Evening Star Newspaper, October 7, 1893, Page 11

THE NEW SUPREME COURT. THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C. SATURDAY. OCTOBER 7. 1893—SIXTEEN PAGES. THE SUPREME COURT Recent Changes That Make It Almost a New Body. STORIES ABOUT TRE JUSTICES Interesting Coincidences Found in Their Lives. MEN OF FAMOUS ANCESTRY. UstIce WILLIAM 1. Hornblower, the latest addition to the Supreme Court, is a little man with a big heal. His body is no larger than that of Gen. Joe Wheeier or ex-Senator Ma- hone, but his head is bigger than that of Tom Reed of Maine. He does not weigh over 1% pounds, and his Supreme Court gown requtres only half the cloth that it takes to St out the giant forms of Justices Gray, Harlan and Ste- phen J. Field. The Supreme Court is rapid- | ly changing. Six years ago there was hardly a little man on the bench with the exceptions of Justices Bralicy and Blatch- ford. Now the heads of the justices, as they rest against their hich chairs behind the long desk, run up and down like the teeth of an vid saw, and the ponderous dig- nity of the court appears to be passing away. Chief Justice Fuller himsolf is a little man. He is no taller than Hornblow- er, and his legs are so short that he has to Prop his feet up with a stool in order to rest easily in his chair of state. He forms a} striking contrast to the two men who pre- ceded him. Salmon P. Chase was six feet tall, and you could not have put his great dome of a head into a peck measure. Mor- } rison R. Waite weighed more than 20 pounds, and his every motion was heavy and dignified. Take Chief Justice Fuller out of his gown and he looks like a gray- haired boy. He is not 9s bix as was Sena- tor Spooner, and lige Spooner he probably frequently grows indignant at the {dea that a man. to be great, ought to be at least seventeen feet high. As to the otner Justices, Harlan is over six feet, and he; must weich in the neighborhood of #@ pounds. He is a great, broad-shouldered, ‘vith the red corpus- pienty of ‘ron shining out is frame. His eyes are round-limbed giant. eles which denote of every part of is vigor- 1 oiled’ by long walks. He someums walks from the Capitol ce of three | miles, a measnring | off the four miles an hour. The most of the judyes Capitol, and one of the f: see Brewer and trot down Pennsy!ve with the chief justice in the :niddt they have taken off their sowrs, ant though by look- ing at their faces you cua tell that they are eminent mer. view from the rear pre- sents two ordinary mortals in slouch hats with a little mun under a sil plug in the middle. ik out to the sights is to Wz on a dog A Leok at Jude Gray. One of the biggest men on the bench is ssetts. He is ful-| ali as Justice Harten, and he weighs He rather to adipose tis- sue. ds me of the best pic- tures which you in the magazines of the babies which are advertised as being | brought up on artificial food, and his flesh looks clean enough and eat. He ts a sober m: Ss one MASS v; self on his thinks the three gr the Supreme Cv setts and vard pile , im the neig' orheed of 31.) to Harvard, | and he gave $25,000 to the cullege library. | Judge Horablower's Fame: | tors. | Justice Gray fs rich and blue blooded, ana | this Is the Gray's srs buildin: 2 of Massachu- His uncle left se with most of the justices. | {father made a fortune in ship- and he had at one time sixty square-rigged ships on the ocean. He was born in alossachusetts in 1750, and he was, whea he dic ¢ richest man in the s1 It is irora him that a part of Justice Gray's wealth comes. The new justice, Mr. try back to Josiah Hornblower, the | family who came to this! to the United States | build a steam engine he-e. | the parts with him | i he United States. | twenty-five years | and the engine was used | copper mines in Hudson | er it was finished he pro- | sland, but the own- | persuaded him to stay. and | tzabeth Kin 1. who was | : ses of the | in_ colonial | his woman, his great | that the new justice prob- Judicial ability, for her son, +, Judge Joseph Hort blower. | was one 0! most famous lawyes New | Jersey has known. He was chief justice of | the state, and he wrote a number of law books He was the youngest of twelve chil-! €ren, and was so sickly that he could not be sent tu school. At the age of sixteen { he had a stroke of paralysis, and he lost the memory of everything he had learned up to that time. He began all over again as Soon as he was cured, and against the ad- | vice of every one studied law. He worked | Fight along up to the time of his death, how- ever. and } e very famous, living to | 4 age of elghty-eight. He had eight children,and one of these was Wm. H. Hornblower, the father of the new jus- tice. He began life by studying law, but was converted and dropped the law for the- oloy. He became a Presbyterian preacher, and died of paralysis just ten years ago. Justice Hornblower, after graduating at Princeton, began his practice in New York. Every one knows how he made himself fa- mous there, and how his practice has for years amounted to three or four times the sum he will get as a justice of the Supreme ourt The new justice ts said to be rich. He. has made a fortune at the law, and he in- herited, I xm told. a pretty penny from his father. He will probably tm Washington. Justice Hornblower sum- | Just build a ey mer home will be at Southampton, L. I. He has just finished building a large cottage there. His house {s surrounded by six acres of ground, ard the lot has a frontage of $00 feet. The cottage is a two-story and attic building, with wide verandas running around the front and sides. It is made of clap boards and shingles, and has cost all told about $20,000. It contains over a score of rooms, anu it has a most elaborate sys- tem of subsoil drainage. All the sewerage from the house runs off into a great tank 400 feet away from it. It is here reduced to a pulp, and by means of a siphon and a large number of subterranean drains car- Tied off into the soil. The house itself is lighted by electricity, and one of its promi- nent features is a big hall, with a number of large rooms opening into it. Blne-Blooded Justices. Speaking of blue-blooded justices, Justice Stephen J. Field can trace his ancestry back to the flood. One of his grandfathers was in the revolutionary army as a captain and his father went to school with the father of William M. Evarts. His three brothers all became famous and the family J has for the past fifty years been «ne of the most noted in the country. Justice Harlan belongs to one of the oldest families in Kentucky and his father was attorney gen- eral of that state at the time of his death. Howell Jackson {s also blue blooded, and Justice Brown comes from one of the Brown families of New England, which is noted for its famous men. He was born at Lee, Mass., and I am not sure, but I think one of his connections was John Brown, the revolutionist of 1774-5. This man was sent to Canada by our forefathers to ex- elite the people to revolt. He went around Pretending to buy horses, but in reality talking up the revolution which afterwards resulted in the war of independence. He afterwards went with Ethan Allen on his expedition to Canada and he was for a time under Benedict Arnold. He did not like Arnold and left him prophesying that he would prove a traitor, as he did. Justice Shiras comes of good’ Pennsylvania stock and his mother was the daughter of the Rev. G. L. Peabody, one of the most fa- mous preachers of his day. Queer Coincidences About Supreme Court Justices. Some queer thirgs have happened to the men on the Supreme bench. It is strange that Justices Shires, Brewer and Brown should have gone to school at Yale at the same time and in the same class. They graduated together in 1&3 and Shiras won the Hadley prize of that year. It is strange that Justice Stephen J. Field and Justice Brewer should both spend the earilest part of their lives in Asia Minor and should come together in the highest court of the land. Stephen J. Field Went to Asia Minor when he was fifteen years old to visit his sister, who had married a missionary, and he stayed there until he practically acquired the oriental languages. He is now one of the best linguists on the bench and he can speak a half a dozen different tongues and read more. Justice Brewer was born in Smyrna, the same place to which Stephen J. Field went, and not more than a year or so after he left. His father was a famous missionary, who was the first one of the American preachers to volunteer to go to Smym-. He established the first news- paper that was ever published in that city and he introduced schools and the print- ing press. He was a graduate of Yale and @ writer as well as a preacher, editor and teacher. It was he who married the sister of Stephen J. Field, and it is 4 curious thing that uncle and nephew thus sit side by side on the bench of this the hichest court in the land. It is queer that Shiras, Field, Brewer and Hornblower should ali be the sons of preachers and strange tha Hornblower should have been educated in the law by his uncle, Justice Bradley, and 80 soow succeed him after Bradley's death. Early Lives of Our Famous Judges. I see it stated that Justice Hornblower is the youngest man, with the exception of Justice Story, who has ever been appointed to the Supreme bench. This is a mistake. Hornblower is forty-two and Judge Story was ten years younger at the time of his appointment, and William Johnson of South Carolina, who was appointed by Thomas Jefferson was ovly thirty-three years of age. stayed on the bench thirty years, it and if Hornblower lives that long he wili Set just $300,000 out of Uncle Sam's treas- ury. Among the other young justices of the Supreme Court Bushrod Washington, the nephew of George, took his seat on the Supreme bench at thi-ty-six years of ag and he stayed there for thirty-one years, Thomas Todd of Kentucky, who was ap- Pointed at forty-two, being exactly the same age as Justice Hornblower, remained nineteea years, and Joseph A. Campbell of Tennessee was also forty-two, living only eight yeurs after his appointment, while R. Curtis of Massachusetis serv- six years. As to the present just- ices, Harlan of Kentucky was forty-four when he was appointel, Gray was fitty- three, Brewer fifty-two, Brown fifty-fou> and Chief Justice Fuller fifty-five when they first took their seits on the Supreme bench. Justice Field was forty-seven and he has been on the bench for thicty-two years, which, at $10,000 a year, would equal $220,000. There is no telling how long a man will live after he has becn appointed to the Supreme bench. here is no softer snap in Uncle Sam's gift than that of the Supreme Court justice, and a skeleton appointed to the Supreme bench 1s liable to fatten up and last a generation. A Story of Chief Justice Tan Take, for instance, Chief Justice Taney. He was as thin as a rail when he was ap- pointed and he seemed to be just on the edge of the grave. No one thought he would outlast two months, and when he was appointed fifty-nine of the leading jawyers of the United States laid their plans to become his successor. He lived twenty-seven years after that time, and he died at eighty-seven. Just before he was appointed a lawyer wanted to get him to try a case. The case had been in the courts a long time and two of his lawyers Judge Horablower's Country Home. had died on his hands. He called upon Taney, but said nothing about the case. He was asked why he had not employed him. He replied, “I would as soon think of hicing a corpse. That man won't live six weeks.” It was the same with Judge B-adley. He seemed all skin, bones and brain, but he held on for year after year, and, though appointed at 57, spent more than a sci of years on ‘the bench. Few judges have had such long terms as Justice Field. Justice Miller served twenty-eight years, Chief Justice Marshall. thirty-four and Judge Story of Massachusetts the same time. Bushrod Washington sat on the Su- preme bench thirty-one years and Johnson of South Carolina served thirty years. All of the present judges have a right to retize at seventy, but they will get their $10,000 a year as long as they live. They now have Private secretaries in addition to their sala- Ties, and everything is done to make their work easy fo- them. Their expenses are as great or as little as they choose to make them. They can go into society or not, as they choose, and whether they spend their salaries in entertainments or by judicious investments let them accumulate is no per- son's business but their own. Voor oa $10,000 2 Year. A number of the justices have died worth much less than they were supposed to have had. Justice Miller received between two and three hundred thousand dollars from the government and died comparatively poor. Justice Bradley was making from forty to fifty thousand dollars a year at the law for some time before he was appointed to the Supreme bench, and he brought a fortune with him to Washington. He lived very simply and left a good estate. Chief Justice Waite made a great deal at the Jaw, but he was not a money saver, and though he got fees as high as 40,00 at a time when he died he left but ttle. His most valuable piece of property was his house, which was worth in the neighbor- hood ‘of $40,000. Salmon P. Chase left a house in Washington and a place in the country near here to Kate Chase Sprague, but she is now comparatively poor, and though her land has risen in value it'is by |no means a large enough property to en- able her to entertain in anything lke the style she displayed when her father alive and she was trying to ele- vate him to the presidency. I don’t know what Justice Stephen J. Field is worth. He could have made a fortune at the law had he stuck to the practice. He has entertained a great deal since he has been on the bench, and I doubt whether he has a large fortune. He lives, you know, just opposite the Capitol, in the bullding that was used as a prison during the var. He has a comfortable home, which is well furnished, and his library is one of the finest in the country. Judge Brown is sald to be wealthy. He made a great income for years in Detroit, and Justice Shiras should be rich, for it was reported at the time of his appointment that he had given up a law practice worth from fifty to seventy-five thousand dollars a year to take nis place upon the bench. Justice Hornblower is sald to be throwing up a practice worth $40,000 a year, and the luckiest man of the judicial nine today is Howell Jackson, who was cle- vated from a lower salary in judicial life to the $10,000, the private secretary and the great honor of the Supreme Court. Justice Lamar died poor. He owned an estate of | thousands of acres in Misstssippl, but the land was worth little, and it brought him no income to speak of. Stanley Matthews’ household furniture was sold at auction here about a week ago, and the wite of Justice Woods, though she has a compe- tency, is not rich. Judges With Histories. I wish some of the Supreme Court jus- tices would write their autobiographies. would like to know just how Justice Brown shot that burglar who was attempting to rob him. You know the story? The burglar stood beside Brown's bed when he awoke in | the night and covered him with a pistol. “I want your watch and key. Give them to me and I'll make no noise, and your life i safe." “AH right,” said the future justice, and putting his hand under the pillow, he pulled out @ revolver, got the drop on’ the burglar and killed him before he had time to say Jack Robinson. This is the outline of the story and it may not be exactly cor- rect. There is no doubt, however, that Judge Brown killed the ‘burglar, and in DAVID AND GOLIATH. A Btory of Topping’s Gulch. BY JOSEPH HATTON. Written for The Evening Star. BENEZER _ TOP- ping, otherwise “Old ‘Top," had two part- n One was a young man. T other was a young woman. He only knew the latter as Silas Goode. Nor had Topping Gulch any reason to doubt that she was any other than what she professed. Prior to the advent of Silas Goode, Old Top had elected Ned Glover to be the man who should share his eabin and enjoy his confidence was after the fatal quarrel in which lost his life that Silas Goode appeared on the scene, being no other than Ned’s widow in male attire, bent on an investigation of her husband's death and with a determined if somewhat vague idea of vengeance. The history ot both ranching and mining in America has many a story of adventu- rous women earning a living in male attire, and this tragic romance of Ned Glover's widow comes to me among the ordinary records of 4 newspaper chronicle, the points of which seem to be worthy of a more ex- tended and literary rendering. it was on a Friday afternoon in October when Mrs Glover, in a travet-stained min- ing costume, her husband’s jacket and {| boots, and a long bowie knife in her belt, entered the straggling boundaries of Gun- nison City, in the first days of the gold fever of that region, only a few years ago. 1 shall call her she and keep to her name of Glover, but the reader will see in his mind's eye, as the miners of Gunnison and the Gulen saw her—a lissome, sturdy young fellow, with dark eyes, e_ complexion, firm mouth and a rich, deep contralto voice. She had the free and easy carriage of a man, and asked for work with the expec- fant air of one who did not look to be re- ‘used. Edward Glover had married without means. lt was a love match. Beatrice Goode was an orphan. She was employed in a Chicago store. Glover was a Jack-of- something like this way. Take the life of Justice Stephen J. Field. What stories he could write! His whole career has been filled with interesting episodes. One I have heard occurred while the cholera was raging in Asia Minor. The missionaries worked among the people and Judge Field, then a boy, acted as a nurse for cholera patients. One night he was at a dinner and he saw one of the servants who were waiting on the table fall dead. There was a cry of “the plague” and in a moment the house was empty. Think of his early struggles in Cal- ifornia. He landed in San Francisco with ten dollars in his pocket, and the next morn- ing, after paying his bills, he found he had just one dollar left. He had, however, sixty- four old newspapers which he had brought from New York. He got a boy to sell these, offering him half. They sold for sixty-four dollars—a dollar apiece—and the thirty-two dollars thus gotten started him on the road to fortune. He had to defend himself in those days, and while he was in the legis- lature he sent a challenge to a man named Moore who had insulted him. The man who carried the challenge was David C. Broder- ick, who was afterward shot by Terry, and Terry was, you know, shot not long ago by one of Field's friends. Broderick saved Field's life early in the fifties. As I hear the story, the two men were standing in a hotel in San Francisco, when Broderick saw @ Spaniard throw back his cloak and level his revolver at Field. As quick as thought he flung himself between the two men and pushed Field out of the room, and his ac- tion saved his life. Such stories told by Justice Field would be full of interest. T’ doubt not the other judges could give some- thing almost as romantic, but there is little probability that they will be heard from just now. FRANK G. CARPENTER. ‘Written for The Evening Star. Fame and Oblivion. L w in a vision of the night, ‘& scene of orient xplenlor, A sovereign lady, sturry bright. With a starry train to attend her, In a chariot rich with gems and gold, She held her way toward a mountain, Adown which sparkling rivulets rolled From many a viewless fountain. On its summi*, seeming to touch the skies, A palace, of breadth amazing. Marmoreal glesmed, whercon all eyes. Of the train were fondly gazing. And some bo.e lyre ‘They chanted je onward faring, And some aloft held glittering swords, And marched with a martial bearing. . and far-heard words ‘There were some that were stoled in spotless white, of scraph beauty d conquered in bloodless fight, ‘and Duty. flelds of Right Oft, thrilling the soul, the queen's clear voice Cried, “On! ye have been victorious In the battle of life, and shall rejoice In my palace, forever glorious." nr | In the misty distance, I saw below, An ebony, waveless ocean, And many a craft was sinking slow In Sts bosom that showed no motion. To embark thereon was a countless throng Forever from all sites wending, ‘The high and the low, the weak, the strong, ‘The rich and the poor there blending. At Intervals long, Ia few descried, Who worshiped that Indy royal, Who, leaving the herd, toward the mountain bled, And joined her attendants loyal. With suites the sovereign welcomed them, Her eyes like the sunlight beaming, And, kneeling, they kissed her garment's hem, ‘snem gazed on that proud pile gleaming. And iin she cried with melodious voice, ye have heen vietortous; Ye bave wor the laurel and shall rejoice In my palace, forever glorious.” ‘The vision passed, and I knew that she Was Fame, whom that bright train followed, And that dark water Oblivion's sea, Wherein all the rest were swallowed. W. L. SHOEMAKER. _o The Tactful Niece. From the Boston Home Journal. Uncle Wayback—“I deciare, Elvira, this knife tastes soapy, same as the other one.” Shrewd Niece—“It's too bad, uncle, city servants are so careless. Try with your fork. Maybe that's clean. piers coe Either Would Do. From Truth. “Will you take tea or coffee?” asked the ndlady of the fortnight-old boarder. “Yes, ma'am, if you please,” he replied. “I have taken hot water for the past ten days, and tea or coffee will be a welcome change.” And the silence that fell upon that dys- pepsia-mill sounded like a still noise. pnanaeS aTE Why Mr. Prospect Parke Enjoyed the Falr So Much, From the World's Fair Puck. all-trades. He had the versatility that 1s often successful in America. Between them they earned enough to live decently in rooms outside the city. They had speni. most of their hours of courting in walks along the lake shore. Both of them betgnged to the west. Soon after their marriage Glover had news of the gold find in Gunnison county. It came from a friend who traveled in a large way for a great engineering firm. He told Glover that there was a fine opening for a clever, enterprising young fellow, either at Topping’s Gulch or in the city that was springing up close by. Glover was ambitious to make money, and his wite was nothing loth. They both’ agreed that Chi- cago did not offer them any special opening except as drudges for other people. In the beginning of a mining camp and the uprising of a city a young man who coutd turn his hand to anything had rare opportunities. The traveler for the engi- neering house, who was something more than @ mere bagman, was sure that Ed- ward Glover would find his reward out yon- der in Gunnison City, and offered to loan him money to make the trial. Beatrice, his wife, would not hear of a loan. They had saved a little, some hun- dred dollars. That would see Ned through his journey, and she would be able to keep herself until she heard from him. There were no decent women as yet, the traveler said, at Gunnison, but there soon would be. Within a few weeks homes for the work- ers would be built, and stores had already been started. There was a talk of schools, and a printing press was on its way from New York. Capital was pouring into the city, and the first men in would be the first to make their fortunes. Thus it was re- solved that Edward Glover should make for the Rocky Mountains, with a view to lay the foundations of anew home and pos- sible fortune in the new region of Gunnison City. Mrs. Glover was a courageous woman. She encouraged her husband in his enter- prise, made light of their parting, though she felt it keenly. She tatked more like the man in the partnership than the woman, She would have started out with him had she not been overruled. The traveler said she would only be an incumbrance until Ned felt his feet, and then, of course, she would be a help and a blessing; and so Glover went alone, with the understanding that he should write two or three times a week if the mails served, and that they should be among the first to set up housekeeping in the new city of their adoption. Glover wrote to his wife twice before he arrived at Gunnison City. He was full of hope. A stranger to other states, he was deeply interested in all he saw, and re- ported that the people he met with gay him great accounts of the prospects of the new gold finds. Then u letter came from Gunnison City. The place was not yet ready for respectable women; but Beatrice would not have to wait long. ‘They had be- gun to build a bank of stone. ‘The contractor was putting up a frame house and meant to bring his wife and two children out in four weeks’ time. ‘There was @ bit of ground which Ned had been per- mitted to stake out on very easy terms of payment, where he hoped to settle. All this was but the news of his first week. Other letters followed sharply and full of longings for the coming of his wife. He fortunately made a good friend in the pioneer of the place, Ebenezer Topping, an oldish fellow, with no belongings, and it was likely that he would become his partner. ‘All the men had “pards' me of the men were good fellow: ome were rowdles of the worst description; but he should get along with them, and he hoped and bellev- ed that Beatrice, his Michigan goddess, would be able to come out in not less than thirty days; he was not sure he would not be able to fetch her, as there were goods he would like to arrange for in Chicago; he thought he could represent in Gunnison City some Chicago firm that might be will- Ing to open a store in the new city. In this last letter Ned sent his wife fitty dollars in @ bill on Chicago, one of the first that had been issued by the Gunnison City Bank, at present located under canvas, but with the foundations of a new stone struc- ture already laid in. ‘This was the last letter Mrs. Glover re- ceived from her husband. She waited and worrled, grew anxious, telegraphed as far as she could, there being at that time no complete communication with the new set- tlement. At last came the report, vague, but evi- dently true, that Ned Glover was dead. Topping’s Gulch and Gunnison City had both been the scenes of fatal fights and out- rages, such as mark the early history of all advances of civilization’s frontiers, and Glover had fallen a victim to the lawless- ness of the new settlement. The traveler who had brought them the first bright news of Gunnison w. away on a long journey. Mrs. Glover had no intimate friends. She consulted the police. ‘They did not seem to think the matter within their jurisdiction. Frontier fights and gambling tragedies rather helped than hindered the cause of justice. it was better to let freebooters and mining adventurers settle their own affairs than waste good energies and risk valuable lives in hunting down murderers, who in most of the assassinations in which they had been engaged, probably saved the law the expense and trouble of official executions. At all events this was the kind of talk Mrs. Glover heard at the headquarters of the police in Chicago. Ned Clover had been in 0 many employ- ments that his wife or widow had no spec- fal firm to whom she could appeal for active co-operation with her in discovering the truth about her husband, and it was made plain to her that if she hoped to find out the worst or the best concerning the news that had reached her she must either pay an agent to investigate the affair for her, or go and see to it herself. No one sugge: ed the latter alternative; but Mrs. Glover made up her mind that this was the only way. She went home to the rooms where she had been so happy and so miserable, col- lected together such trifting things as she possessed—a few trinkets, one or two pic- tures, some books—and sold them in the city, the rest of her household goods having been purchased by a neighbor, then said good-bye to the one or two people whom she knew, and disappeared. Down in the city she bought at various places the outfit for yung man. Cit wae a comfort to her that Ned had left behind him a jacket and some other arti- cles of his apparel, besides a bowie knife that he had captured from an Indian during a mining raid in which he had been engag- ed when little more than a lad with his father, who was killed, und in which Ned lost everything but his scalp. ‘These things she had packed together in a little bag, and had taken a room at an obscure hotel, until such time as she could complete her outfit and start on her jour- ney of inquiry—and, perhaps, of vengeance —to Gunnison City. She went into the hotel a woman, paid for her bed and the breakfast she did not eat, and left early the next morning looking the very image of a mining adventurer. She was a comely young woman, with dark hair, an olive complexion, and of a light, but sturdy build. With her hair cut short, a slouch hat, a pair of mining boots, and a jacket that was something between a blazer and a shooting coat, she worked her way toward Gunnison City, Ned’s knife in her belt and his image in her heart. She met with no difficulties of note on her journey. She practiced all the masculine arts she could think of; thought how Ned did this and how he did that, got into the swing of his gait, took long strides, held on her way feariessiy, impelled by an anguish that had gradually frozen into a burning desire to avenge the death of her husband, if he had heen murdered, as she had every reason to fear, and to visit his last resting place, wherever it might be. Sometimes her heart was stirred with the hope that the vague stories she had heard were false even in their vagueness. Once a jealous fear had crept into her mind,with a fiendish hint that perhaps some other wo- man had supplanted her, and that Ned had sought to get away under cover of the re- port of his death, She dismissed the thought as quickly as it was conceived; and as she neared the new settlement she had no longer any reason to doubt that Ned Glover had been killed in a fight at Gunnison City. On reaching her destination she had reason to be fully convinced that she had acted wise- ly in adopting the disguise of a man. 11. Gunnison City was just issuing from its frontier shell when Mrs. Glover—otherwise Silas Gqode—found it. Only IA lf-hatched, it consisted of one long street of canvas tents. Some of these were stores, others living places, one or two more pretentious, with attempts at the dig- nity of wooden ‘fronts and shingle roofs, were bars and gambling dens. The place was crowded with a motley crew of men, belted and gray-shirted, while, lounging about their respective tents or occupying conspicuous places in the bar rooms, were a little company of wicked and bedizened women. There was not one de- cent petticoated creature in the place. As she entered the canvas town Mrs. Glo- ver was very thankful for her disguise. She assumed a certain swagger and confi- dence of manner that did not displease the miners, who were inclined to encourage the enterprise of the young, and there was something refined in the newcomer’s man- ner that was not without its good effect in commanding a certain rough kind of re- spect. “Sorhe dare devil belonging to a high- toned family, who has given civilization the slip and means business,” one miner, with more than the usual amount of observation and sympathy, said to another. Mrs. Glover overheard the remark, and inquired her way to Topping’s Gulch. She was advised to “Me around” until Old Top himself came into the Eureka saloon, which he did’ without fail.every Friday’ nicht. Was the stranger on for a job? The stranger said she was. Then Old Top was just the man for him; and, moreover, he Was on the lookout for’a partner, and they shouldn't wonder that the lad could have the vacant bunk at Old Top's quarters. Meanwhile they invited the’ stranger to take a drink, which the stranger did, man- aging to spill some of the burning whisky upon the sawdust floor, and inviting her hosts in her turn to join her in a nip of the best. In due time Old Top arrived. He was a man of about fifty, short in stature, with gray hair and a grizzled beard. His com- Blexion had once been fair; it was now a mottled red. with a bullet mark on the right cheek that gave his face a somewhat gtim aspect. His soft brown eyes, however, and his mellow voice contradicted anything of a vicious nature that might have been suggested by the wounded and weather- beaten face. “Wall, youngster,” he said, “they tell me you're lying around for me. “I was advised to speak with you,” said Mrs. Glover, lounging in the most approved masculine manner against the bar counter of the Eureka saloon. “Let's wet it with a drink,” said Old Top, turning to the bartender, who handed him a bottle and dashed a couple of glasses and an ice water jug before him. Old Top helped himself and pushed the bottle to- wards the youngster, who responded heart- ily to the “Here we go.” which was the usual toast in the bars of Gunnison City. “From Chicago, seckin’ your fortune?” sald Topping. “A likely young feller, and T wish yer luck. It's true as I wants a pard, havin’ just lost the one I had; and he come from Chicago, too. As handy a young fel- ler as ever you see—a daisy—but he couldn't get along with Abner Digges, which thi gulch knows him as ‘The Knifer.’ prefer. ring that weapon to a gun, and havin’ been Taostly successful in every combat. ‘There's 8 sort of luck In a man dodging bullets and makin’ the running with a knife: but there, you'll soon be as wise about the gulch as T am: won't have nothin’ to talk about if ver come with me. Are you a Chicago boy? “Yer,” said’ Mrs. Glover, “I was born there.” “I'm English by rights—wns born in Bris- tol, but T've heen on this side ever since T was ten, so i recon I'm a son of Uncle Sam.” “Do all the men at the gulch have part- ners?” “Every one o' em. They works in pairs, and finds it lonely o” nights without a pard 0 talk with or shuMe a deck of card “Any women in the camp out there?” Mrs. Glover asked. “Not much,” said Topping: “nary a _wo- man allowed nearer than Gunnison City, and we'd get along better without a petti- coat in the entire state.” “Not if you had the right kind of women to help you and keep the stove alight,” said Mrs. Glover. “Darn'd if you didn't say that just lke my pard who couldn't get on with the Knifer, but he was a married fellow, end I dessay you've left a sweetheart behind there in Chicago?” “No,” said Mrs, Glover, “but I'm on the side of the gocd women, and if you men made room for the good and swept out the bad, Gunnison would soon brush up, and make her ways clean and sweet, By Jeosophat! I believe you, youngster, and I wish Ned Glover was only alive to hear you talk morality.” ‘Ned Glover,” said the stranger, with an effort, “Ned Glover, did you say?” “Yes, my dear old purd; old I’ called him, ‘cos I’ was fond of him, but he was not much older than you.” “Ned Glover,” she repeated, turning pale to the lips and clutching the bar counter for support. “Yes; they fought—him and Abner Digges, otherwise the Knifer—and the whul camp was grieved that Digges came through it without a scratch. We giv the dear old pard a real good funeral, and—hello, youngster, why, you're worn out, dog-tired —ben’ walking ‘the Rockies—and perhaps you know’d Ned Glover?” “Yes,” said Mrs. Glover, her mouth parch- ed, her limbs no longer seeming capable of bearing her up, “and I have walked many miles today, and I've had nothing to eat, and—' “Great Scott! and I reckon to be as far- seein’ and hospitable as most; here, lad, gimme your bundle; come on, I'm free of the kitchen here.” Old Top led the way. The stranger fol- lowed, staggering. “No head for rum,” remarked a looker-on. “Nor no legs nayther,” the other replied with a laugh, as the two disappeared. mu. . That night the woman lay in the very bunk in which her husband had slept. Top- ping's hut was the best in the camp. He worked the largest claim; indeed he was the pioneer of the Gulch, and was the most Prosperous man of the entire community. Moreover, he saved his money. He had no great faith in the permanence of the famous find of gold, though it promised to be the making of a city. He had taken to Ned Glover soon after the young fellow’s arrival, made him iirst his companion and then elected him—the very day before he was killed—to be his pard, at the same time holding out to him hopes of a future in which there might be a division of prodts past and prospective. Trial had, of course, to be made of Glov- er’s bona fides, and ‘the result would as- suredly have been satisfactory had not the bully of the camp suddenly widowed the loving wife of the industrious and worthy adventurer from Chicago. Mrs. Glover could not sleep. She ex- amined every crevice of the cabin which had been relegated to her. Ned’s pistols still hung over the truckle bed. His hat and boots, his pick and shovel, were laid upon his oak chest, as if ready for use. The young widow sobbed silently as she kissed the commonest thing he had touch- ed. In a leather bag, of which Topping gave her the key, she found her own let- ters, a lock of her own hair and a few small nuggets of gold, the last results of the dead man’s labors. “T felt as somebody’d come along as know'd him, and its kinder lucky that you should be the feller to fulfill what I was a thinkin’, though I never hoped to have a new pard as was his friend, and a new pard that reminded me of him, his ways and his sayin’s; and I score one in my calendar agen Mr. Abner Digges that'll hev to be wiped out one of these days. But there, let that red-letter item stick by the wall. Good night, pard; we'll talk of Digges the Knifer tomorrow.” ‘The next day Old Top introduced the new- comer to the boys, and it was plain to see that the murderous Digges “took agen” Silas Goode. The fact that the lad knew Ned Glover was agen him; his clean and decent dress and manner were agen him; and Digges noted with a curl of his ugly lip that the youngster wore a bowie knife even more formidable than his own. It Mrs. Glover was fascinated by the red, ferret-like eyes ofe Abner Digges that worthy found a pecullar attraction in the boy's weapon. “Kinder cur’us knife you carries,” said the miner. “Yes,” said Top’s pard, nerving herself to calmness and scif-poxsession. “Mine's Indian. Like to look at him?” he said, unfastening his belt and handing the weapon, sheath and all, to the new comer. ° “A powerful weapon,” she said, handling it with the assumed air of an expert. “Yours is longer,” said the bully; “per- Uteness would hev handed him over for in- spection in return for a similar civility.” “Oh, you may handle it, certainly, with pleasure,” said the new comer, laying it in his big, hard hands. “Jest so,” he said, turning it over and over, balancing it, and envying the lad his possession of it. ‘The camp could see this in his eye and manner. “Can we do a deal?’ he asked, replacing the knife in its sheath. “I think not,” said the new comer. ve you mine and $50; and it’s like givin’ you my life, for that there is my lucky blade, you bet! And it’s never come over me once as yet to part with it, But Jesrusalem, stranger, your knife’s @ mir- acle!" Then he noticed the initials on the sheath “Them ain't your initials, eh?” “No,” said the new comer; “the knife was given to me by a friend.” “E, G.! Well, I guess there's more'n one E. G. in the Rockies—and so it is not to be @ deal?” fo, thank you,” sald the woman, holding herself with all the masculine strength she could assume, and diguising her dread of the man and her hatred. “He's a good deal of a brute, ain't he?” said Topping to his pard, as they went to work; “a jowl like a hippopotamus, and a mouth most as ugly. “A brute as you sai boys put up with him?" “Half afraid, and the other half indiffer- ent. More’n that, they respect his pluck; he'll fight anything from a bear to a rattler, from an Indian to the worst gambler that ever carried an extra ace or loaded a dice.” “But how could my—how could poor Ned Glover have offended him?” “Offended him from the first; took no stock in him; paid no attention to his brag: disagreed with him on politics; was superior to him in travel; had seen as much indian fighting; wouldn’t join his party on a bender at Gunnison; and ‘one night the Knifer hit him in the face, and they fought. Great Jeosophat! I never was nearer breaking in upon a ring and going for a natural born bully than I was when I see as Ned Glover was not up to the brute’s method. 1 some- times wish I had done it. But then mining camp laws is mining camp laws, and it's not for me to go contrary.” “Did he suffer?” she asked in “my friend—dear Ned Glover?” “No, the stab was to the heart; death was sudden; not a word, poor chap, not a word; and Digges he just walked away, a wipin’ of his knife—the one as you was handling a while ago.” Old Top's new pard felt sick at the thought of these things. Yet she applauded her temerity in standing before this man; and commending herself for her courage vowed in her beating heart to avenge the death of her husband. But why do the low voice, Iv. “Why you seems to be quite chummy with the Knifer,” said Topping to the pard, a few days after Mrs. Glover's introduction to the assassin. “I thought you desired that I shouldn't quarrel with him.” “Wall, that’s so; but—” “You see, with a man like that, you must either be on good terms or bad.” “That's 80,” said Topping. “And I want to learn his method of fight- ing that you talk so much about.” ‘ou're ginger on picking up knowledge, Pard, that’s a fact.” “And we've done a deal over the knives.” No! ‘act.” said the new pard, “and he's shown me the trick of his; it les mostly in the twist of the blade: he's going to alter mine to match it, but I don’t think he can. And yesterday we had a sham fight, and he has taken a fancy to me, he says, and wish- es I'd be his pard.” “And if you was to do it, I'd be half a mind to kill you both,” said Topping, with & certain seriousness ‘underlying the smile with which he said it; “I like you too much to part with you; and I hate him with a deadly hatred—and that’s a fact “Hush pard!” said the woman, going to the door to listen, and then sitting by the side of Topping. “And so do I. The man he this knife was my dear, dear killed wi friend.” She seldom wept, but the tears welled into her eyes as she spoke, and Topping pressed her hand. Mrs. Glover's one great fear was that she might betray herself. She had to exercise @ continual watchfulness to play the part of Silas Goode with success. She had, for- tunately, soon grown used to her clothes. ‘The natural swing of her gait suited her make-up. Her volce was a deep contralto, and her dark complexion and lissome figure helped the disguise. Her experiences with horses in Chicago, her somewhat masculine labor there to earn a living, made her at home in occupations that would otherwise have taxed her in- genuity to the utmost. She was further encouraged by the knowl- edge that many women had successfully passed themselves off as men even in the army; and what an incentive she had to ald her! ‘First the desire to find her husband; and now the impulse to avenge him. Oc- casionally she thought Topping looked curi- ously at her; and so he did, but it was in the way of an honest admiration of her as a bright, worthy and entertaining young fel- low. It was fortunate for the new-comer that there were no women in the camp: and she had a knack of turning conversations into grooves that suited her. She told stories of Indian fighting, related anecdotes of trade in the Chicago markets, remembered bits of history about the early days of the state of Michigan, could quote the prices of commodities imported, and had a pleasant faculty of listening with respect to other people's talk; she became a favor- ite in camp, though a few unpleasant com- ments were made about her sudden friend- ship for Abner Digges; concerning which whenever the subject was mentioned to old Top that respectable worthy winked his eye and remarked with invariable unchange- ableness, “Why certainly, faat’s 80.” v. A reporter of the Chicago Times collected together a few details of the denouement of the story of Mrs. Glover's adventure, but border fights and mining tragedies are so common in the newspaper records of the west that the tragedy of Topping’s Gulch did not count for much I suppose in Chicago, and there were side lights and undercurrents of romance in this episode of the early history of Gunnison City that seemed to me worthy of a personal inter- view with Ebenezer Topping, and I prefer to relate the finish of the story in his own words: “It was this way, you see. I never took much stock in the friendship of Abner Dig- ges. He might hev been kinder square at fust, because he meant to have Silas for his pard, scein’ as the young feller seemed afeard of him and as he could insure him agen hostility in the camp: not as Silas wanted that, but as I sald before, he seem- ed kinder fearful of the Knifer, and with reason, seein’ as he was the fighting boss of the camp, and nary man cared to go agen him. “Silas would arsk me curious questions, as how, if I hated a man, what I would do to get rid of him. Would } kill him? And how?—in_ a quarrel, or what? Likewise whether I'd give him a chance? And I re- members that I said, ‘Well. I'd most Mkely bust him in the snoot fust and drop a bullet ito him after. Ad the iad would say he murdonxd the dearest friend he had in the -vorll, and more'n once I'd see the tears coursin” down his cheeks, which I told him was womanish and unworthy, though I confessed as I'd given way myself when poor Ned Glover was buried. “And I took the lad and showed him where we planted his friend, and I see as it took him all his time to hold off piping his eyes afresh. Well, that’s how things went on, except that every time [ see the Knifer alone he generally contrived to say a nasty thing or two, hoping to provoke me, but I wouldn't have no truck with him that way. “One day it was a kinder holiday in the camp, bein’ a birthday, ur the report of striking a new lead, or ‘some other excuse for a spree, and I thought i'd just xo up to the Bend and see about a barrel of four as oughter hev come to camp the day afore; and I left Abner Digges havin’ a sort of sham fight with my young jard and a-teach- in’ him dodges with the knife and how to be wary of the man who covered you with his gun, and so on; I was trkin a drink « piece away from where the two opposite looking inhabitants of the camp was a sparring in a friendly way; and he certainly did appear to be a-showin’ Silas some sub- tle guards and attacks both with knife and pistol; and there was a ring gradually form- in’ round in front of the bar; and there was O'Malley's cart awaitin’, and off I goes to the Bend,a-givin’ the tip to Kentucky Rust, one of the best fellows in the camp t» keep an eye on my pard and tell him where I'd gone and when I'd be back. “Well, I don’t suppose I was gone more'n an hour when coming back to the camp 11 Fee] there was the same old ring near the Eure- ka saloon, only it was bigger: seemed as if the whul camp was out, seemed as if there Was a stir such as one sees when there's life and death in it. I thought it was kin- der cur’us that Silas and Knifer should hev been sparrin’ and makin’ fun for the camp all this time. I leaves O'Malley to put up his ‘oss’, and I hurries up to the ring of pals and others, and without a word they makes way for me, and sume leoked at me fearful and inquiring like. “The next minute I was insiie the circle, and there I sees my lad, his jack-t off, a | handkerchief tied round his head, his whirt sleeves turned up, and his feet bare. He had his knife in his hand, that is the knife | 4s was the bully's, his face was pale, his eye steady as a hawk's, his lips glued to/ each other; and facing him was Abner) Digges, stripped to his shirt, and watching the lad with a devilish jook, but without the haughty sneer that was gineral with him when fightin’. It didn’t need nobody to tell me that a fight was goin’ on—the | most unequal fight I had ever seen. “My first impulse was to rush in and stop it; my second thought was that to rattle the thing for a second might evst Silas his Ufe; and Kentucky Rust in a whisper says —and I shall never forget it—Hold your breath, pard, the Lord's on the side of David,’ and right away it came into my mind to think of David und Goliath, and I held my breath as Kentucky Rust had bid- fen me. “It seemed that after I'd gone to the Bend that Silas had tripped Digges the Knifer in their play, whether by accident or design, and Digges hail got mad; and then some of the boys sling satirical ob- servations at him, and he cot tearin’ wild. ‘My young pard said nothin’, but smiled in @ way as Digges didn’t like, and then he let on about Oia Top—that’s me—and said I was a loafer and cyote, and other on- pleasant things, and at that my pard let out in his turn; and one word led to another, and all in a second, like a streak of light- ning as don't seem exactly to belong to the immediate weather, my young pard he strides out and defies the Knifer, and chal- lenges him to fight it out with knives. "And so it come about, and there was that in the lad’s manner and walk, and the way he drew on the other, that it was set- tled there and then; and Silas was took in hand by Daisy Jim, and old Grubber Bill stood by the Knifer; and things was just that way when I comes up. “Not to my dyin’ day shall I forgit the picture of them two—David and Goliath, for that’s what {t was—and it was like a message from One above when Kentucky Rust minded me of the lad with the § and the great blowing giant with his 4 ‘There they stood. Breathe? Why I couldn't. “My heart stood still. I thought a bit of & prayer—the fust since they built the Eure- ka saloon; and I believe most of the boys felt that way. It was/so still you could hear the smallest kind of a breeze in the Pine tops half a mile away. So awful still! And my young pard so awful quiet. like tiger. Digges had never before fought a feller that would pull off his boots and con- tend barefoot. “Well, at last the word was given, and the two, as if they'd been flung at each other, sprung forward. I daren’t look, I couldn't: T felt what was goin’ on without in’ it. “The lad was lithe as a panther: seemed to encumber the other one second, to be free of him the next. There was cries of the leokers-on—cries and groans, fearful and glad; it was ‘Oh! one second and ‘Ah” the next, and everybody breathed hard. whereas in most fights men reckoned not to show their feelin’s. “I was fairly blinded with funk, ves, T own it. I helleve T cried—I'm sure T shut my eyes. The whul business didn’t last three minutes. Then there was a shriek that was stranger than anything—a wo- man’s long niercing shriek: not agony. not pain, but frieht. terror—Heaven knows what! T pressed forward. “There was Abner Digges down on his back with Silas Goode’s knife in his heart. ané Silas, my victorious partner, sitting on the grovnd with his two hands over his eves. ‘It's 2 woman—a woman" half the camp shouted torether. Her shriek of hor- Tor, the womenish action of recoiling from the blood and covering her face betrayed her. By thunder! this Jed from Chicago. this pard of mine, was in truth a young woman. “She got n and owned it, and she sald. her face all wet with tears, ‘Roya. vor have all been very end to me—sauare and Straight.” she seid. ‘all excent him: and it was to see him ¥ some here, for Ned Giover wee mv husband.” Rut she'd rather # come to do, she said. end she was un early, and T 4: in O'Matlev's cart, and T giv’ 7 he 4 richtful share of the money Ned Glover was to hev as my nertner. And do you think T mind the chaff as they gives me Rew and then about my nretty nard. Silax? Not me. for never once aid T suspect her to be more woman than is eood for» man ta have in him. beine a bit tender like and pleasant snoken: and there wasn't a feller in that camn thet wouldn't hev given twen- TOLD BY A LINER, Not e Penny-a-Liner or a Hot-Linot, bute Kight-Liner. ‘The Victssitudes of a Cab and of a Cave ™an—Ghostly Memories of & Vehicle, “Talking about ghosts,” interrupted Bill Saxe as he shifted his quid of tobacco and pulled the blanket over his horse, “this here ‘wagon of mine and me has seen mor’n you fellers ever heered of.” edge, sir. I'll run you home cheap.* No, he didn’t want to go home then. Per haps later he would. had been a Ff if fe J | il ih i cil ul | i H A tk 1 | i ita I Hl Es if i ih # cs e i i i f j : § 5 t 1 & ius HY up i 14 i i i FP “ i i il if Lf it Sey : i a iy i if : Hj SF i 5 8 L? Fad il H i i be bee ih rene i ‘ | 1 HF H] is tv vears of his life. and all the fortune he Was seekin’, to become the married partner of Ned Glover's widow.” oi HE DRIVES WILD GEESE. Dr. McBride Has a Traveling Outfit Rendy to Go to Chicago. From the Loutsville Courier-Journal. Dr. R. C. McBride of Orange, Va.,probably rives the queerest team ever put to har- ness since that golden day when young Phaeton ran away with his father’s ce- lestial outfit and set the world on fire. Writ- ing of his novel team, the doctor says: “If you will allow me space in your col- umns I will give, for the interest of your readers, my experiments with a team of five wild geese raised on my farm in Virginia. 1 was given by a friend living on Chesapeake bay a pair of wild geese, and from them Taised eleven the first year, five of which were ganders. I commenced training them a8 soon as hatched by driving them about the yard tied together, and soon got them 80 I could guide them with perfect ease. 1 then made for them a harness, consisting of @ piece of leather to fit over the breast and top of the neck. The traces were fastened to that on either side and held in place by a thin strap that encircled the entire body just in front of the wings. The traces then joined each other eighteen inches behind the goose and were fastened to the end of @ cross bar made fast in the center to a gether by a little strap jolaing the two col- lars of the geese opposfte each ‘ then constructed a little wagon and began teaching them to draw it, which they did with but little trouble, pulling easily, after they were one year old, thirty pounds apiece, or 150 pounds. “There is a lake near my place over a mile in circumference, and I had made for them a light skiff of tin, weighing only twenty-eight pounds, and egan riding by letting them draw me over the water by swimming. Then I commenced teaching them to fly, and in a few days I could xkima over the water at the rate of one mile a minute. It is an experience never to be for- gotten and something to be perfectly en- jJoyed. I can guide them with perfect ease, and have them as much under my control as a pair of gentle horses. “Last winter I made of ght, well-sea- soned wood, @ little frame with steel ran- ners—a tricycle sleigh—and made a mile and a quarter per minute on the ice, rid- ing in a circle. The feeling of going at that rate through the open alr ts something grand and wonderful. ‘The wind whistling by your ears like a tornado, cavsing the tears to flow thick and fast, made it neces- sary for me to use a slass over my face to keep from freezing. “I am now completing a balloon, obleng in shape, that will just bear my weight, and intend visiting the world’s fair in September, making an 2erial trip, and will exhibit my team by flying in a circle over the fair grounds. I think I can make thir- ty miles an hour against a wind blowing twenty-five miles, and keep up that rate for ten consecutive hours. I shall offer the use of my team to Capt. Symmes to make his Arctic trip with. After he has gone as far north as he can by water he co: in ten hours, the wind being fi with my aerial team, leave his steamer and g0 300 or 400 miles north, make observations and return to his vessel for supper. I have other suggestions to make Capt. Symmes of far more importance, if he wishes, and will correspond to meet him at Chicago the lat- ter part of September. — The Queen as an Entertainer. From the London Mlustrated News. A good story is told of one of Princess Christian's children. During some tableaux- vivants at Windsor the child, who was very much bored, said to her majesty, “Oh, grandma, I'm tired of this. What are they doing it for?” “To amuse me, my dear,” replied the queen. The royal youngster gazed at her majesty for a moment, and then inquired gravely, “but when are you going to amuse us?” jor-matter in the bulbs ee Hi it ill igi tilt i dif 3 i é i | # fi ike i i 5 8 ae bi Z i t i i i ut iil 2. iH I i | i i i i i eeytecte iy arith a a 1 takes place in some thing else, there are Some of them would the minute he gets into the kedge, there are others, and a good many of too, who has warm hearts, and will drunken man home when cent in it, But we are often imposed That sounds funny, I general impression is that ores who ever charge. I When we see a rich bird we plucks hi we can. But the laws here are strict cn the police so vigilant that there ts I overcharging than you have any tdea of. There is no city in the World where cab hire is so cheap as it ts In Washington. As it is a hard life, and there ate so f us that we have to hustle to make iving. When I first went into the busi- hess things were easy enough, but now it is different. We rely more on the young sports than any other class. Sometiin hard as 1 am, my heart grows faint as T see these young gentlemen throwing away their health. Many a one, sir, T have car- ried home. We know them all and where they live, and when one of us finds one of them drunk we takes them home, trusts to luck to get our pay. here's @ heap in this business to make a man sym- pathetic.” ait it ar | Method im His Madness. From Truth. Jack Dashing—“Did you see that? He Lack of vi irched her. cnaees the ate Se Sen owt ont Seen ae. SS | renepe “Well, they say she's willing tr Tecommend Halle Halt Renew firt at a pinch.