Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 14 October 1886 — Page 12

TOE STORT OF A IE

By BRET HASTE.

Copyrighted, 1880, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., snd published by arrangement with them.]

PAKT II.

IN THE COURTS.

CHAPTER VI.

BOW A GRANT WAS GOT FOR IT. HILE the Blue Mass company, with more zeal than discretion were actively pursuing

Pedro and Wiles over the road to Tres Pinos, Senors Miguel and Manuel were comfortably seated in a fonda at Monterey, smoking

CARMEN. cigarritos and dis­

cussing their late discovery. But they were in no better mood than their late companions, and it appeared from their conversation that in an evil moment they had cold out their interest in tho alleged silver mine to Wiles and Pedro for a few hundred dollars—succumbing to what they were assured would be an active opposition on the part of the Americanos. Tho astute reader will easily understand that the accomplished Mr Wiles did not inform them of its value as a quicksilver mine, although he was obliged to impart his secret to Pedro as a necessary accomplice and reckless coadjutor. That Pedro felt no qualms of conscience in thus betraying his two comrades may be inferred from his recent direct and sincere treatment of Concho, and that he would, if occasion offered or policy made it expedient, OB calmly obliterate Mr. Wiles—that gentleman himself never for a moment doubted. "If we had waited but a little he would have given more—this cock-eye!" regretted lianuel^querulously. "Not a peso," said Miguel, firmly. "And why, my Miguel? Thou knowest we could have worked the mine ourselves." "Good, and lost even that labor. Look you, little brother. Show to me now the Mexican that has ever made a real of a mine in California. How many, eh? None! Not one. Who owns the Hexcan's mine, eh? Americanos 1 Who takes money from the Mexican's mine? Americanos! Thou rememberest Briones, who spent a gold mine to make a silver one? Who has the lands and bouse of Briones? Americanos! Who has Hie cattle of Briones? Americanos! Who Las the mine of Briones? Americanos I Who *Mg the silver Briones never found? Americanos! Always the same! Forever! Ah! carramba!"

Then the fjvil One evidently took it into his head and horns to worry and toss these men—comparatively innocent as they were— still further, for a purpose. For presently to them appeared one Victor Garcia, whilom a clerk of the Ayuntemiento, who rallied them over aguardiente, and told them the story of the quicksilver discovery, and the two mining rlaims taken out that night by Concho and Wiles. Whereat Manuel exploded with profanity and burned blue with sulphurous malediction but Miguel, the recent ecclesiastic, sat livid and thoughtful. Finally came a pause in Manuel's bombardment, and something like this conversation took place between the cooler actors:

Miguel (thoughtfully)—When was it thou didst, petition for lands in the valley, friend Victor?

Victor (amazedly)—Never! It is a sterile waste. Am I a fool? Miguel (softly!—Thou didst. Of thy governor, Micheltorena. I have seen the application.

Victor (beginning to appreciate a rodential odor)—Si! I had forgotten. Art thou sure it was in the valley?

Miguel (persuasively)—In the valley and up the falda.* Victor (with decision)—Certainly. Of a verity—the falda likewise.

Miguel (eyeing Victor)—-And yet thou hadst not the grant. Painful is it that it should have been burned with the destruction of the other archives by the Americanos at Monterey. -Vi

Victor (cautiously feeling his way)—Postfblemente. Miguel—It might be wise to look into it.

Victor (bluntly)—As why? Miguel—For our good and thine, friend Victor. We bring thee a discovery thou laingest us thy skill, thy experience, thy government knowledge—thy custom house paper.

Manuel (breaking in drunkenly)—But for what? We are Mexicans. Are we not fated! We shall lose. Who shall keep the Americanos off?

Miguel—We shall take one American in! Ha! seest thou? This American comrade rfiAll bribe his court, his corregidores. After a little he shall supply the men who invent

Falda. or valda, i. e., that part of the skirt of woman's robe that breaks upon the ground, and also applied to the final slope of a hill, from the angle that it makes upon the level plain.

Grants, applications and official notifications, tmder the Spanish government, were drawn on a ftamped paper known as Custom House paper. the machine of steam, the mill, the furnace, eh?

Victor—But who is he—not to steal? Miguel—He is that man of Ireland, a good Catholic, at Tres Pinos.

Victor and Manuel (omnes)—Roscommon? Miguel—Of the same. ,We shall give liim a share for the provisions, for the tools, for the aguardiente. It is of the Irish that the Americanos have great fear. It is of them that the votes are made—that the president is chosen. It is of him that they make the alcalde in San Francisco. And we are of the church, like him

They said "Bueno" all together, and for the moment appeared to be upheld by a religious enthusiasm—a joint confession of faith that meant death, destruction and possibly forgery, as against the men who thought otherwise.

This spiritual harmony did away with all practical consideration and doubt. "I have a little niece," said Victor, "whose work with the

pen Is marvellous. If one says to her, 'Car-* men, copy me this or the other one'—even if it bo copper plate—look you it is done, and you cannot know of which is tbe original. Madre de Dios! tho other day she maizes me a rubric* of tho governor, Pio Pico, tho same, identical. Thou knowest her MigucL She asked concerning thee yesterday."

With tho embarrassment of an underbred man, Miguel tried to appear unconcerned, but failed dismally. Indeed, I fear that the black eyes of Carmen had already done their perfect and accepted work, and had partly induced the application for Victor's aid. He, however, dissembled so far as to ask: "But will she not know*" "She is a child." "But will she not talk?" "Not if I say nay, and if thou—eh, Miguel!"

Thifl bit of flattery (which, by the way, was a lie, for Victor's niece did not incline favorably to Miguel) had its effect. They shook hands over the table. "But," said Miguel, "what is to be done must be done now." "At the moment," said Victor, "and thou shall see it dona Eh? Does it content thee? Then come!"

Miguel nodded to Manuel. "We will return in an hour wait thou here." They filed out into the dark, irregular street. Fate led them to pass the office of Dr. Guild at the moment that Concho mounted his horse. The shadows concealed them from their rival, but they overheard the last injunctions of the president to the unlucky Concho. "Thou hearestf' said Miguel, clutching his companion's arm. "Yes," said Victor. "But let him ride, my friend in one hour we shall have that that shall arrive years before him," and with a complacent chuckle they passed unseen and unheard until, abruptly turning a corner, they stopped before a low adobe house.

It had once been a somewhat pretentious dwelling, but had evidently followed the fortunes of its late owner, Don Juan Briones, who had offered it as a la^t sop to the threeheaded Cerberus that guarded the El Refugio Plutonean treasures, and who had swallowed it in a single gulp. It was in very bad case. The furrows of its red-tiled roof looked as if they were the results of age and decrepitude. Its best room had a musty smell 'there was the dampness of deliquescence in its slow decay, but the Spanish Californians were sensible architects, and its massive walls and partitions defied the earthquake thrill, and all the year round kept an even temperature within.

Victor led Miguel through a low date room into a plainly furnished chamber, where Carmen sat painting.

Now Mistress Carmen was a bit of a painter, in a pretty little way, with all the vague longings of an artist, but without, I fear, the artist's steadfast souL She recognized beauty and form as a child might, without understanding their meaning, and somehow failed to make them even interpret her woman's moods, which surely were nature's, too. So she painted everything with this innocent lust of the eye—flowers, birds, insects, landscapes and figures—with a joyous fidelity, but no particular poetry. The birds never sang to her but one song, the flowers or trees spake but one language, and her skies never brightened except in color. She came out strong on the Catholic saints, and would toss you up a cleanly-shaven Aloysius, sweetly destitute of expression, or a dropsical, lethargic Madonna that you couldn't have told from an old master, so bad it was. Her faculty of faithful reproduction rraa showed itself in fanciful lettering, and latterly in the imitation of fabrics and signatures. Indeed, with her eye for beauty of form, she had always excelled in penmanship at tho convent, an accomplishment which the good sisters held in great repute.

In person she was petite, with a still unformed girlish figure, perhaps a little too flat across the back, and with possibly a too great tendency to a boyish stride in walking. Her brow, covered by blue-black hair, was low and frank and honest her eyes, a very dark hazel, were not particularly large, but rather heavily freighted in their melancholy lids with sleepless passion her nose was of that unimportant character which no man remembers her mouth was small and straight her teeth white and regular. The whole expression of her face was piquancy that might be subdued by tenderness or made malevolent by anger. At present it was a salad in which the oil and vinegar were deftly combined. The astute feminine reader will of course understand that this is the ordinary superficial masculine criticism, and at once make up her mind both as to the character of the young lady and the competency of the critic. I only know that I rather liked her. And her functions are somewhat important in this veracious history.

She look--' p, started to her feet, leveled her black brows at the intruder, but, at a sign from her uncle, showed her white teeth and spake.

It was only a sentence, and rather a commonplace one at that "but if she could have put her voice upon her canvas, she might have retrieved the Garcia fortunes. For it was so musical, so tender, so sympathizing, so melodious, so replete with the graciousness of womanhood, that she seemed to have invented the language. And yet that sentence was only an exaggerated form of 'How d'ye do,' whined out, doled out, lisped out, or shot out from tho pretty mouths of my fair countrywomen.

Miguel admired the paintings. He was struck particularly with a crayon drawing of a mule. "Mother of God, it is the mule itself! observe how it will not go." Then tb crafty

•The Spanish "rubric" is the complicated flourish attached to a signature, and is as individual lad characteristic as the handwriting. Victor broke in with, "But it is nothing to her writing look, you shall tell to me which is the handwriting of Pio Pico and, from a drawer in the secretary, ho drew forth two signatures. One was affixed to a yellowish paper, the other draw a on plain white foolscap. Cff course Miguel took the more modern one with lover-like gallantry. "It is this is genuine!" Victor laughed triumphantly Carmen echoed tbe laugh melodiously in childlike glee, and added, with a slight toss of her piquant head, "It is mine!" The best of the sex will not refuse a just and overdue compliment from even the man they dislike. It's the principle they're after, not the sentiment.

But Victor was not satisfied with this proof

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of his niece's skill. "Say to her," he demanded of Miguel, "what name thou likest, and it shall be done before thee here." Miguel was not so much in love but he perceived the drift of Victor's suggestion, and remarked that the rubric of Governor Micheltorena was exceedingly complicated and difficult "She shall do it!" responded Victor, with decision.

From a file of old departmental papers the governor's signature and that involved rubric, which must have cost his late excellency many youthiul days of anxiety, was produced and laid before Carmen.

Carmen took her pen in her hand, looked at the brownish-looking document, and then at the virgin whiteness of the foolscap before her. "But," she said, pouting prettily, "I should have to first paint this white paper brown. And it will absorb the ink more, quickly than that When I painted the San Antonio of the Mission San Gabriel for Father Acolti, I had to put the decay in with my oils and brushes before the good padre would accept it"

Tho two scamps looked at each other. It was their supreme moment "I think I have," said Victor, with assumed carelessness, "I think I have some of the old custom house paper." He produced from the secretary a sheet of brown paper with-a stamp. "Try it on that.'?

Carmen smiled with childish delight, tried it, and produced a marvel! "It is as magic,1* said Miguel, feigning to cross himself.

"It is ds magic," said MigueL Victor's role was more serious. He affected to be deeply touched, took the paper, folded it and placed it in his breast "I shall make a good fool of Don Jose Castro," he said "he will declare it is the governor's own signature, for he was his friend but have a care, Carmen! that you spoil it not by the opening of your red lips. When he is fooled I will tell him of this marvel—this niece of mine, and he shall buy her pictures. Eh, little one?" and he gave her the avuncular caress, e., a pat of the hand,on either cheek and a kiss. Miguel envied him, but cupidity outgeneraled Cupid, and presently the conversation flagged, until a convenient recollection of Victor's—that himself and comrade were due at the Posada del Toros at 10 o'clockgave them the opportunity to retire.

But not without a chance shot from Carmen. "Tell to me," she said, half to Victor and half to Miguel, "what has chanced with Concho? He was ever ready to bring to me flowers from the mountain and insects and birds. Thou knowest how he would sit, oh, my uncle, and talk to me of the rare rocks he had seen, and the bears and the evil spirits, and now he comes no longer, my Concho! How is this? Nothing evil has befallen him, surely?" and her drooping lids closed half pathetically.

Miguel's jealousy took fire. "Ho is drunk, senorita, doubtless, and has forgotten not only thee but, mayhap, his mule and pack! It is Ids custom, ha! ha!"

The red died out of Carmen's ripe lips, and she shut them together with a snap like a steel purse. The dove had suddenly changed to a hawk the child-girl into an antique virago the spirit hitherto dimly outlined in her face, of some shrewish Garcia ancestress, came to the fore. She darted a quick look at her uncle, and then, with her little hands on her rigid lips, strode with two steps up to Miguel. "Possibly, O Senor Miguel Dominguez Perez (a profound courtesy here) it is as thou sayest. Drunkard Concho may be but drunk or sober he never turned bis back on his friend—or—(the words grated a little here)—his enemy."

Miguel would have replied, but Victor was ready. "Fool," he said, pinching his arm, "'tis an old friend. And—and—the application is still to be filled up. Are you crazy?"

But on this point Miguel was not,* and with the revenge of a rival added to his other instincts, he permitted Victor to lead him away.

On their return to the fonda, they found Master Manuel too far gone with aguardiente and a general animosity to the average Americano to be of any service. So they worked alone, with pen, ink and paper, in the stuffy, cigarrito-clouded back room of the fonda. It was midnight, two hours after Concho had started, that Miguel clapped spurs to his horse for the village of Tres Pinos, with an application to Governor Micheltorena for a grant to the "Ranchoof the Red Rocks" comfortably bestowed in his pocket.

CHAPTER VII. WHO PLBAD FOR IT. HERE can be little doubt the coroner's jury of Fresno would have returned a verdict of "death from alcoholism," as the result of their inquest into the cause of

Concho's death, had not Dr. Guild fought nobly in support of the law

and his own convictions. A majority of the jury objected to there being any inquest at alL A sincere juryman thought it hard that whenever a Greaser pegged out in a sneakin' kind 'o way, American citizens should be token from their business to find out what ailed him. "S'pose he was killed," said another, "thar ain't no time this thirty year he weren't, so to speak, just sufferin' for it, ez his nat'ral right ez a Mexican." The jury at last compromised by bringing in a verdict of homicide against certain parties unknown. Yet it was understood tacitly that these unknown parties were severally Wiles and Pedro: Manuel. Miaruel and Roscommon prov­

I'

,/^J!

ing an unmistakable alibi. Wiles and Pedro had fled to Lower California, and Manuel, Miguel and Roscommon deemed it advisable, in tbe then excited state of the public mind, to withhold the forged application and claim from the courts and the public comment So that for a year after the murder of Concho and the flight of his assassins "The iBlue Mass Mining Company" remained in undisturbed and actual possession of tho mine, and reigned in their st£T?

1

Vj

But the spirit of the murdered Concho irould not down anymore than that of the murdered Banquo, and so wrought, no doubt, in a quiet, Concho-like way, sore trouble with the "Blue Mass Company." For a great capitalist and master of avarice came down to the mine and found it fair, and taking one of the company aside, offered to lend his name and a certain amount of coin for a controlling interest, accompanying the generous offer with a suggestion that if ft were not acceded to he would be compelled to buy up various Mexican mines and flood the market with quicksilver to tho great detriment of the "Blue Mass Company," which thoughtful suggestion, offered by a man frequently alluded to as one of "California's great mining princes," and as one who had "done much to develop the resources of tho state," was not to be lightly considered and so, after a cautious non-consultation with the company, and a commendable secrecy, the stockholder sold out Whereat it was speedily spread abroad that the Great Capitalist had taken hold of "Blue Mass," and the stock went up, and the other stockholders rejoiced—until the Great Capitalist found it was necessary to put up expensive mills, to employ a high salaried superintendent^-in fact, to develop the mine by spending of its earnings, so that the stock quoted at 113 was finally saddled with an assessment of $50 per share. Another assessment of (30 to enable the superintendent to proceed to Russia and Spain and examine into tho workings of the quicksilver mines there, and also a general commission to the gifted and scientific Pillageman to examine into the various component parts of quicksilver, and report if it could not be manufactured from ordinary sandstone by steam or electricity, speedily brought the other stockholders to their senses. It was at this time the good fellow "Tom," the serious-minded "Dick" and the speculative but fortunate "Harry," brokers of the Great Capitalist, found ittxmvenient to buy up, for the Great Capitalist aforesaid, the various other shares at great sacrifice.

I fear that I have bored my readers in thus giving the tiresome details of that ingenuous American pastime which my countrymen dismiss in their epigrammatic way as the "freez-ing-out process." And lest any reader should question the ethics of the proceeding, I beg him to remember that one gentleman accomplished in this art was always a sincere and direct opponent of the late Mr. John Oakhurst, gambler.

But for once the Great Master o2 Avarice had not taken into sufficient account the avarice of others, and was suddenly and virtuously shocked to learn that an application for a patent for certain lands, known as the "RedRock Rancho," was about to be offered before the United States land commission. This claim covered his mining property. But the information came quietly and secretly, as all of the Great Master's inf oi*mation was obtained, and he took the opportunity to sell out his clouded title and his proprietorship to the only remaining member of the original "Blue Mass company," a young fellow of pith, before many-tongued rumor had voiced the news far and wide. The blow was a heavy one to tho party left in possession. Saddled by the enormous debts and expenses of the Great Capitalist, with a credit further injured by the defection of this lucky magnate, who was admired for his skill in anticipating a loss, and whose relinquishment of any project meant ruin to it, the single handed, impoverished possessor of the mine, whose title was contested and whose reputation was yet to be made—poor Biggs, first secretary and only remaining officer of the "Blue Mass company," looked ruefully over his books and his last transfer, and sighed. But I have before intimated that he was built of good stuff and that he believed in his work—which was well—and in himself, which was better and so, having faith even as a grain of mustard seed, I doubt not that he would have been able to remove that mountain of quicksilver beyond the overlapping of fraudulent grants. And, again, Providence—having disposed of these several scamps—raised up to him a friend. But that friend is of sufficient importance to this veracious history to deserve a paragraph to himself.

The Pylades of this Orestes was known of ordinary mortals as Royal Thatcher. His genealogy, birth and education are, I take it, of little account to this chronicle, which is only concerned with his friendship for Biggs and the result thereof. He had known Biggs a year or two previously they had shared each other's purses, bunks, cabins, provisions, and often friends, with that perfect freedom from obligation which belonged to the pioneer life. The varying tide of fortune had just then stranded Thatcher on a desert sand hill in San Francisco with an uninsured cargo of expectations, while to Thatcher's active but not curious fancy it had apparently lifted his friend's bark over the bar in the Monterey mountains into an open quicksilver sea. So that he was considerably surprised on receiving a note from Biggs to this purport: "DEAR ROY: Run down hero and help a fellow. I've too much of a load for one. Maybe wo can make a team and puH 'Blue Mass'out yet BIGGSEY."

Thatcher, sitting in his scantily furnished lodgings, doubtful of his next meal and in arrears for rent, heard this Macedonian cry as St. Paul did. Ho wrote a promissory and soothing note to his landlady, but fearing the "sweet sorrow" of a personal parting, let his collapsed valise down from his window by a cord, and, by moans of an economical combination of stage riding and pedestrianism, he presented himself at the close of the third day at Biggs' door. In a few moments he was in possession of the story half an hour later in possession of half the mine, its infelix past and its doubtful future, equally with his friend.

Business over, Biggs turned to look at his partner. "You've aged some since I saw you last," he said. "Starvation luck, I s'pose. I'd know your eyes, old fellow, if I saw them among ten thousand but your lips are parched. »nri your mouth's grimmer than it

used to be." Thatcher smiled "to show that he could still do so, but did not say, as ho might have said, that self-control, suppressed resentment, disappointment and occasional hunger had done something in the way of correcting nature's obvious mistakes and shutting up a kindly mouth. He only took off his threadbare coat, rolled up his sleeves, as saying, "We've got lots of work and some fighting bofore us," pitched into the affairs of the Bin* Mass company on the instant

[This delightful story will be found continued in the Saturday and weekly iasues of the GAZETTE. Buy the Saturday paper, issued in two editions, one at 3 o'clock and the other at 4 o'clock p. m. of the newsboys on the streets^or get it by subscribing for the daily. The daily GAZETTE is furnished at 15c per week delivered. The WEEKLY GAZETTE a large twelve page illustrated sheet, is sold at §1.50 per year. Office 25 south Fifth treet)

The Clerk Could Go to Bed.

A countryman and his son "put up" at" a city hoteL Son out seeing the town. Old gent comes down from his room at midnight and says to the night clerk: X" Z*2VTJ^ "Has my son come in yet?"

Night Clerk—Guess not Havent seen him. Old Gent—Well, you needn't set up for him any longer.—Texas S if tings.

Medicine Could Not Harm Her. "Look heah, Unk Rafe," said Dr. Jim, addressing on old negro, "yer knows dat I'se er graduate o' de medical perternity, doan yer?" "Doan doubt it" "I'se yer color, ain't I? Wall, den, why doan yer 'ploy me ez yer fam'ly 'zition? All de time yer wife's been sick yer neber hab sent fur me. Now, look heah, lemme go ter see de lady, an' I'll promise yer dat ef I doan do her no good I won't do her no harm." "You mer go ter see her ef yer wants ter." ,"A11 right thankee, sah." "Dar wuz er time when yer mout er dona her harm, but you kain' do it now." "Why so?" ,' 'Case de lady died 'dis mawnin', sah."— Arkansaw Traveler.

A Visitor to Detroit.

"Is this Kurnel—Kurnel—Kurnel What's-his-name?" asked Abraham Ryder, as he stood at the desk. f-J. ', "No, sir!" replied his honor. "Then I'm mistaken in the man. I guess you are Elder—Elder what's-his-name. S'all right, and I beg your pardon. What's up this morning, Elder?" "Prisoner at the bar!" said his honor, in a voice which jarred the floor, "the law has laid it's hand upon you, and you now stand at the bar of justice." "I do! And you area judge?" "lam." "(1 »*eat Scots! but I'm all turned around and stood on my head! Say, something must have happened to me last night?" "You were found drunk on the public street You were lying on the broad of your back, arms and legs stretched out, and somebody had gone through you." "What! was I robbed?" "If you had anything to steal" "Had anything! Why, I had a dollar'na half, a good jackknife, two door keys and a tobacco box!. Say, judge, I couldn't have been drunk. Somebody must have hit me with a sand bag." "Fudge! You were so drunk that the officer tied you in a hand knot to toss you into the wagon." "Well, I swan! Have the villains been overhauled?" "So, sir—none except you, Abraham Ryder. What sort of a man are you to come down here from Bay City and get drunk and break in on the slumbers of our policemen? Is this doing the fair thing by Detroit? Do any of us ever go up to your town and make trouble for your people!" "Never, judge—you never da I deserve death, and I'm expecting every minute to be hit with a bludgeon. Who's your fool killer, judge?"

The judge steadily regarded him for a long time, while Abraham shifted his weight from one leg to the other and preserved a resigned expression. By and by his honor said: "Go hence! Go home! Let this be a lesson to be remembered for twenty years."

Go hence! You bet I will. Go home! IT1 git thar or die. If I dont remember this 'ere purceeding for 250 years then I want to be kicked. Judge "You can go." "Judge, you are the nicest, slicked,'' kindest, goodest, gol "Go away or Til give you thirty days." "All right—I'm stepping off. Good-by, old chappy, and here's one who'll vote for you for president"—Detroit Free Press.

For Governor of New Hampshire. Charles H. Sawyer, of Dover, is the Eiepublican caislidate for governor of Naw Hampshire. He was born at Watertown, N. Y.. in 1S40. At the age of 10 his parents moved to Dover, N. H. At the age of 16 he was placed as an apprentice in one of the woolen mills. He is now^ tho proprietor of one of the mills, which employs CHARLES H. SAWYER. 1,000 hands. He has served two terms in the legislature of his state, which is the only experience in public service which ho has had. He is interested in several railroads and other commercial enterprises.

There was a young lady named Vaughas. Who treated her lover with sraughan, And he gave up his suit

AVhen her father's big buit

Shot hiin haiSly forth on the laugban

filed at Hla Post.

Some time last fall a well known huntsman here lost a very valuable pointer dog near Big Sewickley, and the most strenuous exertions made to find the animal proved fruitless, so finally he was given up as hopelessly lost Last Monday the owner of the dog, in company with three other gentlemen, were traveling through a section of tbe Big Sewickley woods, when they came across the skeleton of a dog in attitude, the left forepaw & raised and the tail sticking out straight as a ramrod, the bones being held in position by the sun dried cords and sinews. The collar around the neck established beyond a doubt that the remains were those of the long lost Leo, and a further search brought to view, about a rod from the dog's nose, the bones and feathers of a pheasant The mystery now became clear as day. With the wonderful and inscrutable instinct that controls birds and brutes, the pheasant had lain perdue, afraid to rise, while the dog, like the Roman sentry at Pompeii, had died at his post of duty. The hunter exhibits the recovered collar as proof positive of the truth ef bis story.—Pittsburg Sportsman's Referee.

So "M Quad" Says*

They fell a story in Washington on Congressman Laird, of Nebraska. He is one of the members who can, but does not, keep his own carriage. He patronizes the street cars. On the line oh which he rode most frequently one of the panels was ornamented with the legend "Go to Moses," the name of a dealer in furniture, etc., at Washington. This sign annoyed Laird for some unaccountable reason. The annoyance ripened into irritation and the irritation into intolerableness. He took his revenge by having his confidential clerk rent the space directly beneath the sign in each car. Then he had an artist print in his own space, "And be d." This brought the other advertiser down on the company, and the company came down on Laird. But he had them both and continued to sit on them until, by a compromise, the objectionable sign was remodeled.

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WHY HE WANTED SO MAFTY.

Customer—Will you please show me your* engagement rings? I would like to get about a dozen.

Jeweler—What on earth do you want with a dozen engagement rings? Customer—I am a West Point cadet

Jeweler—Ah, certainly. Excuse me. HARMONY. A guest—What kind of a tombstone would you like for your husband? We have some handsome red granite.

Weeping widow—I don't want a red one. My poor husband was a blonde and red would not harmonize with his complexion.—Detroit Free Press.

A Warning to Boys Who Kill Cats.

"Soft, I did but dream— Oh, coward conscience, how dost thou affect tmer—Richard III, Act V.—Texas Siftings.

Olive'BrancJies.

Johnny has been in the habit of calling on the groceryman and being supplied with specked apples from the barrel, which, although not very salable, are appreciated by his boyish appetite. Last week his yellow head came up to the counter and he inquired: "Dot any spect apples?" "No, Johnny the apples are all gone." "Dot any spect oranges?" "No, not to-day." His face was downcast, his spirit sad, his mouth watering. A new idea came into his little mind, and his face brightened as he asked: ''Dot any spect cakes?" The cake was at once produced.—Wilmington Home Weekly.

JOHNNY'S AMBITION.

"Do you gc to school, Johnny?" inquired a lady. "Yes'm." "And do you study hard?" "Yes'm." "I suppose you want to be a great man when you grow up?" "Yes'm." "And what do you think you'll be?" "I know what I'm goin' to be." "What is it, Johnny? Tell me." "I'm goin' to be the man that wears the big fur hat and throws the stick around in front of the band."—Pittsburg Dispatch.

A little girl who is just at the age when her table manners are beginning to be looked after, called out at supper one night recently: "Give me some cake." "How do you ask?" said mamma, correctively. "Please give me some cake," returned the little miss, and added, unabashed: "I didn't forget I was saving it up."—Springfield Republican.

.,t, No Use.

Backwoods school teacher (to boy)—How far haVe you gone? Boy—Ain't never been very fur, 'bout ten mile frum home, I reckon.

Teacher—I mean how far have you advanced in your book? Boy—Over ter this here pictor.'

Teacher—W'y, that's where the first lesson begins. You can't spell, can you? Boy—Ken spell dog an' dam', but I ain't no great shakes on bird an' hossfly.

Teacher—You little rascal, you must not talk that way. Did your father ever hear you talk that way?

Boy—Nome. Teacher—Then I'm glad that there's some one whom you respect.

Boy—No use'n talkin' that way befo' dad, fur he's deef. Ef er hoss wuster fling dad he couldn't hear hise'f hit the ground.—Arkansaw Traveler.

European Egg*.

About seven-eighths of the European eggs received in this country are limed, They are shipped to this country from 1 Antwerp, Copenhagan and Hamburg. Those coming from Antwerp are gathered in Belgium, Italy, and France, those from Copenhagen in Denmark, and those from Hamburg in Germany.—Chicago Times.

Carried on Correspondence. During the summer a young lady at a Long Branch cottage and a gentleman at one of the hotels, who was not allowed to visit her, successfully carried on correspondence by means of carrier pigeons, one of which h« contrived to get to her by the coachman.— Chicago Journal.

A rural contemporary writes feelingly on "How to Treat an Editor." A good rule is to follow the example of Col. Crockett's flnest-^entleman-in-New-York: Hand the desuiter and turn your back —Buffalo Express,