Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, September 22, 1895, Page 18

(Conyright, CHAPTER VII They stood looking at each other. But Col- Iinson was already himself agaln. The man of simple directness and no imagination eaw only his wife before him—a little breathless, a little flurried, a little dishevelled from rapid riding, but otherwisz unchanged. Nor had he changed; he took her up where he had left her years ago. His grave face only broad ened into a smile as he held both her hands in his. “Yes, it's me—Lordy! Why, T was comin’ only tomorrow to find ye, Sadie!” She glanced hurriedly around her. to find me?" she said incredulously. artain! That ez 1 was goin' to ask about ye—goin' to ask abont ye at the convent.” “At the convent?’ she echoed with a frightened amazement. “Yes, why, Lordy, Sadie—don't you see? You thought T was dead, and I thought you was dead, that's what's the matter. But I mever reckoned that you'ld think me dead until Chivers allowed that it must be so.” Her face whitened in the moonlight. “Chivers?" she sald blankly “In_course, but nat'relly you don't know him, honey. 'He only eaw you onc't. But it was along o' that, Sadie, that he told me he reckoned you wasn't dead, and told me how to find you. He was mighly kind and con sarned about it and he even allowed I'd bet- you this very night.” she repeated, gazing at her hus- band with bloodless lips. “Yes, an awful purty-spoken have to get to know him, Sadie. with some of his folks az bez got trouble—I'm forgettin’ to tell ye. ree - “‘Yes, yes, yes!" she interrupted hysteri- cally. d this is the mill?" “Yes, lovey, the mill—my mill—your mill— the house 1 bullt for you, dear. I'd show it to you now, but you see, Sadie, I'm out here standin’ guard.” “Are you one of them?" she said, clutch- fng his hand desperately. **No, derr,” he sa'd soothingly, “no, only, 1 gly' my word (0 'em as 1 g'v' my house tonight and I'm bound to prot:ct them and sec 'em through. Wiy, Lordy, Sat'e, you'ld have dons the same—for Chiver. “Yes, yes,” she sald, beting her hands to gether strangely, “of course, He was €0 kind to bring me back to you. And you might have never found me but for nim.” She burst into an hysterical langh, which the slmple-minded man might have over- looked but for the tears that coursed down her bloodless faca. “What's gone o' ye, Sadie?” he eaid in a sudden fear, grasp'ng her hands. “That laugh ain’t your'n—that voice ain't your" the old Sadie, ain’t y2?" He stopped. moment his face blanched as he glancel toward the mill, from which the faint sounl of bacchanalian voices came to the quick ear. *Sadie, dear, ye aln’t thinkin' anything ag'n me? Ye ain't allowin' I'm keepin’ anythin' back from ye?" Her face st'ffcned into rigidity; she dashed the teurs from her eyes. “No” she said quickly. Then after a moment she added, with a faint laugh, “You see we haven't seen each othor for so long—it’s all so sudden—so unexpected. “But you kem here, just now, calkilatin® to find me?” said Collinson gravely. “‘Yes, yes,” she sald quickly, still grasping both his hands, but with her hesd light'y turned in the direction of the mill. “But who told ye where to find the mill?" said, with gentle patience, ‘A friend,” she said hurrtedly. “Perhaps,” she added with a singular smile, “a friend of the friend who told you.' “I see,” said Collinson, with a relieved face and a broadening smile, it’s a sort of fairy story. I'll bet, now, it was that old Barker ‘woman that Chivers knows." Her teeth gleamed rigidly togeth:r in the moonlight, like a death’s head. “Yes' she #ald dryly, * it was that old Barker woman. Say, Seth,” she continuel, molstening her lips, slowly, *you're guardng this place alone’ “Thar's another fellow up the tra'l—a sen- try—but don’t you be afeared, ho ean't hear ‘us, Sadie.” 'On this side of the mill *“Yes! Why, Lord love ye! Sadle, t'other side o' the mill it drops down straight to the ‘valley; nobody comes yer that way but poor, low-down emigrants, And it's miles round to come by the valley from the summit." “You @idn’t hesr your friend Chivers say that the sheriff was out witn his posse toaight hunting them 7" Did you?” “T think 1 heard something of that k'nd at Bkinner’'s, but it may have be:n only a warn- ing to me, trave'ing alon»." “Thet's 60," sa!d Collinson, with a tender solicitude, “‘but none o’ these yer road agemts ‘would have teched a woman. And this yer Chivers ain't the man to insult one, either. “No,”" #he said, with a return of her hy: teric laugh. But it was overlooked by Col- liason, who was taking his gun from beside the tree where he had placed it. “Where are you golng?' she said suddenly. “I reckon them fellers ought to be warned © what you heard. T'll be back in a minit.” “And you're golng to leave me naw— ‘when—when we've only just m:t after these she ald, with'a faint attempt at a , Which, however, did not reach the cold glitter of her eyes. *“Just for a little, honey. Besi don’t you seo, I've got to get excused, or we'll have to go off to Skinner's or somewhere. Sadie, for we can't stay in thar along o' them." “‘So you and your wife are turned out of [olr home to please Chivers,” she sald, smil- n “Po— man, Ye'll He's here inter You That's whar you elip up, Sadie,” sald Collinson, with a troubled face. “for ho's that kind of a man thet if I jest as much as binted you was here he'd turn 'em all out o" the house for a lady. Thet's why I don't propose to let on anything about you till to- morrow.” “Tomorrow will do,” she said, stil emil- ng, but with a singular abstraction in her face. “Pray don’t disturb them now. You say there is another sentinel beyond. He is enongh to warn them of any approach from the trail. T'm tired and #ll—vory ill! Sit by wme here, Seth, and wait! We can wait here together —we have waited so long, Seth—and the end has come now. She suddenly lapsed agalnst the tree, and slipped in a sitting posture to the ground Cellinson cast himself at her side, and put his arm around her. *“Wot's gone o' ye, Sade? You're cold and wick. Listen. Your hoss is just over thar feedin’. I'll put you back on him, run in and tell ‘em I'm off, and b> with yo ia a take ye back to Skinner" she said, softly. *Wai “Or to the Silver Hollow—it's mot so far.” caught his hands again, her rigid to his. “What Holle Speak!" she said breathlessly. “The Hollow whar a friend o' mine struck allver. He'll take yur in." Her head sank against his shoulder. *‘Let me stay here,” she answered, “and wait.’ He supported her tenderly, fecling the ges tle brushing of hor hair agalnst his cheek as In the old days. He was content to wal holding her thus. They were very silent; her eyes half closed, as If in exhaustion, yet with the strange suggestion of listening in the vacamt pupil “‘Ye ain't hearin’ anythin', deary?" he said with a troubled face. **No; but everything is £0 deatbly stil™ she ®id In a frightened whisper. It certalnly was very still. A singular hush seomed to have s1id over the landscape; there ‘was no loager any sound from the mill; there was an ominous rest in the woodland, so por- that the tiny rustie of an uneasy wing the tree above them had made them start; even the moonlight seemed to baug sus- 1o the alr. “It's like the lull before the storm,” she sald with her strange laugh. But the pon-dmaginative Collinsen was more prectioal. “It's mighty Wke that earth- w weatber before the hig sbake that up the river and steprod the mill. That was just the time I got the news o your dead with yellow dover. Lord! hone, ET HARFE « wqdnfii\ it trembling with a Suddenly she threw her feet” with a cry. el frantically, “they've ure closer to him, felt nervous ation. h off and r to “The she screa come! they'y A rabbit had run out into the moonlight before them, a gray fox had dashed from the thicket Into the wood, but nothing else. ‘Who's com sald Collinson, staring at her. “The sherift and his posse! They're sur- rounding them now. Don't you hear?’ she gasped Thero was a strange rattling in the direc- tion of the mill, a dull rumble, with wild shouts and outeries, and the trampl.ng of faet on its wooden platform. Collinson staggered to his feet, but at the same moment he was thrown violently against his wife, and they both clung helplessly to the tree, With their eyes turned toward the ledge. There was a dense cloud of dust and haze hanging over it. She uttered another cry, and ran swiftly toward the rocky grade. Collinson ran quickly after her, but as she reached the grade he suddenly shouted, with an awful | revelation in his voice, “Come back! Stop, die, for God's sake!” But it was too late. She had already disappeared, and as he reached the rock on which Chivers had leaped he felt it give way beneath him. But there was no sound, only a rush of wind from the valley below. Everything lapsed again inlo its awful stiliness. As the cloud lifted from where the mil had stood the moon shone only upon empty space. There was a_singular murmuring and whispering from the woods beyond that incrensed in | sound, and an hour later the dry bed of the old mill stream was filled with a rushing river, come CHAPTER VIIT, Preble Key returncd to his hotel from the convent, it is to be, feared, with very little of that righteous satisfaction which is supposed to follow the performancs of a godd deed. He was by no means certain that what he had dono was best for th: young grl. He had only shown himself to her as a worldly moni- | yesterday was secking the c tor of dangers of whica her fnmocance was | providentially unconscious. In his fev rsh | haste to avert a scandal he had no chance to | sudden step she had taken. At moon tola she escaped from the convent! Key, who had been following her with re- liof, sprang to his feet at this umexpected culimination, “Hseaped!” he sald. “Impossible! 1 mean,” he added, hurriedly recalling himself, “your rules, your discipline, your attendants are so perfect.” “The poor impulsive creature has added sac- rilege to her madness—a sacrilege wo are willing to belleve she did not understand, for she escaped fn a religlons habit—my own.” “Byt this would sufficiently Identify hel he said, controlling himself with an effort. Alag, not 80! There are many of us who &0 abroad on our missfons in these garments, and they are made all allke, 5o as to divert rather than attract attention to any individu- | ality,. We have sent private messengers in | all directions, nnd sought her everywhere, | but withont ‘success. You will understand | that we wish to ave , which a more | public inquiry wonld cre “And you come to me,” said Key, with a return of his first suspiclon, in spite of his eagerness to cut short the interview and be | freo to act—''to me, almost a stranger?” “Not a stranger, Mr. Key," relurned the religieuse, gently, “but to'a well known man—a man of affairs in the country where this unhappy child’s brother lives—a friend who seems to be sent by heaven to find out this brother for us and speed this news to him. We come to the old pupil of Father Cipriane, a friend of the holy chureh; to the kindly gentleman who knows what it is to have dear relations of his own, and who only nvent to—"' Inough! interrupted Key, hurriedly, with a slight color. will go at once. I do not know this man, but I will do my best to find him, And this—this—young giri? yon say you have no trace of her? May she not | still be here? I should have some clew by which to seek her—I mean that I could give to her brother." “Alas! we fear sho is already far away from here. 1f she went at once to San Luis, she could have casily taken a train to San Francisco before we discovered her flight. We believe it was the poor child's in- tention to join her brother so as to intercede for her friend—or, perhaps, alas! to seek her."” “And this friend left yesterday morning” he said guickly, yet concealing a feeling of relief. “Well, yon may depend on me! And now, as thero is no time to be lost, T will make my arrangements to take the next train.” He held out his hand, paused, and £aid_In almost boyish embarrassment: *Bid me God speed, Sisier Seraphina “May the holy virgin aid you” she sald gently. Yet, as she passed out of the door, with a grateful smile, 4 characteristic re- action came over Key. Iis romantic belief fn the Interposition of Providence was not without a tendency to apply the ordinary rules of human evidence to such phenomena. Sister Seraphina’s application to him seemed littlo short of a miraculous interference, but what if it were only a trick to get rid of him, whilo the €irl, whose escapade had been dis- explain his real feelings; he had, perhaps, even exposed her thwar.ed impulses o e jually naive but more dangerous expression which he might not have the opportunity to check. He tossed walkefully that nght upon his p llow, tormented with alternate vislons of her ador- uble presence at the hoel, and her bow.d re- nurclating fignre as she re-en ered tre convent gate. He walted expectantly the next doy far tho messago sho had promissd, and whi believed sha would find some way to send. But no message was forthcoming. The day passod and he became alarmed. The fear that her escapade had been discovered :gan seized h'm. If she were in close restraint she coull neither send to him, nor could he convey to her the solicitude and sympathy thet flled his heart. In her childish frankness she might bave confessed the whole truth, and this would oniy shut the doors of the convent against him, under his former pret-xt, but compromise her still more if he bodly called. He wayluid the afternoon procession; she was not ameng them. Utterly despairing, the wildest plans for seelng her pasred thrcus his braineglans. that recalled his ho-teadel youth, ah@/a few moments later m:d: him smile at ‘34 extravagance, even while it half frightengdhitm at the reality of h's pssion. He reached €he hotel heartsick and desperate. The porfer met him on the stape. It w with & thrill that ent the blcod leaping to h cheeks that he hesrd the man sa “Sister Seraphina is walting for you in the sitting room.” There was no thought of discovery or scan- dal in Preble Key's mind now; no doubt or hesitation as to what be would do, ss he sprang up the staircase. He only knew that he had found her again, acd was happy. Ho burst {uto the room, but this time he remem bersd to shut the door behind him. Ha looked eagerly toward the window where she had stood the day before, but she now arose quiekly from the sofa in the corner where she had been 'seated, and the missal she had been read'ng rolled from her 1ap to the floor. He ran toward her to pick it up. Her name— the name she had told him to call her—was passionately trembng on Wis lips, when she slowly put her vell aside, and dispayed a pale, kindly, middle-aged face, slightly marked by old scars of smallpox. 1t was not Alice; it was the real Sister Seraphina who stood be- fore him. His first Tevulsion of bitter disappolntment was so quickly followed by a reaiization that all had been discovered, and his sacrifics of yesterday had gone for naught, that he stood before her, stammering, but without the power to say a word. Luckily for him his utter embarrassment seemed to reassure her, and to calm that timidity which his b u que. manlike drruption might well producs in the inexperienced, contemplative micd of the re- cluse. Her volce was very sweet, albeit sad, as she sald gentl ‘I am afraid I have taken you by surp-is but there was no time to arrange for a meet- ing, and the lady superior thought that 1, who kuew all the facis, had better see you con- fidentially. Father Cipriano gave us your ad- dress. Amazed and woadering, Key bowel her to a seat. “You will remember,” she went on softly “that the lady superior falled to get any in- formation from you regarding the brother of one of our dear children whom he committed to our charge through a—a cOmPan'e or ac- quaintance—a Mrs. Barker. As she w: armed with his autbority by letter we copted the dear chfld throngh her, permitted her as his repressotative to have free acoe 10 Lis wister, and even allowed her, as an un- attended woman, to pass the night at the con- veat. We were, therefore, surpriscd this morning te récstve a Yetter from him, abso- lutely forb'dding any furthor fntercourse, co~- respondence, or assoclation of his sister with this companion, Mrs, Barkes, It was nec sary to inform the dear child of this at ence, 83 she was on fthe poist of writing te thi woman, but we were pained and shock=d st Ber recoption of her brother's wishes. 1 ©ought to say, 1o justice to the dear ehild, that convent or hiding in Santa Luisa? Yet this did not prevent him from mechanically con- tinuing his arraugements for departure. When they were compieted and he had barely timo to get to the station at Saa Lwis, he again lingercd in vague expectation of some determining event. The appearance of a servant with a tele- graphic message at this moment seemed to bo an answer (o this inatinctive feeling. He tore it open hastily. But it was only a singlo line from his foreman at the mine, which had been repeated to him from the company's offics in San Francisco. It read, “Come at once—important. (To be Concluded.) THIS IS NO TIME To Stamd Idiy = ®ion Pass You. plessant thing to know that in ng of this country yeu can lo- cate and not have a lotg, cold winter to fight, nor distressingly hot, enervating, summer season (o contend with. It I3 equally gratifying to know that in such a section as the ome refersol io, the gener- ous soil permits of your raisiiz, not one, bat two to four crops of vegetabl year and selling them at the highe to the coosumers of th: whole States. The dread of a blighting drouth does mot, in such a regien, stare the worker of the soll in the face, nor does the necessity of providing for four to five months of winter weather enter into his calgulations. In the ball¥ atmosphere of the Orchard Tomes regions you are never snow bound or ice imprisoned. Ycu are not confined 1o the regults, good or bad, of one crop a year, bul on the contrary you have three ‘or four ercps, raised on the same ground, to depend upon each year, In fact it no_ex: tion to say thai the intelligent, hard-working man can so arrange to ‘have something in tho way of a crop to turn off each month of the twelve, and what is more, something that will bring him the money he has by his hard work justly earned. To the people of our own ‘section it seems like a fairy tale to tell them that in the Orchard Homes region they can get from each acre of land properly cultivated, a return of from $200.00 to $100.00 ev. year, accord- ing to the care and labor ‘expénded by them on this most fertile, never-failing ground. We have seen oce party in that section who, from one acre of tomatoes alono rec 4 a return for his season's work of $750. This is what hard, Intel- ligent work will do for the man of pru- dence, foresight and copstant attention to the land ho is working. The man who ez- pects on the other d that he can suc- ceed even in the favored Orchard Homes region without ceaseless and intelligent at- tention to the ground he is working, will of course be disappointed. The I sea- sons, subjected to no sudden changes of temperaiure, are priceless in their affect on the growing crops. To this add an abund- ant rainfall and rich, warm soil, and there It 8 a some sect {8 no wonder at the bhountiful yields the husbandman recelves for his work. It t also be borme in mind that in this t country of ours the large cities take, and always will econtinue to products of the soil that reach them by the best fast freight service offered by any rallroad in this country. No ecity Is more Egenercus a buyer of fruits and vegetables than the city of New Orieans. ' Orchard Homes products are landed in New Or- leans in six hours time. We reach the Chicago market in twenty-thrée hours and St. Louis in thirteen hours’ time. The to- matoes grown in the Orchard Homes re- glons command the highest prices in all the western and morthern markets. While the grouod in this part of the country {s snow covered, the garden farmer In Or- chard Homes 1s shipplog early vegetables At the highest prices to all the large cities of this land. It may be mews to you, but the fact is umquestioned that our Orchard Homes section grows as fine a_winter Rus- set_apple as vou ever saw, We have an early harvest apple that is as fine eating As any grown in lnx rarllnn of this coun- 1 ‘We do not advise the purchase of large tracts of this wonderful ground. Yeu had better have 3 Yo i acres and work it for all it is worth, than to have more land. Twenty to 4 acres there is a better money-maker for you than the best 160- acre farm in any part of this region. Do hred you'1s Brenaed Homas, “Cyantased o with us’ Jook The ery wille she 1a wsuslly doslle, intelligest, and tractable to “fiflhp&}m suthin' w. e . but-le; dolding Ler fg- %L fare | groand and e i | GE BY JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, (Copyright, 1505, by Joel Chandler Harris.) Never were thres more famous story tell- ers together than Mr. Rabbit, Mrs. Meadows and litte Mr Thimblefinger, and certainly tales were never told to listeners more enger than Sweetest Susan, Buster John and Drusilla It was a finelautumn evening down at the bottom of the speing when all the company was sitting around, that Mrs. Meadows re- marked: remember a story that T thought was a very good one when I first heard it, but sometimes a great deal more depends on the time, place and ‘company than on the stories that are told. 'm such a poor hand at tell- ing tales that I'm almost afraid to tell any that 1 know.o I've heard a great many in my day and tfme; but the trouble is to pick out them that don’t depend on a wink of the eye and a wave of the hand.” “Give us a taste of it, anyhow,"” suggested Mr. Rabbit. “14} do the winking, the Tar- Daby can do the blinking, and Mr. Thimble- finger can wave his hands.” “Well,” said Mrs. Meadows, “once upon a time there lived' in a country not very fa from here a man \who had a_wife and tw children, a boy and a girl. This was not a large family, but the man was very poor and he found it a hard matter to get along He was a farmer, and farming, no matter what they say, depends almost entirely on the weather. Now this farmer never could get the weather he wanted. One year the rain would come down and drown out his croy and the next year the drouth would come and burn them up. “Matters went from bad to worse, and the tarmer and his wife talked of nothing else but the rain and the drouth. One year they said they would have made a living but for the drouth, and the next year they sald they would have been very well off but for the rain, So it went on from year to year, until the children, the boy and the ®lrl, grew up large enough to understand what their father and mother were talking about. One year they'd hear they could have no Sunday clothes and shoes because of the drouth. The next year they'd hear they could have no shoes and Sunday clothes because of tie rain. “All this set them to thinking, The boy was about 10 years old and the giri was about 9. One day at their play they bezan to talk as they had heard their father and mot tatk. It was carly in the spring and father was even then ploughing and pre paring his fields for pianting another erop. “‘We will have warm s and good | clothes next winter if the Rain doesn't come K ,'" said the boy. s, replied the girl, ‘and we'll hav good clothes and warm shoes if the Dront doesn’t come and stay too long.' 1 wonder why they've got such a spite inst us? remarked the boy 't know,' raplied the cea them and tell who we are, and heg them not to make us <o cold hunery when the ice grows o th pond on the trees, may be they'li tako pity on ue.' ““Tais jlan pleased the boy child contin o taik finally they agreed to go in search of the Rain and the Drouth. ‘Do you,' said the boy, ‘g0 in scarch of Brother Drouth and I will g in search of Uncle Rain. When.we have fo 1 we must ask them to visit our father's house end farm and see the trouble and ruin thoy havé cius:d.’ “In this the girl agreed, and early the next m 8, ce of corn brend, which was all they had for breakfast they started on their journzy, the boy going to the cast and the girl to the south. The boy travelad a long way and for meny days Sometime: thought he woull never come to the end of his journey, but finally he camo to Cousin Mist's house and there he in- quired his way. ““What do you want with Uncle Rain? asked Cousin Mist. ‘He is holding court now and he is very buty. Besides you are not dressed propdrly. When pesple go to court they have to'w a certain d of dress, In your casa yo brella and airioilf cloth overcoat.' ‘“‘Well," repliéd the boy, ‘I haven't got ‘em and that's the end of that part of it.. If yow'll show e (he way to Uncle Rain’s Eouze 'l go,on and be much obliged to 0ot." ? “Cousin Mist laughed since y Lrella ¢ rart of t “So the hofsted the muddy road When they girl. and the two over, until locked at the boy anl “You are a bold lad,' he £ald, ‘and *2 arél g0 bold I'll lend you an um-| ag oil cloth overcoat and go a wlay with you.' put on the overcoat and clia and trudged along the sward the Louse of Uncle Hain. | of it Cousin Mist pointed ir told the boy goodbye and hon wen' dftzzhag back he The bo went forward boldly knocked at the door of Uncle Ralr ‘““Who is ther Rain in a hoarse and wheezy 3 secemed to have the astama, the choking quinzy and the croup all at t. 3 ‘It's onl Uncle Rain . “With that Uncle Rain opened the door and invited tae little fellow in. He did morc than that. e weat to the closet agd got ou: @ dry spot and told the boy to make him- self as comfortable as he could.” “Got out a what?" asked Buster John, trying hard to keep from laughing. “A”dry spot,” replied Mrs. Meadows, solemnly. “Uncle Rain went to the closet and got out a dry spot. Of cours she continued, “Uncle Rain had to keep a sup- ply of dry spots on hand so as to make his visitors comfortable. IU's a great thing to be polite. Wril, the boy gat on the dry spot, and, after some remarks about the weather, Uncle Rain asked him why he had come 80 far over the rough roads. Then the boy told Uncle Rain the whole story about how poor his fath-r was and how he had made poorcr year after year first by Brother Drouth and then by Uncle Rain. And then he told how he and his little sister had to %0 without ehoes and wear thin clothes in cold weather all becaus: the crops were ruined year after year either by Brother Drouth or Uncle Rain. “He told t ory simple and with so much fecling that Uncle Ra:a was compellea to wipe his eyes on the corner of the fog that hung on the towel rack behind t daor. Ho asked the boy a great many quei- tions about his father and mothe 1 reck sald Uncle Rain, finall I have done all of you a great deal ¢ age without knowing it, but I think I can pay it back. Bring the dry =pot with you and coms with me. He went into the barn- yard, and the boy foilowed. They weat into the barn and there the boy saw, tied by a silver cord, a little black sheep. it was very mall, but seemed to be full grown, becaus it had long horns that curled round and round on the =ides of its head. And, al- though ths horns were long and hard, tha little sheep was very friendiy. It rubbed its head softly against the boy's hand and seemed to be foud of him at first sight. “Uncle Raln untied the silver cord and placed the loose end in the boy's hand ‘Hero is a sheep,’ he sald, ‘that is worth more than all the flocks in the world. When you want gold, all you have to do is to press the golden spring under the left horn. The horn will come oft and you will find it full of gold. When you want silver, press the & under the right horn, The horn off and you will find it full of silver. When the horns have been emptied, place them bick where they belong. This may be done, once, twice or fifty limes & d he boy didn’t know how to thank Uncle Rain enough for this wonderful gift. He was s0 anxious {0 get home that he would have started off at once. “‘Wait a minufe, sald Uncle Rain. ‘You may tell your father about ‘this, but he must tell no one else. The moment the secret of the sheep is toMl outside your family, it will_no longer ‘be' valuable to you.' “The boy thanked Uncle Rain again and started home leading his wonderful sheep, which trotted wlong after him as if it weve gled to go along.« The boy went home mueh faster than hehad gone away and it was not long before he reached there.” “But _what ‘became of the asked Sweetest Susan, paused a momens. “T am coming.4o her cow,” sa'd Mrs. Mead- ows. ““Toe g7l sccoriing to the bargiin thit had been made between Ler and her brother, was to visit dirasher Droutk and lay her tired Uncle ‘Please ‘that, dam- little girl?" as Mrs. Meadows look as if they had been sprinkled with yel- low powder. By thesa signs the girl knew that she was not far from the house of Cou:in Dust and presently she say It in the dis tance, She went to the door, which was open, and inquired the way to Brother Drouth’s, Cousin Dust was much surprised to see a little girl at his door, but after a long fit of coughing he recovered himself, and told her that she was now in Brother Drouth’s country. *It you'll show me the way,’ sald the girl, ‘I'll be more than obliged to you.' “‘I'll go & part of the way w'th you,' said in Dust, ‘and lend you a fan boside o they went along until they came in sight of Brother Drouth's hous, and then Cousin Dust went eddying bick home In tha shape of a small whiriwind. The girl wen to Brother Drouth’s door and kuocked Brother Drouth cims at once and opened the door and invited her in. ““I'll not deny that I'm surprised.’ said he, ‘for 1 never expectod to find a lit'le gir knocking at this time of day. But you are we'come. I'm glad to ses you. You must hava come a long journey, for you 1oo% hot.' “With that he want to the cupboard and got her a cool place to sit on, and this she found very comfortable, But still Brcther Drouth wasn't satisf-d. As hls visitor was a little girl, ho wante to da extra polite, and 5o he went to his private closet and brought her a fresh breeze with a handle to it, and as the cool placa has a cushioned back and the fresh breeze a handle that (he girl could man- age, she felt betier in Brother Drouth’s house than she hal at any time during her long Journoy. She there on the cool pace and fanned with the fresh b eszs, and Brother Drouth eat in his big armehair and smiled at her. The little girl noticed this af er a whls, and €0 she said “*Oh, you can laugh, but it's no laugh'ng maiter. It you could ree all the trouble you've cansed at our house you'd laugh on the other &de of your mouth.' “When lie heard this, Brother Drouth at once hacarms very ssrfous and apologized. He sald he' wasn't laughing but just sm'lng be- cause he though! she was enjoying ha self “ ‘Bimy ba cnjoylog myself now,’ said the little 1], ‘and I'm much obliged to you, but It T was at home I wouldn't be enjoying my seif. ““Then she went on to tell Brother Drouth how her father's crops had been ruined y after year either by Uncle Rain or by Brother Drouth, and how the family got poorer and poorer ‘all the time on that account, so that tho little children couldn’t have warm shoes and thick clothes in cold weather, but had Dbarefooted and woar rags. Brother stened with all his ears, and when the ifttle girl had told her story he shook his head and said that be was to blame as well as Uncle Rain. He explained that for ny years there had been a trial of strengih going on hetween him and Uncle Rain, and they had brcome so much interested in over- ming ezch othor that they had paid no at- tention to poor people’s crops. He said he nat he had taken part in any Then he tod the litte girl Nt he could pay her back for a | part of the demage he had done, and tnat than glad to do so. ring your cool place and your with you and come with me.’ She followed Brother Drouth out into the barn yard, and into the barn, and there, tied by a golden cord, she saw a snow whitc goat. Wis goat,’ said Brother Drouth, ‘is worth more than all the goats in the world, tama or wild' With that he untied the golden cord and placed the loose end in th girl's hand, The goat was small, but seemed to bo old, for its horns, which were of the color of ivory, curved upward and over its back. They were so long that by turning its head a bit, tho snow white goat could scratch itself on its horn. And though it seemed fo be old, it wa y gentle, for it rubbed its nose and face against the little girl's frock and appeared to be very glad to see her. “‘Now them’ sald Brother Drouth, ‘this goat i3 yours. Take It and take care of It. On the under side of each horn you will find a small epring. Touch it and the horn will come off, and each horn, no matter how many times you touch the spring, you will always find tull of gold and silver. "But this is not all. At each change of the mcon you will find the right horn full of diamonds and the left horn full of paarlz. Now listen to me. You may tell your father about this treasure, hut as soon as the secret is told out of the family your goat will be worth no more to yeu than any other goal o little girl thanked Brother Drouth untfl he would allow her to thank him no more, She would have left the cool place and the fresh breeze, but Brother Drouth s1ld she was welcome to bcth of them ‘When the weather is cold,’ sald he, ‘you can put them away, but when it is warm you will find that the cool place and the fresh breeze will come In right han “Thauking Brother Drouth again and again, the girl started on her journey, leading her wonderful gont, and carrying with her the wol place and the fresh breeze. In this way she made the long journey with ease would be | and comfort, and came to her father's house without any trouble. She reached the gate, too, just as hor brother did. They were very glad to see each other, and the shecp and the goat appearsd to be old friends, for they rubbed their noses together In friendly fashion. “T'll make our father and mother rich,’ sald the boy, proudly. “‘And I'll' make them richer,’ girl, still more proudly. So they took their wonderful goat and shecp into the stable, gave them some hay to eat, and then went into the house.” HUMPRACK SAM. said the A True Story Georgin Frontler Life a Hundred YVears Ago. BY MAURICE THOMPSON, (Copyrighted, 159, by Maurice Thompson.) When | was a boy I knew an old ncgro man by the name of £am who, on ac- count of a peculiar tortion’ of his shoulders and neck, was called Hump- back Sam. He was to ali intents free; but he had a white guardian who looked eftor Kim in n way; and it was from Humpback Sam that I got the story which 1 am ready to tell. While I have no doubt that in its main facts the story is true, there is mo recorded evidence of 1, and little to correberate it beyond the few incidents con- necied with the history of the Harris fam- ily during the early days of Georgia's history, when the Indisns were doing a great deal of bloody worl along the frontier lines. Humpback Sam in his youth was the only slave of Anson Harris, so his story went, who, with his wife and one son, lived in a comfortable log cabin in southern Georgla. Around this cabin was a small plantation and near by a densely wooded swamp, which stretched away for miles, was infested by wiid boasts, and sometimes by wilder In- diens. 1t was a lonely home, exposed to every danger incident to ploneer life, but in those days men, women and children faced, without much ado, terror which would make the strongest of us nowadays blanche with fear. Ono day Mr. Harris and his wife got into a cart drawn by two horses and set out for a village some miles away, called Bruns- wick, to buy sume necessary supplies. They left their son, whose name was Stephen, and Hunchback Sam, then as straight and s active as any young fellow could be, to take care of the place. Stephen Harris was but 15 years old, but he thought himself a man and could do & man’s work, shoot a rifle equal to the best, and never knew what it meant to disobey his father or complain when a task was set for his hand The father and mother were fo be gone two days and one night; weintime It was thought - prudent to Keep an eye out fcr Indian: Ithough for more than a year there had beem no trouble on that sccre. Farly in the morning, just at the crack of dawn the wagon with its hardy occupants trundlel off throngh the damp woods, and Fam went to look after @ litter of p'gs down ly the swamp edge, while Stephen vas doing som: chores about the house. But a few minutes had passcd when Sam came back looking scared. “What's up, Sam 7" St-ph-n demanded, se>- fog the negro's eyes so wide. > “Injens,” was the response. Stephen felt & chill go down his back, as afterward told; but he kept his face calm. ou_sure, Sam?" he questioned. o compla'nts belgraihim. So sle startel on her way. As sh> await alon: the posds began to get drier ol duiw, ard the gremy on the liaves on the trees bagan to Dar's de moc'sin tracks all ‘loog de aidge o' de swamp.” This was enough to convince Btsphia and [mulo him thoughttul, He Instantly knew that they two had to meet one of the awful 1t he could have ligence he would exigencles of frontier life. looked forward with int have reallzed that his approaching trial was really a necossary step In human progress and that he and Sam were helping to make a great nation. Stroke by stroke, hardship after hardship, won our beautifui and bountiful country from (he savages and the stubborn resistance of malaria and the wilderness, But Stephen Harrls was an ignorant boy and could not feel any importance in his acts save the immediate clearly defined re- sults to hims:If and his home people. As soon as he knew that some Indians were prowling near, his first o ern was self preservation, and forthwith he began to reckon the chances of escape From the very nature of things, open flight by day would be the helght of folly The first thing to find out was the probable number of the savages, and from this the! purpoge could be pretty accurately | If they were few they probably were i upon stealing horses or cattlo or corn; many, they were on the warpath, which meant Indiscriminate massacre. hen did not doubt, which ectually turned out to be true, that his father and mother would b kiiled on the way; for after some sly scout ing he asoertained that a large band of In- dians had passed some miles east, going in the direotion of Brunswick. As for those whose tracks appeared at tho edge of the swamp, they seemed to have been a small scouting party of five or six After soma consultation, Stephen and Ssm concluded that it was best to secrete them salves on the premises until darkness came and then steal away. And while there was little comfort in the situation, they could think of nothing better. The place they se to hide themsolves in was a loft of a rickety log stable near the house. You may laugh at th but Stephen reckoned shrewdly in selecting the spot as one which, from its exposed nature, would not be thought a p ble chol in such an He fo that the savag should they come, would rummage the house: and finding it deserted, would, perhaps, sef fire to it and go off. All day long until nightfall the two boys, black and white, lay ¢ up there on that tpsy floor of roughly hewn logs. It came near falling with their welght when they firat climbed up, and they kept still, almost as much for fear ¢t tumbling down as of attracting the attention of the Indians. It was no soft bed, but fear made them lie still, Darkness came on at last. The sky was covered with leaden clouds and there was no moon to relieve the somber, almost black offect. Stephen had his trusty flint-lock riffe by his side; but thls gave him small comfort. The stillness of the night seemed haavy upon the forestinot a breath of wind, not_even the chirrup of a cricket was heard. And somehow this very quietude and this aflonca were ominous to the almost breath- less listeners in the loft. Sam, who claimed the age of 95 told me the story, sald that, as for himself ho felt his seilp squirm quiver cn his head. He darad not move hand or foot for fear of making a no'se. And it was the same hen; his Leart bait heavily when thiest sound was hea d; he dared n trust himself to srgg st to S m that it was time for them to go, Now, all this while four Indizns had been ingly planaing (o cre>p up to the house the dirkness and taks the inmaites by surprise, murder them, fcalp them azd burn overything. They went shoit their wok like s stealing upon their prey. Coming forth om the depth of the swamp jungle early in the night, the ng nois-les:ly un they found 1 ves close ‘o the old into which they went looking or rather And £0 sly were ‘hey th:t m did not su pret their pres until one of them tripp 4 in pa:sing over a pile of rough boards > out th well known Indian gruat, “Ugh! The racket balow was very slight and the grunt barely audible; but a crash of thunder could not have had a more startling effect especially upen the negro. “Oh, lor't" bawled Sam, serambling to his feet and scrambling to get out. At the same moment it seemed to the negro and Stephen that an earthquake had come. A loud eracking and ripping sound tore the still nizht air and the stable was flled with dust, flying hoards and tumbling beams, “I' jes” fink de worl' done come to eend right dar,” Sam was fond of saying; “seem lak de sky was done fall down, an’ 1 see de stars jes a dansin’ ‘roun my head!” Stophen clutched his black companion in a spasmodic embrace and down they went together, along with the whole heavy loft of the stable. A part of the roof also fell in, disturbed by the kicking up of some of the loft beams, and the noise was quite terrible. It bezan with a snep and ended in a widely reverberating smash. At first Stephen and Sam thonght it was all over with them; for down came a lot of boardd, poles and the ltke upon their backs, while at the same time they felt the falling floor under them strike the ground with a great thump. For a moment they could not think. When once he realized to some extent what had happened, Stephen was n.t, however, low to act. By a great cffort he freed him- <elf from the mass that had fall'n vpon him, | and burt as he was, he began prop ng for Sam, wiose groans wers pret y nearly smoth- cred. Then, too, he heard other soun’s cf distrees, which seemed to come from de:per | down. He worked heroically, but all to no purpose, and finally fainted from his bur's and exbaustion and lay like one cead through out the remainder of the nig t Meantine a body of whits men, under commend of the brave, but oce2otric, Captain Rod rck Mclntosh, had wet the nan tedy of the lodians ar.d given them a blyody de- feat, killing many. After the fight, Meln- tosh, knowing that the Harris family ved near, went to look gftsr them, and fonnd Stzphen just recovering from his fain'ing fi: and Sam still groaning und r some boards and poles. Doth were rescued and narsed back to health and strength, but Sam had received su nack that he it che when ha not ev ou in as ever after a humpbach Bo'h Mr. Harris and his wite bad been | Iilled by the Indians. Up-n examination four savages du'y diubei witn war paint wers found under heavy | ficor of the loft, which had fallen upon then anl crushed them to death. Captan M-I tosh, commonly called Rory Melnta:h, #nd | for her seniors. fnjuries to his shoul’ers ard | re celebrated in the history of nn evnty, orgla, told this story, with some variit.ons, as long as he lved; but T had it trom Sam I||muell." s “ THE MOON AT CLOSH RANGE, Wonderful Instrament Wi X Fignre on n Sereen, Not only today, but in all ages, men have been anxlously endeavoring to solve tha mystery of the moon. The ancients made her thelr goddess, and entered upon no new undertakings without first asking her ade vice and consulting the probabilities of the Influence with which even today many sue v persons endow her. @ has long been arded as the means by which we will be enabled, It at all, to study the moon's mysteries. The only question has been how to make & lens lar, rough, 1t seems to have been recognized that there fs a lmit to what may be calied the carrying power of a lens, AlVin Clark of Cambridge I the man who makes big lenses, and he has about reached limit Two of these rocord breaking lenses are the great Chioago telescope, and two about to be sot {n the recently ope in the Parls observatory. M. Deloncle, proposes for a_novel purpose, thiees glasses of diameter. A fa- is at work theso . an instrument which Deloncle calls the siderostat With this M. Delancle hop the moon and to establish once and whether that interesting and much dis planct s inhabited. the moon has citics, buildings, and also ug, if it has any. Says a French writer of it o A demands for its s an iogenious one, a perfection . man, convinced he is right, having, so to speak, plenty of ‘pluck.’ It i3 the hatural outeote of all that h before, from Metius to Mantols, bu longs especially to the pu ¢ Kentus of its author, becauge no one o ‘him, not even the ' most learned astronom dared to imagine so strange an useful an instrume It is the cannon of 108 tons, t the Great Eastern of optics. terostat surpasees anything of its It does not even bear any resemblance to existing teloscopes “The spectators will stand and lie, pointing 1ts long horizontal tunnel at a mirror fourteen inches fn thickness and welghing 13,000 pounds, The image of th snteilite will be feflactad, and coming out of the ocular will be projected upon a screen upon which two, three or 500 spectators may see the moon. A magnifying glass will enlirge the image to enormous proportions and a very delicate mechanical contrivance will set the mirror fn motion, so that it will follow the apparent movements of the planet. The scheme will be ntic; it will truly be ‘twentieth century!” The ques- tlon arises among the doubtful: Will it be practical? Alter ait, negat alter “Unfortunately Mme. Moon, the indispen- oil f this Junar theater, In the first place, venings when, follows er capricioud human will de to come forth from ows of her cloudy boudoir. Photoge v 1y be brought into requisition, and like the “understudi he real stage, taks the role of th prima “donna. IR which ¢ at will be vulgarized to the mean part of a huge magic lantern, which misfortune, for the sake of it 45 to be hoped will nover transp! “No, the real success of this gre tion, ihe only one to hope for, in only one really intended by the invent A purely scientific one. What jov, glory for him, the new Archime he hall be ry out to humanity, ka: ‘T hs i1 The moon fted PRATTLE in mor moy aker on M, monuments and large explain its signals to “The lovention ol tower, 1t will e many the footateps ve is found inhabe OF THE YOUNG S. “We had a number of distinguished vis- itors come in upon us not long ago,” says Edgar Willlam Nye, the North Carolina humorist. “We made them welcome and invited them to supper. 1 happened to be feeling particularly well that evening, and, 1¢ I do say it myself, I made myself exceed- ingly agreeable. After having recounted one of my most amusing anecdotes 1 was pained to overhear the following conversation between one of our guests and my younger daughter, a sweet child of 7 years: “Turning to my daughter and smiling radiantly the visitor said: ‘Your papa is a very funny man, isn't he, my dear?" ““*Yes,' answered the sweet child with charming naivete; ‘he always s when we have compn'y! A boy's fishing pole was fastened to the root of a tres on the river bank, and he was silting in the sun playing with his dog, idling the time away, as he had been fish- all day and caugit nothing. Fishing?” inquired the man passing. Yes,” answered the boy. ce dog you have there; what fs his “Fish? That's a queer name for a dog. What do you call him th ““Cause he won't bite. Then the man proceeded on his w Her Mother—Bessle, dear, I am sorry to soe my little girl show such a lack When a neighb should sit quletly speak unless you are spcken to. You do not mean to be desrespectful, 1 am sure, but you should think of the impreseion you aro making on our neighbors, and you will try hereafter, 1 hope to Berste—You'd better You'll talk yourself to d ! on us you Jook out, mamma. you threw him down th both feet?” ust playin'.” do you call that?” “Johnny, Willle say t sort of pla ‘oot bal Auntio—Jchnnfe, you must never be afrafd to tell the truth. ~ Johnnie—No, auntie, I aln’t. 10 to tell a lo without being afraid that bothers me. - Dia You Fver. ctric Bitters as a vemedy for your les? If not, get a bottle now and get This medicine has been found to he rly adapted to the relief and of all female complaints, exerting a wonderful direct influence in giving streagth and tono to the organs. 1f you have loss of appetite, tion, headache, fainting spells or ara excituble, holy or e Bitters iy a4 strength Only fifty cents ag troubled with the medicine you need are guaranteel by Its use. drug store. 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