Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 15, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 12 October 1878 — Page 2

Page PDF (10.50 MB)

Back to issue view

IliiiifiS

A Paper

wmm

THE MAIL

Pipplb

for the

TKRRE HAUTE, OCTOBER 12,1878

BABY HAS QONB TO SCHOOL.

The baby baa gene to school ah, me! What will tbe mother do, With never c*U to button or pin,

Or tie a shoe? Bow ean she keep herself busy all day. WUfc Ihe Uttie"htndertng thing" away? Another baaket to fill with lunch,

Another "good-bye" to mx, .rft

And Uie mother stands at the door to see

JSM3WSKSlfirai.ui»if «urt

And half a something akin to grief.

Bbtftttlkks of a possible future morn, Wbeti the children, one by one, WUljgo from their home oat into the world,

Torattie with life alone, And.ix4 even the baby be left to cheer The desolate home of that future year. Iff*

8b« picks up garments here and there,

i«!l

Thrown down In careless haste And Urlett to think how It would seem If nothing were displaced If the hbnse were always as still as this. How eculd she bear the loneliness rrim*J

3 J-'i

Sadder and Wiser

|£rj a

/won .fl't b*i

'Ob, dear! how long those men take to smoke!' was Dolly's thodght, after dinner, at Leigbton, while she bent orer Mrs. Asbury's lace making, saying how very much she wished her papa would allow her to learn the art. 'Bat indeed he will not, Mrs. Ashbury,' she exclaimed, as that lady announced her intention of asking him herself, 'ladeed, indeed he will not for—(or he think* my eyes too weak.'

Mrs. Ashbury gazed sympathetically at Dolly's gray orbs, while that young lady demurely sighed, and promised to do everything Mrs. Ashbury recommended. 'Though she must think me an idiot if I do,' thought wicked Dolly. 'How very much nicer it is for us ladles to be by ourselves!' said Constance Leighton, tall, blonde, and insipid, laying her hand caressingly on Mrs. Ashbury's chair. 'Is it not a relief to be rid or the men for a while, Aunt Elinor?' 'Oh, ao nice!' sneered Dolly, 'especially when they are so distressingly devoted.'

Constance did not relax a feature as she replied 'You may be thankful you are not a society belle, little Dolly.'

Wbyahould the dolor monnt to Dolly's cheeks at this reply, brought upon her by her own remark? Perhaps tber.e was a Bting of bitter truth in Miss Leighton's words, or was the diminutive unpleasant? .. 'Here come the nren at last!' joyfully exolaimed Mrs. Leighton, who had fallen into a graceful position, and improved the opportunity for a nap. 'Dear Mr. Bsidale, 1 have been counting the minutes since we left .you all.' 'It must have been a mathematical dream land, then,' laughed Dolly, while one of tho gentlemen bent to catch the ball of scarlet wool fallen from her lap.

fclow very stupid Oh, Mr. Temple go not me keep you from Miss ljeighton,' a? he took the low stool beside her. 'Please—Bhe will be so angry.'

Harry Temple laughed low, and stroked his mustache. 'Do you beat up recruits for Miss Leigbton, Dolly 'You have no right to call me Dolly* Mr. Temple and see, Mrs. Leighton is transfixing me with her formidable eye-r

'T^onder if you pose, Miss Esdaile said Temple, not heeding her last remark 'for, by Jove! I never saw anything so picturesque as you ifrthat airy, wbite gown, and your lap full pf,scarlet wool.'. •Many thanks bat s6e, the"gl6rioas golden bead" is reclining on pale blue*#much more effective, assure you.1 'Effective yes. in one sense. Like a pumpkin, 1 should say.' •Mr. Temple!' and Dolly strovetolook. dignified, but as the ball rolled away again half across the room, and Mr. ^romple was obliged1 to make a dive* before it' disappeared beneath Mrs. Ashbury's voluminous gray silk, the dignity was a failure. 'Do yon always take a walk on the beach in the early morning, Miss Esdalle?' •Yes, I have so fart but if you prefer monopolizing the beach. 1 will go to a 'Why not go together

•For two excellent reasons: number one being the impropriety* of such a depart a refrom Leightoti rttles number

•If number two is no hotter than number one, go I will with you to-morrow morning, sweet Dollyi' •Number two,' repeated Dolly, leaning her .chin on her hand, and aciaile lurking around her mouth—'number two! Why, really, It is extremely awkward to confess it, but because 1 da xot want yon.' •Are you in earnest?' Inquired Harry Temple so passionately that her eyes drooped. Had this man, this pet of society, learned his flirt's trade so well aa to have each tones at His command

A little pang went through Dolly's heart, as she replied, 'Why, of «onri»,' and the warm gray eyea were lift** to

•There's no getting anywhere near yon, Miss Leighton/ were the next words Dolly heard, and, looking up, she •aw Harry Temple's brown head bending beeide the 'glorious golden* one, several footstools having peen ruthlessly kicked over in his progress. At sight of these helplessly upturned stools Dolly burst Into a fit of langhter. ,' 'Miss Esdaile does not resemble that melancholy, hero of one of our late novels, who never laughed audibly,1 Dolly heard Constance say to Temple.. Oonld It be be who was answering ?, •It is a pleasure to bear suoba isngb, however. Dolly was quite sofelted oy this but Temple continued, *It issuoh. characteristic one—heartless through sod through*'

Xhe room seemed to swim around poor Dolly, and while the whist table was drawn oot she escaped through the low French window. Herein the nark she would stay, all night if she obosa, The moon waa shining brightly over the water, and Dolly seated nerself on an old rustic bench just beyond the ftowto toward the sea.

'I hate Leigbton and all the Leightons, and, worst of all, Harry Temple, who la aa hateful as though he Were Lei grit on too. I would beg papa to go bom# tomorrow, only I know it would be of no use, he Is so delighted to be in tight of Constance's stupid yellow noddle. 1 almost wish he would marry her: bat what would Maijorie say to that Here Dolly thought ahe beard footsteps on the gravel, but naving satisfied herself that it was pure imagination, she eon tinned her soliloquy: 'I am so glad Margy Is cosnlog, only I am sure to hate thai Mr. Granger, who is coming at the same tim*. I know she in not engaged to him or ine would have told me.'

•Dolly!' called a low voice—'Dolly, dear!'

than ever. 'Here I ant Mr, Temple

tempted a laugh wfiloh ended in a burst of tears. How he| bead found auoh an exceedingly comfortable reating place remains a mystery,' though ahe had no share in choosing it. 'Dolly dear, indeed!'

There was something very winning about Maijorie Esdaile—something that made meh turn to look at hfer wherever she went. One of her loven (for Marjorie had had a goodly array, whereas Harry Temple was Marjorie'a first and only one,)'used to say, 'To aee Maijorie Esdaile amile ia worth ten years of purgatory.' And the young lady was not unconscious of her power With a complexion so fair that Dolly's looked Drown beside it, eyes and hair of darkest hue, a nose not unlike Dolly's, and tiny feet and hands, ahe would have delighted Greuxp's heart had he only lived to see her. She and Dolly were Mr. Esdalle's only children, and be, poor man. waaawidowar from circumstances not under bis oontrol.

Marjorie was two years the elder, and was looked upon by Dolly as quite cm/ait in all things pertaining to society.

Tbia was due to her having spent one season in town, and her having refused two most eligible offers. Mr. Esdaile ha(l never quite forgiven Marjorie'B throwing them over, and—judging from hiq o^rn experience—rdeclared that she badnt a ghost of a obanoe left. Maijorie arrived at Leighton, and was surprised at Dolly's more than usually affectionate embrace* •Why, Doll, child, you really look quite nice. What have you been doing to ber, Constance? 'She amuses herself,' languidly replied Miss Leigbton, 'aqd is really quite a refreshing specimen of naivete, both Mr. Temple and I think.' 'Oh, Margy, I am so glad you are come but what acrowd'oame with you •Oh, yes, it seems the-whole Granger family was invited to visit here en masse.' 'And Herbert Granger? Is he nice, and oh, Margy, are you going to marry him?' 'Marry him! Well, no,' said Maijorie, rather forcedly 'he is too much given to moralising, too real a parson. Oh, I forgot well, that is not papa's weak? ness at any rate. I should as soon think of

(harrying

the grim ghost in Don Juan.

By the bye, you must go to town next

Dolly smiled at the improbability of such an event taking place, and said, •But he really looks very good, and—' 'Take care, Dolly,' approaching her sister, and placing her mouth beside the little brown ear, 'he bites!'

Dinner time, or rather just before, and Dolly, in her one fine gown of wbite muslin, with blbsh-roses at her waist, satlh the drawiug room window talking to Harry Temple. 'Sweet ro89 bud,' he was saying, 'I cannot believe one word you tell me about your sister. You are prejudiced. She is ncf onfe'-balf as fair as you are, Iknow and his eyes were riveted on the draw ing room door. 'Wby, I am a little brown runt beside her, and you know you like fair complexion best, Mr. Temple.' •Pretty one, you are just as I like yon bosfc*' 'Please, Mr. Temple, you have no right to say such things to me, because' (Poor Dolly! Ah I why had he no right? Had he not been on the verge of asking for this right, and yet never done so •because,' she continued} blushing, 'yon think I am a child, and like to have you 'pa*'me compliments.'

Just then Mr. Temple started, and, looking up, Dolly peroeived that Marjorie bad Entered the room.'

Ob, 4rbat

long, wearisome dinner!

Mr. Temple was told to take Miss Esdale in, and Herbert Granger, the young olergytnah, escorted Dolly. How her eyea wandered to where Marjorie, in all h6r glory, clad in palebt pink, was listening to the voice she so longed to hear. The gray eyes grew wistful with looking and. hoping for one glance. But no Tfemtne was evidently well entertained^ and had eyes at present for Marjorie alone. Dolly grew quite pale with longinjr, and not one word passed her lips until, looking np, she found Herbert Granger's eyes upon her. 'Ob, is there anything the matter with me she exclaimed, impatiently 'I do hate tp be looked at,' 'I thought you not well, Miss D6lly he replied kindly 'and, really, dlntoers are suoh bores—one eats too little and talks too much.'. 'Weicaniiot cbmplain of each other in that respect, at any rato,'replied Dcrlly, feeling guilty of rudeness toward her neighbor. He really prov most agreeable and entertaining, ant 'drew Dolly dut to such an extent that the couple at the other end of the table were for a .While forgotten.

But when the time came for the ladies lo leave, surely he would, as usual, say a few words to her. The, jnoment arrived, and, almost feverishly, Dolly waited. Marjorie dropped her handkerchief,and. springing from his seat, Temple picked it up. 'Thanks so much,' Dolly heard Margy say. ,sW*at was his reply, bo lowsne had cllfttoulty in hearing? i* 'V" •Leave it with me till I join you— aoon, I hopS and he. placed it in his pOCX^te •Ob, Dolly,' exclaimed Marjorie, draw-ing-her slater apart,'he ia charming I Do yon know, 1 fancied when I came into the drawing room and saw you two sitting here that he had a penchant for my brown Dolly but—' 'But jrou do not fancy it now exclaimed Dolly, hysterically. nVe 11, 'look ing at her little slippered tafot a»ahe spoke, 'no I think he is still ia search of his ideal,' and Marjorie hluabed sllgbtfy. "Perhaps you think be mad# the discovery to night,' replied Dolly, sharply.

Day alter day went by, andsiiil Templaiwtereed to avoid Dolly, and d#votod himself more persistently to Marjorie. How' well she knew bow to keep biml On thebettCh, walking, driving or riding he was aver by her siae. Not one wora said Dolly. All for Margy, who was beaiftffai, and to whom love seemed to some by right.

A»d yeV sighed Dtflly bne day, apostrophizing theooeau, having walked her hair into llyidg distraction—'and yet In novel* the plain girls always marry the Jtero. Ob, nty love,' stretch!tig her arms out wildly in the air, 'my love, com# back to ate! Life Is ao dreary, so weary fotM flow! My one snd only love!'

She beard voices near ber, and reoogniced them as kit and h*r». 'Msjorie, my Ufa's darling, my heart'a delight—'

Dolly ftoHred ber ears with her handa aod.ialiing on the beacb, sobbed bitter-

^*0^f the tide would only waah me away, for away Into oblivion,' ahe aaoaned, 'where I oonld never see them again!'

lMi«a |ollv!'

Herbert

written

Grang«r.

every

line

of Ms

TBTR-RTC TTATTTB SATURDAY EVENING MAIK

stood beside ber, one hand held out t? help her. I 'You always dome at xhe wrong m#« ment!' ahe exolainaed. 'Why do yon disturb me? My hesd aefces sadly.' •And sHtlng here will do yoo no good. Come back to Leigbton with me. and your sister will follow.' 'My sister! Is Marjorie here?'

Wny, yes, just behind that boat. Did you not know?' •I will go with you,' said. Dpllyt gently. *Onty qoipe, isome.'

Herbert gasted sadly upon1 the little figure beside him, and in alienee tbgy reached Lelghtott. 'I can not give him up!' she cried, throwing herself down beside her bed. •He was mine before Marjorie came! Ob, sister, aiater, what ha,yeyon done to me?'

Passionately she prayed that abe might be allowed to die, that she would not live on her desolate life. In Hl8 mercy God heara these prayera. and refuses to grant what we In our blind folly claim as a right. {.s,

Aa the dock struck midnight, Marjorie Esdaile—pretty, picturesque Majorie —candle in hand, mounted the stairs, escorted by Harry Temple. 'Good-night, my precious one,' he exclaimed, 'Remember the promise you have given me.' 'Ab!' sighed Maijorie, shaking her head, 'I am still a little misty as to what went on here before I came. My first impression was that you were making love to Dolly. If she exonerates you, well and good.' I 'Marjorie! you surely would not repeat such a foolish suspicion to your sister?' •Indeed I will, and to night, too,' she

her good-night again, earneatly, with a pale face. 'What will, she say? Oh, fool that I was, and short-sighted!' he exclaimed, as be reached his room. 'Dolly! Dollv! How her gray eyes do haunt me! Poor ohlld! and to thank my fate actually lies in her bands, alter all!'

Marjorie entered her roim. Here, orouohing over the fire, her long black hair streaming over the white flannel dressing gown, sat Dolly. 'Not asleep? Why, Dolly!' 'No, Margy dear my head ached, and I oould not sleep, though I did come up so early.'

Marjorie knelt down beside her sister, and laying one band on hers, said, more earnestly than Dolly had ever heard her speak, 'Dolly, did any one ever make love to you?'

Dolly's heart seemed to stop beating, and she turned her eyes away from M|u:gy's. 'Tell me, Dolly,' insisted her sister, 'Well,' said Dolly, striving to force a smile, 'Johnny Knight once told me that I plaved cricket nearly as well as a boy. Was that a first symptom, Margy?'

Marjorie suppressed a smile, as the information sne was seeking was of too great Importance to be baffled by jokes. So, laying both hands on Dolly's, and looking bey full in the eyel^, she continued 'Listen to me, Dolly. When I came to Leighton, that first night fthen I saw you and Mr. Temple sitting in the drawing room, I thougnt, "Ah! DoJJy has a lover at last.'" •8o you immediately tried to procure him for yourself,' said Dolly, bitterly thenj seeing a lookof pain cross Margy's face, added, laughingly, You see now what a mistake it was.' 'I want to assure myself of that,' sighed Maijorie, and for a moment there was silence between them. 'Harry Temple has. told me that he loves me,' continued, Marjorie 'and I—I —^you know I carefor him.' 'Then let me congratulate you, Margy on having secured-ao noble and high principled a man.' And Dolly started from her seat. 'Dolly, don't talk like that it sounds unreal. Do you like him?' •Yes' 'And'can yoo teil me, looking in my eyes, that he nevefledyou to believe he cared for you?'

No answer. Dolly, was gazing into the fire, and apparently had not heard one word. 'Dolly,' continued Maijorie, throwing her sister's handa from ber—'Dolly, answer me now. Did Harry Temple ever tell you he loved you?' 'No, Margy, never. Why should he?'

A look of joy came over Marjorie's face as she listened. ,• •„•••, 'Then I may really marry him, feeling that it is no pain to you?' •Marjorie! Marry Mr, Temple ten times, over, if .you like. What differ* ence can it make to me?,4 Let ine go to bed no# my head aches sadly.' 'Yo$ dean good Dolly!' exclaimed Margy, throwing her arm# around her sister. .'Now let me tell you how happy I am.' 'Please, Margy, my head aches so sorely. Surely you can wait until tomorrow*' 'No, no. lean not. If you did but know how sweet' Harry's voice can be when he calls me—'' •Callsyiod what?' •mu

Hisaweet rosebud^,- v-'" Dolly's heart gave ajttrange little leap* then taking Mafjonfe s. hand, she sala, listlesslv. 'Rosebud he calls yon, doea he? When be calls you that again, tell him to invent some new name that one has been In use too lobg. No#, Margy, I can bear no more your happiness makes you selfish.' •1 always was that. But yon and he most have been great friends, Dolly, before I came. What did you talk of then?'

Dolly shrugged her shouldfira impatiently.

•About you, ofcourse.' 'And was he always good and kind to you?'

Dolly shuddered, but replied, firmly. 'Harry Tftthple's Impulse Is to be good to every one,' and sighed to hfcnelf, 'Thereiu Ilea bis weakness.' •Ahd he really never made love to you? •If yon ask any more questions, Mar-

gdlam,

yon wilt beoome a fit subject for which I already am.' The next morning Dolly cam# down quite early, not having caught one moment of quiet sle&p. 'It seems as tborigh my h«ad were on flre,'*he saidT aa ahe opened the dobr, and Issued forth for a walk in the park #re the gong sounded for breakfaat. •Oh, my SeArt, my heart will break!' she exclalimed, leaning against a tree, andahading her eyea torn the reflection of the sua shining on th« water* •Did tell Margy a lie? No, no ahe faked if be had ever add he lowd me, and well 1 know that though Ma actiote spoke it, the words were left unsaid. Oh, how terrible it iato think of any one with aach contempt! And yet Hove him, I love him yell'

Poor

DoUy'a

pity

Kind laoe,

atrengtfe waa well nfgb

gone, her head ached, and bar heart beat In weary throbs. •Dolly,' said a voice, so close that ahe started in affWght—'Dolly, here I am.' 'I aee you,' replied Doily, frigidly then, relaxing, 'Now that you are going to be my brother, I will allow you to call me Dolly. It was aheer lmpertinenoo before.'

ilfsps pHSk.

•1®

iliS

iSHm,

aiai®®

3$'

'Dolly,' and Harry Tarn pie gazed into ber face searohlngly, 'liave yoa forgiven me?' •Forgiven you!' Why, tor what Ob, yes, tor taking Margy away ftom mel No. not quite.' 'That is not what I mean, DollVc Surely you have not forgotten the days before your sister eatioef' 'When we were anch good frienda. Mr. Temple? Ah, no, yon were very kind to una, and I hope yoo will prove a good hnsbantl to Margy, Havipg! been so g$o4 a friend to hersister."

Tewple gazed to.aeawhethec she were mocking, but Dolly looked him firmly in the face. 'Is It not trua? Were you not a friend to me?' 'Yes, yes, Dolly. I am alwaya your friend. But if in any way I have caused you pain—'

Dolly burst into a merry laughs in whioh Herbert Granger, bearing ft from a distance, detected a shade or bitterness. 'You have caused me pain! Nonsense Harry Temple! how could you?' and Dolly's ey6s opened to their widest extent.

There was no answering this, and with a feeling of defeat Harry Temple turned away Could he but have seen the sad eyes following him, and heard the moan escaping Dolly's lips, defeat would not have been so sure. 'She is a born coquette,' thought he. 'I aui a born actress,'thought she.,

Two years have gone by, and it is Cbristmastide at Heathmore. The little church of St. James baa been full of would-be helpers in decorating it, but the real work has been done by one pair of little brown bands, while the vicar's .... wife, tall, blonde, and Insipid,

haB

ber duty to consist

many flirtations as suing as many orders to little Brown Hands as she can invent. 'Ob, Mis* Esdaile,' gushed forth one young maiden—-'ob, Miss Esdaile, is it true that your beautiful sister is coming to Heatbmore for Christmas?'

Dolly bowed her head in assent, ^'r 'And is it really true that she and Mr. Temple are as devoted as' when they were first married?' •Why, I hope so,' replied Dolly ly'Yes, but—do you know, Miss Esdalle I heard somebody say he had been in love with you first.' •What nonsense, Louisa!' but the fingers trembled, and tbe wreath of greens tell to the ground. 'How very awkward I am, to be sure! Will you ask Mr. Knight to help me?'

This was the youth whose first symptom had found vent In pronouncing Dolly almost as good a cricketer as a boy. The symptoms had increased to such an alarming extent that Dolly's only thought at present was to substitute Louisa for hersel f. 'No one need ever care for me. I have no heart—none left to me now.' 'Miss Esdalle!'

Dollv started and exclaimed,'What! you, Mr. Granger! How kind of you to come!' Ana her descent from the ladder was rapid. 'Where is Mrs. Esdaile? I have not found her in the church.' 'She must have returned to the vioarage. She said she was very tired, having to set things to right,' and a smile played around Dolly's moutb. 'Will you not come with me and show me the way, Miss Dolly 'How well he looks!' thought Dolly, as she guided him out of tbe churoh. 'Really, he is quite fine looking.' 'We are not quite close to the church, you. see, Mr. Granger.' Then, turning toward blm, 'Do you know it waa very kihd of you to come to us for Christmas, now that you have a parish of your own?' •Dolly,can you not guess why I came?' •To see Marjorie and Mr. Temple, I suppose, or perhaps ,papa and. „Cpnstancp.' •And why not to see yoftt?'

1 a

Y-

Herbert bad drawn her hand within his arm, and was looking her fnll in the fa#e. •I had a higher oplnioh of you, Mr. Granger, than to' suppose you made use of well-worn,compliments.' •Dolly, you know it is not a compliment I am paying yon. How long is it since I first loved you?' 'So long ago that you have forgotten all about it. Don't talk to me like that, Mr. Granger. I—I lose my respect lor you.'

A shade crossed Herbert' Granger's face as he replied, 'Then 1 havetoeen deceived in you. I thought you kind and good—womanly, in fact—and yet you say my love for you makes you despise me.' 'No, no, I did not say that!' exolaimed Dolly, eagerly. •You said what rrteatte it. My idea was that a true, noble woman Would not treHt a man's love with contempt.' 'You do not love mel' exolaimed Dolly. 'Men always think that they most flirt with me or—' 'Stop, Dolly! Because there are men whose opinions on tbte Subject are, not as high as you would have them,f must all suffer?' 'Suffer! you do not look muoh like it.' 'Never mind how I look. I came here solely to awe for your love, to ask to be allowed td guard you from all trouble aa far as ilea in my power, and an answer—a definite answer—I must have. Dolly, I aak only 4*r, permission to teach you to love me. May I?%,

Looking him steadily lb the eyes and stretched one little hand* fo#iird him, came Dolly"# anawen 'I trust yon, Herbert Granger... That is better than love. Teach me if you will. .This Is my answer.'

And

ifhe is oontent, surely so are we.

FORQQT HE WAS MARMiSD Danbury Kews. He had been in the babitof standing on tbe enrbatone in front of the church after service, waiting for bis girl. As he prided himaelf greatly, upon hi# poUteneaa in public places, he Invariably, even after their betrothal, stepped np to her, and, doffing hi# bat, requested permission to aee ber home. The first time they went to church together after they were married they were suable to secure seats together. This, ho werver, did not not worry htm. He secured a seat for his wife, and at once bought bla old quarters by the stove, and among some of hi# bid cronies. .After service was over be absent mindedly walked out with the boy# and took h!» old stand on the curbstone. With flashing eyes and flowing cheeka ant came hie wife. She would have passed him In Indignant and #eorafaf sfletsfe# had be not atepped up to her as of ore, and, raising nla hat, said, "Mia* L7-—, may I have tbe pleasure of walking with youV He bad the pleasureofknowIng that he waa very muoh married when she exclaimed: "Yoo idiotic fool, pttt on yonr hat andi come along^jpt

To mothers whose children are weeping—Sweet and balmy slumber secured for the little ones, and cunghs and colds rapidly banished by tbe use of Dr. Bull's Uougfc ayrup. Frus* iw vents.

Dandy Ferguson.

I do not believe that Quaaomoao*waa a more pitiably deformed creature, or Qullp a more hideoualy unnatural look* ing object, than waa Dandy Ferguson when 1 saw him for the first time, that calm Summer afternoon, laughing and ilkinfl^Witb a crowd-of boon companions in the cool shade of an awning at Quartz Mountain.

His face waa seamed and distorted by peculiarly glossy scars—the ineradicable evidence of close and long contact with that shriveling element, fire. Hlabody was bent, ana he walked with a siding movement. He was a sickening spectacle at first sight, suggesting fearful suffering In the past, and my cnrloaity in regard to him waa thoroughly aroua-

•Who Is that man I asked, accosting a tall, blue-shlrted miner who was standing in front of the postoflQoe. •Don't you know him answered the man 'why,that's Dandy Ferguson. I thought everybody knowed Dandy Ferguson.' 'Wbydo you call him Dandy Ferguson 'Because—well, because be used to be a dandy—a regular out an' out sport. When bandy Ferguson first came to this camp he was a gilt-edged gentleman, an' no mistake. He wore a plug, an* flashed a spark in his biled shirt front as big as a peanut. He put on more dog'n a mine superintendent, an' most of tbe boys was down on bim then. That was about three years ago, an' be come up here from the bay to get a wbiffo' fresh air an* make nature an'

tound1 the pines give him back what bed lost

with tbam

it in preventing as spreein' round with them sharps an possible, and in Is- young bloodso'^ Frisco.

«harna

an'

•No, he don't look like he was more'n half human, that's a fact but I'd ruther have them scars o' his than wear the clothes of the richest man in Californy— that is, ef I'd gone through what be has an' suffered what he did. Proud of of em! Mister, thar ain't a man in this yer country—no, sir, nor in this yer State—aa is prouder'n Dandy Fetguson of what other men might grieve over an' sigh about, an' no man's got abetter right to be proud, either. When he first came to Quartz Mountain be used to parade tbe streets with his nose cocked up so he'd hydraulic himself with pat-chouly an' smell water till yon couldn't get within a mile of him. He was a delicate looking cuss, an' bis bands were as soft as a barber's. The boys used to bet that if big Bridget Sullivan—our washerwoman—wss to take it into her head to jump him she'd knock the spots out o' him in derned short order. That was our opinion of him when he played his small cards in this yer camp—but he showed down both bowers an' the ace before he quit the game, you bet your life. D'ye see that quartz mill over thar on the side hill? That's the Cbapparral mine, yer know, an' it's thar that Dandy Ferguson showed us what sand was. 'One night, about a month after Ferguson got here, somebody out there yelled "Fire!" an' tbe camp turned out. Tbe h'istin' was in alight blaze, an' the flames shoofin' high up in the dark. We all rushed to the spot like a pack o' mad animala—you know how a lire stirs men up an'excites 'em. Of course nobody knowed what to do, an' for a minute wS all stood round iookin' at tbe fire creepin"long the eaves, an* the burnln' shingles droppin' down the shaft. Party soon some one says "What!" kinder fierce like. Then there was a little movement in the crowd, sn' a man aa pale as death springs- away from the shaft yellin' frantic, "Water! Water!For tbe love 0' God, turn on tha ^water—the night shift's

In' the lower drift."

'There was an awful agony in that man's voice he had jiat remembered thet his brother was down there, an' bet the fire under tbe bilerof the engine was banked, thet the cage was too heavy to work by band, an' the timbers in the shaft pitch pine an' dry aa a bone, with gr6at sparks droppin' down like flakes In a snow storm. You've heered how fast a man thinks in times of danger. Jim Slocum tboughtof his brother, tbe dry. timbers, the engine, the cage an' the water all In a second, but thet was all. H* didn't bev time to think of the tact thet there wasn't a barM of water within a mile of tbe mine.

Somebody rushed up to., the tank— there was about a tubful there. The fire was playln* round the bller. an' the engineer had turned the safety oocka to let thet out. They all rushed every which way yellin', fujr ropes, ladders, anything—as ef ladder* could reach down two hundred febt to where the men waa. They waa clean gone with excitement, an' dldn't know what to do, an' tbe flre roarln' and cr'aoklln* like tbe devil's own blaze.

'Some rushed one way an' Some another, while aopae of them stood atarln iuto the hot black smoke an' yaller fire, dazed, scared, helpless. Quicker'n It takes a man to tell it a man lumped through tbe door of the hiatlnr works anr caught hold of the chains. Hia coat an' bat was gone, an' be looked like an angel—altfiost—as tie swung over the sbsftin his white frilled «hlrt an'his long, yaller halr. Joum* •it was Dindy Ferguson. •He didn't wait fur nobody, but jammed a big aoantlln' thet two men oouidn't a lifted down

over

S*glimmer

tbe ahart.

Then be yelled, fur a rope, an' told soro# men near the door to fetch him the ole wln'lasa thet *aa lyln' outside near tbe dummy. •You never dee men work like thsy did aa soon as there waa a head. Tbe rope an' the' win'lass was brought into the works on the jump an' fastened to the scantlln'. Down went tbe rope and Ferguson sboutin' after it., "I'm bete, boys, an' I'll stay till I roast." Then be grabbed thd crank an' spun the rope round the bar*l fester*ft It ever *aa rolled before. He used one hand first, and when Bhe tightened he laid tbe other on. •SI Holden wanted to help him, but be wouldn't h#v no Interference. '•Time enough." aay# r#uwu,"when I drop." It waan't long before a half naked body came up, an' they got tbe rope off aa quick aa they could, draggin' Harry Miller out tbe works more dead'n alive, tremblin' like a leaf. They all thought at tbe time that he #aa scared at the danger he'd been In, an'dldn't notice how much exhausted he was, but they found out afterwards thet he'd played It down In thet abaft aa mean as otte man can play it on another at rich a time. •Yoo see, there was flv# of 'em In the lowdr drift, an' when tbe bnrnin' timbers Of the upper work# began to drop down they alt made a rush for tbe main shaft. Tbe cage was on an* they couldn't get oot till a rope eame down. They oouidn't aee a flicker of light above, an'

lled til! they was hoarse, watcbia' gtbwin' brlghter'n brighter every mlnute. an' knowin' thet the ahafUnTtlmber'd blaze mighty soon an' cut off all hope of their ever gittin' out. •It waa a terrible thought, an' you can't blame Bill Slocum fur grabbln' the rope as soon aa it dropped down to *em. h»rry auiier'Jopgaiueo! .tnesoiia trutn.

W-

T^V*_'

him,yellin': Ik Is "Let go, d—n ye,let go! They can't lift two of us up." "Let go yourself,'f shoots Slocum, turnln' round on him like a tiger. "My old mother*# up there!" yelled Slocum, polntln' up tbe shaft. "My wife's waltin' fur me!" 'An* with thet he knocks Slocum^ down in the drift an' goes up the rope hand over band before the others could stop him—they'd a killed him on the spot ef he bedn climbed the rope as he did. Sarved him right! Kerrect, mister, they'd a sarved him mighty well anr no mistake, but he beat thet game. He'df list strength enough to tie the slsckf 'round his waist w'en be give way all aft once and hung to tbe end of the rope like dead weight, an' Dandy Ferguson a haulin' him out o' the fiery jaws o'U* death. 'Down went the rope agin', an' Slo-R cum waa tied on'and hauled up, FerguCl,, son Workln' the win'lass like a giant, The cords stood out on his neck like black anake whips, an' the sweat poured off bim like a sluice stream. Two Cornishmen stood by him tryin' to make him let them roll tbe rope up while be rested, but he ouaaed 'em and told 'em to dry up he said he was at the wheel, an' he'd stay there ef he died fur it. W'en Slo came up, the-fire waa all over an' around the win'lass, an' the two Coruishmen grabbed Bill an' carried him out—they couldn't stand the heat. Ferguson sent down the rope agin', an' up oomeSam Hildreth withjlat strength enough to make fur tbe door. The roof over the bller and on the duor posts was smokln'. Jlst as the rope went down fur the fourth time, an' we were loafin' round on the outeide watcbin' every minute to Bee him, an' not a man of us with gumption enough to tnink of what was wanted, a woman rushes into tho fiery furnace an' slings a wet blanket over tbe bravest, gameat man in the State o' Californy. "Tbet's tbe ticket!" shouts Ferguson. "You're a trump, whoever yoa are, my girl, an' I wou't forget ye." 'An' he didn't. It was Sam Hildreth's sister, Maggie, an' when she came out o'ti

the smoke and flame with ber dress in

blaze, abe calls out sharp to tbe mem "'Keep that blanket wet. There's-* water in the tank. I'll marry the fustt? man that throws a bucket o' water over Dandy Ferguson—I'll marry him ef he's a Cninaman."

'Them's her identical words, mister. The men didn't need no further orders, 'cause, yoa see, Maggie Hildreth was tbe han'somest girl ip the country, an' the best, an' bed ev'ry youug buck fur miles aroun' close at her heels all the time., handicappin' each other fur smiles. But her brother Sam saved ber from th°m galoots—saved her fur a better man, by wettin' tbe blanket himself. 'About this time the heat was terrible one man in tbe drift an' another half way up, crawlln' alowly to the ragin' furnaoe on top, crawlln' fast enough in* ordinary circuumstanoes, but hardly-ir fast enough with death racin' down on

the crowd carried him an' Miller—who dropped insensible after he'd got F«reu-9ftf son out—to tbe camp. Bat Dant Ferguaon lived tbrougb It, tboui.li fui^ weeks be lay between life an' deaui an'/ fur months be didn't stir out of a dark^ room. But there waant no lack of help

an' prayers- ah' faithful ntirses to bring bim round. No, air} an' there wasn't a man, woman or ohlld within a hundred miles of the ChappsraL mine thet,, wouldn't a crawled on tbelr bands an' kneea to watch one hour at bla bedaide, an'thought it one o' the biggeat kind 0* honors—yon ken bet your life on that,' Yes, sir Dandy Ferguson is a. king in this y#i cohntiy—he's better'n four kings most o' ibe time, 'cause any niin thet knows hi in id lay down four bullets any day if he held them agalnat Ferguson it'd be like takin' an advantage,: yon see, to bold 'em out on him. He can bev everything or do any thing be Hkee.. We'd aend nlm to Oon-

gresser he'd g6, but he.wou't., We've, got bim- here, thbnjgh, an' I guess he'll never leave] 1 wish I waa one o' themf'

bis savior at a two forty gait. W'en Jack Harmon came out o' the shaft be stood a minute on the soantlln' swayln' back an' forth like a dtunken man, blinded by smoke, an' bewildered, an' ef Ferguaon hedn't caught bim he'd a gone back again. •Two more of us bed got In wltbi# I' buckets o' water—'bout all tiier was in tbe tank but it seemed to dry off as fast as we poured it on, fur tbe blanket wassmokin.' W'en the rbpe went down fur tbe last time to haul up Joe Harper, tbe scantlln' was burnin' an' the upper timbers was beginnln' to blaze. The whirltn' smoke hid Ferguson from.us. but we knowed If be didn't oome out purty soon the whole shebang'd give way an' bury bim tbe sides was Tn a light blaze, an' the place where the Win'laa stood was the only spot where even Dandy Ferguson oould a-worked. muat a bin an awful atraln on him— the last pull—but he never owned it, an' bimeby up comes Joe, tbe bravest aian in tbe camp, I reckon, barrin' Dandy Ferguson, 'cause, yoa see. he wouldn't tech the rope till they'd all bin hauled np be tied every man on except the coward, Miller, an' then came through the blazln' abaft himaelf, watohin' tbe little tongues o' fire shoot out from thot,v side ev'ry once In awhile, as if tbey'dLt4, lick tbe life thread in two. 'Aa Joe grabbed the upper ohalns tbe',: shaft lit up with a bias an' a roar, as if tbe flre was mad at loein' its prey. Joe got out an' Ferguson staggered away from the win'laa, but bis luck went back on him at the last minute. He stumbled an' fell jest as he come to ibe tramway at the door, an' tbe wbole side o' thebuildin' come dtwn on blm with a craab. A hundred men forgot dangetf'2 an'death, an'rushed into the flame# ai but Miller, the npaa that played it ao

'•1?

sneakin* mean down inthe shaft, got, to ,v,him first, an' dragged him out:

'Everybody thought be was dead, an*-:

tv*

irt, r4

If*

it!

1 tofht

poetry writers I'd write the bullies# nnn~*t poem about jDandy Ferguson you evei ^^. read, you bear me. •Yea, he's married. Oot married afterhe came out. •talk about wpddin'a! That was miajvl wedditi' ev'rybgdy Pt,f^ in to aee the. gamest tnan iu tho State tied to thor gameat woman ©tr God1# footstool. Who

was she? Why, Maggie Hildretb, of course. Who else'd it be, I'd like to know/ What became of Harry Miller? Well* that's pnrty good. Miller, you^ see, came out all right, an' you bet hew didn't rest till he begged BUI Slocum's 014 pardln fur leavln' bim in the ahaft as be^j

a 0.!T ar!

0BS ti"

.if

rtriUW..

did but Bill wouldn't hev it thet Mtller'd balanced accounts by^rlf^ savin' tbe life o' Ferguaon, the man thefts tiMi saved bim. But tbet's played. •Yon want to know what become of him. Well—«ay, look here, mister, I dont like to own it, but I'm the cuss— I'm Harry Miller. Interdooo# ye to Dandy Ferguson Of course I will, an' you'll never get an introduction to a man, or one it'a more honorable toknow. •An' mister, ef ye ever tell about the Chapparal ahaft, an' bow Dandy Ferguson stood by thet win'laas in the red-hot biatin' works, jest throw It In somewhere tbet he's better'n four kingD in this camp—it'll top off this story fust rate, an'besides, you bet it's no more'n

4 'J®***'