, but yet taking it uncommon rough of you and how that God a 'mighty give me another try, and I come back free and unbeholden and says to you such as I have and being about played, as I was saying, and not going much further than thi& here bunk of me and Browny's, and wanting to come round to you all and shake hands on it if thereys any present as would like to como up and say bygones and call it square, why, here's what's left o' mine, and thankful to bo able." And he hung bis skeleton hand over hid Jtnties like a raveled^ and knotted bellrope.

f'Boys,"said

11

an electric shock had

struck him. •'She's walked from hoinO to see you.

DeXtSr, feeing round, "if

there's any how present has anything to say agin the propersition made, he ain't no mate o' mine. How are you, Lark, old boy 1 Here's both o' mine, if they'll do you any good only don't go to talking of pegging out. It's agin the rules o' the oamp."

One alter another they followed Dexter's lead, and came and shook hands with him, and eaoh said his rough word of greeting and reconciliation. All but one. Dan Garman lay all the while in bis bunk, a dark, low, thick-set fellow, whom nobody liked, and who had been found guilty of robbing his mates and had received rough justice at their hands Larcom

mlBsed

him and Kepler, with

others Kepler had been taken out dead the day before. Some of them trieg to get Garman out, but ho swore,at them and said he'd see him in fire and brimstone first. So they bade Lark not mind

««I'm glad that's gono, boys," Lark said. "Im on«i of you sow, and I thank vou."

Larcom talked to Dexter $part for a minute, and tben Dexter got a handful of straw and began breaking off pieces two or three inches long, and the word was passed under the breath that they were to draw lots for the soldier's cap. and coat thai had passed Laroom out and in again unsuspected. For one man of those sixty there was a pretty Mr chance of liberty and home, and not one of then* all but was profoundly moved and anxious. Not a man spoke while Dexter sat and counted and broke the straws, nor wai his own hands too steady. Doubtless his thoughts were Dw away as he finished the number and gnawed off the last, and prayed that It might be his, making it full twice as long as the rest, so that there should be no mistake, lie then and put them into Larcom's hands. "How many is there?" Laroom asked.

Sixty-three, without Dan. I don't count him." "Give me one more, Billy," Laroom said "I don't bear no grudge."

Dexter muttered something like cursing. bat he brought another straw." It's your dew, Lark," he said. "But he hasn't got no right."

Did vou count me, Billy Yes,"Lark, sixty-four's all told." "Then bore's mine," Larcom said, tailing out a abort straw. "Oome on, now. loyi ,•

Orderly and silently they fil*l fomui, and slxtv-two nervous hands drew an unspeakably bitter pang out of larcom's hand. Dexter -was the last. Larcam

looked up in his &ce as he reached and drew. There were only two straws, and he drew a short one. Larcom opened his hand and the long straw lay across his bony fingers. Dexter stood and stared at his own hand and at Larcom's. It was so near, no wonder it shook him." "Iwanted you to have it, Billy,** Larcom said, "I'm devlish sorry."

Dexter never answered a word, but turned straight about and went and hid himself in nis dark corner. Laroom turned his eyes towardsGaanaaWbunk tbe fellow was leaning out of it, with eager, fox eyesstaring through tbe dusk. Larcom reached the straw at htm. and he came sliding outand took it, gathered up the cap ana coat and went bade with tbem Into his bunk without a word. Then Laroom laid himself down in the bunk as wearily as ever man went to bis rest, and those who were next him thought it was true, as he said, that he would not go much further ott this side the impenetrable wall.

The night was pretty sharp, and some of the well ones shivered in the dismal place Larcom was to »tired to steep and suffered severely with cold. It seemed !to him near meriting, but was not yet very late* when some one came and laid a blanket over him cautiously, and was creeping away again, but stopped and crouch^l down close on the floor. Larcom Was going to speak, but failed through falntness and cold.

Lark," said a low, coarse, cautious voice. He knew it was Garman's, but had never heard it quite like that, "Lark," the Voice repeated, "are you cold now?" "No,Dan, not now," Laroom answered. And along shiver, half-sob, like acbijd's ran through the words. Tho fellow went and brought all his outer clothing and spread it over him, and Trap's coat on top »f that, and tucked them round him. Then he erouehed down awhile again by the bed in tbe darkness."

Lark," he said finally, in the same hoarse, low voice. And the querulous voice answered weakly, "Well, Dan?" "Yeu said you didn't bear no grudge?

No, Dan." Tben there was silence awhile, and they beard Dexter across tbe room talk lug in his sleep:—

You might 'a' waited, Susie. Tiou knew I'd 'a°come if I oould." Then he whimpered a little and muttered incoherently. Snoring Chauncey woke himself with a fiercer snort, turned over, and then all was still again. Garman's low voice spoke again presently, with something like awe in it now:—

Are you going to croak, Lark?" I guess so, Dan." shivering, and a little fretfully. "It's rough, Dan. Dan," after a minute, "do you know anything you could say?"

Dan knew nothing appropriate to such occasions, except "Wnen little Samuel woke and heard his breakfast cookin'!" He asked Lark if he thought it would do any good to say that.

No I'm afraid not," Larcom answered. "Never mind, Dan I" Well, I'm sorry, Lark. I ain't no good, and I don't know nothin'. And I ain't got nobody to learn me. Lark, he added after a pause, "what I was goin' to say to you, don't you go to have your woman and ner young one a-layin on your mind. If you give me leaf and tell me where, I been blacksmithin' twenty year now, and a money-makin' bus'nsss, and ain't afraid of no man, give mo hammer and rasp,—and what I say to you, Lark, is I'll see to 'em such as it is."

Larcom lifted himself on his arm and tried to look over the side into the shadowed, crouching fellow's face.

There's matches in Trap's eoat. Get fViom Ha Garman groped about the bunk and got them. light it," Larcom said. "Get up."

Garman rose on his knees, scratched a match, and held up the flickering flame. By its light Larcom saw the cowering, half-naked figure of the man, and stared hard into his ugly faoe. Half-revealed faces rose and looked at them out of the gloom.

Dan Garman," he said, his white lips trembling, "lookln' in a dyin' man's face and sayin' as you have, do you mean true and on the square?"

And Garman prayed for fearful and eternal retribution on his soul if he did not.

So help you, Dan So help me God." The match was out and Larcom fell back in the bunk. "Thank'y', Dan. I believe you," he said out the black corner. "I don't mind so much now."

He told him the place where they lived. Garman felt for his hand, and his fingers recoiled when they found it, it was so fleshless, clammy and cold. He fumbled with it awkwardly a minute, and then stowed.it away under the clothes.

Don't mind me, go to bed now," Laroom said. "Good night. Dan." Good night, Lark. I'll be right here If you want me. I'll lay by you till mornin'."

He cuddled himself down In a ball on the fioor, for cold and after awhile he forgot cold and all and lay gently snoring. When he rose in the dawn and dressed himself, stiff and sore, Laroom was fest asleep, and he did not wake him, but watcned his chance, put on the enemy's coat and cap, and inarched out boldly and got safely away,

It was pretty late when Dexter came over and looked into Larcom's face, turned partly away, and he said to Chaunoey near by—

1HE

Saturday

1

He's sleeping sweet and smiling to himself. You bet he is dreaming or the little chap."

He would not have waked him for the world, but he oould not. help leaning over and laying his fingeer on his cheek. He stood up then and turned to those near him with an altered faoe. "Lark's got the start of us boys," he said. "Lark'a gone home I"

Fifty Cents!

Send Fifty Cents to the Publisher at Terre Haute, Ind., and try the Saturday Evening Mail, for three months. This will take the reader through the intensely interesting rtmy "Did She Diet"

Get Both Chromos.

Any person wishing to secure at onoe both of our new premium Cbromos can da so by subscribing for Tho Mail two years In advance, paying us therefor, or we will send the paper for one year and both Chromes mounted for the sum of It, or we will send The Mail one year and both pictures handsomely framed In walnut and glltfor *W».

"Cherry lime"

—AKtV—

"Lily of the Field."

We are now giving to every SSUJO yearly anbaeriber a choice of the above Ghromos, They are catalogued and sold in the art stores atiuOO per copy but will be given to all persons who send us their names as subscribers enclosing HOO the price of the paper for one year. These pictures are perfect copies in every delicate Unt and color of magnificent paintings costing hundreds of dollars. All who have any idea of or love of art fell in love with them at first sight.

MAIL,

FOR THE YEAR

1874-5.

A MODEL WEEKLY PAPER FOR THE HOME.

TERMSt

One year, (with chromo) 93 9S Six months, (without chromo) 11 Ot Three months, (without ohromo) ^.^6 cts.

Mall and office Subscriptions will, invariably, be discontinued at expiration of time paidror.

Encouraged by the extraordinary success which has attended the publication of THE 8ATURDAY EVENING MAIL, the publisher has perfected arrangements by which it will henceforth be one of the most popular papers in the West.

THE CHOICE OP

Two Beautiful Ghromos

Presented to each yearly subscriber, from and after this date. Thes« beautiful pictures just from the hands of the French ehromo artists, are faithful copies of oil paintings by the artist W. H. Baker, of Brooklyn. One, entitled

Cherry Time",,*?

Represents a bright faced boy, coming front the orchard, bountifully laden with the redripe fruit. The other, entitled

"Lily of the Field"

Is a beautiful little girl, with one of the sweetest of feces, gathering lilies in the field. One is a wood scene, the other has an open meadow In the back ground. They are of striking beauty.

For one dollar extra (13.06 in all,) we wlli send The Mail one year and both chrenios mounted ready for framing. These pictures are catalogued and sold lit the art stores at FOUR DOLLARS EACH.

FRAMES.

We

have made arrangements with an extensive manufactory of frames by which we can furnish for One Dollar a frame usually sold for 81.50 and $1.75. These frames are of the best polished walnut and gilt. Here is the

BILL OF PRICES.

The Mail one year and choice of Chromo 00 The Mail one year and Beth Chromes mounted— 3 00 The Mail one year and Both Chromos

FRAMED 5 00

THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL is an Independent Weekly Newspaper, elegantly printed on eight pages of book paper, and aims to be, in every sense, a Family Paper. With this aim in view, nothing will appear in its columns that cannot be read aloud in the most refined fireside circle.

CLUBBING WITH OTHER PERIODICAL. We are enabled to offer extraordinary inducements in the way of clubbing with other periodicals. We will furnish THE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, PRICE $2.00 PER YEAR, and either of the above Chromos with any ot the periodicals enumerated below at greatly reduced rates. These periodicals will be sent direct from the offices of publication. Here is the list

SEMI-WEEKLY.

Semi-Weekly New York Tribune, price $3.00, The Mail and Chromo. 81 50

WEEKLY PAPERS. Heal

Indianapolis Journal, price 82.00, The Mail and Chrwmo Indianapolis Sentinel, price 92.00, The

Mail and Chromo 8 66 N. Y. Tribune, price $2.00, The Mall and Chromo 8 50 Toledo Blade, price #2.00, The Mall and

Chromo 8 60 2V. V. Sun, The Mail and Chremo 8 00 Pr j'rie Farmer, price $2.00, The Mail

Mid Chromo 8 GO Western Mural, price$&60,The Mall and Chromo.... 8 60 CMBago Advance, price $3.00, The Mail and Chromo 4 50 Chicago Interior^ price $2J50, The M&il and Chromo— 4 00 Chicago Inter-Ocean, price $1.60, The

Mail and Chromo 8 25 AppleUm's Journal, price $4.60, The Mall and Chromo- 5 00 Rural Nero Yorker, price $8.00, The Mall and Chromo 4 So Hearth and Home, price $3.00, The Mall and Chromo 4 SO Methodist, price $2-56, The Mail and

Chromo 8 60 Harper's Weekly, prioe $1.00, The Mall and Chromo ®0 Harper's Basar, price $4.00, The Mail and Chromo Frank Leslies Illustrated Newspaper, price 91.00, The Mail and Chromo 6 0$ Leslie* Chimney Cbrner, price $1.00, The

Mail and Chrwmo 5 0$ Bout' and Girls' Weekly, price t&60, the Mail and Chromo 3 3jj

MONTHLIES.

Arthur'* Heme Magasin«, price $2.60, v.uijKfr: The Mall and Chromo

••••VL-J-

W

Peterson's Magmsine, price $11,00, The Mall and Chromo

8

American Agriculturist, price $1.80, The Mail and Chromo Demorest's Monthly, price $3,00,1 year,

The Mail and Chremo-.. 4 25 Oodey's Lady's Book, price $8.09, The Mall and Chromo utile Cbrporal, price $1.50, The Mail aad

Chromo —y

8 68

Scribner's Monthly, price $1.00, The Mall and Chromo. Atlantic Monthly, price MAO, Tbe MaU and Chromo W Old and New, price $4.00, The Mail and

Chromo....- 6 W Overland Monthly, price $100, The Mail and Chromo....... OS Harper's Magatine, prioe $440, The Mail and Chromo 60 Gardener's Monthly, price82U!0 The Mail and Chromo 8 60 Young Folks Rural, The Mail and Chromo—. 3 78 The Nursery, price $1.50, The Mail and

Chromo 8 os St. Nicholas, prioe $BJOO, The Mall and Chromo. 4

All the premiums offered by tbe above pob lications are included in this clubbing arrangement.

CLUBBING WITH COUNTY PAPERS.

We have made arrangements to furnish THE MAIL, with Chromo, and any one of the Newspapers In the neighborhood of Terre Haute all for $8^0.

JUST LOOK AT IT!

The Mall, price.....— Your County paper, price. The Chromo, worth«.~~.~.~.—...

Total

li

.... |2

All these—(IBJOO)—for $8*0. Address P. H. WSSTFALI,

Publisher Saturday Evening Mail, TEBBSSAUTE, IND.