Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 October 1877 — Page 7

PUT YOURSELF 1.1 HIS PLACE.

A Novel of Thrilling Interest About the Great Strikes in England.

BY CHARLES RfiAliB.

t'ontlnuod from Laat Iseue.l

'Weil then, on that undemanding,— thft man works all night in a deaerttd church at Cairnhope it is all up among the hills

Grotait turned red. 'Are you sure of this?' 8r*f

re &

'You have seen him?' 4- f*l, 'Yes.' "Has he a forge?'

Yes and bellows, and quantities of moulds, and strips* of steel. He is working on a large scale.' 'It ,hall be looked into, sir, by the proper persons. Indeed the sootier they are intormed, the better.'

Yes, but mind, no violence. You are strong enough to drive him out of the country without that.' "f •I should hope so.'

Coventry then rose and left the place but he had no sooner got into the street, than a sort of horror fell on him horror of hi'nself, distrust and dread of the consequences to his rival but benefactor, "s

A.l noat at the door, he was met by Mr. Ransome,who stopped hitnund gave lum Little's address he had obtained it without difficulty from Bayne. 'I inn glad you reminded tne, sir,' said he 'I ohall cail^ on iiim myself, one of the»e days.' -uAt

These words rang' in Courtney scars," and put him in a cold perspiration. 'Fool!' though* he, 'to go and ask a public officer, a man who hears everybody in turn.'

Wnat he had done disinclined him to return to Cairnhope. He made a call or two first, and loitered about, and then at last back to Raby, gnawed with ^inisgiv in^8 and incipient remorse.

Mr. Grotait sent immediately to Mr. Parkin, Mr. Jobson, and Mr. Potter, and told them the secret information he had just received.

They could hardly believe it at first Jobson, especially, was incredulous. He said he had kept his eye on Little, and atsured them hj had gone into woodcarving, and was to be seen in the town all day. •Ay," said Parkin, 'but this is at night and, now I think of it, I met him t'other day, about dusk, galloping east, as hard as he could go.' vlv intormation is from a sure source,' said Grotiat, stiffly.

Parkin.—'What is to be done?" bson.—'Is he worth another strike?' hotter.—'The time is unfavorable: hero's a slap of dull trade.' i'ne thiee then pjt their heads together, ami various plans were suggested and dis cusn.-d, and as the partus were not now beijfe Uie public, uiat norror oi gunpo«vtl !, \'ilrijl, and lit.-preservers, winch figured in their notice^ and resolution •, did not appear in their conversation Gor*iut alone was silent and doubtful. This Gortiatfwas the greatest fanatic of t.i ur, atid, line all fanatics, capaoio ot vast cruelty: but his cruelty la/ in his hsud. ratner nun his heart. O Tradj questions, the man, though vain and arrogant, was of a genial and raiher a kindly na ure and, even in Tradi: questijns, being more intelligent than his fellows, he was sometimes infested wiui a gleam of humanity.

His bigotry was, at this moment, disturbed by a visitation ot that kind. 'I'm perplexed,' said he: 'I don't often hesitate oil a Trade question neittier. But the men we have done were always iow-lived blackguards, who would have destroyed us it we had not disabled them. Now thi^Litfle is a, decent young caap. He struck at the root of our

Trades, so long as he wrought openly. But on the sly, and nobody knowing but ourselves, mightn't it be as well to shut our eyes a bit? My informant is not in trade.' fne other three took a more personal view ot the matter i^itt was outwitting and resisting them. They saw nothi tor it but to stop him, ^by hook or by crook.,

While they sat debating his cose in whispers, and with their' heads so close you mi»jht have covered them all with a tea tray, a clear musical voice was heard to speak to the barmaid, and, by her direction, in walked into the councilchamber—Mr. Henry Little.

This visit greatly surprised Messrs. Parkin, Jobson. anc Potter, and made thein stare, anu look at one another uneasily. But it did not surprise Grotait so much, and it came about .n the simplest way. Thai morning, at about eleven o'clock, Dr Amboyne had called on Mrs. Little, and had asked Henry, rather stiffly, whether he had quite torgottei. Lne, Labor, ana Capital. Now the young man could not but feel that, for some time past, he had used the good Dottor ill had neglected and almost torgotten his benevolent hobby, so the Doctor's gentle reproach went to his heart, and he said,'Give me a day or two sir, and I'll show you how ashamed I am of ray selfish behavior.' True to his pledge, he collected all his notes together, and prepared a report, to be illustra ted with drawings. He *hen went to Cheetham's, more as a matter of form than any thing, to &e if the condemned grindstone had been changed. To this infinite surprise he found it had not, a .d Bayne told hiro the reason. Henry was angry, and went direct to Grotait about it-

But as soon as he saw Jobson, and Parkin, and Potter, he started, and they started. 'Oh!' said he, 'I din't expect to find so much good company. Why, here's the whole quorum.' 'We will retire, sir, if you wish it.' 'Not at all. My orders are to convert vou all to Life. Labor* and Capital (Grotait pricked up his ears directly), and, if I succeed, the Devil will be the next to come round, no doubt.. Well, Mr. Grotait. Simmons is on that same grindstone you and I condemned. And all for a matter of four shillings. I find that, in your trade, the master provides the stone but the grinder hangs and races it, which, in one sense, is time lost Well Simmons declines the new stone, unless, Cheetham will pay him by time tor hanging and racing it. Cheetham refuses: and S3, between them, that idiot works on a faulty ston^. Will you use your influence with the grinder?' 'Well, Mr. Little, now, between ourselves, don't you think it rather hard thai the poor workman should have to hang and race the master's grindstone for nothing?' 'Why, thev share llie loss between them. The stone costs the master three pounds and hanging it costs the work

Whcre's

man only four or five shilling* the grievance?' 'Hanging and racing a stone shortens the grinder's life fills his lungs with grit, is the workman to give Lis® and Labor for a forenoon, and Capital to contribute nothing? Is that jour view of Life, Labor, and Capital, young .nan?'

Henry wus staggered a moment. 'That is smart,' 6aid he. "But a rule ot trade is a rule, till it is altered by consent of the parties that made it. Now, right or wrong, it is the rule of trade here that the small grinders find their own stones, a.d pay for power, but the saw-grinders are better off, for they have not to find stones nor power, and their only dawback is tiiat they must hang and race a new stone, which costs the master sixty shillings. Cheetham is smarting under our rules, and you can't expect him to go against any rule, that saves tyim a shilling'

What d'ses the grinder think?" "You might as well ask what the grindstone thinks." "Well, what does the grinder SAY, then?" 'Says he'd rather run the stone out, than lose a forenoon.! 'Well, sir, it is his business.'*", 'It may be a man's business to hang himself but it is the Hystanders' to hinder him.' 'You mistake me I inein the grinder is the only man who knows whether the stone is safe.' 'Weil, but this grinder does not pretend his stone is sale All he says, is, safe or not, he'll run it out. So no* the question is, will you pay lour shillings for your box, for this blockhead's loss of time i»tt hanging and racing a new stone?'

All the tour secretaries opened their eyes with Hurprise at this. But Grotait merely said he had no authority to do that the ft*nds of the Union were set apart for specified purposes. •Very likely,' said Henry, getting warm: 'but, wh.»n 'here's life to be taken, your Union can lind money irregularly so why grudge it, when th*re'rf life to be saved perhaps, arid ten times cheaper than you pay for blood.' 'Young man,' said Grotait. severely, 'did you come here to insuk us with these worn-out slanders?' 'No, but I came to see whether you secretaries, who can find pounds to assassinate men, and blow up women and children w'th gunpowder, can find shillings to secure the life of one of your own members he risks it every time he mounts his horsing.' 'Well, sir, the application is without precedent, and I must decline it but this I beg to do as courteously, as the application has been made uncourteously 'Oh, it is easy to be p.»lite, when you've got no heart 'You are the first ever brought that charge against me.* 'You ought to be shamed of yourself,' said Poitei, warmly. 'No 1/eart! Mr Groiau i* known tor a tenoer '.Uiher, *ud tne llli&OOIOUgll. ne ./tilers ecnoed these sentiments vafin and sincerely lor, strange us it may appear to those who have not stud ieo'iiuinau -lature at first hand, every wotd this eulogy was strictly true. 'i'ha:.k you, gentlemen,' said Grotait. 'Bui we must make allowances. Mr. Little is smarting under a gross and dastardly outrage, and also under a lair deteat a- thinks his opponents must be monsters. Now I shjuld like to show him the contrary. Let Simmons take care of himself. You have given hiin good advice, and much to your credit: now nave you nothing to say to us, on your own account? •Not a word,' said Henry, steadily. 'But suppose I could suggest a way by which you could carry on your trade in Hillsborough, and ofteud nobody?' 'I should decline to hear it even. You and I are at war on that. You have done your worst, and I shall do my best to make you all smart for it, the moment I get a chance.'

good husband, a taunt iriend in

Grotait's cheek reddened wilh anger at this rebuff, and it cost him an effort to retain his frienuly intentions. 'Come, come,' said he, rather 6urhly, 'don't be in a hurry till you have heard the nature of my proposal. Here, Jess, a quart ot the best aie. Now, to begin, let us drink and be comfortable togettier.'

He passed the glass to Little, first. But tne joung man's blood was boiling with his wrongs, and this patronizing air irritated him to boot. He took tne glass in his hand, 'Here's quick exposure—sudden death—and sure damnation—to all Hypocrites and assassins!' He drained the glass to this toast, flung sixpence on the table, and strode out, white with passion himself, and leaving startled faces behind. 'So be it,' said Grotait and his wicked little eye glittered dangerously.

That same evening, a signal, well known to certain workmen in Hillsborough, peeped in the window of tne 'Cutlers' Arms.' And, in consequence, six or seven ill-conditioned tellows gathered about the doors and waited patiently for turther information.

Amongst these was a 6turdy fellow of about nine-and-twenty, whose existence was a puzzle to his neighbors. During the last seven years he had worked only eighteen months altogether. The rest of the time he had been on the Saw-Grind ere' box, receiving relief, viz.: seven shillings and sixpence weekly for himself, and two-and-sixpcnce for his wife, and two shillings for each child and every now and then-he would be seen with three or four sorveigns in his possession.

The name ot this masterful beggar, of this invalid in theory, who, in fact, could eat three pounds of steak at a sit ting, was Biggs but it is a peculiarity Hillsborough to defy baptismal names* and substitute others deemed spicier. Out of the parish register and the records of the police courts, the scamp was only known as Dan Tuckei*.

This Dan stood, with othere, loiteiing about 'The Gutters' Arms.' Presently out came Grotait, and sur veyed the rascally lot. He beckoned I Dan, and, retired. Dan went in after him. 'Drat his luck!' said one ol the rejected candidates, 'he always gets the job.' The rest then dispersed.

Tucker was shown into a pitch-dark room, and there a bargain was struck between hitn and men unflben. He and two more were to go to Cairnhope, and do Little. He was to avoid all those men who had lately stood at the door with him, and was to choose for his companions Simmons the grinder, and one Sam Cole, a smooth, plausible fellow, that had been

many a dark job, unsuspected even by his wife and family, who Were respectable.

Thus «instructed, Tucker went to the other men, and soon reported

THE TERRE HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE.

to Grotait that he had got Cote all right bui that Simmons looked coldly on the job. He was in full work, for one thing, and had had his 6queak already, and he uidu'l»ee following him eleven miles off he had, however, asked him whether Litttle had a wife and children, which iju'etio he, 'fuck-r, could not answer. 'But I can,' said Grotait. 'He is a bachelor. You can tell Simmons so. There are reasons why Ned Simmons must be in this. Try him to-morrow at dinner time. Bid two pounds more and —his wife is near her time—tell him this job will help htm buy her wine and things," 6aid the kind, parental, diabolical Grotait.

Next morning Henry worked with the pen for Doctor Amboyne till twelve o'clock. He then, still carrying out his friend's views, went down to Mr. Cheetham's works to talk to Simmons.

But he found an ill-looking fellow standing by the man's side, and close at his ear. This was no other than Dan Tucker, who by a neat coincidence wus tempting him to DO Little.

Yesterday's conversation had unsettled Simmons, and he did not come to work till twelve o'clock. He then fixed a small pulley wheel to his grindstone, to make up tor lost time.

He was still resisting the tempter, but more faintly than yesterday, when Little came in and sp^ke to him. Both he and Dan were amazed at his appearance on the scene at that particular moment I'hey glared stupidly, but said nothing. •Look here, Simmons,' said Little, "I have been to your friend Grotait, and asked him to pay you for what you cull time lost in hanging and racing a nev stone. He won't do it. That is your ,FBIEND. Now I'm your ENEMY SO the

Union says. Well, enemy or not, I'll do what Grotait won't. I'll pay you the four shillings for lost time, if ycu will stop that6tone at once, and hang another.' 'Why, what's wrong with stone?' "The best judge in Hillsborough condemned it ana now, if you are not running it with an undersized pulley-wheel, to try it worse!'

Simmons got stupid and irritated between the two. His bit of manhood revolted against Little's offer, made whilst he was half lending his ear to Tucker's proposal and, on the other hand, that very offer irritated him with Tucker, for coming and tempting him to DO this vety Little, who was a good sort. you both!" said the rough fellow. "1 wish you'd l*t me alone. Here I've lost my morniug's work already." i'hen to Little, "Mino thyself, pld lad. Happen thou's in more dai.ger than I am.

What d'ye mean by that?" said Little, veiy sharply. But Simmons saw that he had gone loo tar, and now maintained a sullen silence.

H. nry turned to Tucker. -I don't know who you are, but I call you to witness that 1 have done all I can for tuis idiot Nov, if he comes to harin, his blood be up his own head." i. neii Henry went off in dudgeon, and meeting Bav ne in the yard, had a long discussioi! with him on the subject.

The tempter took advantage of Little's angry departure, and steadily resumed his temptation.

But he was interrupted in his turn. he defect in this grindstone was not so serious but that the stone might perhaps have been ground out with tair treatment but, by fixing a small pulleywheel, Simmons had caused it to rotate at turious speed. This tried it too hard, and it flew in two pieces just as the grind«r was pressing down a heavy saw on it with all his force

One piece weighing about five hundred weight, tore the horsing chains out of the floor, and went clean through the window (smashing the woodwork), out into the yard, and was descending on Little's head but he heard the crash and saw it coming and ran yelling out of the way, and dragged Bayne with him. The other fragment went straight up to the ceiling, and broke a heavy joist as if it had been a cane then fell down again plump, and would have destroyed the grinde. on the spot, had he been there but the tremendous shock had sent him flying clean over the squatter board, and he tell on his stomach on the wheel band of the next grindstone, and so close t» the drum, that, before anyone could recover the shock and seize hun, the band drew him on to the trum, and the drum which was drawing away from the window, pounded him against the wall with cruel thuds.

One ran and screamed to stop the power, another to cut the big wheel'bands. All ihis took several seconds and here seconds were torn flesh and broken bones. Justus Little darted i.ito the room, paie with his own narrow escape, and awe-stricken at the cries of horror within, the other grinders succeeded in dragging out, from between the wall and drum, a bag of broken bones and blood and grease, which a nynute before was Ned Simmons, and was talking over a deed of violence to be done.

The others carried hitn and laid him on a horsing and there they still supported his head and his broken limbs, sick with horror.

The man's face was white, and his eyes stared, and his body quivered. They sprinkled him with water.

I'hen he mutie-ed, 'All right. I am not much hurt,—Ay, but I am though. I'm done for.'

After the first terror of the 6cene had passed, the men were for taking him to the infirmary. But Little interposed, eagerly, 'No, no. I'll pay the doctor myseU'sooner. He shall be nursed at home, and have all that skill can do to save hiit. Oh, why would he not listen to me?'

A stretcher was got, and a mattress put on it, and they carried him through the streets, while one ran before to tell the unhappy wife, nnd Little took her address and ran to Doctor Amboyne. The Doctor went instantly to the sutfercr.

Tucker assisted to carry the victim home. He then returned to Grotait and told him the news. Dan was not so hardened but what he blubbered in telling it, and Grotail's eyes were moist with sympathy.

They neither of them spoke out, and said, 'This upsets our design on Little.* Each waited to see whether that job was to go on. Each was ashamed to mention *ii now. So it came to a standstill.

As for Little he was so shocked by this tragedy, and so anxious about its victim, that he would not go out to Cairnhope. He cotne, in the evening, to Doctor Ambovne, to enquire, 'Can he live?' •I can't say yet: Me will never work again.'

Then, after a silence, he tixcd hts eyes On i'oung Little, and said, 'I atn going to make trial of your disposition.! ThU is

the man I suspected of blowing you up and I'm of the same opinion still.' 'Then he has got his deserts,' were Henry's first words, after a pause of astonishment 'Does that mean you forgive him, or you don't forgive him?' •I dare say I should forgive the pflor wretch if he was to ask me. 'And not without?' 'No. I might .y and put it out of my head but that is all I could do 'Is it true that you are the cause of his not being taken to the infirmary 'Ye«, Isaid I'd pay out of my own pocket sooner and I'm not the sort to go from my word.

The man shall want for nothing, sir. But please don't ask me to lave my enemies, and all that Rot. I scorn hypocrisy. Every man hates his enemies he may hate 'em out like a man, or palaver 'em, and bjeg.God to forgive 'em (and that means damn 'em), and hate 'em like a sneak but he always hates 'em."

The .Doctor laughed heartily. "Oh, how refreshing a thing it is to fall in with a fellow who speaks bis real mind. However, I am not your enemy, am I?' 'No. You are the best friend I ever had—except my mother' 'I am glad you think so because I have a favor to ask you.' 'Granted, before you speak 'I want to know, tor certain, whether Simmons was the man who blew you up: and I see but one way of learning it. Ypu must visit him and be kind to him and then,my heart tells me,he won't leave the world without telling you. Oblige me by taking him this bottle of wine, at once, and also this sedative, which you can administer if he is in violent pain, but net otherwise' 'Doctor,' said the young man, 'you always get your own way with me. And SO VOU OUght.' iir-

Little stood by Simmon's bed-side. The man's eye was set, his cheek streaked with red, and his head was bandaged He labored in breathing.

Young Little looked at him gravely, an wondered whether this battered figure was really the man who had so nearly destroyed- him.

After some minutes of this contempla tion, he said gravely, 'Simmonn, I have brought you some wine.'

The man stared at him, and seempd confused. He made no reply. 'Give me a spoon,' said Henry.

Mrs. Simmons sat by the bedside rocking herself she was stupefied with grief but her sister, a handy girl, had come to her in her trouble she brought Henry a spoon directly.

He poured out a little wine, and put it to the sufferer's lips. He drank it, and said it was/rare good stuff. Henry gave him a little more.

Simmons then looked at him more intelligently and attentively, and gave a sort of shiver. 'Who be you?' 'Henry Little who advised you not to tun that ptone 'A i!'said Simmons, 'I thought it was yon.' He seemed puzzled. But, after a while, he suu, 'I wish 1 had hearkened thee, lad. Give me some more of yon der stuff. What is it!' 'Port wine Then he fumed to the girl, and gave her a sovereign, and sent ner out for some mutton-chops. 'Meat and wine are all the physic you are to have, my poor fellow.' 'It won't be for long, lad. And a good job too. For I'm a bad 'un. I'm a bad un.'

Henry then turned to the poor woman, and tried to say something to console her, but the words stuck in his throat. She was evid-'nily near her confinement and there lay her husband, worse than in his grave. Little broke down himself, while trying to comfort her.

The sufferer heard him, and sr id, all of a sudden, 'Hold a light here.' Henry took the candle,and held it over him.

Nay, nay, it i3 thy face I want to see.' Simmons gave a groan. 'Ay,' said he, thou's all right. And I lie here. That seems queer.

The sister now returned, and Henry wrote her his address, and conversed with her, and told her the whole story of the grindstone, and said that, as he hindered Simmons from being taken to the infirmary, he felt bound to see he did not suffer by that interference. He gave her his address, and said if anything was wanted, she must come to him, or to his mother if he should be out.

No doubt the women talked of his kindness by the sick bed, and Simmons heard it.

Early in the morning Eliza Watney called at Little'9:house with her eyes very red, and said her brother in-law wanted to speak to him.

He went with her directly and on the road a»ked her hat it was about. 'I'm ashamed to tell you,' said she, and burst out crying. 'But I hope God will reward you and forgive him lor he is a very ignorant man.' liere I am, Simmons. ...

So I see. Any thing I can do for you? No. You sent for me. Did I? Well, I dare say I did. But gi' in3 time. Gi' me time. It's noane so easy to look a man in the face, and tell hiin what I'm to tell thee. But I can't die with it on me. It chokes me, ever since you brought me yonder stuff, and the womei. set a talking'. I say— old lad—'twas I did thee yon little job at Cheetham's. But I knew no better.

There was a dead silence.. And then Henry spoke. Who set vOtt on?' 'Nay, that's their business.' 'How did you do it?'

At this question—will it be believed?— the penitent's eye twinkled with iriomtntary vanity. 'I fastened a teacup to an iron rake, and filled the cup with powder then I passed it in, and spilt the powder out of the cup, and raked it in to the smithy 6iack, and so on, filling and raking in. But I did thee one good turn, lad, 1 put powder as tar from bellows as I could. Eh, but I was a bad 'un to do the like to thee: and thou's a good 'un to come here. When I saw thee lie there, ail scorched and shaking, I didn't like my work and now I hate it. But I knew np better at the time. And, you «ee, I've got it won«e myself. And cheap served too.' 'Oh, Mr. Little,'said Eliza Watney •TRY and forgive him.' 'My girl,' said Henfy, solemnly, 'I thought I never cotild forgive the man who did that cruel deed to me, and I had never injured any one.

#But

it is hard to

know one's own mind, let alone another man's Now I look at him lying pale and battered there, it seems all wiped out. I forgive you, my poor fellow, and hope God will forgive you too.' 'Nay. He is not so soft as thou. This how He forgives me. But I knew

better. Old gal, learn the young*un to tead, that's coming just as I'm going it is sore against a chap if he can't read. Righ* and wrong, d—n 'em, they are lucked up in books, I think locked away from a chap like me I know a little better now. But, eh dear, it is come too iate." And now the poor wretch began to cry as a gleam of knowledge of right and wrong having come to him only just when he could no longer profit by it.

Henry left him at last, with the tears in his eyes. He promised them al* to come every day.

He called on Dr. Amboyne, and said, 'You are always ri»ht, Doctor, Simmons was the man. He has owned it, and I forgave him.'

He then went and told Mr. Holdfast. That gentleman was much pleased at the discovery, and said, 'Ah, but who employed him? That is what you must discover.' 'I will try," said Henry. 'The poor fellow had half a mind to make a clean breast but I didn't like to worry him over it'

Returning home he fell in with Grotait and Parkin. They were talking earnestly at the door of a public house, and the question ihev were discussing was whether or not Little's affair should be revived.

They were both a good deal staggered by the fate of Simmon*, Parkin especially, who was rather superstitious. He had changed sides, and was now inclined to connive, or, at all events, to temporize to abandon the matter till a moie convenient time. Grotait, on the other hand, whose vanity the young man had irritated, was bent on dismounting his forge. But even he had cooled a little, and was now disinclined to violence. He suggested that it must be easy to drive a snath out of a church, by going to the parochial authorities and they could also send Little an anonymous letter, to tell him the Trades had* their eyes on him by this double stroke, they would probably bring him to some reasonable terms.

It certainly was really a most unfortunate thing that Little passed that way just than unfortunate that Youth is so impetuous.

He crossed the street to speak to these two potentates, whom it was his interest to let alone—if he could only have known it. A...

This information and threat, and the vindictive bitterness and resolution with which the young man had delivered it, 6truck terror into the gentle Parkin, and shook even Grotait. The latter, however, soon recovered himself, and it became a battle for life or death between him and Little.

He invited Parkin to his own place, and there the pair 6at closeted. Dan Tucker and Sam Cole were sent for.

Tucker came first. He was instantly dispatched to Simmons, with money iiom the Saw-Grinder's box. He was to arcertain how much Simmons had let out, and to adjure him to be true to the TruJe, and split on no man but himself. When he had been gone about twenty minutes, Sam Cole came in, and was instructed to get two other men in place ot Simmons, and be in readiness to do Little. f"

By-aftd-by' Tucker returned With news. Simmons had at present split only on himself but the women were evidently in love with Little said he was their only friend and he, Tucker, foresaw that, with their co-operation, Sim mons would be turned inside out by Little before he died.

Grotait struck his hand on the table. 'The Unions arc in danger, said he. 'There is but one way Little must be made so that he can't leave Cairnhope whiie Simmons is alive."

So important did the crisis appear to him, that he insisted on Parkin going with him at once to Cairnhope, to reconnoitre the ground.

Parkin had a gig and a fast horse so, in ten minutes more, they were on the road.

They reached Cairnhope, put up at the village inn, and soon extracted some particulars about the church. They went up to it, and examined it, and Grotait gave Parkin a leg up, to peer through the window. j:..

In this position they were nailed by old George. 'What be .you at?' »—•. •What is that to you?'said Grotait. 'It is plenty. You mustn't come trespassing here. Squire won't have it.' respaseing in a churchyard! Why it belongs to ail the world.' 'Nay, this one belongs to the Lord of the manor. •Well, we won't hurt your church. Who keeps the key?' 'Squire Raby.'

Old George from this moment followed them about every where, grumbliug at their heels, like a mastiff.

Grotait, however, treated him with cool contempt, and proceeded to make a sketch of the door, and a little map showing how the church could be approached from Hillsborough on foot without passing through Caiirthope village. This done, he went back with Parkin to the inn' and thence to Hillsborough

It was old Christmas Eve. Henry was working at his forge, little dreaming of danger, yet it was close at hand, and from two distinct quarters.

Four men, with crape masks, and provided with all manner of tools, and armed with bludgeons, were creeping about the churchyard, examining and listening. Their orders were to make Little so that he should not leave Cairnhope for a month. And that, in plain English, meant to beat him within an inch of his life, if not kill him. ,,e.ss

At the same time, a body of nine meft were stealing up the road, with designs scarcely less hostile to Little.

These assailants were as yet at a acor,smeruble distance bat more formidable in appearance than the others, being most

of ih* armed with swords, and led man with a double-bareiled gun. Grotait's men, having well surve the ground, now crept softly up to 'te porch, and examined the lock.

The key was inside, and they saw CR means of 'torcing the lock without making a noise, and putting their viciiru on 3B guard

After a long whispered consultation they resolved to unscrew the hinges. These hinges were of great lengA, and were nailed upm the door, screwed into the door-post with tear screws each.

Tw men, with excellent tools, ahB masters of the business, went softly tB work. One stood, and worked "on the upper screws the other kneeled, and unfastened the lower screws.

They made no more noise than a rtft gnawing vet, such was their caution and aeterm nation to surprise their victiis, that they timed all their work by Little's. Whenever the blows ot h! hammer intermitted, they left off and begSp. again when he did. Hi

When all th» screws were out but tifct, one above, one below, they beckoned the other two men, and these two drove large gimlets into the door, and so heI3 it that it might not fall forward when the last Rcrew should come out. "Are all screws out?" whispered Cole, who was the leader. "Ay," was the whispered reply.. "Then put in two more gimleis."

That was done Now, men," whispered Cole.

gassabiemight

'Well, gentlemen, have you seen Simmons?' 'No,' said Mr. Parkin. 'What, not been to see the poor fellow. who owes his death to you?' 'He is not dead yet.'" 'No, thank Heaven! He has got a good work to do first some hypocrits, assassins, and cowards to expose.'

Parkin turned pale. Grotait's eye glistened like a snake's: he made Parkin a rapid signal to say nothing, but only listen. 'He has begun by telling me whs it was that putgonpowder i»tp my forge, and how it was done I have forgiven hitn He was only the tool of much w«rse villians base, cowardly, sneaking villians Those I shall not forgive. Oh, 1 shall know all about it before long. Good mornii g.'

f'Lay

the door softly down outside then, op sticks—into church—and DO HIM!" CHAPTER XIII.

If Mr. Coventry, before he set all tttis mischief moving, could have seen the iwSIDE of Grace Carden's letter to Henry Little! 'DEAR MR. LITTLV,—I do not know whether I ought to write to you at all, or whether it is delicate of me to say what! am gring but you have saved my life, and I do so want to do all I can to atoae for the pain I have given you, who have been so good to me. I am afraid vOtt will never know happiness, if you waste your invaluable life longing after whatis impossible. There is an in-

barrier between you and pie

ut you by happy if you wouU, contiescend to take my advice, and Ut yourself see the beauty and the goodnew of another. The person who bears ttBi letter comes nearer to perfection than any other Woman I ever saw. If ytM would trust my judgement (and, believe me, I am not to be mistaken in one 6i my own sex), if you could turn your heart towards Iter, she ,would make yen very happy. I am sure 6he could fate you devotedly, if she only heard those words from your lips, which every w»man requires to hear before Hhe surrenders her affections. Pray do not be angry with ine pray do not think it cost me little to give t(3p strange but honest advice lo one I admire so. But feel it would bes we4k and selffh in tD cling to th.u which sooner or later, I must resign, and ID make so many persons unhappv, whffn all might be happy, except perhups myself. 'Once more, forgive me. Do not thirik me blind do not think me heartless hat say, thi* is a poor girl, who is sadly p*r^ plexed, anu is trying verjr hard tone gKB and wise, and not celfish. 'One line, to say you will consider my advice, and never hate nor despise your grateful and unhappy friend,

GRACE CARDKN.

When she had dispatched this lettet, she fe»t heroic. The next duv, she wished she had not written it, and awaited the reply with an xi

The" htkt day, she begin'Y?' wonder at Little's silence: and by-and-by she VM offended at it. Surely what she had written with so great an effort was wofth a reply.

Finally, she got it into her head that Little despised her. Upon this she *ras angry with him lor not seeing what *a sacrifice she had made, and for despisiQg her, instead ot admiring her a little, ana pitying her ever so much. The old story iu short—a girl vexed with a man for letting her tnrow dust' in his eyes.

And, it she was vexed with Little for not appreciating her sacrifice, she was quite as angry with Coventry and Jael for being the causes of that unappreciated sacrifice' So then she was irritable and cross. But she could not be that long: so she fell into a languid, listlesw state and then she let hereelf drift. She never sent Jael to the church again.

Mr. Coveutry watched all her moodt and when she reached the listless stage, he catne softly on again, and began to M* cover lost ground.

On the fifth of January occurred a rather curious coincidence. In Hillsborough Doctor Amboyne offered hie geevice* to Mrs. Little to reconcile he* and her brother. Sirs. Little feared the proposal me too late but showed an inclination to be reconciled for Henry's sake. But Henry said he would never be reconciled to a man who had insulted Itfa mother. He then reminded her *he hiu§ sent him clandestinely to Raby Halii to see her picture. 'And what did I sat'? Your picture was turned with its face to the wail, and insulting words written OS the back,—'Gone into trade.' I didn't mean to tell you, mother but you see I have. And, after that, you may be reconciled to the old scoundrel if you likC{ but don't ask me.' Mrts. Little was deeply wounded by this revelation. She tried to make light of it, but failed. She had! been a beauty, and the affrodt was too bitter. Said she, "You mustn't judge him like other people: he was always so very eccentric. Turn ray picture to the wall! My poor picture! Oh, Guy, Guy, could one mother bave borne you and me?'" Amboyne had aotfra word more to say he was indignant himself.

Now that very afternoon, as if by the influence of what they calla brain-wave, Grace Carden, who felt herself muck stronger with Mr. Raby than when she first came, was moved to ask him, with many apoiogies, and no little inward tremor, whether she might ser the otper side of that very picture before she w^nt'What for?' 'Don't be angry, uncle dear., £Mrig»»tv.' 'I do not like to refuse you any thing, Grace. But—Well, iiI lend you jthe key, will you satisfy your curiouity, and then replace the picture as it is?,'

'Yes, I will.' *«. 0 .% 'And you diall do it wherfl anvnot in the room. It would only open woufed# that time has skinned. I'll bring yoc down the lay at dinner-time^ Then^assutning a lighter tone, 'Your curiosity will be punished you will see your r'wsd

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