Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 5 February 1885 — Page 10

•r *4

IN LIJCK' AT LAST

BY WALTER BESANT.

CHAPTER

WITHIN THBSX

Emblem's is one of two ff three shops

which

stand together, but it differs from its neighbors in many important particulars. For it has no plate-glasa, as the others have xmt does it stand like them with open doors nor does it flare away gas at night nor is it ^... bright with gilding and fresh paint nor does it seek to attract notice by posters and bills. On the contrary, it retains the old, small and unpretending panes of glass which it has always had in the evening it is dimly lighted, and it closes early its door is always shut, and although the name over the shop is ri-fagy, one feels that a coat of paint, while it would certainly freshen up the place, would take something from its character. For a secoo 1-liand bookseller who respects himself must present an exterior which has something of faded splendor, of worn paint an&shabbiness. Within the shop books line the walls and cumber the floor. There are an outer and*an inner shop in the former a wma.ll table stands among the books, at which Mr. James, the assistant, is always at work cataloguing, when he is not tying up parcels sometimes even with gum and paste repairing the slighter ravages of time—foxed bindings and close-cut margins no

T1""1

can repair. In the latter, which

j* Mr. Emblem's sanctum, there are chairs and a table, also covered with books, a writing-desk, a small safe and a glass case, -wherein are secured the most costly books in stock. Emblem's, as must be confessed,' fo no longer quite what it was in former daye twenty, thirty or forty years ago vftfaat glass case was filled with precious

Umamiim In those days if a man wanted a Kiftaok of county history, or of genealogy, or heraldry he knew where was his best 4hanoA of "nding it, for Emblem's, in its prime and heyday, had its specialty. I feut Emblem is now old, and Emblem's dbap is no longer what it was to the collector oCthe last generation. 1ft was an afternoon inlate September, and dntfhis very year of grace, eighteen hundred i«Bd eighty-four. The day was as sunny and •nmarm as any of the days of its predecessor 'JuQgortus the Gorgeous, but yet there ,was an 'wtamnal feeling in the air which made itfait even is the streets where there were a» 'Ved and yellow Virginia creepers, no •maare gardens With long trails of mignon«tt»«nd banks of flowering nasturtiums. In faat) you cannot any where escape the autumnal feeling, which begins about the middle offieptember. It makes old people think with sadness that the grasshopper is a burdan in the land, and that the almond-tree is about to flourish but the young it fills with vinous and intoxicated rejoicing, as if the ttine of feasting, traits, harvests and young -wine, strong and fruity, was upon the world.

XHaade Mr. lemna bin surname has never been ascertained, bat man and boy, Mr. Junes has been al Emblem's for twenty-five years and more—leave his table where he waepreparing the forthcoming catalogue, and go to the open door, where he wasted a good minute and a half in gaging up at the clear sky and down the sonny street. Then he stretched his arms and returned to his work, impelled by the sense of duty rather than by the scourge of necessity, because there was no hurry about the catalogue and most of the books in'it were rubbish, and at that season of the year few customers could be expected, and there were no parcels to tie up and send out.

Behind the shop, where had been originally the "back parlor" in the days when •very genteel house in Chelsea had both its front and back parlor—the latter for sitting and living in, the former for the reception of company—sat this afternoon the proprietar, tb® man whose name had stood above the shop for fifty years, the original and only Emblem. He was—nay, he is—for you may still find him in his place, and may make his acquaintance over a county hiatal any day in the King's Road—he is an eld man now, advanced in the seventies, who was born before the battle of Waterloo was (ought, and can remember Chelsea w*h«n it wa8 full of veterans wounded in battles Sought long before the Corsican Attila was leftlbese upon the world. His face wears the peaceful and wise expression which belongs peculiarly to his profession. Other callings make a man look peaceful, but not all other callings make him look wise. Mr. Bnblem wa« born by nature of a oalm temperament—otherwise he would not have been happy in his business a smile lies generally upon his lips, and his ayes are soft and benign his hair is white, «nd his face, onoe ruddy, is pale, yet not shrank and seamed with furrows as happens to so many old men, bat round and firm like his chin and lips it is clean shaven he wears a black coat extraordinarily shiny in the sleeve, and a black silk stock just as he used to wear in the thirties when he was yonng and something oij a dandy, and weald show himself on a Saturday evening in the pit of Drury Lane and the stock is fastened behind with a silver buckle. He is, In fact, a delightful old gentleman to look at and pleasant to converse with, and on his brew everyone who can read may see, visibly stamped, the seal of a harmless and honest life. At the contemplation of such a man, one's opinion of humanity is sensibly raised, and even house-agents, plumbers and soburban builders, feel that, after all, virtue may bring with it some reward.

The quiet and warmth of the afternoon, unbroken to his accustomed ear, as it would ha to a stranger, by the murmurous roll of Lendon, made him sleepy. In his hand he held a letter whioh he had been reading for the hundredth time, and which he knew by heart every word and as his eyes closed he went back in imagination to a passage in tiie past which it recalled.

He stood, in imagination, upon the deck of a sailing ship—an emigrant ship. The jmr was eighteen hundred and sixty-four, a year -when vary few were tempted to try their fortunes in a country torn by civil war. With him were his daughter and his aen-in-law, and they ware come to bid the latter farewell. "My dear—my d»rP cried the wife, in W husband's anaa. *%obmwhatmay, I will

Wm

ERHAPS the most delight ful spot in all London for a second-h shop is that

occupied by Em-

Join ydu in a year." Her husband shook his head sadly vi "They do not want me here,"hesaid? "th« work goes into stronger and rougher hands. Perhaps over there we may get on better, and besides, it seems an opening."

If the kind of work which he wanted waj gives ebroiogaT wad rougher hands than nis in .England, far more would it be th6 caw in young and rough America. Ic was. journalistic work—writing work—that he granted and he was a gentleman,- a scholar, and a creature of retired and refined tastes and manners. There are, perhaps, some still living who have survived the tempestuoui life of the ordinary Fleet street "newspaper man" of twenty or thirty years ago perhaps one or two among these remember Claude Aglen—but he was so short a time with them that it is not likely those who do remember him will understand that the way to success, rough, and thorny for all, for such as Aglen was impossible. "But you will think every day of little Iris 1" said his wife. "Oh, my dear, if 1 were only going with you. And but for me you would be at home with your father, well and happy."

Then in his dream, which was also'a memory, the old man saw how the young husband kissed and comforted his wife. "My dear," said Claude, "if it were not for you, what happiness could I have in the world? Courage, my wife, courage and hope. I shall think of you and of Iris all day and all night until we meet again."

And so they parted and the ship sailed away. The old man opened his eyes and looked about him. It was a dream. "It was twenty years ago," he said, and Iris was a baby in arms. Twenty years ago, and he never saw his wife again. Never again! Because she died," he added after a pause "my Alice died."

He shed no tears, being so old that the time of tears was well-nigh past—at seventyfive the eyes are drier than at forty, and one is no longer surprised or disappointed, and seldom even angry, whatever happens.

But he opened the letter in his hand and read it again mechanically. It was written on thin foreign paper, and the creases of the folds had become gaping rents. It was dated September, 1866, just 18 years back. "When you read these lines," the letter said, "I shall be in the silent land, whither Alice, my wife, has gone before me. It would be a strange thing only to think upon this journoy which lies before me, and which I must take alone, had I time left forj thinking. But I have not I may last weiek, or I may die in a few hours. Therefore, to the point. "In one small thing we deceived ycxn Alice and I—my name is not Aglen at all 'We took that name for certain reasons. Perhaps we were wrong, but we thought that* as we were quite poor, and likely to remain poor, it would be well to keep our secret t© ourselves. Forgive us both this suppression of the truth. We were made poor by our own voluntary act and deed, and because I married the only woman I loved. "I was engaged to a girl whom I did/ not love. We had been brought up like brother and sister together, but I did not love, her, though I was engaged to her. In breaking this engagement I angered my father. In marrying Alice I angered him still more. "I now know that he has forgiven me? he forgave me on his death-bed he revoked his fermer will and made me his sole heir-«-just as if nothing had happened to destroy his old affection—subject to one condition— via., that the girl to whom I was first en~. gaged should receive the whole income until. I, or my heirs, should return to England in: order to claim the inheritance. "It is strange. I die in a wooden shanty,, in a little western town, the editor of a. miserable little country paper. I have not: money enough even to bury me, and yet, if I were at home, I might be oalled a rich man, as men go. My little Iris will he an heiress. At the very moment when 1 learn that I am my father's heir, I struck down by fever and now I know that I shall never get up again.

It is strange. Tet my fattier sent ma his forgiveness, and my wife 'is dead, and the wealth that has come is useless to me. Wherefore, nothing now matters much tc. me, and I know that you will hold my la»t wishes sacred.

I desire that Iris shall be eduoated ms well and thoroughly as you can afford ke«ip her free from rough and rude companions make her understand that her father was. a gentleman of ancient family: thfis knowledge will, perhaps, help to give her sulfrespect. If any misfortune shou' fall u|on you, such as the loss of health or wealth, give the papers enclosed to a "trustworthy solicitor, and bid him act as is best in the interests of Iris. If. as I hop-o, all will go well with you, do not open th & papers until my child's twenty-first birthd/ay do not let her know until then that she is going to be rich on her twenty-first bir'fhday, open the papers and bid her claim herf own. "To- the woman I wron?/ed—I know Sot whether she his married or not—bid Iris carry my last message -off sorrow at what has happened. I do not*r«gret, and I have never regretted, that I viarried Alice. But I gave her pain, for wjbich I have never ceased to grieve. I hav/e been punished for this breach of faith, "Ton will. find among the papers an account of all the circumstances connected wi/th this engagement. There is also in the/ packet my portrait, taken when I was a J.kd of 1# give her that as well thece is the# certificate of my marriage, my register of baptism, that of Iris's baptism, my signed ring "His arms"— the old man interrupted his reading—"hisarms were: quarterly: first and fourth, tworoses and a boej-'s head, erect second and. third, gules -aD/d fesse between—between— but I cannot remember what it was between He went on reading: "My father's last (letter to me Alice's letters, and one or two from yorirself. If Iris should, unhappily dite before lier twenty-first birthday, open t'aese papers, find out from them.* the owner's name and! address, seek her out,, and tell her that she will never now be disturbed by 'iny claimants to the estate."

The letter ended here abruptly, as if the writer had designed to and more, but was prevented by death.

For there was flat postscript, in another hand, which stated: "Mr. Aglen died November 25th, 1866. and is buried in the cemeterv of Johnson CI ty, 111."

The old man fo] ded the letter carefully and laid it on the. table. Then he rose and' walked across th« room to the safe, which stood with open di oor in the corner farthest from the fireplace Among its contents was a packet sealed md tied up in red tape

Twio HTVk KM i._ 1

on her twenty-fl rst birthday. From her father." "It will be her twenty-first birthday," he said, "in three 'weeks. Then I must give her the packet. So—so—with the portrait, of her father, an his marriage certificate." He fell ihto a fit of musing, with the papers in his hand. "S he will be safe, whatever happens to me md as for me, if I lose her— o(^course I shall lose her. Why. what will

One mUst not I) a selfish. Oh. what.a

BM THE, TERRE HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE. i4?Wj

surprise—what a surprise I have in store for 70*1", He placed the letter he had been reading within the tape which fastened the bundle, so that it should form apart of the communication to be made on Iris's birthday. "There," he said, "now I shall sead this latt«r HO more. I wonder how many times I have read it within the last eighteen years, and how often I have wondered what the child's fortune would be! In three weeks— iff three short weeks. Oh, Iris, if you only knewP

Ha put back the letters and the packet, locked the safe and resumed his seat. The red-eyed assistant, still gumming ail"

''7%ere," said Mr. Emblem, thaU read this letter no more." pasting his slips with punctilious regard to dutyr had been following his master's movements! with curiosity. "Counting his investments again as usual," Mr. .James murmured. "Ah, and adding 'em qp! Always at it. Oh, what a trade it must have been'oncel"

Jusifc then there appeared in the door a gentbnman. He was quite shabby, and even ragged in his dress, but he was dearly a gentleman. He was no longer young his should iers were bent, and he had the unmistal cable stamp and carriage of a student "Gav'nor's at home," said the assistant briefly.

The vsitor walked into the sanctum. He bad tender his- arm half-a-dozen volumes, which, without a word, he laid before Mr. Emblejm, and untied the string. "You ought to know this book," he said without further introduction.

Mr.' Emblem looked doubtfully at the visitor. "You sold it to me twenty-flve years ago," he went on, "for five pounds." "Idid. And I remember now. You are Mr. Frank Parrar, Why, it is twenty-five years agoP* "I have bought no more books for twenty years andmore," he replied. "Sad—8add Dear me—tut, tut!—bought no books? And you, Mr. Farrar, once my best customer. And now—you do not mean .to say that you.are going to sell—that you. actually wamt to sell—this precious book?" "I am selling, one by one, all my books,*' replied the other with a sigh. "I am going downhill, Emblem, .fast." "Oh, dea$, dear, dear!" replied the bookseller. "Tldis is very sad. One cannot: bear to think of the libraries being dispersed and sold off. And now yours, Mr. Farrar?'

Really, yoors? Must itibe?" 'Needs, must,'" Mr. Farrar said with a sickly sm ile, "needs must when the devil drives. lihave parted with half my books already. But 1 thought you might .like to have thisiset, because tbtey were once your own." "Sot Ifehould"—Mr. Emblem laid a loving hand upon the volumes"so I should, Mr. Farrar]!, but not from you/ not from you. sir. Why, you were almost nay best customer—I think almost my very bast—thirty years ago, when my trade was better than it is now. Yes, you gave me dlgro pounds—or was it fivto pounds tent—for this very work. And it is •worth twelve pounds ilow—I assure you it ia worth twelve pounds,^if it is worth a penaiy." "VJ &,i "Will you give me ten pounds for it, then?" cried the other eagerly "I want the money badly." "No„ 1 can't but I will send youto airftin who can and will. I'do not speculate now I never go to auctions. I am old, you see. Besides, I am poor. I will not buy your book, but I will send you "to a man who will give you ten pounds .for it, I am sure, and then he will sell it for fifteen." He wrote the address on a slip of paper. "Why, Mr. Farrar. if an old Iriend, so to speak, can put the. question, why in the worlfd "The most natural thing," replied Mr. Farrar'with a cold laugh "I anx old, as I told you, and the younger men {.pu all the work. That is all. Nobody waitfts a genealogist and antiquary." "Dear me, dear me! Why, Mr. ^Farrar, I remember now you used to know any poor son-iiv-law, who is dead eighteen ye. fcrs since. I was Just reading the l#st letter he ever wrote me, jmt before he died. You used to comm here am sit with him in |he vening. I remember now. So you did. "Thapk you for ypur good will," saId Mr. Farrar. "Yes, I remember your 6on-L tt-law. I krnew him before his marriage." "?Did you? Before his marriage? Thi »n—" He- was going to add, "Then you can tell met his real name," but he paused, bee tusa it Is a pity ever to acknowledge ignorai ice, and especially ignorance in such element! try matters as your son-in-law's name.

1

v.

So Mr. Emblem checked himself. -w "He ought to have been a rich man," Mtr. Farrar continued "but he quarrelled wi th his father, who-out him off with a shilling, 11 suppose."

Then the poor scholar, who could find |o market for his learned papers, tied up hIs books again and went away with hanging head. "Ugh!" Mr. James, who bad been listen-" ing, groaned as Mr. Farrar passed through, the door. "Ugh I Gall that away of doing business? Why, if it had been me, I'd havebought the book off of the old chap few a. ooui le o' pounds, I would. Aye, or a sov, so seedy he is, and wants money so bad. And I know who'd have given twelve pound. for it, in the trade, too. Call that carrying' on business? He may well add up his investments every day, if he can afford tochuck such chances. Ah, but he'll retire' soon." His fiery eyes brightened, and his-, face glowed with the joy of anticipation. "He must retire before long."

There came another visitor. This time it' was a lanky boy, with a blpe bag over hisshoulder and a notebook and pencil-stump* in his hand. He nodded to the assistant a* to an old friend with whom one may be ate ease, set down his bag, opened his notebook, .and nibbled his stump. Than he readalaud, with a comma or semicolon between each, a* dozen or twenty titles. They were thenames of the books which his employer wished to pick up. The red-eyed assistant, listened, and shook his head. Then the boy, without another word, shouldered his bag!

*vwv -v*. —j nibuvui auuuutu niMU) luuuiuertu IU9 UflgA)

it matter? Hav I not loat all, except Iiisf and departed on his way to tha next seoondbook sheft

11

He was followed, at a decent interval, by I another caller. This time it was an old gen-1 tleman who opened the door, put in his head, and looked about him with quick and suspicious glance. At sight of the assistant he nodded and smiled in the most friendly way possible, .and came in. "Good ihorning, Mr. James good morning, my friend. Spleudid weather. Pray dou't disturb yourself. 1 am jusc having a look round—only a look round, you know. Don't move, Mr. James."

He addressed Mr. James, but he was looking at the shelves as he spoke, and, with the habit of a ^book-hunter, taking down the volumes, looking at the title-pages and replacing them under his arm he carried a single volume in old leather binding.

Mr. James nodded his head, but did disturb himself in fact, he rase with a scowl upon his face, and followed this polite eld gentleman all round the shop, placing him* self oloae to his elbow. One might almost suppose that he suspected him. so close and assiduous was his assistance. Bur the visitor, accepting these attentions as if they were customary, and the result or high breeding, went slowly round the shelves, taking down book afic*' book, but buying none. Presently be smiled again, and said that he must be moving on, and very jtolitely thanked Mr. James for his kindness. "Nowhere," he was so good ns to say, "does one get so much personal kindness and attention as at Emblem's. Good morning, Mr. James good morning, my friend."

Mr. James grunted, and closed the door after him.: "Ugh!" heiaid with disgtist, "I know ydu I know your likes. Want to make your set complete—eh? Want to sneak one of our books to do it with, don't you? Ah!" He looked into the back shop before he returned to his paste and his slips. "That was Mr. Potts, the great Queen Anne oollector, sir. Most notorious book-snatcher in all London, and the most barefaced. Wanted our fourth volume of the Athenian Oracle. I saw his eyes reached out this way, and that way, and always resting on that volume. I saw him edging along to the Bhelf. Got another odd volume just like it in his wicked old hand, ready to change when I wasn't looking." "Ah," said Mr. Emblem, waking up from his dream of Iris and her father's letter "Ah, they will try it on. Keep your eyes open, James. ,eci "No thanks, usual," grumbled Mr. James as he returned to his gum and his scissors. "Might as well have left him to snatch the book."

Here, however, James was wrong, because it is the first duty of an assistant to hinder and obstruct the book-snatcher, who carries on his work by methods of crafty and fraudulent exchange rather than by plain theft, which is a mere brutal way. For, first, the book-snatcher marks his prey he finds the shop which has a set containing the volume which is missing in his own set next, he arms himself with a volume which closely resembles the one he covets, and then, on pretence of turning ov9t the leaves, he watches his opportunity to effect an exchange, aud goes away rejoicing, his set complete. No collector, as is very well known, whether of books, coins, pictures, medals, fans, scarabs, book-plates, autographs, stamps, or anything else, has any conscience at all. Anybody can cut out sllpa and make a catalogue, but it requires a sharp assistant, with eyes all over his head like a spider, to be always on guard against this felonious and unscrupulous collector.

Next there came two school boys together who asked for and bought a crib to Virgil, and then a girl who wanted some cheap French reading book. Just as the clock b»gan to strike five Mr. Emblem lifted his Bead and looked up. The shop door opened, and there stepped in, rubbing his shoos on the mait as if he belonged to the house, an elderly gentleman of somewhat singular appearance. He wore a fes cap, but was othewise dressed as an Englishman—in black frock coat, that is, buttoned up—axoept that his feet were encased in black cloth shoes, so that he went noiselessly. His hair was short and white, and he wore a small white beard his skin was a rather dark brown he was, in faot, a Hindoo, and his name was Lala Roy.

He nodded gravely to Mr. James and wuike.. into the back shop. "It goes well," he asked, "with the buying and the selling?" "Surely, Lala, surely." "A quiet way of buying and selling away fit .for one who meditates," said the Hindoo, looking round. "Tell me, my friend, what ails the child? Is she sickf' "The child is well, Lala." "Her mind wandered this morning. She failed to perceive a simple method which I tried to teach her. I feared she might be ill." "She is not ill, my friend, but I think her mind is troubled." "She is a woman. We are mettT 'There is nothing in the world that is able to troubio the mind of the philosopher." .v«'-- :i "Nothing," said Mr. Emblem manfully, as if he, too, was a Disciple. "Nothing, is there now?'

The stoutness of the assertion was sensibly impaired by the question. "Not poverty, which is a shadow nor pain, which passes nor the loss of woman's love, which is a gain nor fall from greatness—nothing. Nevertheless," his eyos did look anxious in spite of his philosophy, "this trouble of the child—will it be soon be over?" "I hope this evening," said Mr. Emblem. "Indeed I am sure that it will be finised this evening." "If the child had a mother, or a brother, or any protectors but ourselves, my friend, we might leave her to them. But she has nobody but you and me. I am glad that *he is not ilk"

He left Mr. Emblem, and passing through th^door of pommunieation between house andfehop, want noiselessly up the stairs.

One more visitor—unusual for so many to r.^11 on a September afternoon. This time it was a.yotjngish man of thirty or so, whd stepped into the shop'with an air of business and, taking no notice at all of the assistant, walked swiftly into the back shop, and shut the door behind him. "I thought so," murmured Mr. James. "After he's been counting up his investments, his lawyer calls. More investments.''

Mr. David Chalker was a solicitor and, according to his friends, who were proud of him, a sharp practitioner. He was, fact, one of those members of the profession who, starting with no connection, have to make business for themselves. This, in London, they do by encouraging the county court, setting neighbors by the ears, lending money In °"»ll sums, fomenting quarrels, charging commissions, and generally making themaslves a blessing and a boon to the district where they reside. But chiefly Mr. Chalker occupied himself with lending money. "Now, Mr. Emblem," he said, not in a menacing tone, but as one who warns "now, Mr. Embl&tt." "Now,

Mr. Chalker," the bookseller re­

peated mildly. ..."What %re you going to do for mef

*1 got your usual nonce,- me ora

Ron,

OOOK-

aeller began, hesitating, "six months ago." "Of course you did. Three fifty is the amount. Three flCty, exactly." "Just so. But I am afraid I am not prepared to pay off the bill of sale. The interest, as usual, will be ready." "Of course. But this time the principal must bo ready, too." "Can't you get another client to find the money?" "No, I can't. Money is tight, and your security, Mr. Emblem, isn't so good as it was." "The furniture is there, and so is the stock." "Furniture wears out as for the stock— who knows what that is worth? All your books together may not be worth fifty pounds, for what I know." "Then what am I to do?" "Find the money yourself. Come, Mr. Emblem, everybody know?—your grandson himself told me—all the world knows—you've been for years saving up for your granddaughter. You told Joe only six months ago—you can't deny-it—that whatever happened to you she would be well off."

Mr. Emblem ilH t-deny the charge. Bui he ought not to have told this to his grand-

of all people in the world. "As for Joe," Mr. Chalker went on, "you are? goinj? to do nothing for hint'. I know that. But is it business-like, Mr. Emblem, to waste good money which you might have invested for your granddaughter?" "You do not understand, Mr. Chalker. You really do not, and I cannot explain. But about this bill of sale—never mind my granddaughter." "You, the aforesaid Richard Emblem"— Mr. Chalker began to recite, without commas—"have assigned to mo David Chaikor aforesaid his executors administrators and assigns all and singular the several chattels and tilings specifically described in the schedule horeto annexed by way of security for the payment of the sum of three hundred and fifty pounds and interest thereon at the rate of eight per cent, per annum." "Thank you, Mr. Chalker. I know all that"

You can't complain, I'm sure. It is five years since you borrowed the money." It was fifty pounds and a box of old law books out of your office,, and I signed a bill fora hundred." "You forget the circumsifcances."

No, I do not. My grandson waf a rogue. One does not readily forcet that circumstance. He was also your friend, I remember."

And I held my tongue." /,

1

I have had no more money from you, and the sum has become three hundred and fifty." "Of course you don't understand law, Mr, Emblem. How should you? But we lawyers don't work for nothing. However, it isn't what you got, but what I am to get.

%Come,

my good sir, it's cutting off your nose to spito your face. Settle and have done with it, even if it does take a little slice off your granddaughter's fortune. Now look here"—his voice became persuasive—"why not take ma into your confidence? Make a friend of me. You want advice let ms advise you. I can get you good investments— far better than you know anything of—good and safo investments—at six cdrtain, and sometimes seven and even eight per cent. Make me your man of business—come now. As for this trumpery Bill of Bale—this trifle of three fifty, what is it to you? Nothing— nothing. And as for your intention to enrich your grand laughter, and cut off your grandson with a shilling, why I honor you for it—there, though he was my friend. For Joe deserves it thoroughly. I've told him so, mind. You ask him. I've told him so a doz-n times. I've said: Tha old man's right, Joe.' Ask him if I haven't."

This was very expansive^ but somehow Mr. Emblem did not respond. Pres ntiy, however, he lifted his head. "J havn three weeka still." "And if I do not And the money within three wecksf "Why—but of courae you will.—but if you do noi—I suppose there will be only one thing left to do—realise the security, sell up —sticks and books and all." "Thank you, Mr. Chalker, I will look round me, and—and do my best. Goodday, Mr. Caalker." •'The best you can do, Mr. Emblem," returned the solicitor, "is to tnko me as your adviser. You trust David Chalker."

"Take me as your adviser. You trust David Chalker." "Thank you. Good-day, Mr. Chalker.".,

On his way out Mr. Chalker stopped for a momant and looked round the shop. "How's business?" ho asked of the,,assistant. "Dull, sir," replied Mr. James. "He throws ifc all away and neglects his chances. Naturally, being so rich "So rich, indeed," the solicitor echoed. "It will be bad for his successor," Mr. James went on, thinking how much he should himself like to be that successor. "The good will won't be worth half what it ought to be, and the stock is just falling to pieces."

Mr. Chalker looked about him again thoughtfully, and opened his mouth as if about to ask a question, but said nothing. He remembered, in time, that the shopman was not "likely to know the amount of his master's capital or investments. "There isn't a book even in the glass case that's worth a five-pound note," continued Mr. James, whispering, "and he don't look about for purchases any more, Seems to have lost his pluck."

Mr. Chalker returned to the back shop. "Within three weeks, Mr. Emblem," he repeated and then departed.

Mr. Emblem sat in his chair. He had to find three hundred and fifty pounds in three weeks. No one knew better than himself that this was impossible. Within three weeks! But, in three weeks he would open the packet of letters and give Iris her inheritance. At least, she would not suffer. As for himself— He looked round the lima back shop and tried to recall the.fifty

years lie had spent tnere, ibeiioaks he had bought and sold, the moaay which had alipped through his fingers, the friends *fbo had come and gone. Why, as for the books, he seemed to remember them every one—his joy in the purchase, his pride in possession, and his grief at letting them go- AH the friends gone before blm, his trade sunk to nothing.

5

•'Yet," ho murmured, "I thought It would last my' time." But the ciock struck six. It was his tea' time. He rose mechanically, and went up stairs to Iris. [thisdelight!ul story will be found continued in the Saturday and weekly is&ueg ot the GAZETTE. Bay the Saturday racer, issued in two editions, one at 2 o'clock and the other at 4 o'clock p. of the newsboys on the streets, or get it by subscribing for the daily. Th© daily GAZETTE tarnished at 15c per week delivered. The WEEKLY GAZETTE, a large ten page illustrated sheet, is sold at $1 50 per year. Office 26 south Fifth street.J

DYNAMITE IN NEW YORK.

The Metropolis Excited Over the Criml* nai Use of a Powerful Explosive.

NEW YO IK, Feb. 2.—At 2 o'clock Sunday morning utt attempt was made to Lrow up Garry Brothers' dry goods store, at the corfiw Grand and Allen streets, either wi dynamite or giant powder. Tht plate glass of a larg show window (vas 8haca. i.ii tind much woodwork was blown iuto iho tireet. The concussion iiiso scattered many windows ot Ridlty's store on the Allen street tide. It is aupposed that it.e explosive was placed un-iJt-r a pio'.rudiug t-how window. A platoon of police from the Eldridge 6irrut Station arrived upon the scene and were posted in the neighborhood, but failed to discover «uy traces ot the perpetratore. A strike has been in progress lor some time among some of Gary Brothtrs' salesmen. The report was heard over the entire east side of the city, many persona believing that an earthquake had taken plac^, and ran irom their residences, panic stricken. The damage causcd by the exp'osion as far as colli*) be ascertained is as foilows: Four windows in Garry Brothers' establish--mtntentirely destroyed 110 panes of glats iu Ridley's dry goods store on the opposite side of the street shattered a large number ul wit dows in the Grand Street Prebtnterian church and on the elevated rail way station were destroyed. The total loss is istiaialed at $8,000. Tne police arrested the ftllo* iug persons on suspicion: Joseph Lamb, printer, residing iu Williamsburg William BrittOD, watter Charles Henry, laborer, and James Daly, a clerk. The prisoners were arraigned iu the Essex Market Police Court this morning remanded for further iuvefetigation. All the prisoners were arresicd in the vicinity ot the place were the explosion occurred. Prisoner Lamb was found lying in the street badly cut about the face and hands by flying fragmeets.

The explosion is supposed to have been the woik of a secret body of workmen who organized some time after the striKe which took place among the employes (iarry Bros-, some two months Hgo. The matter has beet, placed in the bauds of Inspector Murray and Cap'.ain Allaire, ot the Tenth Precinct, who will make a thorough investigation.

The greatest activity is being displayed by the police in connection with the explosion, and a thorough investigation will I made into the affair. Portions ot a tin can and a piece ot s'ring, whieh is supposed to have be* used as a fuse were lound this evening in the street uear the Garrys' store. .Large crowds visited the scene of tne outrage during the afternoon and evening, and an extra tcn« of police was detailed to keep the masses from blocking up the street. Late this evening a secret conference was eld at tbe police headquarters between Supt. Walling, Inspectors -Murray and Byrnes and Captain Allaire, in whose precint the explosion occurred, and other officials, in connection with tbe outrage. It. was decided to leave tbe matter in the hauds ol Inspector Murry and Captain Allaire, who can call upon the the central office for detectives to work the case it necessary. The police will not allow anyone, including the press, to interview any ot the prisoners. At the close of the conference tptain Allaire said he felt sure he had got the men that caused the explosion, and did not expect to make any more ar» reals to-day. Garry Brothers said tonight that they were not much surprised at what had taken place, as they had recently rtceived|a number of threatening letters, and it was only a tew weeks ago that they called at police headquarters to ask for protections as they feared some outrage would be perpetrated against them.

A TRAGEDY AT VINCENNES.

A Man Robbed and Left For Dead In the Snow. CINCINNATI, Feb. 2.—Yesterday morning at Viticennes, Ind., Adolf Graffen--stein shot Henry Bass man three times, vv and supposing that he was dead robbed him and covered his l*dy with snow. Bussman recovered and sought shelter in a house, where he said he and Graffenstein were on their way from Cincinnati to San 'Francisco that Graffenstein wanted to stop at Yincenues to get $150 owed him by an uncle that after getting out to the suburbs Graffenstein pretended

there Was no one a' home and presenting a revolver shot Bussman as staled. Bussman was an industrious cabinet maker here, and had recently been induced by Graffemtein, against the advice of fiierd8. to go to California. It is Mid Graffentteic had no moDey "when he st«ned He had not brea heard lrom at St. Louis. There is a rumor that he returned here, but the police haxe not ye been able to tiud him. .^

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CINCINNATI, Feb. 3.—The Judges'of the District (Jourt announced the decision in the Campbell disbarment case this morning. The judgment ie that Campbell be suspended ten days ands pay tne costs of the cas-e.

MIDDLESEX, VT., Feb. 3.—The thermometer is 40 below zero here and in several adjacent towns this morning. At Mariihtield it is 42 oelew and at Marl*^ town 46 below. ... )C,_^