Evening Star Newspaper, August 30, 1890, Page 7

Ft THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON. RUDYARD KIPLING. THE MAVERICK MUTINY A STORY OF INTERNATIONAL INTEREST. WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY RUD- YARD KIPLING. {Copyrighted} CHAPTER L HEN three obscure gentlemen in San Francisco argued on insufficient prem- ses they condemned a fellow creature to @ most unpleasant death in a far country, which had nothing whatever to do with the United States. They foregath- ered at the top of a tenement house in Tehama street, an unsavory quarter of the city, and there calling for certain drinks they conspired because they were conspirators by trade, off- cially known as the Third Three of the LA.A.— &n mstitution for the propagation of pure light, not to be confounded with any others, though it is affiliated to many. The Second Three live in Montreal and work among the poor there. The First Three have their home in New York, not far from Castle Garden, and write regularly once a week toasmall house near one of the big hotels at Boulogne. What happens after that a particular section of Scotland Yard knows too well and laughs at, A conspirator detests ridicule. More men have been stabbed with Lucrezia Borgia daggers and dropped into the Thames for laughing at head centers and tri- angles than for betraying secrets, for this is buman nature. 2 The Third Three conspired over whisky cock- tails and a clean sheet of note paper against the Britsh empire and all that lay therein. This work is very like what men without discernment call politics before a general election, You pick out and discuss, in the company of congenial friends, all the weak points in your opponents’ organization, and unconsciously dweil upon and exaggerate all their mishaps, till it seems to yous miracle that the party holds together for an hour. i “Our principle is not so much active demon- stration—that we leave to others—as passive embarrassment, to weaken and unnerve,” said the first man. ‘Wherever an orgaization is crippled, wherever a confusion is thrown into any branch of any department, we gain a step for those who take on the work; we are tut the forerunners.” He was a German enthusiast, and editor of a newspaper, from whose leading articles he quoted frequently. “That cursed empire makes so many blun- ders of her own that unless we doubled the Year's average I guess it wouldn't strike her ‘anything special had occurred,” said the sec- ond man. “Are you prepared to say that all our resources are :qual to blowing off the muzzle of a hundre |-ton gun or spiking a ten- thousand-ton ship on a plain rock in clear day- light? They can beat us at our own game. Better join hands with the practical branches; we're in funds now. Try a direct scare in a crowded street. They value their greasy hides.” He was the drag upon the wheel, and an Amer- icanized Irishman of the second generation, ing his own race and hating tho other. He learned caution, “THIRD THREE OF THE I. A. A.” The third man drank his cocktail and spoke no word. He was the strategist, but, unfor- tunately, his knowledge of life was limited. He picked a letter from his breast pocket and threw it across the table. That epistle to the heathen contained some very concise directions from the First Three in New York. It said: “The boom in black iron has already affected the eastern markets where our agents have been forcing down the English-heid stock among the smaller buyers who watch the turn of shares. Any immediate operations, such as western bears, would increase their willingness to unload. This, however, cannot be expected till they see clearly that foreign iron-masters are willing toco operate. Mulcahy should be dispatched to feel the pulse of the market and act accordingly. Mavericks are at present the best for our purpose.—P.D.Q. ‘As a message referring to an iron crisis in Pennsylvania it was interesting if not Incid. As a new departure in organized attack on an out- lying English dependency it was more than in- teresting. ‘The first man read it through and murmured: “Already? Surely they are in too great burry. All that Dbulip Singh could do in In- dia he has done, down to the distribution of his photographs among the peasantry. Ho! Ho! The Paris firm arranged that, and he has no substantial money backing from the other wer. Even our agents in India know he asn't. What is the use of our organization wast- ing men on work that is already done? Of course the Irish regiments in India are bulf mutinous as they stand.” This shows how near a line may come to the truth. An Irish regiment, for just so long as it stands still,is generaliyahard handful to controi, being reckless aud rough. When, however. it is moved in the direction of mus- ketry firing, it becomes strangely and unpa- triotically content with its lot. It has even been heard to cheer the queen with enthusiasm on these occasions, But the notion of tampering with the army was, from the point of view of Tehama street, an altogether sound o: There is no shadow of stability in the policy of an English gov- ernment, and the most sacred oaths of Eng- land would, even if embossed on vellum. find very few buyers among colonies and depend- encies that have suffered from vain beliefs. Bat there remains to England always her army. “a SLIM, SLIGHT DARK-HAIRED YOUNG MAN,” That cannot change except in the matter of uniform and equipment. The officers may write to the Papers demanding the heads of the Horse Guards in default of cleaner redress for grievances; the men may break loose across a country town and seriously startle the Means, but neither officers nor men have it in their composition to mutiny after the conti- nental manner. The Engi their own consciences as to their duty to Erin. but they would never be easy any more. And it was this vague, unhappy mistrust that the LA.A. were laboring to produce. ‘Sheer waste of breath.” said the second man after a pause in the council; “I don't see the use of tampering with their fool army, but it has been tried before and we must try it again. It looks woll in the reports. If we send one man from here you may bet your life that other men are going too. Order up Mulcahy. They ordered him up—a slim, sligh , dark- haired young man. devoured with that blind, rancorous hatred of England that only reaches its full growth across the Atlantic. He had sucked it from his mother’s breast in the little back of the northern avenues of he had been taught his rights and his wrongs. in German and Irish, on the canal fronts of Chicago, and San Francisco held men who told him strange and awful things of the great blind power over the seas. Once, when business took him across the Atlantic, he had served in an English regiment, and being in- subordinate had suffered extremely. He drew all his ideas of England that were not bred by the cheaper patriotic prints from one iron-fisted colonel and an unbending ad- jutant. He would go to the mines if need be to teach his gospel.~ And he Went as his instructions advised, p. d. q.—which means “with speed”—to introduce embarrass- ment into an Irish regiment, ‘already half mutinous, quartered among Sikh peasantry, all Wearing miniatures of his highness Dhulip Singh, maharaja of the punjab, next thi hearts and all eagerly expecting his arrival.” Other information equally valuable was given him by his masters. He was to be cautious, but never to grudge expense in winning the hearts of the men in tho regiment. His mother in New York would supply funds and he was to write to her once a month. Life is pleasant fora man who has a mother in New York to send him two hundred pounds a year over and above his regimental pay. CHAPTER IL In process of time, thanks to his intimate knowledge of drill and musketry exercise, the excellent Mulcahy, wearing the corporal’s stripe. went out in @ troopship and joined her majesty’s Royal Loyal Musketeers, commonly known as the ‘‘ Mavericks,” because they were masterless and unbranded cattle—sons of small farmers in county Clare, shoeless vagabonds of Kerry, herders of Ballyvegan, much wanted “moonlighters” from the bare rainy headlands of the south coast, ofticered by O'Mores, Bradys, Hills, Kilreas and the like. Never to outward seeming was there more promising material to work on. The First Three had chosen their regiment well. It feared nothing that moved or talked save the colonel and the regimental Roman Catholic chaplain, the fat Father Dennis, who held the keysof heaven and hell, and biared like an angry bull when he desired to be convincing. Him also it loved because on casions of stress he was wont to tuck up hi cassock and charge with the rest into the mer- riest of the fray where he always found, good man, that the saints sent him a revolver when there was a fallen private to be protected. or— but this came as an afterthought—his own gray head to be guarded. Cautiously as he had been instructed, ten- derly and with much beer, Mulcahy opened his projects to such as he deemed fittest to listen. “And these were, one and ail, of that quaint, crooked, sweet, profoundly irresponsi- ble and profoundly lovable race that fight like fiends, argue like children, reason like women, obey like men, and jest like their own goblins of the rath through rebellion, loyalty, want, woe or war. The underground work of ‘a con- spiracy is always dull aud very much the samo the world over. At the end of six monthe—the seed always falling on good ground—Muleahy spoke almost explicitly, hinting darkly in the approved fashion at dread powers behind hii and advising nothing more nor less than mutiny. Were they not dogs, evilly treated; had they not all their own aud their national revenges to satisfy? who in these days could do aught to nine hundred men in rebellion? who, again, could stay them if they broke for the sea, lick- ing up on their way other regiments only too anxious to join? Andatterward * * * here followed windy Promises of gold and prefer- ment, office and honor, ever dear to a certain type of Irishman. As he finished his speech, in the dusk of a twilight, to bis chosen associates, there was a sound of a rapidly unslung belt behind him. The arm of Dan Grady flew out in the gloom and arregted something. Then said Dan: “Mulcahy, you're a great man, an’ you do credit to whoever sent you. Walk abopt a bit while we think of it.” Mulcahy departed elate. He knew his words would sink deep. “Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye not let me curi the tripes out of him!” grunted a it-headed fool. Boys, at these six months— our eer ost with his educa.ien and his copies of the Irish papers and his everlastii beer. He's been sent for the pi and that’s where the money comes from. Can ye not see? That man’sa gold mine, which Horse Egan here would have destroyed with a belt buckle. It wouid be throwing away the gifts of Provi- dence not to fallin with his little plans. Of coorse we'll mut’ny till all’s dry. Shoot the colonel on the parade ground, massacree the company officers, ransack the arsenal, and then—boys, did he tell you what next? He told me the other night when he was yar to talk wild. Then we're to join with the nig- gers, and look for help from Dhulip Singh and the Russians!” “‘And spoil the best campaign that ever was this side of hell! Danny, I'd have lost the beer to ha’ given him the belting he requires.” “Ob, let him go this awhile, man! He’s got no—no constructiveness, but that’sthe egg- meat of his plan, and you must understand that I'm in with it, an’ so are you. We'll want oceans of beer to convince us—firmaments full. We'll give him talk for his money, and one by one all the boys’ll come im and he'll have a nest of 900 mutineers to squat in an’ give drink to.” “What makes me Killing mad is his wanting us to do what the niggers did thirty years gone. That en’ his pig’s cheek in saying that other regiments would come along,” said a Kerry 's not so bad as hintin’ we should loose off at the colonel.” “Colonel be sugared! I'd as soon as not put ashot beg 5 his helmet to see him jump and clutch his old horse’s head. But Mulcahy talks 0’ shootin’ our comp'ny orf'cers accidental.” “He said that, did he?” said Horse Egan. ‘Somethin’ like that, anyways. Can't ye fancy ould Barber Brady wid a bullet io hi lungs, coughin’ like asick monkey, an’ sayin: ‘Bhoys, I do not mind your es dbrunk, but you must hould your liquor like men. The man that shot me is dhrunk. I'll suspend investiga- tions for six hours, while I get this bullet cut out, and then——' ‘An’ then,” continued Horse Egan, for the peppery major’s peculiarities of speech and manner were as weil known as his tanned fac “an’ then, dissolute, half-baked, putt; faced scum o’ Connemara, ifI finda man so much as lookin’ confused, begad, I'll coort- martial the whole company. A nfan that can’t get over his liquor in six hours is not fit to be- long to the Maveric A shout of laughter bore witness to the truth of the sketch. “It's pretty to think of,” said the Kerr: man, slowly. “Mulcahy woulda have us do all the devilment and get clear himself someways. He wudn't be takin’ all this fool’s throuble in shpoilin’ the reputation of the regiment” “Reputation of your grandmother's pig!” said Dan. “Well, ‘an he had a good reputation, tu; 60 it’s all right. Mulcahy must see his way to clear out behind him, or he'd not ha’ come so talkin’ powers of darkness." “Did you hear anything of a regimental court-martial among the Biack Boneens, these days? Half a company of ‘em took one of the new draft an’ hanged him by his arms with a tent rope froma third-story veranda, They gave no reason forso doin’, but he was half dead. I'm thinking that the Boneens are short-sighted. It wasa friend of Mulcahy’: oramanin the same trade. kegs “ig a better ha’ taken his beer,” returi Dan, re- flectively. “Better still ha’ handed him up to the col. onel,” said Horse Eagan, “onless——but sure the news wud be all over thecounthry an’ give the reg’ment a bad name.” ‘An’ there'd be no reward for that man—but he went about talkin’,” said the artlessly. ‘You speak by your breed,” said Dan, with a laugh. ‘There was never a Kerry man yet that wudn’t sell his brother for a pipe o’ to- bacco an’ a pat on the back from a p'liceman.” “Thank God I’m not a bloomin’ Orang: - was the answer. “No, nor never will be,” said Dan. “They breed men in Ulster. Would you like to thry the taste of one?” D. C.. SATURDAY.- “Vittorio, Salamanca, Toulouse, Waterloo, Moodkee, Forozshan and Sobraon—that was fought close next door here, aguinst the very beggars he wants usto join. Inker: Alma, Sebastopol! What are those 1: nesses oe ae to the campaigns of Gen. , think o’ that; the Mut’- Mulcahy? Mat’ an’ some dirty little matters in A Moses, there's the captain!” But it was the mess sergeant who came in just us the men clattered out, and feund the colors uncased. * From that day dated the mutiny of the Mavericks, to the joy of Mulcahy and the pride ir in New York—the sent the money for the beer. ot his moth were 601 they must have beer. & “GOLD THREADS FRAYED AND DISCOLORE! hideous plunder of the In unholy laughter. conspiracies is remarkabie. would swear no oaths but those of their own making, which were rare and curious, a were always at pains to i wrought demoralization. who hi und mer / dian country 8: impress Male spiracies have made tho same error. CHAPTER IIL As to the actual upshot of tions. ended, at Ban's kalled him and cut off the he not been sent on 5 miles away from the cantonment to cool his inamud fort and dismount obsolete Then the colonel of the Mavericks, reading his newspaper diligent); frontier trouble from afar, poste headquarters and pleaded with the commander- in-chief for certain privilege: heel artillery, The hot season, in which they protested no man could rebel, came to an end, and Mulcahy suggested a visible return for his teachings, ared nothing. It would be enough if the English, infatuatedly trusting to the integrity of their army, should be startled with news of an Irish regiment revolting from political considera- i tent demands would have instigation, ina regimental belting which, in all probability, would have of beer, had the mutiny he supply pecial duty som: in, th busi ay hanis- fan, and for that an’ these and those"—Dan pointed to the names vf glorious batties—“‘that Yankee man with the partin’ in his hair comes and says ae easy as ‘havea drink.’ * * * Holy e good lady who Never, as far as ‘The conspir- d Horse Egan. poured ly. ey men to be trusted, and they ail wanted blood; but first They cursed the queen, they mourned over Ireland, they suggested le and then, alas—some of the younger men would go forth and wallow on the ground in spasms of The genius of the Irish for None the less they they hy with the risks they ran. Naturally the flood of beer But Muleahy con- fused the causes of things, and when a pot- valiant Maverick smote a serzeant on the nose or called his commanding officer a bald-headed old lard-bladder and even worse names he fancied that rebellion and not liquor was at the bottom of the outbreak. Other gentlemen concerned themselves in larger con- and scenting to the army knew that their colonel’s hand had closed and that he who broke that iron discipline would not go tothe front, Nothing in the world will —— one of our soldiers when he is or- verbal to Ayo Lye = the er of affairs at he is not immediately going gloriously to slay Cossacks and cook hiskettles in the palace of the czar, A few of the younger men mourned for Mulcahy’s beer, because the campaign was to be conducted on strict temperance princi- ples, but, as Dan and Horse said sternly, “We've got the beer man with us. He shall drink now on bis own hook.” . Mulcahy hgd not taken into account the pos- sibility of being sent on active service, He made up his mind that he would not go under any tances, but fortune was against him. ‘Sick—you?” said the doctor, who had served an unholy apprenticeship to his trade in Tralee poor houses. “You're are only homesick. and what you call varicose veins come berg? A little gentle exercise will cure that.” And later—*Mulcahy, my man. everybody is allowed to apply for a sick certiticate once. If he tries it twice we call him by an ugly name. Go back to your duty and let’s j bect Bo more of your diseasos.” Iam ashamed to say that Horse Egan en- Joyed the study of Mulcahy’s soul im those days, and Dan took an equal interest. Together they would communicate to their all the dark lore of death that is the portion of those who have seen men die. Egan had the larger experience, but Dan the finer 1magina- tion. Mulcahy shivered when the former spok. of the knife as an intimate acquaintance, or latter dwelt with loving particularity on the fate of those who, wounded arfd heipless, had been overlooked by the ambulai and had ree into the hands of the Afghan women- from over- Mulcahy knew that the mutiny, for the pres- ent at least, was dead. Knew, too, that a change had come over Dan’s usuaily respectful attitude toward him, and Horse Egan's laugh- ter and frequent allusions to abortive conspira- cies emphasized all that the conspirator had guessed. The horrible fascination of the death stories, however, made him seek their society. He learnt much more than he had bargained for, and in this manner: It was on the last night before the regiment entrained to the front The barracks were stripped of every- thing movable and the men were too excited to sleep. The bare walls gave out a heavy hos. itai smell of chloride of lime—a stench that epresses the soul, ‘And what,” said Mulcahy in an awe-stricken whisper, after some conversation on the eternal subject, ‘are you going to do to me, Dan? This might have been the language of an able conspirator conciliating a weak spirit. ‘You'll see,” said Dan, grimly turning over in his cot, ‘or I rather shud say you'll not see.” This was hardly the language of a weak irit. Mulcahy shook under the bed clothes. “Be easy with him,” put in Egan from the next cot. ‘He has got his chanst o’ goin’ clean. Listen, Mulcahy, all we want is for the good sake of the regiment that you take your death standing up, a8 @man shud. There's be heaps an’ heaps of enemy—plenshus heaps, Go there an’ do all youcan and die decent, You'll die with a good name there. "Tis not a hard thing considerin’. Again Mulcahy shivered. “An’ how could aman wish to die better than fightin’,” added Dan consolingly. “sAnd if I won't?” said the corporal in a dry whisper. There'll be a dale of smoke,” returned Dan, getting upand ticking off the situation on hi fingers, ‘sure to be, an’ the noise of the firin’ “ll be tremenjus, and we'll be running about up and down, the regiment will. ut we, Horse and I—we'll stay by you, Mulcahy, and never let you go. Maybe there'll be an acci- dent.” “It's playing it low on me. Let mego. For pity’s sake let me go. I never did you harm, and—and I stood you as much beer as I could. O don’t be hard ‘on me. Dan. You are—you were in it too. You won't kill me up there, will you?” I'm not thinkin’ of the treason; though you shud be glad any honest boys drank with for the regiment. We can’t have the shame o’ you bringin’ shame on us. You went to the doctor quict as a sick cat to get behind an’ live with the women at th to be granted under certain contingencies, which contin- gencies came about only a week later when the annual little war on th i@ border developed itself and the colonel returned to carry the good news to the Mavericks. He held the Promise of the chief for active service, and the men must get ready. On the evening of the same day Mulcaby, an unconsidered corporal—yet grand in con. spiracy—returned to cantonments, and heard sounds of strife aud Kowlings from afar off. The mutiny had broken out and the barragks of the Mavericks were one white-washed pan- demonium, A private tenriig thromzh the barrack square Active service. It's a b asped in hi urnin’ shame.” ear, “Service! Oh, rhe , the Mavericks had risen on the eve of wattle! They would not—noble and loyal sons of Ireland—serve the queen longer. The news would flash through the country side and over to England and he—Muleahy— 6 trusted of the Third Three had brought about the crash. The private stood in the middle of the square and cursed colonel, regiment, officers and doc- articular the doctor, by his gods. An orderly of the native cavalry regiment clattered through the mob of soldiers, lifted, half dragged from his horse, beaten on the back with mighty hand claps till his eyes watered, and called all manner of endearing names, Yes, the Mavericks had fraternized with the native troops. Who then was the agent among the latter that had blindly tor, wrought with Mulcahy so An officer slunk, almost ran, from the mess He was mobbed by the infuri- ated soldiery who closed round but did not kill him, for he fought his way to shelter, flying for could have wept ‘with pure The very prisoners in the guard room were shaking the bars of their cellsand howling like wild beasts and from every barrack poured the booming to the barrack. the life. Mulcab; joy and thankfulness, war drum. well? Mulcahy hastened to his own barrack. conld hardly hear himself trestles—oighty men flushed speak. ‘ind, able ou the waters o the O: companiment: lurrah! hurrah Then, as a table broke under the furious ac- it’s north by west we lurrah! hurrah! the chance we want Let ‘em hear the chorus from Umbilis to Mloseow; Kromling. “Mother of all the saints in bliss and all the devils in cinders, where's widout the heel?” howled Horse Egan, ran- ‘As we go marching to the “(aN UNCONSIDERED CORPORAL.” sacl verybody’s knapsack but his own. He was e fovred in making up deficiencies of kit ign, and in that employ ‘Ah, Mulcahy, pie: reparatory to a cam} e steals best who s you're in good time,” he shouted. the route, and wo're off on Thursday for a wid the Lancers next door.” ic last. “We' An ambulance orderly appeared with a hi thought of the q ie them later on. age and flicked it rolls, orse i ? under M provided by the fore- for such as might need unrolled his band- iz lulcahy’s nose, chant- ‘“ghesp's skin an’ bees’ wax, thunder, pitch and plas- re you try to pull it off, the more it sticks the As I was goin’ to New Orleans— “You know the rest of it, my Irish-American- ye — to fight for the He was half f abig Eighty men were pounding with fist and heel the tables and ith mutiny, stripped to their shirt sleeves, their knapsacks half packed for the march to the sea, made the two-inch boards thunder again as they chanted toatune that Mulcahy knew well, the sacred war song of the Mavericks: Listen in the north, my boys, there's trouble on the Tramp o! ‘Cossack hooves in front, gray great-coats Trouble on the frontier of a most amazin’ my fine new sock “THERE'LL BE A DALE OF SMOKE,” you that wanted us to run tothe sea in wolf- packs like the rebels none of your black blood lared to be! But we knew about your goin’ to the doctor, for he told mess, and it’s all over the regiment. Bein’, as we are, your best friends, we didn’t allow any one to molest you yet. We will see to you ourselves. Fight which you will—us or the enemy—you'll never lie in that cot again, and there’s more glory and maybe less kicks from fighting the enemy. That's fair spe: ‘. id he told us by word of mouth to go and join with the niggers—you've forgotten that, Dan,” said Horse Egan, to justify sentence. the use of plaguin’ the man? One forall. Sleep ye sound, Mulcahy. But you onderstand, do ye not?” Mulcahy for some weeks understood ve little of anything at all save that ever at his ed bow, in camp or at parade, stood two big men with soft voices adjuring him to commit hai kari lest a worse thing should happen—to die for the honor of the regiment in decency among the nearest knives. But Mulcahy dreaded denth. Heremembered certain things that priests had said in his infancy and his mother—not the one at New York—starting trom her sleep with shrieks to pray fot a hus- band’s soul in torment. It is well to be of cultured intelligence, but in time of trouble the weak human mind returns to th icked in at the breast, and if that creed be not a pretty one trouble follows. Also, the death he would to would be physically painful. Most conspirators have large imag- nations, Mulcahy could see himself, as he lay on the earth in the night, dying by various causes. They were all horrible; the mother in New York was very far away, and the regiment, the engine that once you fall in its grip moves you forward whether ae will or won't, was daily coming closer to the enemy. He CHAPTER IV. They were brought tothe field of Marzun- Katai and, with the Black Boneens to aid, they fought « fight that has nover been set down in the newspapers. In response many believe to the fervent prayers of Father Dennis, the enemy not only elected to fight in the open, but made a besutiful fight, as_ many weeping Irish mothers knew later. They gathered hind walls or flickered across the open im shouting masses, and were pot-valiant in artillery, was expedient to holda largo reserve and wait for the psychological moment that was being prepared by the shrieking shrapnel. There- fore the Mavericks lay down in open order on the brow of a hill to watch the play till their call should come, ther Dennis, whose place was in the rear, to smooth the trouble of the wounded, had naturally managed to make his way to the foromost of his boys and lay, like a him ctawled Mulcahy, sabes gray, im crawl y, ashen absolution, ees “Wait till of his rifle, Mulcahy groaned and buried his head in his arms till a stray shot spoke like a snipe imme- diately above his h and a pane heave and tremor rippled the line, shots fol- steadily up and down nies, but ab a gusrantce of geod faiths utasa ol demands nerve. You must ‘must not look nervous, youare a mark for ava fortnight, my boo tly down the iterrupted, > bg e 3232 a AUGUST 30, 1890-SIXTEEN PAGES, 7 eens, who wore suffering more than tho Mavericks, on a bill half a mile away, began Presently to explain to all who cared to listen. “We'll the Tod Ireland shail be reer ways the ak assan Veek™ “Sing, boys,” said Father Dennis, softly. “It looks os if we cared for thets Afghan peas. Dan Grady raised himself to his kuees and opened his mouth in a song imparted to bim as to most of his comrades in the strictest confi- dence by. Mulcahy—that Mulcahy then lying limp and fainting on the grass, the chill fear = jeath upon him. % oa ‘om, after company caught up the wor which the LALA. meh are to berali otic aha and to breathe which, e: ceptto those duly appointed to hear. is death. Wherefore they are printed in this place. “The Saxon in heaven's just ta’ance is weighed, His doom, lik» Belhazzar’s, 1 death has been. the had of the venxer shali never be «tayed Till his race, faith and syeech ares dream of the They were heart-filling lines and they ran with a swirl; the 1A.A. are better served by their pens than their petards, Dan clapped Mulcahy merrily on the back, asking him to sing up. The officers lay down again. There Was no need to walk any more. Their men wero soothing themselves thunderously, thus: “at. oThat the fand shail not Toes fal tne Geretie blood, the babe at the bresst to the haud at the plow Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in food!" “Tl g to you after all's over,” said Father Dennis authoritatively in Dan's ear. “What's the use of confessing to me when you do this foolishness? Dan, you've been playing ! I'll lay you more penance in a week long to purgatory with us, father dear. The Boneens = on the move; they'll let us go now!” The regiment rose to the blast of the bugie 48 one man, but one man there was who rose more swiftly than all the others, for half an inch of bayonet was in the fleshy part of his f “You've got to do it,” said Dan, grimly. “Do it decent, anyhow,” and the roar of the rush drowned his words as the rear companies thrust forward the first, still singing as they swung down the slope: “From the child st the a Shall roll to the ocean like Siateor idea eT They should-have sung it in the face of Eng- land, not of the Afghans, whom it impressed as much as did the wild Irish yell. “They came down singing,” said the unofti- cial report of the enemy, borne from village to village the next day. *‘They continued to sing and it was written that our men could not abide when they came. It is believed that there was magic in the aforesaid song.” Dan and Horse Egan kept themselves in the neighborhood of Mulcahy. Twice the man would have bolted back in the confusion. Twice he was heaved like a half-drowned kit- ten into the unpaintable inferno of a hotly con- tested charge. At the end the drove him anic excess of his fear to madness beyond all human courage. His eyes staring at nothing, his mouth mm and frothing and breathing as one in a cold bath, he went forward de- mented, while Dan _ toiled after him. The charge checked at a high mud wall. It was Mulcahy that scrambled up tooth and nail and heaved down among the bayonets the amazed Afghan who barred his way. It was Mulcahy, keeping to the straight line of the rabid dog. that led a collection of ardent souls at a newly unmasked ba’ tery and fiung himself on the muzzle of a gun as his com- pinions danced among the gunners. It was ee! whoran wildly on from that battery into 18 Open plain where the enemy were retiring is hands were empty, he ind he was bleeding froma wound in the neck. Dan and Horse Egan, panting and distressed. had thrown them- selves down on the ground by the captured guns, when they noticed Mule: flight. “Mad,” said’ Horse Egan, c’ with fear! He’s going straight to an’ shouting’s no use.” “Let him go, Watch now! If wo fir hit him maybe.” The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans turned at the noise of shod feet behind him and shifted his knife ready to hand. This, he saw, was no time to take prisoners, Mulcahy ran on, sobbing, and the straight-held blade went home through the defenseless breast, and the body Cee forward almost before a snot from Dan's rifle brought down the slayer and still further hurried the Afghan retreat, The two Irishmen went out to bring in their dead, “He was given the point and that wasan easy death,” said Horse Egan, viewing the corpse. “But would you ha’ shot him, Denny, if he had lived?” “He didn't liv doubt I wud ha so there’s no sayin’. But I bekase of the fun he gave s a Revs ‘. Reig his le, lorse, and we'll bri im erbaps * better this way.” 8 sas They bore the poor limp body to the macs of the regiment, lolling open mouthed on their rifles, and there was a general snigger when one of the younger subalterns said. “That was 1d mi ‘hew,” said Horse Egan, when a burial party had taken overthe burden. ‘I’m power- fuldry, and this reminds me there'll be no more beer at all.” “Fwhy not?” said Dan, with a twinkle in eye as he stretched himself for rest. “‘Are not conspirin’ all we can, an’ while we con- spire are we not entitled to free drinks? Sure his ould mother in New York would not let her son’s comrades perish of drouth—if be reached at the end of a letter. janius,” said Horse Egan. “0” not. Iwieh this crool war was over, an’ we'd get back to canteen. Faith, the commander-in-chief ought to be own little sword belt for makii wathe! The Mavericks were generally of Horse Egan's opinion. So they made haste to get their work done as soon as possible, and their industry was rewarded by unexpected pence, “Wecan fight the sons of Adam,” said the tribesmen, “but cannot fight the sons of Eblis, ent never stave still in one — Let us therefore come in.” They cai in and “this regiment” withdrew to conspire under the leadership of Dan Grady. ‘as @ subordinate Dan failed alto- ther as a chief-in-command—possibly because @ was too much swayed by the advice of the only man in the regiment who could perpetrate more than one kind of handwriting. The same mail that bore to Mulcahy’s mother in New York a letter from the colonel telling her how valiantly her son had fought for the queen, and how assuredly he would have been recom- mended for the Victoria cross had he survived, carried a communication signed, I grieve to say, by that same colonel and all the officers of the regiment, explaining their willingness to do “ sabe ena is contrary to the regulations and all kinds of revolutions” if only a little money could be forwarded to cover incidental expenses, Daniel Grady, esq., would receive funds vice Mulcahy, who ‘was unwell at this present time of writing.” Both letters were forwarded from New York to Tehama street, San Francisco, with mar- inal comments as’ brief as they were bitter. ‘he Third Three read and looked at each other. Then the second conspirator—he who believed in “joining hands with the practical branches” — began to na ea and on recovering his gravity said: ‘Gentlemen, I consider this will be a lesson to us, We're left again. Those cursed Irish have tet us down. I knew they would, bi he laughed afresh—“I'd give con- siderable to know what was at the back of it I. His curiosity would have been satisfied had he seen Dan i ital conspirator reacties inerces irator, tr explai is comrades in inde ‘s the non-arrival of fun from New York. ——_—— ee _____ RUDYARD KIPLING. A Critical Sketch of the New Writer of Tales From India. Andrew Lang in Harper's Weekly. Mr, Kipling was born at Bombay on Decem- ber 30, 1865. He is therefore still avery young man. At his age Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson had only shown his genius to the world ina she can sees a very original genius; nor is this an orig- | inal opinion. His pinia tales have been called “the best book ever witten on India” by an | authority of very great experience in life, in | government, and in literature. For the first English readers what India is like; how fuli of infinitely various life and romance, He seems to have seen, and known, and been able tomake real and vivid, the ex istence of all classes in that continent. For my own part I least like his tales about @fici hfe. abont flirtations and jobs, ‘appointments’ of all kinds at Simla, The descriptions may be very true; they are not very pleasing. His married flirts, his frivolous ladies, his people who play ‘tenuis with the seventh command- ment” ‘are melancholy, and, no donbt, ad monitous spectacles. Vice in them has certainty not freed itelf from what is course and common. ce seldom does, and it is not Mr. Kipling’s fault, but the fault of his characters, thas one turas from their feverish society. their “smartness” and | their slang. There are touching passages in “The Story of the Gndsbys,” but it has the de- | fect of reminding one of “Gyp,” an author whom Mr. Kipling may never have read, for all that I know. To my own taste—atter all it 8 a question of taste—is tales of ve life in many ranks, castes, religions and nations are his best. There isa wouderful horror mixed with valger magic inthe story called “The House of Suddi The confession of an opium smoker in “The Gate of a Hundred Sor- rows” defeat De Quincey on his own grounL “On the City Wall” is a romance that is real and an amazing glimpse into the true mind ot orientals hidden from us often by « veneer of western culture. The Strange Ride of Morrowbie Jukes, who fell into a village of them who should be dead but vet alive, 18 a nightmare more perfect and terrible, I think, than anything of Edgar Poe's. There is a scene of passion at a midnight pic- nic and in a nocturnal dust storm which is purely magical, a revelation of things possible. The story of a little Indian child is a mere sketch, but it brings tears even into critical eyes. There is an astonishing varicty in Mr. Kipling’s powers, In the Phantom Rikehaw | ume he has shown ber husband moves one like a vivid dream of the beloved dead. Then we have a handsome piece of witchery in the Bisara | of Pooree, where the impossible becomes real to fancy. From there tales it is a long stepto the military humors of Soldiers Three—the magnificent, daring, vain and generous Irish Heracles, Mulvaney; the little cockney who shoots so weil and has a madness of homesickness, Ortheris, and the large York- shire man whois their comrade. How they took the town of Lungtungpens and with tho rear guard aro. tales of as good fighting as ever were transcribed. Every soldier should in spire himself with tue gay daring and master- fuladventure, The legend of the wanderer with the head of his crowned and 4 ths of adventure, if he cared. He has comedy, tragedy, farce. in bis all in small parcels. He ® ‘perfect Odyssey of strange experience, bas known or has divined the most unheard of dealings of men with men, and everywhere has found them ¥ human. The last story in Plain Tales promis not a conclusion but a beginning to the legend of an English scholar sunk in drink, in Islam, and the dirt of a bazar. All this wonld be en- tirely new, and we may trust that Mr. Kipling will give usa longer narrative on the subject, Whether he can write a long novel, or a novel rather of the usual proportions, remains to be seen, Very few men have excelled in both forms of the art fictitious, and he certainly excels in one. Ata passage, a picture, an inci- dent, a character, he is already, perhaps, all but unrivalled among his contemporaries. C: he weave masses of this into a consistent fable? ‘This remains to be tried. Ido not anticipate for Mr. Kipling a very page popularity. He does not compete with iss Braddon or Mr. E. P. Roe. His favorite subjects are too remote and unfamiliar for a world that likes to be amused with matters near home, and passions that do not stray far from the drawing room or the parlor. in style, has been said, he has brevity, brilliance, selec oan understand passion, and wake us under- stand it. He hassympathies unusually wide, and can find the rare strauge thing in the mid«t ofthe commonplace. He has energy, spirit, vision, Refinement he has not in an equal measure; perhaps he is too abrupt, too easily taken by a piece of slang, and one or two little mannerisms become provoking. It does not seem as yet that he very well underst, can write very well about ordinary life. But he has so much to say that he might well afford to leave the ordinary to other writers, He has the alacrity of the Freuch intellect and@oiten displays its literary moder- ation and reserve. One n a what 20 Aew, What isso undeniably rich in ma: Promises. This isa natoral tendency in the critic, To myself Mr. Kipling secms one of two, three or four young men, and he is far the youngest, who flash out genius from some unexpected place; who are not academic nor children of the old literature of the world, but of their own works, Whatseems cynical, flighty, too brusque and too familiar in him should mel- low with years. I do not believe that Europe is the place for him. There are three other continents where I cau imagine that his genius would find a more exhilarating air and more congenial material. He is an exotic roman His muse needs the sun, the tramp of horse the clash of swords, the jingliug of bridle reins, vast levels of sand, thick forests, wide y leaming rivers, the temples of strange gods. | his at least is & personal theory, which may readily be contradicted by experience. But I trust that it may not be contradicted, and that Mr. Kipling’s youth and adventurous «pirit may bring on tales and sketches aud baliads from many shores not familiar, from many a home of Pathans, Kaftirs, Pawnees, from ali natural men. He is not in tune with our modern civili- zation, whereof many a heart is sick; he | Even when the contemptibl: his tale of the dead wife's appointment with | s easions on the foor of thechambers. A Senater or a member can introdnce its friends withowt difficulty on the floor of the chamber, within » barricr set apart for the purpose, ‘This i im marked contrast to rigorous system pur- sued in tha British house of commons, expe- cially since the Fenian and dynamite searcs. Policemen and janitors are stationed asi tor the express purpose of rendering access | 5 dificult as possible on the part of taxparc « And electors, however urgent their bus litle galier ined ihe occupants are watched lh» crminals and treated like children, as if ace Mission were « priceless favor. Sach a pre= Posterous rule as that which forbids the taking of notes, the making of a single memorandum, or the perusal of a book or a newspaper duri some dull and dreary speec tolerated for an bour in A\ idea of making verbial vacuum would any one dare to rele The ga I the chamber of the House of Representatives im the Capitel at Washington accommodate nearly @ thousand visitors. Ce portions are reserved for Indies alone, and in other parts they accompany gentlemen friends. Fvery member has a sepa- ir and desk, balloted for at the begin- of the session, and supplied with writing Fequisites. Occasionally a bouquet of flowers OF some elaboraic decorst tho shape of a lyre or a lad may be soem on a desk, sups there by admir ng and grates uth the rostrum the chamber the clerks and ful constituc Ot the presiding and also in the Seuate. are the official reporters. the steps are a duty it nimber Senators gnify their r hands, on immediately after the vrayersa number of Ignorant of the hed uy the sige meaning ithe westera man turned to hie neighbor and said: “Wal, I've heard quite afew addresses to and [ don’t see much in that one to apy Probabiy theee legis 1 ell public men, in America are not so much bored and worried jas most English peopl i be with the vereal custom aking. Every prominent man lays nt with this, as @ hecessity of bis posi! that peo- | ple expect it. During the last presid | term at was said chat ot Mrs. Clev inflamed and ° ) owing to the an had to anderge tempted to ask w rom what, owing become’ an in= Ui this? You never me to see again, Et solemnly shake great pleasure at n put one or two of notyped Inquiries, then again 6 hands and depart. A polite bow, a cordial nod, a few sords of friendiy greeting, would not sufic without actual digital contact, ie endurabie. If it be an ‘This, howeve: inconvenience it soon over, After all & wise trav himself as for as possibie to loc: may, perhaps, wish to draw the line at that of salutation which consists of rubbing ) a8 in parts of Afri in like manner 16 be permitted, without offense, to enter a kind but firm protest against one peculiarity too common in American iife, It may almost be described as one of the grent national imsututions, It as se and beard and sometimes felt on ali sides, It erts itself ia | the house and in the street, in the railway and | on the ste . in hotels and churches, on | the jud ciai bench and in the legislature.” 18 may be insular prejudice, and some American cousins muy think it squeamishness, but the effect produced on an average Englishman by the almost universal expectorations is nauseate ing in the extreme. I was toid of an eminent clergyman who was addicted to the practice im the pulpit. He received one morning this epi- ng strange, when we reflect, wthor xpsct, The system of check: nounced perfect, U through, althon ce may be pro- be checked line ave to be traversed. >avenience to a tri t several places €n route. isk of platforra robberios, railroad ma sion to any ci cial world im Eu y. Xetour rvclous avere arac teristic of the offie docgediy oppose the introduction of this ratioual system. In like manner they resist every a t to allow of @ journey being broken, unless the ticket for the ing part is forfeiwd. When will they and. jleurn that railways exist for the public, and bh public was not created for the iways? And when will they learn invincible logia of facts has been det in ways that might have b ing for years, carried conviction even to the most obtuse minds, that the greater the facilities offered the fewer the petty ree sirictions, and the cheaper the fares the more people are induced to travel, to the advantage of railway finance? One just cause for com utilitarian way in which ii aint is the vulgar s. walls, rocks } 4 1 of their wares and ¢ Hudson river. firms for the anuounce specifics, The rom Rhine of Amorica | ton, with its numero routes of some of the ¢ thus disfigured. Huge letters, yard in length and of proportionate thickness, more at home in an Afghan pass than in the Strand, Pa THE ENGLISHMAN’S VIEW. Free Sketches of Some Pecullarities of American Life. . From the Universal Review. It isan Englishman's own fault if he does not feel at home during his travels in America Many people are sure to welcome him and show him courteous attentions, because he comes from the old country. Nowhere, perhaps, is hospitality so freely offered, or so hearty a re- ception given, People mingle much more than with us. The old story about the drown- ing man who hesitated about accepting a rope thrown by a stranger on the bank of a river be- cause they had not been introduced would not be possible in America. If any man there wants to know anything, he asks; or if in inclined to make remark to @ chance companion, he does it, sure that he will be met in the same spirit. What a boundless capacity for talk is displayed by our American cousins! With the generality it is a penance to remain silent, They have no need for conver- sational aperients. They display marvelous resource and felicity in opening frank com- | munications with entire strangers. If some of them are embodied and peripatetic notes of interrogetion it must justice be added that they are as ready to impart knowlodge as they are to seek it. If the confession may be made, perfect good humor, one does sometimes eary, after @ month or so, of being asked a or more times in the day by traveling and hotel companions what is one’s opinion of the country and its institution: Taken as a whole, the Americans are better talkers and speakers than the English. Per- haps our best orators excel theirs, man for man, although, as is natural, this would be denied. But the average people are easier aud more accurate of speech. They are trained to it from childhood. Recitations are an import- ‘ant part of school exercises; meaning thereby, not words repeated by rote, but the substance of the lessons learned, clothed in the pupil’s own Te or such knowledge as may have been gail is helpful to public speaking, such an ———_ tof the duty and the pleasure of nearly all American citizens. Hence they acquire the art of saying what they know and of conveying their opinions with tolerable roughly duubed in yellow, g: red or some Other staring color, compel attention, in the midst of charming or sublime scenery, to do- Mestic applisuces or to some of the imnumer able remedies for the ilis that flesh is heir to, But then it must be remembered that the es- sence of life in America is publicity; not alone for business purposes. Men are placed, or they place themselves, on lofty pmnecies, according to their real or supposed importance. A daz- zling light is thrown by the press upon the sayings or doings of any one who can claim to be regarded a® promivent or even notorious, Private concerns are made public property, Diffidence and modesty scem likely to become extinct. All thas is part of the notoriety and strain of Gaily life. Business, politics and even religions affairs are conducted in a similar way. Mer- cantile hours are much longer, and the com- petition and exciten: far keencr than | with us, Where “smartn is esteemed as the highest virtue, every one tries to become smarter than his neigiibors and rivala, — - are Written for Tur Evenixe Sram Ecchorestopsis. KYRIELLA From this brave worl that, in ethereal space, + appolated places fee below— From our familiar he From this brave worl: From this fair orb whore first we learned to love, Nor dreamed of augnt be " From earthly Joys, from even pain and woe From this brave world {i will be sad to go. From where we glowed with Friendship's gente} fire, To good men’s praises ventured to aspire, And quaffed the joys that from right actions Sow-} From this brave world it will be sad w ga We have been tossed by winds of strife and carey And oft our load seemed more than we could beary, And wrong has made us wretched; but I know From this brave world it will be sad w go. From this old world—old, but with age not blind _ Nor waxed decropit—tbat far, far behind Leaves Error lumed, and weaker doomed to grow-@ From this brave world it will be sad to go. From this grand sphere, where Law forever rules To make it grander, spite of doubting foole— Else happier wore its total overthrow— From this brave world it will be sad to ga. Wise Science, wiser far than e'er before, ease, riety and force, wheth one aes or a thousand. an average is asked to speak at a public meet- ing or ata dinner or a wedding breakfast he probably hesitate, and stammer and repeat himself, and become nervous and confused, be- ‘eause he is unaccustomed, however intelligent ‘be on general topics. the stump orator is by no means extinct i aaa EO gmap difficulty in America in nt of a or ari ® state, to the i HL | 8 HT (eal Boldly essays all mysterics to explore; Now, when her marvels make such glorious showy From this brave world it will be sad to go. And, now, when man grows to bis fellow mam More kind than ever since his race began, And benefits around him loves to strow, From this brave world it will be sad to go. More than of yore this life has now to give, And Hygione teaches bow to longer Itve; ‘The horizon daily spreads more wide, and so From this brave world it will be sad to ga. But we must leave it, all; ‘twere well if we Take our farewell, resigned, with dignity; We trust, indeed, to find a better, though From this brave world it will be sad to go. Uniese kind Nature with soft hand dispense A soothing balm o'er every weary sense, brief oblivion on the mind bestow, this brave world it will be sad to ga, dark the past has been, yet light, siow-brightening dawn, still cheered hq We watch its aye-increasing flow, igs aie eae UM