Evening Star Newspaper, March 2, 1895, Page 15

yi CHAPTER Iv. An hour after sunset Meryon, mounted on a thoroughbred Arab and followed by two camels bearing his luggage, passed out of the gate of the city and set his course toward the west. A good many things had happened since we saw him last. Ebal, on hearing the result of the inter- view, had declared that it meant mischief, and begged to be taken along to share his master’s fate. Meryon had a half-formed scheme tv profit by the confusion in the harem caused by the disgrace of Hatipha, to carry off the princess; but the only way to effect it was to have her join him that night beyond the boundary of the princi- pality, which was not more than twenty miles distant. By the connivance of Senuah and the help of Ebal, this might be accomplished; and the latter eagerly agreed to attempt it. There had not been much time to arrange the details of the plot, but a trysting place was fixed upon— a tall, isolated rock near the caravan road, in the enemy’s country. Here Meryon was fo wait six hours; if Ebal and the princess did not appear within that time, he was to presume that the plan had miscarried, and keep on alone. Meanwhile it transpired that Hatipha had escaped; when the prince's guards went to get him, he had vanished. It was not surprising; the war scare threw everything into a hubub. Had the American not been rendered so conspicuous by his mission, he might easily have spirited away the prin- cess himself. Late in the afternoon a re- port that the princess’ mother had been taken violently ill added to the confusion. ‘When Meryon went to the prince for his farewell interview, he was half-minded to proclaim and put himself at the head of a revolution, depose his highness and assume his throne. The odds were in favor %f such a move being successful. Meryon finally resolved against it, from reluctance to be left with a kingdom on his hands so far from New York, and with the home policy still so. strong against annexa- tions. He afterward was sorry he had been 80 fastidious. He found the prince entirely alone—di- vested for the moment even of his Nub- fans. He produced a writing done in min- ute characters on very thin tissue, setting forth that the bearer was the trusted friend of the undersigned, and going on to describe the situation and demand help. When Meryon had fimished reading this his highness drew from the folds of his rebe a small gold box richly ornamented, and opened it. There lay a huge ruby, about two inches in length, end shaped : . The Boy Was Not to Be Found. like a much elongated egg. Meryon could not repress an exclamation of surprise; such a stone was never before seen; it ‘could not be bought for a room full of ipees. The prince twisted it between his fingers and it came apart; it had been cut in two and hollowed out, and the parts made to screw together. The letter was now rolled up and inserted into this precious box; so there was a vast fortune and a message of life and death all done up in a parcel the size of a man’s little finger. The prince handed it to Meryon. “Do you expect me to take the responsi- bility of lugging a bombshell like that about the country?” demanded the latter, recoiling. “Death is powerless against him who car- ries it,” replied the other. “It is a talis- man, the greatest treasure of my dynasty; till now no unbeliever has ever seen it; Judge then of the confidence I repuse in you! When you arrive here with the army of my ally and give me back the hollow ruby I will in return give you my other greatest treasure—my daughter, the Prin- cess Terah—to be the bride of your heart and the queen of your harem.” “This old pouter pigeon,” said Meryon to himself, “has been smart enough to see. that by putting me upon honor he can get the best of me. He has me on toast. I must countermand the orders for the elope- ment and play straight ball! These orien- tals are too much for us after all. Kismet! Hand it over, then,” he added aloud, as if the precious object’ were a chocolate cara- mel. “How will you carry it?” asked his high- ness. ; “In my waistcoat pocket, of course,” re- plied the American, nonchalantly stufting it into that receptacle. “Perhaps it is as well so,” sald his high- ness, thoughtfully. “If danger threatens you can readily swallow it,” he added. “Remember, Meryon Pacha, it is worth the ransom of a kingdom.” “What! this thing?” exclaimed Meryon, slapping his pocket with a contemptuous smile. “Bless you, the boys where I come from use things like this for sinkers when they go fishing! Good-bye!” On returning to his apartments he sent for Ebal to tell him of his changed pur- sea ‘The boy was not to be found. The ur for starting came, and sfill no Ebal. “We Exchanged Dresses and Places.” After waiting till the last possible mo- ment he was forced to set out with this important detail left at loose ends. He was ill at ease and rather cross. He cared more for Ebal than for any one in the country except Terah, and feared lest some mishap had overtaken him. The party consisted of two camels with their drivers—one of whom was the guide— loaded with Meryon’s luggage, and he him- self on his horse, a thoroughbred Arab. The twenty miles to the border was tray- ersed without incident. As they crossed the line the moon rose, in its third quarter, throwing their long black shadows before them on the sandy plain. Its light also dimly revealed the apex of the great rock appointed as the trysting place, and where it still Meryon’s intention to camp for the night. Meanwhile, he anticipated being by the officers of customs for his pas: ‘which was in readiness; but none app: and they kept on. An hour's further tra brought them to the great rock. The pic- turesqueness of the scene pleased Meryon's artist eye. ‘The rock was of a roughly conical shape, about a hundred feet high. It stood in the midst of a barren plain; but around i their roots flourished by the waters of ¢ spring which bubbled fi filled a wide stone ba tall palms and great hemi All was silent and deserted in the s' THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. moonlight. narrow opening leading to a small cave or cell, formerly, according to tradition, occu- pied by a saint and hermit of supernatural “powers. Meryon looked into it, and saw a space ebout eight feet ‘in diameter, hewn out of the solid rock. By heaping a few loose bowlders at the entrance it might be made a dungeon more secure than a chamber in a New York safe-deposit com- pany’s vault. The animals were watered and fed. The camels squatted down in their usual ab- surd fashion, with their legs curled under them and their noses on a parallel with the horizon. The drivers curled up beside them and promptly went to sleep. Meryon did not feel sleepy. He wandered about, think- ing over what had happened, and speculat- ing as to what might be to come. It was like a mixture of the Arabian Nights and a comic opera at the Casino— this predicament into which his artistic and susceptible temperament and _devil- may-care habit had brought him. No doubt his mother-wit and audacity had that day saved his neck, but only to put it in yet graver jeopardy. Again, supposing all to turn out well, what sort of a figure would his oriental bride cut in the drawing rooms of the four hundred, and at Newport,Lenox and Bar Harbor? “She'll cut a swathe—that’s what she'll do!” said he to himself, with a chuckle. But the chuckle died away. How about his being hanged for a spy? Would Ebal succeed in bringing her to- night? The lover hoped ardently that he would; then the man of the world took a hand, and hoped he would net. The ad- venture was as near being desperate as it conld be, already; with her to take care of, it would lap over about 90 per cent on the wrong side. No; the princess was safest in her own harem for the present. The moon mounted to the apex of the dome of heaven. In another hour or two dav.@ would begin. It became chilly. The still. ess was broken only by the low gurg- ling of the spring, a sigh from the camels, or the sound of the horse cropping the herbage. The artist thought he would turn in for an hour’s nap. Hark! A noise like & faint pulsation, far off. It grew stronger, but he could not yet fix its direction. It came nearer. It was ap- proaching from the city. A horse—a single horse; Ebal, alone; he had not brought Terah. “Confound him!” muttered the lover. “A good thing, too!” retorted the same person. The horseman, whoever he was, now came up rapidly; yet, in that stfange light, it was difficult to distinguish him. At times he utterly vanished, like a phantom; then he reappeared, shadow-like; but each time nearer. All at once, as it were, up he rode in flesh” and blood. Yes, it was Ebal. “Well, my boy, so you didn’t get her?” said Meryon, stepping up. Ebal was evi- dently much exhausted; he reeled in the saddle. and would have tumbled off if Meryon had not caught him. “Why, you poor little kid!” muttered he, compassion- ately. ‘Then he gave a sudden start, and stared in the youth's face. Ebal’s soot-black hair, his eyes and features; but this supple young body which his arms held was the body, not of a boy, but of a girl! He al- most dropped her in astonishment. “erah! What, Terah? Well, by the great horn spoon! Why, you cunning little sweetness. Here he kissed her. ‘*Tuck- ered out, eh? I should think she might! And all sole alone! What became of Ebal?”” The princess was nearly at the end of her tether. Being an oriental, she did not faint; that art is little understood in the east. But she rested in her lover’s arms like a little sack of soft peaches, and did not in tre least resent his demonstrations of affection. “Light of my soul,” she murmured, “am I safe? Oh, I am so thirsty—and hungry! Oh, such a ride! That hard saddle—I can hardly move my legs! Are we alone? It’s so strange being without a veil! These ren’s clothes—how I must look!” .Meryon set her down on a pile of rugs beside the spring. He got a bottle of wine amd some food, and made her as comforta- ble as he could. ‘You look like an angel,” he said; “though not like a male one, in spite of that rig. You're feminine, my dear, inside and out. Luckily that Arab streak in you—wherever you got it—Ebal has it, too—keeps you from being so plump as most of ‘em; and that burnous doesn’t tell much; still, the sex is written all over you and whoever takes you for a boy is an ass. But what about Ebal? what's the matter that he didn’t escort you?” The princess, whom the wine was begin- ning to restore, laughed faintly, as a school girl over some bit of roguery. “We exchanged dresses and places, lord of my heart,” said she. “Ah, I often wish- ‘They Prostrated Themselves at the Feet of Ebal. ed, before I got here, that I was safe back among the soft cushions again. But now I am glad; and when I have smoked some cigarettes and had a good long sleep I shall be all right.” “This is going to be the devil,” thought Meryon (referring to the situation). “Here she is dressed like my foot boy and acting like the princess! We ought to be off in an hour, and she’s booked herself for a nine hours’ nap. Hannibal getting his army over the Alps was nothing to my getting this girl over fifty miles of flat plain. I must try fixing her a bed on camel back, and letting the beast rock her to sleep. And Ebal—by the way, Terah,” he said aloud, “how is it about Ebal? Do you mean he has taken your place as princess in the harem? But he'll be found out, won't he? And what'll they do with him then?” “Where are the cigarettes?” demanded the princess. ‘Ebal?” Oh, the prince will impale him, I suppose. Or perhaps, since he’s so young, he will only bastinado him and cut off his head. I don't know, but Ebal won't mind; it was he that proposed the exchange; and he’s only a slave, you know. Where am I to sleep?” “You won't sleep at present,” returned the American, with sudden sternness. “Listen to me! Do you mean to say, seri- ously, that Ebal will be killed for getting you off?" She stared at him with eyes of lazy won- der and laughed. “Light of my soul, if he had deceived you like that, would not you kill him? Bismil- lah! My father is a man.” Meryon jumped to his feet. “I'll show you and your father the sort of man I am!” said he. “That boy is not going to be killed. We are going back to prevent it. Ebal impaled—I guess not! This clopement is indefinitely postponed. Why, what a cold-blooded little thing you a The embassy may go to the devil! , you fellows! Wake up and pack, do hear? We're going home. Hallo! hat’s all this?” They were surrounded by a score of arm- ed horsemen, among the foremost of whom Meryen recognized the fat figure and ma- lignant grimace of his enemy, Hatipha,with a huge pistol in his hand. you CHAPTER V. The battle (considering the romantic en- vironment) did not amount to much. Mer- yon began it with two impulses, both fool- The first was to put himself between ‘Terah and danger—which, since they were noth already surrounded by the enemy, was impossible except he formed himself into a hollow square, which is well known to be impracticable. His next idea was to lished it, in his be- pod, for the sake of what was inside. He put his hand to his pocket and felt the ruby there, but it had slipped through a hole and lodged in lin! While he was frantically fish- ing for it, he heard Terah cry out; the memory of his dream flashed over him—but where were the black mountains and the embroidered. le? He felt a burning, numbing sensation in his right shoulder and would have fallen over backward but that he was sent the other way by a bang on the back of the head; after which he knew nothing. Death is said to be a painless operation; when Meryon came to himself he was as- sured of continued existence by the ex- cruciating discomfort which he suffered. He was in a small dark place—the cave in the big rock, as he rightly surmised—with In the base of the rock was a | 4 gag in his mouth, a bullet wound in his shoulder, a gash in the back of his head and a splitting headache. A raging thirst beset him, hiding from him the fact that he was also fainting with hunger. The first thing he did was to feel in his pocket. The ruby (as he expected) was gone. In his groping, however, his hand came in contact with his canteen, which he had filled at the spring just before Terah’s ar- rival. After a fierce struggle he succeeded in getting his gag off and took a drink—the best drink he ever had, before or after. Why had he been gagged at all? Why shut up in the rock? There were several per- plexing features about this affair. Mean- while he was not going to submit without a struggle to being buried alive. He got to bis feet and dragged himself to the door- way of the cave, revealed by gleams of light coming through chinks, and found it stopped by a mass of rock. With all his remaining might he gave this rock a kick; to his astohishment it fell outward, being only a slab resting against the aperture; he staggered over it, out into dazzling day- light, and into the arms of a man in Eu- ropean dress, who exclaimed in some sur- prise: “Hello, Fred Meryon! I might have known it would be you,” in the voice of his old friend, Horace Chase, the surgeon. Meryon said: “Great Scott, Horace!” and fainted—not being an oriental. The meeting had come about thus: The English had a “post” in the capital of our prince's ally, and hearing that a row was brewing between the two other principall- ties, sent, a detachment out to stop it. Chase went with it to cut off arms and legs in case anyone was injured. After transac- tions which do not concern us, they got on all of a marauding party and cap- “But Pm Not Marrying Just Now.” tured them with their booty, among which was a young person dressed like a boy, but a girl underneath. She said she was a princess, and told a queer tale, in conse- quence of which they kept on until they came to the tall, conical rock, and were about to investigate it when it opened and out popped Meryon, as we have seen. Among the prisoners was a fat old person whom the princess denounced as her father’s chief eunuch, a fugitive from jus- tice, and the shooter of her lover. This creature, upon interrogation, denied not only what was charged against him, but, most shrilly of all, something which was not, namely, that he had taken the hol- low ruby. Further inquiry developed that he had got together his band of cutthroats ostensibly to waylay Meryon and capture the princess, who was to be held for ran- som; but he himself had secret knowledge of the ruby, and designed to get that for himself. Accordingly he had shot Meryon, gagged him lest he recover and swallow the stone, and deposited the body in the rock, meaning to sneak back unobserved and hunt for the jewel at his leisure. Fate had then stepped in and laid him by the heels as narrated. What was the hollow ruby? the English- men wanted to know. Terah told them; though it was news to her that Meryon had it in his keeping. Where, then, was the hollow ruby now? Hatipha was not only searched outwardly, but fed for a day or two on a diet of castor ofl and soapsuds, to no purpose, Meryon’s clothes—he being still unconscious in the delirium of fever— were examined; and they even sent back and searched the cell in the rock. ‘rhe ruby was not to be found. At this juncture Meryon came to himself, learned from his friend Chase what had been going on, and spake. It should be premised that the English had brought their prisoners to a city of the hostile country; and that Terah had become an object of general admira- tion. “That old swine Hatipha has it, depend on it,” said Meryon. “We can cut him open. There’s nothing else left to do to him,” said the always 1éw-voiced and undemonstrative Chase in a dreamy, professional tone. “But I fancy you swallowed it yourself.” “With that gag in my jaws? But I see your game. You want to incise my epigas- trium and get the glory of an operation. All right. Only, mind you, if ever I get well again, I'll give you such a licking as— “Don’t excite yourself; I won’t risk it, then, for my operations always succeed! This wound of yours is enough for the present.” “Why not try the experiment of removing the bullets?” growled Meryon, testily. “Dear boy, it just went in at one door and out at the other. Here’s the aperture of exit at the back.” “I can feel it all the same. Why doesn’t my princess come and nurse me?” “Your princess?’ Chase repressed a smile. “She's busy.’ “What the devil do you mean?” “Look here, my boy,” said Chase, gently, “don't agitate yourself—but what is she, anyway? You were always a fool about girls—it’s your temperament, you know; but you can hardly be quite such an im- becile as to mean anything serious with her?” “Dr. Chase, I consider your remarks damned insulting! I want no more of ’em! I shall marry the princess and take her to New York, and whoever doesn’t pay her proper respect as my wife, will regret it, do you understand!” The surgeon was imperturbable. “You should have had her boxed up in the harem and expressed through to your New York residence, and married her as she stepped out; and afterward keep her in the meat- safe, or some equally cool and secure re- treat. For, to be frank with you, she has been carrying on here in @ manner that may be natural to an oriental princess with a taste for variety long repressed and finally indulged, but which, were she my fiancee, would make a murderer and sul- cide of me in five minutes. Why, you great red-headed calf, if she’d been able she would have been married by this time to the entire detachment, from the drum- mer-boy to the captain. You can punch my head, you know, but I'm giving you cold facts. Of course, I don’t blame her— who would? it’s the way she’s made, and would be just right in a Nautch-girl—but as Mrs. Fred Meryon of Murray Hill and Beacon street, eh? Come, man, swallow your medicine!” “Are you giving me this straight?’ in- quired Meryon, after a short and pregnant silence. “Straight diluted, too!” There was another silence, long and meditative. “Poor little thing!” at last muttered the artist. “It’s my fault. To marry her would make it worse. We don’t understand these eastern women—their warm blood or their cold blood, either. But now she has found out what freedom is, it would be cruel to take her back to be shut up again. Still, what else * * * “We'll take her back and see if some- thing nice can’t be done for her,” said Chase; “meanwhile I'llr see she gets into no mischief here; and do you keep quiet and get that shoulder healed.” A week later they set out and proceeded by easy stages, carrying Meryon on a palanquin. Terah and Hatipha were of the party, much against the will of both. But whereas Hatipha’s only objection was that he would be flayed and impaled at the end of the trip, the poor little princess had to tear out of her heart some thirty or forty vigorous young flirtations. It may be stated here that during the first night's encampment this young lady disappeared, and with her a handsome young camel driver and a camel; and there 1s reason td think that she has been living happily ever since. 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She died, with a smile of satisfaction, just as the executioner, whom the prince had lost not an instant in send- ing for, arrived with his bowstring—too late! But his highness was indignant, and somebody must be impaled. He sent. for Terah. It was then discovered for the first time that she had eloped with Meryon, and left the slave boy Ebal—now the true prince—in her place. The latter was brought to his father, expecting instant death, but as his highness necded an heir and had no other, he was forced to spare him. He sent, however, Zor the father of Terah, whoever he might be. The messenger learned that he used to be a gardener in the service of the harem, and that he had died a natural and easy death only a week before. Here truly was a maddening state of things: four impalements missed cne after another, and Hatipha and Meryon also out “Horace, ‘You Don’t Mean To?” of reach. Sonié one must be slaughtered, and at once, but whom? No one who had offended the prince could be got at, and no- body who could be got at would offend him. His highness’ wrath, which had been warmed up for eight and forty hours, now attained the temperature of superheated steam, and the boiler exploded. In other words, this great and worthy potentate ex- pired of an apoplexy in the midst of his trembling courtiers, who instantly, with hosannas of joy, prostrated themselves at the feet of the astonished Ebal, and pro- claimed him their, ruler. CHAPTER VI. By the time Meryon, Chase and the others arrived the young monarch was well settled on his throne and was show- ing himself a wise, skillful and merciful administrator. He welcomed the artist with heartfelt joy, and they told all their adventures to each other. Meryon was given a suite of rooms next to the prince's own, and they were always together, with Chase in the chair as moderator. The prince expressed regret at the miscarriage of the Terah affair. He had no better substitute to offer than Senuah, who was his half-sister by another mother and Te- rah’s father—a rather obscure and round- about relationship. “She’s a nice girl,” said Meryon, “and her birth would be no obstacle; but I’m not marrying just now.”” “We haven't got any air-tight harems in the states yet,” commented Chase; “but we may come to it later.” “TI still shall hope to visit you some time in New York,” said his highness, “and see the White House and the ward politicians and the other things. Meantime, the mis- fortune that keeps you on this divan is my gain, for it compels you to stay with me.” “You must thank Chase,” replied Meryon, with a moody grin; “he won't treat it as I advise.” “The man imagines that the bullet is still in the wound,” Chase explained. “His real trouble is the block of wood in his head, which will come away only with the head itself.” “I wish I were as sure of the where- abouts of the hollow ruby as of that bul- jet,” Meryon observed; and, having said this, he shut his eyes as if intending a nap. In fact, he remained motionless and seemingly asleep for about twenty minutes, during which the prince and the surgeort conversed in low tones and smoked their nargilehs. Then Meryon opened his eyes and fixed pen upon Chase, with a strange expres- sion, “Horace,” said he, in a ‘husky voice, “scmething queer has happened. I’ve been back in that cell in the big rock, and saw myself there as I was when those fellows threw me in. I saw all I did while I was in ee I know what became of the ruby!” “Oh! that’s it, is it?” returned Chase, slipping his fingers on his friend’s pulse and winking to the prince to humor the sick man’s fancy. ‘We were just wonder- ing what had become of you.” “You think I'm cracked, but the story will prove I’m not,” continued the other, speaking with emphasis, but not wildly. “I lay stunned for awhile; when I came to I was delirious—and that’s the reason I wasn’t able till now to remember what happened. But the ruby was on my mind and the first thing I did was to hunt in my pocket for It, and there it, was all safe. I tried to get it In my mouth, but for some reason I couldn’t understand—it was the gag, of course—it wouldn’t go in.” “Well?” sald the surgeon, regarding him with mingled perplexity and interest. “Then I thought 1 was standing in front of a safe in a vault," Meryon went on, “and I was being hunted by thieves who wanted to get the ruby from me. The safe wouldn’t open. I felt all over it in the dark to find an opening; at last I found one—a small hole in the upper part—but, when I touched it, something sharp came through and gave me a jab so that I yell- ed with pain. But the thieves were close up by that time, and my only chance was to get the ruby through that hole, if I died for it. So just as they appeared, I made a desperate effort and crammed it in; and got a jab that sent me off uncon- sclous again. The next thing I knew— however, that’s no matter. The ruby is in that_hole.” “What does the boy mean?” said Chase, impressed by the force and vividness with which the tale was told. “I understand him,” interposed the prince, gravely. “The stone is in his shoulder. Allah is great!” “I wish some of your brains would get into Horace’s skull,” sighed Meryon, re- lapsing on his cushions. “If he'd followed my directions in the first place, the thing woult have been cleared up and I should haye been cleared ap and I should have been a well man by this time. I knew there was something there, and naturally supposed it was a bullet; but there’s no arguing with a man who can’t see farther than his nose. Get your instruments, now,” he added, testily, “and have the job over. If it hadn't been for my vision I should have gone to my grave with that con- founded talisman in my body and a cloud on my reputation. Let this be a lesson to you!” It is not necessary for us to assist at a surgical operation. In ten minutes it was over. The hollow ruby, cleansed from its gory stains, was lying upon a white satin eushion, upon which it shed its glorious light. Meryon was reclining on the divan with an expression of pardonable self-sat- isfaction on his pallid features. Chase was looking subdued and thoughtful, and the prince said: “Meryon, my friend, the jewel is yours. My cnly sorrow at its loss was that I was thus prevented from giving it to you. No less precious a keepsake would be worthy of our friendship. if it bring you no good fortune, may it at least remind you of the youth who loved you, to whom in his ob- scurity you were as a light of day and the warmth of the sun at noon.” This was very handsome; too much so indeed; and Meryon would have declined the gift on the spot but from unwillingness to hurt the prince’s feelings. Perhaps, however, it was not quite so valuable as the prince supposed. I saw it last year in Meryon’s studio, and I must say that it seemed to me . . . but, after all, I am not an expert in those things. Hatipha, in another attempt to fell headforemost into a water butt, and was wedged in so tightly that he drowned before they could get him out. As for Senu- ah—ah, yes! there is something to tell about her. She made herself very useful and agree- able during Meryon’s convalescence—a pe- riod of a month or more. But for her skill- ful and tender nursing he might have been bedridden twice as long. He and Chase had agreed to go home to New York to- gether as soon as he got well. But one morning the surgeon came into his room, and, after examining him and pronouncing him fit to travel, added: “By the way, you'll have to excuse me.’ “What for?” “About going home, I mean; I shall have to stay here for the present, The fact is, I have another patient — at‘ least’— you'll have to congratulate me, old man.” “What ails you, Horace?” “Senuah is a capital nurse, and a most charming and lovely girl. Away in front ‘erah in all respects.” orace, you don’t mean to—” ‘We're to be married tomorrow. And whoever doesn’t pay her proper respect as my wife will regret it, do you understand!” “If you don’t regret it, my dear boy, you may be sure I shan’t,” replied Meryon, with a broad smile; and up to last ac- counts, I am happy to add, there seems to have been no cause for dissatisfaction. Yet we should not forget, in considering the in- cident, that it is an exception and not a precedent that confronts us, (The end.) ———_. Written for The Evening Star. “He is Dend.” (Respectfully dedicated t ea es %, i800") o'clock on Wednesday, "Twas early night, and darkness crept gently O'er Anacostia Heights in silent tread; When scarce the cock with folded wing had slept, Or owlet dared to leave its oaken bed. . And thus it was the village calm was stirred, And mournful gloom on ev'ry face was read; From ev'ry lip a word of praise was heard, ‘When told in whispered accents, “He is dead.” He's dead. Dead not to fame and good esteem, Nor to the manner of a well-spent life; Dead to the world. His sainted soul is freed From earthly care, and from its petty strife. ‘The dial band had stolen close to sev’n When reaper Death appeared to claim his own; ‘The winged spirit took its fight to heav’n, ‘To reap the fruit which it on earth had sown. Glad climax of a grand career was his, Which many envy, few do strive to gain; ‘Though Douglass von, "twas ever his to live, That others, too, this honor might obtain, In freedom’s cause his mighty prowess won; He filled a space no other could supply; In church or state, whatever he has dune, Made plain the path that heroes choose to dle. Come, read his life, scan well its pages fair, Ambitious youth of some far future age, ‘The secrets told; forsooth you'll find it there, Exemplified by Anacostia’s sage. Tho’ all that’s earthly shall return to earth, And marble shafts shall speak his sainted name; Tho’ Mount Hope shall receive his mortal worth, His life, his deeds, bespeak immortal fame. Touch light the ashes; let no rngged hand Disturb their sacred mass, nor envy steal A laurel which has been so nobly gained; ‘The soul has entered on eternal weal. —INO. T. C. NEWSOM. THE OLD HEN FARMER. Me Warned the Railway Engineer te Run Slow Past His Place. From the Cincinnati Tribune. When the C. and O. railroad was con- structed along the Ohio river, many farms were necessarily divided. This greatly an- gered the farmers, “regular hayseeds from away back.” The road passed between the house and poultry yard of a farmer named Left. The old fellow did not like it very much, and he tock advantage of every occasion to speak ill of the “darned old contraption for hauling stuff.” When the road was finally completed and the first train went rattling along, the fowls in Mr. Left's poultry yard became frenzied with fright. As many of the geese, ducks, chickens, etc., as were able, flew over the fence and wandered away in the woods. Those that could not fiy en- deavored to force their way through cares Soe fence. Smee succeeded in escaping in this way, o' man: to break their necks. aud ee Mr. Left had witnessed the havoc among his poultry, and to say he was “mad” is only to put it mildly. He went to the barn and painted a huge board with fiery red brick paint. When this was dry he took shoe blacking an@ painted a notice after his own heart. A stake was driven in the ground near the railroad track and the board nailed to it. “That'll fetch ‘em,” growled the farmer, as he leaned against the fence and awaited the results of his labor. A rattle, rattle, rattle soon gave evidence of an approaching train. cloud of black smoke was next seen and then the engine appeared coming around the curve about two miles up the track. The éngincer caught a glimpse of the red sign, and fearing all manner of rT, reversed his engine and signaled to pul on brakes. Slowly the momentum of the train was checked and it came to @ rest a few yards from the farmer. “Great heavens,” yelled the engineer; “What's the matter? Where's the danger? “I reckon you kin read,” coolly replied the farmer as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the sign. Great was the amazement and anger of the engineer as he turned to the sign read: “Run slow by Left's lot; you'll kill all my chickens.” = 80 A Socialistic Community. A dispatch from Corning, Iowa, says the members of the Icarlan community, three miles east of there, have agreed to a divi- sion of their property and @ dissolution of, thelr society, and steps are now being taken to that end. The interests of heirs of the deceased and other legal intricacies have rendered it advisable to appoint a re- ceiver and put the matter into the hands of the court. This community is socialistic in the ex- treme. Its founder was EH. Cabet, and its inception dated back to a period just pre- vious to the French revolution, when sixty- nine socialists cmbarked from Havre, for Texas, and located near the Red river. In- ternal dissensions discouraged the band and they removed to New Orleans. As soon as Cabet learned of this change of base he sailed for New Orleans and as- sumed supervision of the colony. Under his leadership they migrated to Nauvoo, til. Here the Icarians were successful again for a time. Dissensions arose, and in 1856 Cabet and 170 adherents left the re- mainder and went to St. Louis, where the founder of Icaria died the same year, Meantime the other faction had settled in Adams county, Iowa, and were incorpor- ated under the laws of the state as “Icaria.” They have resided there ever since. Another rupture occurred in 1879, when the property was equally divided, The remaining members have since con- tinued in the criginal manner of living. PREMATURE UALDSESS MAY BE PREVEN and the hair mas to grow on heads use of Hall's Vegetable eeotuee take Lae