Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 10, Number 30, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 January 1880 — Page 6

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i. THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

'iyp

IF 1 WERE YOU,

NORA FIRRY.

PiPl

., If I were yon, sir. would not sue, sir,

For any woman's love day after day: I'd never stand, sir, At her command, sir, Year In and opt in this fond, foolish way.

Across my face, sir, I'd have the grace, sir,

li

Or mother wit, to pulla gayer mask, And wait to And, sir, What was her miad, sir, Before I'd grovel at her leet to ask.

AJi very well, sir. ""**?& For you to tell, sir,

Of that grana poet in the olden time, Whose fine advice, sir, Was so concise, sir, In that immortal strain of gallant rhyme

It does not fit, sir,

K.

Your case a blt. sir^

He never meant^a man should prayjandpray With such an air, sir, Of poor despair, sir, For any woman's love, day after day.,

If you will read, sir, ...1 The verse with heed, sir,

Yonll see it runs as clearly as it may, That every man, sir, w. Should take his answer With manly courage, be it yea or nay.

Then cease your sighs, sir, No man's a prize, sir,

In any woman's sight. Just let me say, Who's not too nigh, sir, To sigh and die, sir, For any woman's love, day after day,.

From the Novelist."

LOTTIE, THE SEWING GIRL

—OR, THE—

MYSTERY OF THE IROlsf CHEST.

BY ALEXANDER ROBERTSON M. D.

[Thisstory was began in The Mail, Jan. 17th. Back numbers can be had of news agents, or by sending five cents for each copv to the office of the Saturday Eveniug Mail,]

CHAPTER

THE RUINS.

When Roger Raymond, the artist, left the farmhouse on that bright spring morning it was with the intention of spending the whole day abroad.

He carried his lunch with him, a jointed fishing rod, and the tackle belonging to it. together with a few little articles for sketching.

One of his objects was to be alone. He could not collect his thoughts in the great city, where the roar of trafflo almost set him wild when in this condition. What he wanted was the peaceful, quiet nooks be knew of old, where the occasional lowing of the cattle on the distant hills, or the sweet melodies of the ieatherod warblers among the branches of the trees, was all that disturbed the solemn silence.

The sun climbed up the eastern sky and reached tbe zenith of his power. Roger had lain under the trees on the bank of the clear stream during the whole morning, but either because his mind was too wholly engrossed with a more weighty subject, or else through tbe timidity of tbe trout, bis success in the piscatorial line had not been resaarkable.

When noon came (as was evinced by the blowing of couch shells from the farm houses far aw«y, nlgnals to tbe men hard at work planting the early corn in tho fields), the artist gave up his fishing, reeled in his line, and then attacked the luncheon that bad been prepared for him by the dainty fingers of Hope Winchester.

It was a lunch that vould have tempted an epicure, everything was so sweet and pure, ana as be ate, the artist saw arising before his eyes a vision of a sweetllttle figure whose lace was lighted up with the joy of seeing bim. "Dear little Fairy, I would to heaven it was she. my love had centered upon how happy she could make any man but me. She is too good for me I know I love her as a sister, but no more, and for all the wealth of the Indies, Roger Raymond, poor though he may bo, will not sell himself to any one. She will get over it in time, even as I expect to survive my disappointment, ana may meet some one who will worship her. Ah! me, how hearts suffer in this world of trouble."

Then he fell into along series of reflections that kept him amused for an hour, almost. Arousing by this time, Roger took out a cigar and proceeded to ignite it, after which he lay back and puffed blue smoke rings into tbe clear air.

All at once ho realized that half the afternoou had passed away, and be intended visiting another of his old haunts, the ruin.

Through the pastures and forests and up the valley he made bis way for an hour.

Then, from the elevation that he had reached, a beautiful scene lay before him—one that an artisteyo never wearied of gazing upon.

Many years before a magnificent mansion, with spacious wings, had occupied the ground, with an avenue of noble elms that nodded their tall heads in tbe breeze, leading up to it.

They were there still—the elms—but the princely mansion had gone down amid the roar of the tire fiend, and naught was left of its ©uce proud dimensions save the skeletons wails and chimneys that stood up defying tbe storms of yetts, and looking like grim specters in their solitude.

The elms, just showing their green foliage, surrounded tbe ruins, and from certain directions hid them from view. It was certainly a most picturesque soene, and Roger gave a genuine sigh full of satisfaction when bis eye rated upon it.

Here he had sat and sketched at»d dreamed full many an afternoon, but tnat was on the previous summer, be* fore he had met Gertrude Hasting* and fell into tbesnara which she had spread for his feet, and was stiil fanoy-free.

Sitting there and thinking, Roger began to grow indignant. Was Gertrude worth the pain he was suffering? She was not a true woman, eiso shr would never have acted toward bim in such a way. 4old was dearer to her than bis love, and although she oared more for him than any one else, yet, because he was poor, she had sent him away to fight his grief.

Tbe longer he thought the more bitter he became, and his indignation changed to anger. ^Though he noticed It not, yet the afternoon was slipping slowly away, and evening's shadows were creeping out ats, skulki

from their lowland retreats, skuiicing S behind the trees as if afraid to xteh boldly oat so long as old King 801 reigned.

It was only when the sun had entirely vanished from view that Roger was brought back out of his bitter reflections to a realization of tbe lateness of the hour. "I will be overtaken by tbe night, at any rate, so I might as well remain and walk home by moonlight. Besides, something impels me to stay and see tbe ruins in their most romantic garb. I am not hungry, and will get baok in time to see them before they retire. Yes, I will stay," and so saying he threw himself once more upon tbe grass.

Darkness closed around him slowly, as if night was loth to cast her mantle upon the green earth. One by one the bright stars peeped out in tbe heavens, and stili Roger lay, gazing upward, and pnffing thoughtfully at his cigar.

Presently the moon peeped up above tbe horizon and looked down upon the scene.

When tbe queen of night had mounted some little distance in the bine dome of heaven, Roger arose to his feet and made his way down in the direction of the ruins.

The light and shadow as exhibited by tbe long wall, were beautiful in tbe extreme, and it hardly needed an artist's eye to appreciate the picture.

Roger leaned against a tall chimney and looked about him. The last night he had spent in the country on the pre ceding summer, he and Hope Winches ter had walked to the ruins in the moonlight, and, wandering about the romantic spot, sang sweet serenading duets.

The iiongs appeared to return to him as he stood there, and it almost seemed as though Fairy was beside him again.

Was it so impossible to love the little witch, after all? The artist pondered over tbe subject again, but his thoughts were disturbed.

Voices in low conversation came to his ears. Both of them were iti men's tones, and some intuition caused Roger to glide over to tbe dedse shadow, of the heaviest wall.

Two men came in sight.

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They were strangers to the artist, and, while one was tall and angular, the other was heavy set and exceedingly muscular.

To the surprise of Roger, they carried on their shoulders various tools, such as pick and shovels.

What was he about to witness? The grave of the man who had once owned this great mansion was just without tbe walls. Did they mean to exhume his bones for some reason or other?

Before he could speculate further tbey had come to a hale not twenty feet away. "Well, here we are, Dan, and no mistake. Tlfar's tbe chimbly, and in less than ten minutes we'll know jest how we stand. This may be the biggest windfall that ever fell to a couple of wretches like you and me. Two hundred thousand dollars divide it in half and each 'Count not your chiokens before tbey have broken the sMell, Graw Burdock. If it should all turn out to be a swindle, I really believe you would go crazy. What if it should be the freak of a lunatic? The paper reads straight, but I can net believe it until the iron box is before us," said the tallest of the two men. "Come, we are wasting time, and my arms are aching for work. I always believe in knowing the worst, and it won't be long before we find out whether we're to be rich or not. Here goes, Dan."

As the man spoke he threw his tools upon tbe ground, and, selecting a pick, strode up to tbe chimney. "This is the west side, ain't it, Dan? and don't the paper say five feet west be queried. "Correct," returned Dan.

Without further ado, Graw Burdock brought his pick down heavily upon tho debris.

What was Roger about to witness? and why did his nerves tingle so with excitement? f,

CHAPTER VI.

4""

4

"'W TREASURE-TROVE.

Ro^er crouched in the shadow of the wall, and remained as silent as a ghost. The stout man with the villainous looking face was digging with a vehemence that was surprising, and his comrade bent over, anxious to see the result or take a hand in tbe work should the other give out.

It was a strange sight Roger was gazing upon, and he partially realized what it meant. The words of the men told him tbey were seeking for a treasure. Further conversation passed between them while the stout fellow continued to dig, and he learned that they were genuine New York burglars.

When he had gleaned this macb, it seemed perfectly natural to believe that they were hunting for buried treasure, and the dazzling thought flashed into his mind, "why should he not secure what they

Bought?"

No wonder his frame brilled now, for beseemed to feel that a most important crisis of his life was at hand, and that the events of tho next few minutes would decide much of bis future happiness or sorrow.

Deeper went energetic Graw Burdock, digging down through ashes and earth as if the fate of nations depended upon his labor, and with each passing second of time he became still more excited.

Ten minutes passed. "Time the pay dirt was showing," said the long, lank individual, significantly.

Hardly had he spoken, when a sharp, metallic sound was heard tbe shovel of his companion had struck something hard, and he had not dug over three feet down.

Then tbe two men looked into each other's face for half a score or more of seoonds. "It's oomingt'* declared tbe man in the hole, exoitedly "I struck it that time." "Don't bet too heavy on it. Go on with your job I'm shaking," said the long fellow, who appeared to be very cautious.

Graw Burdock needed no further arging, but proceeded to once more pitch out tbe dirt.

Before he bad been at work a minute be stooped down as if to feel of something. "It's iron, sure enough wozfder if we can carry it, Dan? I'll have her out in a jiffy. Great Guns! I'm shaking like I had tho ague. Hand me the licker or I'll go crazy."

Bklh mea were terribly excited, as was also the one wbo crouched In the shadow.

When Graw Burdock bad swallowed a quantity of the fiery liquor contained in the flask, that his companion gave to bim, after disposing of some of its contents himself, his nerves seemed quieted in a degree, for, seizing his Shovel, he resumed work in a mora methodical manner.

Another minute passed by. Then tbe man threw his shovel out, and stooped down as if to make an attempt to dislodge the iron chest from its place.

Just at this instant a heavy thud was heard outside tbe wal'a. The man in tbe hole straightened np as if be had

been made the reoipient of an electric shock, and looked about bim, first at tbe walls of the ruins, and then at bis companion. "What was that asked Dan. "I told you tbe place would be haunted, and that we would stir up the ghosts if we made the attempt at night," said GfftW. "Nonsense that's all humbug, and to prove it I'll go and grab tbe feller 'at's trying to spy on us."

As he spoke, the long fellow glided away. There was an ugly gleam in his eyes, and he held a weapon of some sort his hand, but whether knife or revolver the concealed man could not ascertain.

Graw Burdock stood in the hole for a minute or two, listening to discover if anything came of his companions's venture.

Then he once more stooped over as if about to try the little chest again, but just at that instant there came a voice, husky, like that of a man in pain, crying: "Help! Graw 'I'm getting murdered! help!"

Uttering an oath, the stout man scrambled out of tbe hole, and rushed through an arched doorway. When he got clear of the ruins be came to a stand still, and looked around him, but not a soul could he see as far as the white,

misty

moonlight allowed him vision After standing in a puzzled manner for a minute, the idea entered his brain that perhaps the cry had come from another direction. He started to go around tbe ruins, bnt before twenty paces had been gone over a form leaped out upon bim like a tiger.

They went at it tooth and nail, and it was several minutes before the enraged men discovered in each other Dan and Graw.

By this time each one had pancbed his friend's face considerably, and the result was disastrous to their well being.

A madder couple of men could hardly have been found anywhere, for the idea oame to them that tbey had mutually been deceived.

However, they could well afford to forget and forgive when they remembered what was about to fall into their hands.

They quickly returned to where tbe chimney stood, outlined against tbe heavens like a giant sentry, 'guarding tbe iron chest that bad bee'n buried at its foot

Graw Burdock sprang into tbe hole, and bent down to lilt the little chrestout for unless it was filled with gold he would be able to raise it.

An angry cry broke from bis lips, in which lurious rage, disappointment keen and biting, and amazement were mingled. "What is it?" asked tbe alarmed Dan.

The other could not answer his tongue seemed to cling to tbe roof of his moutb. "Speak! what is it?" almost yelled Dan. "Gone!" ejaculated Burdock.

The other gave utterance to an oath. "Do you mean the chest is gone?" he demanded with savage emphasis.

For answer the heavy set man clambered out of the hole, and allowed his companion to jump into it. Dan felt with his hands, for as the moon was not yet high up in the heavens, her light, being intercepted by the chfmney, did not enter the bole.

He knew in less than half a dozen seconds that some one had taken the little chest from its hiding place w^ere it had lain for so many years, probably while he and Graw Burdock Htoqgte outside. Tbe smooth sides of the csfalty told him this.

It would be impossible to describe the furious rage that seized upon the ttfo men. They had been duped out of their spoils Graw bad even bad his hands upon the chest and moved it a little.

They cursed, stamped around the ruins, looking this way and that, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the person who bad taken it, tore their hair, and very nearly foamed at the moutb.

Dan was inclined to be somewhat superstitious, and declared that he was obliged to believe the place was haunted that it was a spirit that bad called them away from the treasure, and then carried the chest away.

His companion scouted such ideas, and would give them no credence. "It's as plain as the nose on your face, Dan Crawfish, and that's prominent enough after the tellers I gave you by mistake. We was followed and watched. A regular game was set up to take us away from tbe hole for a few minutes, and then some slick critter carried off the treasure. "Thar's just this, Dan, we'll hunt him down. That box belongs to us by right of discovery, and we'll get it. Come, look around here and See if you can find any tracks."

In a few minutes they bad discovered footprints in some soft mud near tbe ruins. "That's our man. He hid in the shadow of tbe wall yonder, and must have been here when we came but, Dan, that's a New York boot made them marks, and it belongs to a gentleman, too, as ye can tell by tbe slender build. Dan, we're on tbe track!"

Their fury bad now given place to an earnestness of purpose, and it was their intention to do their best about the matter, in order to discover where their treasure had gone.

Tbey could do nothing more that night, of course, but on tbe following morning tbey commenced a systematic course of searching, going from house to house and making inquiries for a New, York gentleman who bad promised to meet tbem.

It was in the afternoon that tbey came to Farmer Winchester's farm. From one of tbe hands they learned the truth so far as it was known. Tho young artist had came unexpectedly, had remained one day, and left that mominsr.

Yes, be had borrowed a trunk in which to pack some rare stones he^ad found, snd which were destined for a geological friend of his. When they heard this the two men exchanged expressive g.anoes, while, unseen by the farm hand, tbey gnashed their teetb.

Having brou ht tbe evidence down to such a fine pc' tfc. all that was necessary now was to .t what. rfl»wMvcrtvere possible con' -Hoc iuu man, and then post the city.

This was the way in which Roster Raymond chanced to incite the hatred of these two worthies, who were fated to

CHAPTER VII.

WORTH HALF A MIXTION.

Roger Raymond sat in his stndio. The door bad been locked, some cotton stufled in tbe keyhole, and he was alone. Under the floor was the little iron chest that had been buried under tbe ruins so long.

It was locked, and Rodger was obliged to work long and earnestly before he could open it.

When the rusty lid was thrown back, the eyes of tbe artist eagerly sought tbe interior. All that met his eves was a buckskin covering. He pat his hand in to lift it, and lo! the article seemed to

vanish just as a soap-bubble might do. What a sight met his eyes. There lay a promiscuous heap of gold coins and jewels. Roger picked up one of these latter, and a quivering exclamation escaped his lips as ho gazed upon it.

The ornament was a quaint, old-fash-ioned brooch, containing a large number of bright diamonds, whose value must have been quite a fabulous sum.

When the artist examined the remaining contents of the iron chest be was almost frightened bv their value. "It will make me a millionaire!" ho said, drawing in along breath.

Vainly he searched the box for signs of ownership. It had lain buried for Scores of years, perhaps centuries, and any paper that it may have contained bad long since crumbled to dust. Upon the jewels everywhere he found the letters H. H., and sometimes this was varied by the name Huldah.

It was a singular name, and struck Roger's ear at once. He had neve known any one bearing it. The property on which stood the old tnin had been claimed by two families of heirs fifty years or so ago, and, as both sides presented strong claims, the suit bad used UD a great deal of money, and the property had remained in litigation ever since.

Those who had known the place of old had long since gone to their graves, and in the neighborhood the property was known simply as "the old ruin," for even tbe names of those concerned in the ownership bad faded from the ,minds of the people.

Whether tbe iron cbe3t and its contents had been buried by the original Revolutionary owner, before his mansion was burned by the patriots,or placed in this secure hiding place by robbers, of course he could not say.

It had come to bim like a god-send, and not a doubt entered tbe mind of the artist as to his right to tbe ownership.

Sitting there with tbe precious contents of tbe chest before bim, Boger's mind reverted to what he was capable of doing with such fabulous wfealth. There was enough to buy Gertrude Hastings three times over, and yet, strange to say, when he realized this, tbe thrill be expected did not pass through bis frame.

True, a sort of fierce satisfaction siezed upon him at the idea of having ber at his feet when she learned the truth, but this was not the throbbings of expectant love.

He would astonish the city by his splendor,, and the talk of every soiree would be of Roger Raymond, the celebrated artist, who bad just been left such an immense fortune by a a distant relative in tbe old country.

The gold he placed to one side, together with several of the less prominent jewels, and the rest be replaced in the iron chest. On the following day he made them up in a small package, sealedit and deposited it in a bank vault, subject to bis order, little guessing how fortunate this was.

He found no difficulty in disposing of the jewels he had selected for thirteen thousand dollars. Even in tbe ear-rings the diamonds were of unusual size, as tbe jewelers declared to whom be sold them.

During this time the news was gradually flying about the town that tbe handsome artist was a millionaire that he had been bequeathed estates in Eng land worth fabulous sums, and moneys and jewels to an amount beyond all conception. It is really wonderful how asmall thing will bo exaggerated by constant repetition, and, like a snowball, when set rolling, Roger,s few words to a ^friend had kept increasing importance until they reached these stupendous dimensions.

It was at a soiree, the last of the season that Roger came out, tbe lion of the season.

He was dressed simply but elegantly, and had never before looked so well, When Gertrude saw bim her heart beat tumultuously, for she really loved tbe artist fiercely after ber fashion, although not enough to give up her position in society to become his wife so long as he was poor.

Roger had always been liked in the circles where literary and artistic genius was honored, but on this occasion his reception was almost equal to an ovation.

Gertrude saw this with amazement and jealousy. What had happened? Had one of Boger's pictures made him famous? She could not guess what it was, and at last turned to her partner for supper to gain information. "Mr. Raymond seems to be attracting unusual attention this evening," she said. "Yes, that's the way the .world goes kicks a man when he's down and worships him when he's up. Raymond's a lucky dog. What with bis talents and good fortune he can make himself famous," said tbe gentleman, who was a banker. "1 do not understand what good fortune has come to him?" asked Gertrude. "It is said that he has come into an enormous fortune of half a million, some say it is double that," returned tbe gentleman. "The blood rushed to Gertrude's face. Ob! if she bad but known what she threw away when she despised Roger Raymond's love. "But mav it not only be a rumor!" sbe asked faintly, ber eyes glued on tbe artist, who wss very attentive to tbe young lady he had taken down to supper.

There is no doubt about the truth of it. Raymond»put ten thousand in our bank, and there is no telling how many more he served in the same way. Besides, he showed me a jewel tbe like of which I have never seen, except in tbe possession of royalty, and the price of which I would be afraid to state.

He told that was but oce of the jewels that had come to him. Do you see that pin be bas on his necktie? It is a cluster of magnificent pearls with one large diamond in the center. My friend Rav, of Tiffanv's .place, told me confidentially that it"was worth five thousand if it was worth a cent. There's a chance to set your cap, Miss Hastings."

Ah! how Gertrude's heart sank as she realized what she had lost. Now that Roger was ricb, sbe believed that sbe could have married him as a poor man. Suqb is the influence exerted over the mind by delusion. The courtiers of King Ferdinand declared that Columbus bad done nothing great after ail, but only kept sailing on toward the west nntil be came in sight of land but the secret of bis success lay in the iac| of his having the nerve to sail into unknown SMSFTSU

So Gertrude lacked tbe strength to take Roger because he loved her, and trust to the future for wealth. Now that this latter had come to bim sbe deceived herself into believing that, had he entreated ber a little more, sbe would have consented, loving him so but the veil wss yet to be torn from her eyes, and she compelled to acknowledge ber weakness.

Roger gave no sign of any coolness on his part, and seemed to enjoy her company as well as any of the others, bat no more. She notioed this with a painful heart, for bad he either avoided ber, or sought her out, she would have had more cause to hope.

However, she determined not to diepair. Roger had loved her so madly that sbe oould get him at her feet again. He had asked ber to drive with him on Central Park on tbe following afternoon, and then her time would come.

Ab, me! if Gertrude could have foreseen what was to happen before that afternoon arrived?

CHAPTER VIII. AN EMPTY CAOE.

Reuben Flint may have seen some rough times during the five-and-twenty years of bis existence, but he never received a more telling blow than that which Roger Raymond presented him on that spring morning at just seven minutes after nine.

He went over like an ox stricken in tbe shambles, falling almost at tbe feet of Barbara. A shriek rent tbe air. It came from the girl who loved Reuben so fiercely, and sbe threw herself down beside him.

With an oath, however, he pushed Barbara to one side and rose to his feet. The artist stili stood in front of Lottie, his eyes flashing anger and indignation, his bunds ready to repeat tbe dose. Reuben looked at the magnificent physique of the man who had castigated him so severely, and then wisely refrained from inviting a repitition.

Roger was not a stranger to him. His father had bought a picture or two at a low figure from the artist, and Roger had been in tbe office several times, but never in tbe shop.

When the soream of Lottie's friend rang out, the chivalrous nature of the artist would not suffer him to remain quiet, and he had sprung to the scene of action.

He took in the whole affair at a glance, but knew nothing of the relations existing between the young girl and Reuben. She might even "be his wife for all he knew, but one fact was evident, she was struggling in his clasp, and probably had given the scream of terror that had reached his ears.

He never repented it. Reuben was too much of a coward to offer any retaliation for the drubbing he had received, but, giving the artist a fiendish stare, he growled: "You'll hear from me, Raymond!"

Having uttered this terrible menace, tbe bard fighter betook himself to the cloak-room to wash tbe blood from bis face.

Roger turned to see whom he bad given assistance to, and seemed petrified by the vision of loveliness. "Surely," he thought swiftly, "here is an ideal face, a marvelously beautiful face, and one tbat is sweet withal.

What he saw in the depths of Lottie's eyes the artist never told, but it thrilled bim to the soul, and from tbat moment tbe power of Gertrude Hastings was shaken.

She did not say a word in thanks, but ber eyes spoke volumes, and tbe artist understood their language well.

He retired with old Flint, wbo seemed boiling over with rage, for beside tbe feeling tbat should exist between father and son, there was between Reuben and himself the affinity of souls, for tbe voung man was a second edition of Flint Sr.

As soon, thereiore, as the artist was with him alone. Mr. Flint opened with what he thought a caushing shot from his masked battery.

He brought out a picture that belonged to Roger, and which had been left for sale sometime before.

After such conduct to my son, sir, there can bo no business transactions between us. I advanced 37ou ten dollars on this picture. I have concluded noi to buy it.

This would have been a blow to Roger a week previously, lor he had counted on the proceeds of this picture. Just now, however, it was like whipping a stone horse—or a mule there was no satisfaction for Flint.

Roger put an eagle upon the desk. "We are even now, Flint. I am ashamed of this daub myself, and the subject, but it was ordered by you when I needed money. Thank God I am free now, and can paint as my soul and conscience dictate. As for this affairpshaw

As.he spoke tbe artist lunged forward and sent hi foot through the canvass. "You deserve to starve!" cried Flint, angrily, "and you may depend on it I'll never buy another picture from you. As for your unwarranted assault upon my son, we may take a notion to have you arrested unless you apologize. Money can convict a poor man in a New York court. "But BOt a rich one. Nathan Flint, you have to cut your eye-teeth. Read the papers here is the Herald glance your eye over that item, and then have me arrested."

Old Flint did so, and tbe change in his manner was simply marvelous. The scrowl on his face changed to a look in which cunning, fear and servility were equally marked. "Ab! allow me to congratulate you, dear Mr. Raymond, on your good fortune. It is not every day that we can pick up a half a million of money.

Aside, to himself, tbe old wretch was saying at the same time: "Guns of Moses! half a million! Unlucky wretch that I am why didn't I loan him money at twenty per cent? He would have paid fifty bad I £3ked it."

The artist bad no cause to cherish any ill-will, as the victory was all on his side, without appearing to be more than casually interested In tbe matter, he managed to ascertain who Lottie was and where she lived, for Roger had made up his mind to see more of this

firlheart

with tbe beautifnl face, that bad set is to beating at tbe first glimpse ss it had never beat for Gertrude Hastings

He saw no more of Reuben, though he passed through the shop purposely on his way out. Lottie looked up as though impelled by s^me uncontrollable impulse, and their eyes met.

Each felt a strange thrilling deep down in the heart, but it could not be love, for snch a thing as love at first sight is a delusion which sensible people do not believe.

True, sincere love, the affection tbat lasts beyond the grave, is the outgrowth of acquaintance whioh gradually ripens until each without tbe other seems to be a barren field.

The man wbo pretends tbat he is capable of madly loving at first sight is to be distrusted, for I affirm tbat such a

one

is just as capable of feeling his devotion fade suddenly away when the storms of life appear.

Great things are never accomplished in a day. The rock tbat settles in tbe river bed does not make an island of itself, but time in its flight brings assistance, and tbe end is accomplished.

So it is, I believe, with affection. With some it is of more rapid growth than with others, but the thoughtful, deathless love, which is ever ready to lift np the object of its adoration to a higher level, ever ready to sacrifice comfort and all in behalf of tbe heart's idol, cannot rash into existence in a minute of time. In their turn must come respect, admiration, friendship, affection and love. ..

Roger was not entirely cared of his infatuation for Gertrude Hastings, but

all that had seemed noble before was crushed by her unwomanly conduct when she owned to loving him, and yet came near breaking bis heart simply because be was poor.

In his heart he despised her, and mentally compared her to little Hope Winchester, much to the detriment of the hauty heiress.

Now that Lottie's face had flashed like a beautiful star before the vision of tbe young artist. Gertrude's power threatened to wane more than ever.

That afternoon he rode with her to Central Park, and Gertrude was very winning, but although Hoger was quite gay, and seemed to enjoy himself greatly, be understood tbe tactics of the young girl and thought less of her than ever.

Gertrnde on her part found herself madly iu love with him. Tbe barrier that had hitherto existed between tbem was now swept away her visions were no longer blinded by prejudice of station, and sbe discovered that her affection for the artist was something overwhelming in its nature.

Roger was compelled to stop to tea and spend the evening, and as it could not be otherwise than sweet revenge for the artist, which he was human enough to enjoy, he was not sorry to be treated like a prince.

When Roger reached home it was about eleven o'clock. He no longer occupied the sky studio, but elegant rooms in a building upon Broadway near Fourteenth.

Ascending the stairs, he was astounded to find his room door unlocked. Upon entering and lighting the gas, he found everything in its proper place, with one exception.

The little iron chest was gone.

1

He had brightened it up, and because of its unique desigu, had set in a oorner where be could see it, for Roger intended making a close examination some day, believing tbat there might be a secret partition in tbe affair that held tbe papers from which he could learn the mystery of tbe treasure-trove.

Now he could never discover the truth probably, for the iron chest was gone. During his absence tbe two burglars had entered his room and carried off, as they thought, the precious treasure. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

TREASURY DEPARTMENT Washington, D.C.Nov. 10. 1870. I take great pleasure in certifying to the efficacy of Dr. Bull'eCough Syrup, in use in my family and as a specific for colds of children or adults, I have found it to be a oures almost immediate and always permanent. Very Respectfully, THOS. B. Price. t*|T

Consumption Cured. An old physician, retired from practice, having had placed in his bands by an East Indian missionary tbe formula of a simple vegetable remedy for tbe speedy and permanent cure of Consumption, Bronchitis, Catarrh, Asthma, and all Throat and Lung Affections, also a positive and radical cure for Nervous Debility and all Nervous Complaints, after having tested its wonderful curative powers in thousands of cases, has felt it bis duty to make ii known to his suffering fellows. Actuated by this motive and a desire to relieve human suffering, I will send free of charge to all who desire it, this recipe, in Gorman, French or English, with full directions for preparing and using. Sent by mail by addressing with stamp, naming this paper, W. W. SHERAR, 149 Powers' Block, Rochester, N. Y.

Nov 1-eow 13t.

V:'

ps?f

"S

^CATARRHAL

1

Poison.

Wle De Meycir's Treatise on Ca* tnrrb explains the following Important facts: 1. That Catarrhal Colds become a poisonons Infection, at first local, and nnally constitutional. 2. That, being constitutional, the infection is beyond the reach of mere local remedies, 3. That Impurities In the nostrils are necessarily swallowed tnto the stomach and lahaled Into tbe lungs, thus pols« onlng the Digestive, Respiratory and Genito-urinary organs. 4. That Catarrhal virus follows the mucous membrane and causes Deafness, Dyspepsia, Chronic

Diarrhoea, Bronchitis

Leucorrhoeajand Consum ption. 5. That Smokes, Douches, Inhalations, and Insoluble Snuffs cannot posslbly remove infectious inflammation from the organs named. 6. That an antidote for Catarrh must possess an Inoculative affinity for, and the quality of being absorbed by, the purulent mucous, wherever located.

Based upon these plain theories, Dr. Wle D« Meyer's Cntarrh Cure has proved to be infallible. In not only re­~re fit

ly

ieves, 7t cures"Catarrh at any stage. Home testimony:

Cured! Cured! Cured! Cured!

W.D. WOODS, 487 Broadway, N. Y., cured of chronic catarrh. a. L. BRUSH,443 Broadway, N. V., 10 years catarrh. S. BENEDICT, Jr., Jeweler,697 Broadway, N.

Y., (lady friend) cured chronic hay fever. MRS. EMMA C.HOWES, 39 W. Washington square, N. Y., cured of 30 years chronio catarrh. REV. CHAB. J. JOITES, New Bi lghton, 8.1. "Worth ten times the cost. REV. AI,KX. FREES, Cairo, N. Y. "It has work wonders in six cases in my parish.

L.F.NEWMAN. 306 Fulton 8t„ Brooklyn, cared of 4 years Chronic Catarrh. MRS. SWARTZ, JR., 200 Warren St., Jersey City, cured of 18 years Chronic Catarrh. &C. Ac. Ac. Ac. Ac.

A real cure for this terrible malady is the most important discovery lor therelief of human suffering since Wle De Meyer's cartarrh «ureis sold by all druggists, or delivered by D. B. DKWKY A WO.,40Dey street, N. Y., for91.BO a package, fo clubs, six pac*agea for 87^50. Dr, Wle De Meyer'* Treatise, with full explanations and overwhelming grooffc, Is Postpaid and sent free to any.

rX^LAME BACK. J^f WEAK BACK.

Benson's Capclne Porous Plaster. Overwhelming evidence of their superiority over all other plasters. It Is everywhere recommended by physicians, drntodsts and the pre^s. The manufacture™ received a special award and the only medal given for porous plasters at the C^ntennial Exposition, J876, at thd Paris Exposition, lSwTjTheir great merit lies in tnefact that they are the only plasters which ralleve

JSSJSf 5*8551

ter and

OTT1

be relieved at once. Price 25 cts.

Sold by all druggigjS: