sisp3?fvs-js&r-pi? -iw -tf-"
THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN, PORTLAND, 'APRIL 22, 1900.
29
(Copyright, 1900, by P. A. Curamtngs.)
Introdnctlon.
Many years ago. long before the break-
Ilng out of the civil war, the writer of
this book was a civil engineer and land
surveyor in what was then, and is now.
aued the Attakapas country of Loulsana,
I had been sent to Loulsana by my
tepfatber to leam the business, it being
his in tentlon that after study and ex
perience. I should return to my homo in
the settlement near the mouth of the Gila
River on the west coast of Africa, where
b lived.
I left there in the year 1SH. being
nearly 20 years of age. and having no
aowledge or acquaintance with the
rorld. except that gained from books
na rrora tne ofjeers and crews of the
various vessels that traded -at our bar-
acoon.
My stepfather was ambitious and had
plenty of mco-,ey. and it was his darling
scneme to lav off the countrv into farms.
colonize tbem. and establish Independ
ent government upon the west Coast.
Portuvril held nominal nosspsslon of
tho district he .wished to locate, and
he h'iQ obtained a grant of an enormous
tracf of land for that purpose. This was
whjon the slave trade was flourishing,
hJt tho growing pressure of the English
ADA American war vessels crippled him
financially, and his barraroon being even
tually destroyed, he left Africa and sct-
f.tled In Mississippi In 1KH.
Theso changes Interfered with his plans
I for my education and future prospects,
and I was obliged to depend upon myself.
The deck of a slaver was a wild school
In which to learn the alphabet of life, and
wrhen George Wesner approached me with
"his extraordinary scheme, he little knew
the past history of his apt pupil. He
often wondered at my easy adaptation
to negro character and my knowledge of
"West Coast gibberish.
I commenced this narrative 13 years
I ago, before my stepfather's death. Since
he died, I have obtained possession of
bis papers, and shall soon publish them.
They tell a story of tho life of an Af
rican slaver that rivals tho wildest ro
mance In Interest and adventure, while
dealing in literal facts. Many of the
actors are yet living more are dead and
at the bottom of the sea.
C. J. BRADLEY.
CHAPTER L
Ton years previous to the outbreak
I of the late Civil War. and until tho fall
of Fort Sumter, I was a resident of the
Srato of Louisiana.
During the last five years beforo the
war I was an accredited agent of the
then notorious underground railroad, a
corporation whose history, written and
unwritten, contains enough romantic ad
ventures, hairbreadth escapes, examples
of patient endurance and pathetic scenes
to furnish the annals of a nation.
The legends of this road are so Inter
woven with romance that It Is difficult
to extract the true from tho false. In
this story, however. I shall endeavor to
present a true narrative of events in
which I was personally Interested, as
the?' occurred In the Dark Belt of Louis
iana In the "days before tho war."
Five years of my life were passed in
the service of this underground railroad..
and I was a direct participant In many
of the events here chronicled. I had a
partner, George L. Wesner. a young man
about 23 years of age a born leader of
men cool and determined, with a warm
heart and open hand to the call of the
friendless but as an enemy a man to be
leared. for he was a crack shot and reck
less as a river pirate, and to his cool
ourage and resistless energy our success
was largely due. He was my Ideal then,
land although 40 years He between then
I and now, I thrill tilth admiration as I
think of him now.
Ho was the son of a sugar planter, and
orn a few miles from the Bayou Teche.
parish of St. Mary's, Louisiana, In the
Attakapas country. His father was
dead, but his mother owned and worked
about 70 negroes, and until the year be-
Ifore forming. my acquaintance George
nanaged the plantation.
He was well educated, spoke English.
German and French and was an accom
plished musician, but he was so thor
oughly Imbued with the love of adventure
and danger that It almost unfitted him
for business, and Interfered with his pop
ularity among the conservative planters.
who constituted the bulk of the Attakapas
u!ulatlon. But they evinced a whole-
respect for him, founded. X suspect
upon his physical as well as his Intel
lectual qualities; for he stood six feet In
his stockings, was well proportioned and
an adept In all athletic exercises. "
Contrary to the usual habits of South-
lern gentlemen, he waa an abstainer from
liquors, but he was an Inveterate cljrar-
lelte smoker much to my disgust. His
hair was black, clustering In short curls
around his sunburned face, and his big
blue eyes hod a habit of looking straight
at the person with whom he was converg
ing. This Is a description of my partner,
as he appeared in September, IKS. He re
sided on a plantation In the same vicinity
where he and myself operated for four
years under the auspices of the Anti
Slavery Society, and as during that time
detectives without number were eenrch-
llng for their agents, credit must be given
I for some boldness and shrewdness In the
lenterprise. We were well aware that It
was death to be discovered, and we made
no confidants.
On the 10th day of September. 1SS. I
was sitting In my doorway, quietly smok
ing my cigarette and enjoying the beauty
of a September afternoon. The -clear air
ofthe prairie was cool and fragrant, and
I was enjoying Its freshness, leaning back
In my chair. I Imagined myself the hap
piest of men. I was young, not 30 yeatu
of age, free from debt, and owned the
pretty place I lived on. My business of
land surveying brought me a good Income
In addition to the profit of my little plan
tation. Thla I worked, with the assist
ance of one or two hands hired from the
neighboring plantation.
As my gaze wandered aimlessly around
away across the prairie I could faintly dis
cern a speck. Just a fleck of moving brown
background upon the sea of green that
rolled to the edge of the horizon. My
eyes, practiced to such scenes, assured ma
that It was a mounted man, and, with the
aid of my field glass, 1 raw that he was
I moving down the trail that led to my
home with his horse at a breakneck gal
lop. It was George Wesner, and aa he
came nearer I could kc that he was ex
cited, an unusual state for him. He rode
straight toward the hitching post, as was
his wont, slipped the bridle through the
hole and over the end, and came toward
me. biting savagely at the end of his
cigarette: he then threw himself down
under the shade of a large live oak that
grew a few yards from the house, beck
oning me to come out under the tree. I
did eo. and sat down beside him.
"Charlie." said he. after we had smoked
awhile. "I want your assistance In an af-
Ifalr that it Is more than likely you will
not meddle with. Because If you insist,
your neck will be in equal danger with my
own."
I was a little curious to know what
ae reserved, quiet George Wesner ba4 In
view that menaced the anatomy of a pet
eon's neck, and laughingly Inqulrea.
"What Is It, George, steal a mulo or rob
a bank?"
"Stop your chaffing, Charlie! It Is
steal a nigger and that In our criminal
calendar Is the greatest crime."
"So It Is, so It la," I replied. "You had
better buy one if you are In want,"
"Can't do it, Charlie. I've tried, and
Coverly won't sell her."
"Coverly won't sell her! Ah, I understand.
"Then the nigger is a woman and be
longs to CoverlyT I've got the whole
story."
"No, you haven't, but you shall If you
have patience to listen. What I have
to tell you happened before you camo
to Attakapas: and when you have the
story, you shall be the judge whether I
am right and phall have your support.
"In September, 1K. I came home from
New Orleans sick: there was no physi
cian to be had this side of the city. Tho
disease developed, and my own medical
knowledge told me it was small-pox. That
was enough: every living soul fled In ter
ror, and I waa alone no, not alone al
though whites and negroes fled In terrou
One bit of a chattel, one child remained
Coverly's Lucy. Tou have seen her?"
I nodded assent.
"Masea George had been very good to
her. and she refused to leave him.
"This girl remained true, forgetting self
In her anxiety for me. Her master Fent
for her, knowing how fatal the disease
was among negroes, and he feared for his
property. She still refused to leave.
"Dreading the contagion, he dared not
send his other negroes for her. Negroes
being cash in Attakapas. he naturally
AT
wanted to keep his property. Lucy was
valued at S1000 then, and gave promise
of future beauty. Smallpox scars would
not contribute to the market value of a
girl like her. '
"I had studied medicine, and had a
very good Idea of the dlseaee and Its
methods of treatment, I expected that,
if very sick, I should lose my reason, and
prepared for It, being determined to pull
through unscarred If possible.
"I prepared lashings for my arms and
thin cloths to wet and put over my face.
This done, I called Lucy to me and ex
plained, aa fully as I could, the courso
to take.
"I told her I might lose my senses, but
to follow my Instructions and not be
afraid, for I should be too weak to in
jure her. 'I am not afraid, Massa George.
God will take care of us," was hor quiet
reply.
"At this time I was engaged to MIfs
Elsie Coverly, as you have probably heard
before. Sho sent me a polite note of con
dolence, in which It was evident fear
predominated over her love for me. How
ever. 6he was my mother's choice (not
mine). I was too sick to care and. my
preparations being made, staggered to
the bed and lay down, to live or die, as
Providence should determine.
"This was the last I realized for two
weeks. A part of the tlmo I lay In a
stupor, but when aroused, as I after
ward learned, was wild and pretty ugly
through some of those long Autumnal
nights.
"I was weak and helplcsc. but. thanks
to Lucy's unceasing care and forethought,
was unscarred by the dread disease. One
midnight I awoke. The October wlndi
were sweeping over the prairie and drove
the cold rain in sheets against tho window
panes. The candle burned dim. but by Us
faint light I could easily distinguish the
shadow of my faithful nurse.
"I spoke; she started from her chair
and came to my bedside. At one glance
she saw that my reason had returned,
and, falling on her knees, she prayed ai
I never heard man or woman pray be
fore, and thanked God that her prayers
had been answered. Think, Charlie, she
was not then 13 years of age! I tried
to- give her my hand, but was too weak
to raise It; then I asked for the mirror;
she held a. small hand-mirror before my
face. One eager glance I turned away
with a sigh of satisfaction; the ordeal
was passed: I waa unscathed.
"'Are you alone? I inquired. She an
swered. Tea. sir.' 'Have any of Mr. Cov
erly's family been here? 'No, sir. Miss
Elsie sent their man Bill over, but she
told him not to come near enough to
catch the disease. I coul" not make him
hear, scream as loudly as I could, and so
he only came twice; and the second time
he had a bag over his head so the dis
ease wouldn't hit him.
"I lay there six weeks. It was nearly
four more before I was able to venture
out. Meanwhile, my mother returned:
however, I was weak In body and per
haps mind, and would have no other help
but Lucy's. Then, determined to repay
her. If I could, I taught her to read (sho
already knew her letters), and In a few
weeks she could read understanding any
simple book.
"And now, Charlie, comes the strangest
part of this story. I believe that girl Is
a white girl. You know, such things have
happened in Louisiana. It was a long
time before she told me what she remem
bers about herself, and she did not say
then that she thought she was white.
Poor child, I don't suppose she did think
so. It was too Incredible to a girl that
had spent her life as a nigger slave. But
she said there was something very stranga
In her first recollections. That she used
, to be petted and loved by a lady who must
have been a white lady, and that the lady
did not talk English to her. she was sura
She says she knows she thought that lady
was her mother. Now here Is a queer
thing. Charlie. When I was getting well
Lucy was taking a nap one day (she hat
enough sleep to make up, I can tell you),
lying on a pallet In my room. She had
had a bad dream, and cried out In her
sleep .and what sho said was, 'O, non,
non, ollezl' Now, she can't speak French
when she Is awake, and almost no Aca
dian. In her sleep she uses the purest
accent. I've been teaching her Acadian,
by the way, because a language other peo
ple don't know might come in handy, but
her tendency to make good French of It.
the way French comes back to her, shows
It was her first tongue: that's as sure as
wo are alive here and now. Well, to go
back: Sho remembers a scene of lights
moving In the darkness and water stretch
ing around her, and a house moving on
It, Now that must have been a Journey
on the river. Then came a great sickness,
she was sick, other people were sick;
she never saw the lady again, and all she
knows Is that, but for this dim dream,
that 'is not a dream, she has always been
a nigger slave. Charlie, she would have
been about 3 years old the year the yellow
fever swept New Orleans out with the
worst plague she has ever seen. I toll
you. I have divined what happened. This
child's family were strangers, they were
all down with the fever. Lucy was left
among the negroes to be taken care of.
She got sick, the negroes sickened and
died, probably, and this dark-haired baby
was sold with the remains of tho family
property by some one who did not guess
or did not want to consider the chances
for a horrible blunder. I know the marks
TUB WOTtD, MY nULI.ET STARTED
of negro blood pretty well; I've recognized
It in blue-eyed, blonde-haired niggers In
a minute, but I will tell you, finger nails,
palms of her hands, wherever uu look,
there Is not a sign of It In Lucy. I can
do nothing for her here. Perhaps her case
never could be proven before the law,
and If I made a move to Investigate, old
Coverly would sell her or do something
' worse right off. But I can steal her, and
j that I'm going to do.
I "But I hnvo not told you the end of the
"While lying sick and helpless and fol
lowing with my eyes her patient, untiring
form, as she glided In and out of my cham
ber, reminiscences of my past kept a con
tinual porcuion through my weak and
1 clouded mind. As I grew stronger, deter
mination came, and my old self returned.
I do not know that I loved Lucy then,
but I could see" nothing but misery In my
approaching marriage with Elsie Coverly.
"The shadow of the plantation, the slave
from the cotton field, stood between us; I
wrote a note asking that the engagement
be broken. For an answer I received a
challenge from her brother, Dick.
"I accepted, and shot him In the leg.
"There was a cousin. Bob Bretton, who
felt a call to break n lance for his fait
cousin's sake. I accepted his challenge
also. He was a cool shot,-and I knew It,
At the word my bullet started first and
stopped In his shoulder, while his came
uncomfortably near my face. Bob was
satisfied.
"Then I wrote a polite little note to the
old gentleman. In which I explained to
him that I was playing with them, and.
the next one who thought he had a call
to stand before me I would shoot through
the heart. That ended It, as they began
to see that I was In earnest.
"Dick Coverly Is In Europe, but beforo
he left he extorted a promise from his
father not to sell Lucy. Perhaps he
thought I would want to buy her and give
her freo papers. I have already offered
the old man. through an agent, J000J for
her. but he says he Is keeping her for
Richard: that her weight In diamonds will
not buy her.
I "Now, Charlie. Richard Coverly never
shall call Lucy his property," and as he
repeated this his eyes shone with a fierce
I light,
"I cannot buy her. If I cannot steal
her, I will shoot him. I should be a mon
ster of Ingratitude to allow this girl, to
whom I owe my life, to be kept In hopeless
bondage by such a scoundrel as Richard
Coverly, to say nothing of tho awful fact
that sho is, I believe, a white woman,
and that I love her. I cannot bear even
to think of It."
Of course, I could not be as sure as
Wesner that Coverly's Lucy was a pure
white, but still ven with no romantic
sentiments to wnrp my judgment, 1
thought It posslblo enough that his sur
mise was correct. As ho said, such things
. had happened In the South, and his own
theory In this care was plausible enough,
i As be talked, a wild notion had come Into
my head; It attracted me by Its daredevil
' quality, and I knew that, rightly put
through. It could be made profitable.
IWhen he stopped speaking, without en
tering on the question of Lucy's race. I
.said:
1 "You know that It lsyou. and not L
j who havo fallen In lovo with Coverly's
Lucy, but I honor you and will enter Into
an agreement with you to devote our time
to running negroes from this country Into
free states, Lucy included. I will assist
you to abduct her at all hazards."
"It Is agreed." he replied.
Wo sat down together, and In an hour
concocted the plan that kept the planters
of the southwestern part of Louisiana In a
turmoil of excitement for Ave years,' and
ran out of that country negroes to the
value of upward of Jjro.OOa.
This was accomplished by two men liv
ing In the district they robbed, and one
of them owning several slaves and work
Ins, a plantation at the same time. Dur
ing this time we were never betrayed nor
discovered, and only once suspected by
our neighbors (I mean to our Injury).
This will be explained hereafter.
CHAPTER IL
My motive for undertaking this dan
gerous business was love of adventure,
to assist my friend, and .some small hope
of gain. Wcsner's heart was In tho work,
as It progressed. He became an enthusi
ast, and I, much the same.
Before starting we agreed never to write
one word upon the subject, never to trust
a negro with the secret of our Identity
or a white man with our business save
In one Instance we never did. Negro
testimony, we well knew, would not be
taken In court; but If we were suspected
even, we would never live to see the In
side of a courtroom, so strong would be
the feeling against us.
We arranged a cipher by which we could
write or telegraph In caso necessity re
quired; this we committed to memory,
and then destroyed. I afterward learned
that It was known to "Coverly's Lucy,"
so It must have been old to George.
Aa my business called me frequently
from home, no notice would be taken of
my absence. I, therefore, started Imme
diately for New York, where we expected
to make arrangements with 'the leading
abolitionists to furnish the sinews of war.
taking passage on the steamer Fannie
Bulllt from New Orleans, leaving her at
a landing a few miles below tho little
town of Oreola, where I owned a wood
yard. I had nothing to do hero except to
sound More (my head man) and learn his
views. He was not well, and consequent,
ly a little cross, so I gave up this Inter
view for a time, and, hailing a passing
steamer, kept on to Cincinnati.
The transit by rail to Albany. N. Y.,
consumed little time. From there I took
the steamer, and atmut 7 o'clock P. M.
October 8, 1S35. found myself ascending
the steps of the Astor House, then the
leading hotel in New York, and the one
most frequented by Southerners, and,
much to my chagrin, also found there a
young rellow. Pet Clalborn. who lived but
a short distance from me. near the Teche.
Pet's peoplo were rlcfi and of good fam
ily. He was a fierce flre-eater, and an In
veterate gambler, I knew him well enough,
and understood that It would not be ad
visable on my part to endeavor to shake
him off.
"Bradley, from Attakapas," he ex
claimed, and the next moment his ana
FIRST.
was linked In mine, and wo wero drink
ing brandy cocktail at Pet's expense,
"When did you leave? How far are you
going? When are you going home?" ha
asked, all In one breath.
I answered him as frankly as possible,
and was relieved to find that he must
start for home the next morning.
When morning came I accompanied him
to the train. 1 also wroto Wesner a friend
ly letter to let him know that I had seen
Pet, I then left the hotel upon a tour of
exploration In search of thai abomination
to nil Southerners, the office of tho New
York Tribune.
This place I preferred to find without
asking questions, as New York was filled
with Southerners returning from the va
rious Summer resorts.
I was well known on the Mississippi and
Red Rivers, nnd did not care to be report
ed as hunting for tho Tribune office, so
avoided, or, at least, tried to avoid, meet
ing any Southerners, especially Attakapas
people.
I found the building, sent up my card
as Mr. Smith, and Tcquerted an Interview
with Mr. Greeley. Horace Greeley was at
this time In his prime, and tho most no-
Itortous abolitionist In the whole Union.
I confess I was a trifle nervous as I
entered the building: In a very few mo
ments I was ushered lnto'tho room and
presence of the redoubtable Horace, the
man of all the world Southerners most de-
splsed. and whose pen they most feared.
I There were two or three people In tho
l room writing. Mr. Gredej' was sitting
tilted back In his chair, chewing the end of
a pine stick, and evidently In no very
pleasant mood. His spectacles wero
pushed above his eyes, and he scanned
me closely.
"Mr. Smith, your business; I can afford
you but a few moments."
"Mr. Greeley, I must see you alone." I
replied; "my business will take hours In
stead of minutes. Two minutes will do
me today, however."
"These men are sworn to secrecy in all
business matters." he replied.
"No, sir; not to me," I answered.
He opened the door leading to his pri
vate office, and nodded. I followed him
"Now your business, quickly."
"Mr. Greeley, my name lfl not Smith. I
am Charles J. Bradley, from Parish St.
Mary's, Louisiana. I am here to try to
mako arrangements with the leading Free
Soil men to run negroes from that and ad.
Joining parishes Into the free states.
"I am a soldier of fortune, and not a
philanthropist. I will make the venture
' nnd risk my life; others must bear the
I expense. If you can give me encourage
ment, say so. Namo your time and place.
Bring your company. I will unfold the
plans. Bring whom you can trust, for If
1 this conspiracy la made public, I am an
I exile from home or my angry townsmen
will suspend mo from the nearest tree,
and as I am worth a fine little property
In Louisiana, I do not wish to bo exiled;
liking life pretty well, I do not caro to
be hanged."
"What Is your Object, Nothing but
money T'
"Yes," said I. "lovo of adventure and
desire to destroy the whole slave system,"
"What Is your address?" he asked. This
I gavo him, and, promising to write me
a note specifying wnen and where he
would meet me. he bowed me out, and
thus ended my first Interview with Horace
Greeley.
I took a long walk after the Interview
and half determined to retreat, content
with assisting Wesner to abduct Lucy;
but. In cither case, I was risking my neck,
and I concluded I should prefer to be
hanged as a great rascal rather than a
petty one, and continued by preparations.
(To be continued.)
"7sfBisafBBssssasri -irf' rarBsf
'NrSffBpkBBVfffB"lfl aa .w-1
Theism oftiie vnrm
By S.lt'CQPCf&TT -
Pidlureihy G.A.SfflPLEY
Synopsis of Previous Chapters.
Sir James Stansfleld. of New MUns. In com
pany with his grandson, young Philip, meets In
an lnnhousa his son Philip and nil son's para
mour. Janet Mark. They quarrel. Sir James
roes home, taking his grandson. That night he
la murdered by his dissolute ton and Janet
Mark. They lay his body outside on an Ice
floe. In tho effort to lay the crime to others.
Dut the boy Philip has witnessed the crime. He
tella his grandfather's chief tenant. Umphray
Spurway, who succeeds In navlng the real mur
derers brought to justice. Philip 1 sentenced
to be hanged, and his woman accomplice to be
transported. Mysteriously he escapes the gal
lows, seeks out hli wife, finds her In the com
pany of Epurway. and tries to murder her. but
does not Quite succeed. She Is taken away to
Abercalrn for cure, leaving her son In charge
of Spurway and with little Anna Mark, who
teaches htm that In some ways girls are worth
Quite as much aa boys. Still, they are excel
lent friends, even though she beats him at her
studies In the school to which they go. John
Stananeld. Philip's lawyer-uncle, brings in a
new teacher. Dominie Rlngrose, a small man.
with wonderful eyes. Shortly after his coming
the countryside Is shocked and thrilled by a
number of bloody and mjsterlous murders, evi
dently for the sake of robbery. Business callri
TJmphray Spurway from home. In bis absence
a big packlnr case, purporting to be full ot tine
Spanish wool. Is delivered to Will Bowman.
TJmphrars clerk, who puts It In the wearing
shed. That night Philip, playing about It. sees
shining through the gauze a pair ot eyes. He
calls Will Bowman, who counts three, then
stabs the cae with a small sword. BIooC
flows. They open the case, and find Dominie
Rlngrose Inside, apparently dead. Shortly after
the house Is attacked by robbers, whom Ring
rose had meant to let In. They are beaten off:
but afterwards Philip's mother refuses to let
him spend the holidays at New MUns. Return
leg frcm a day's visit to New MUns, Philip
falls In with Saul Mark. Anna's gypsy father.
who. under pretense of showing him Sir Harry
Morgan's treasure, makes him a rrisoner.
Anna finds out his plight, and leads Spurway
on his track. Dy the help ot his silent partner.
Protost Gregory Part an. Saul Mark, super
cargo of the ahlp Corramantee. Imprisons both
Anna and Spurway. robbing Spurway of much
money and a portrait ot rhlllp's mother. I'hlllp
the elder goes out In Spurways cloak to his
wife's house, and by threats Induces her
aboard the Corramantee. Anna and Philip
make friends with Eborra. He shows them the
secrets of the Island, and where Sir Harry
Morgan's treasure Is. guarded by Fer-de-lance
and his hosts. Eborra. has scented a boat. In
which be plans to escape with Anna, Philip.
Mrs. Stansfleld and his mother; also Will
Bowman, who Is in the clutches ot the pirate.
The pirates sail away with two or three ships.
The boat starts, encounters other pirates, but
'Is towed safely away by a monster devil
fish. The boat reaches Puerto Rico In safety,
and Its Inmates approach a convent seeking
help. The convent takes in the women. The
men go Into a chain gang. It ts making a road
for the pleasure of the governor's wife. She
chances to pass along, and Will Bowman and
Philip discover her to be Janet Mark, little
Anna's mother. Janet Mark, now the Lady
Juanlta Sllveda. stands friend to her country
men, but they soon find It la a perilous favor.
Notwithstanding Janet grows violently jealous
when little Anna somewhat takes the Gover
nor's ee. She Is about to kill the girl, when
Philip tells her the truth that Anna Is her
own daughter. Another boat comes ashore at
Puerto IUco. It holds Saul Mark and I'hlllp
Stansneld, who have been beaten In the en
counter with hostile pirates. Saul recognizes
his wife. He and Stansflel". persuade the Gov
ernor to fit out a ship, promising to return to
the isle and bring back the Morgan s treasure.
He plans to mske Philip bring It from the
burning lake. The vessel sails with Philip and
Will Bowman aboard, and Anna, who Is dis
guised. Th expedition reaches the Mands.
and they find the volcano active, and Morgan's
treasure forever lost. To fulfill bis long-cherished
vengeance. Saul Mark orders Philip. Will
Bowman and Eborra bound and cast Into the
flames, but the elder Stansfleld suddenly clasps
Saul and leaps with him Into the volcano.
Disheartened, the party returns to the village,
to find the pirates put to death by Spur-way's
expedition; they are captured by the English
and taken to Puerto Rico, where Spurman re
leaes rhlllp's mother. Returning to New
MUns, Philip calls on bis Uncle John for his
Inheritance.
(Copyright, 1S0S, under the name of "Little
Anna Mark." by S. It, Crocket.)
(Copyright. 1SD9. by S. R. Crockett.)
CHAPTER LI. (Continued.)
"I trow no," said I, answering them
In a proverb, "ho who has faced the
Hon fears na the tod!"
But all tho samo my heart was beating
rarely when I left them at the angle
of the green plantation nearest to the
front door. I marched straight up the
steps and lifted the knocKer, wondering
to find myself so near It, It used to be
so high above my held. About and
within brooded a silence which could be
felt, and the noise of my knocking rever
berated down the passages like thunder.
Yet for all of my .courage I put my
hand In my coat tall where a pistol was
hidden when at last I heard steps come
slowly and a little totterlngly down the
hall. The door swung cautiously back,
and lo! before me, clad In his ancient
bottle-green coat, I saw Caleb Cllnka
berry! His hair was brushed more carefully
from one side to the other of his bald
head In a kind of unequal and makeshift
thatching. At sight of me. he gasped and
fell back a step.
"Is It a spirit a visitation my poor
lad's ghost?" he cried.
"No," I said, holding out my hand
heartily. "I am Indeed your lad in tha
flesh. But what do you here, Caleb!
Where is my- uncle? Ken you that my
mother Is home safe and sound?"
"Soothly soothly." cried the old man.
"hasten me not. Your mother, did you
say, my little Mary come home? The
Lord of the high mercies be thanked, I
have prayed Him for this. Your uncle
why, your uncle has been there In his
study at this moment. You will find
him a changed man. And little Mary
home again! Faith, I must pack mj
box and make m ready for the little
Mary Is come home. She will not know
where to find a petticoat In the Yett
house till old Caleb finds them for her.
Yet Is the place all In order. Would it
please you to step1 down there?"
"Presently, presently. Caleb." said L
"Now I must see my uncle take me to
him."
"Your will and pleasure, sir-aye aye,
but he minds me of Sir James the verj
moral of Sir James. Mary's child, grown
to be a man. Take you to your uncle,
said you? Yea and verily that will I. and
bide at the door and to hear what shall be
fall between you!"
And with his grandest air tho ancient
major domo preceded mo to the room
that had been my grandfather's, the
same In which we had all sat at our wine
that night when Sir James brought mi
home from tho changehouse.
He threw open tho door wide to the
walL
"Sir Philip Stansneld. an It please you.
Master John," he announced like a heraii
ushering In a prince.
At that moment I was watching my
uncle. He had been sitting at a desk
reading a book. At the sound ot the
name he rose to his full height, gripping
the tall back of the chair and staring at
me as I stood In the doorway.
"I bid you good day. Uncle John," I
said. I fear too much like a challenge.
L "Good day to you, young gentleman!"
said he courteously, not taking his eyej
from my face.
"I want mine own. Uncle John." I con
tinued, "this house and estate. They are
mine!"
My uncle bowed with one hand on his
heart,
"And pray who may you be. and what
do you set up for being, young slrT
said he. throwing his head backward
and speaking as cool as the precentor
reading out the lines two by two on sac
rament Sabbath morning.
Yet for all that I could see very "el
that he knew me. I had my reply read.
"I am Philip Stansfleld, son of Philip and
grandson of Sir James, your nephew, and
proprietor of the lands and heritages of
New MUns and Moreham, as Indeed you
very well know."
"Gently, gently," said he. "the burden
of proof lies on you. There has been
some small breach of continuity. You will,
I presume, allow so much. You ore able,
then, I take It, to make good your claim
hv rpnutnhle witnesses, who have had
knowledge of you during all the time of
jour absence from Scotland?"
"I can." I answered firmly.
"Meaning those gentlemen down there."
ho said, shrewdly, lnuicatlng with his
thumb the spot In the edge of the planta
tion where I had left Will Bowman and
Umphray Spurway.
"Well, yes," I answered lamely enough,
being, to tell the truth, a little taken aback
and not knowing what to make of my
uncle's attitude.
"I wish they would keep off the grass
your grass, that Is If the title be good!"
"That the Fifteen shall decide." said I,
grandly.
"Doubtless, doubtless." murmured my
Uncle Jchn. still looking out of the win
dow, "and pray what can good Umphray.
the cloth weaver, prove?"
"That he found me a prisoner among
the Spanish Papists!" I answered.
"A good claim to a Protestant estata
anywhere In these Islands!" he said, bow.
lng Ironically. "And the limber young
gentleman who Is kicking sods out ot tha
sward with his heels your sods, what Is
what may have been his connection with
you?"
"A chain," answered I. briskly enough,
"a pair of steel chains attached to an Iron
belt about our several lolne!"
"Ah." ho returned, meditatively, "that
Is Indeed what we term In our Scots' law
a bond of bottomry. "
"Uncle John," said I. a little nettled,
"you carry It off very well, but all the
same you know that you meant to kidnap
me. to murder me."
"Nephew presumptive," returned he.
quite unmoved, "theso words are action
able. Take notice Caleb Cllnkaberry, you
with your ear'at the keyhole out there, I
may need you tor a witness.
"You set on Saul Mark, In whope com
pany I last saw you, to carry me off with
SO qther poor lads to sell tor staves ta
the Carolina plantations."
"And pray. sir. If It bo a fair question,
how much did you bring?"
"Tut." said 1 Impatiently; "you quibble-"
"Sir, you assert"
"Do you or do you not, own me aa heir
to this estate? Deny me at your peril!"
"I deny you not (I wish to heaven these
gentlemen wov.d either come in or go
away.) But I will ask you a question
supposing yqu are the person whose name
and etyle you assume, do you own me as
your tutor nominate, as well as your tutor
legltlm or tutor at law?"
"t suppose you are both, though I un
derstand not tho law terms."
"It is not required. Well, sir, I am a
lawyer, a succesful"-I trust, a fairly com
petent one. If you wish. I will give you
my advice, for which you will pay me at
tho udual rates. They shall be taxed by
tho court If you wish It."
I smiled. I began to find my Uncle John
vastly entertaining.
He paused to catch my assent, as a min
ister does at a baptism, and then he un
locked a little cupboard In the wall closo
by his hand.
"Here," he said, "you will find dupli
cate copies of all accounts of my Intro
missions since the death of Sir James
Stansfleld. The originals, of which these
certified duplicates are. of course, in my
office In Edinburgh. Now, sir. for my ad
vicesupposing that thcee grass-kicking
gentlemen (whoso hamstrings God con
found), can establish your title, actions
will Ho betwixt us fllrecta et contraria
tutelao aa we phrase It for count and
reckoning of time of tutelage. Sir, I am
coins to Edinburgh Immediately. Shall
I have the pleasure of moving at tho next
sederunt?"
"Uncle John." raid I. "I am utterly as
tonished little did I expect"
"I daro say not." said he smiling, coldly
but pleasantly: "neither, to tell the truth,
did I. So long ns you remained In foreign
parts. I was your heir of destination. But
there was always a posolblllty, now hap
pily fructified into some probability I
speak without prejudice that you have re
turned. In that case I am your curator,
and these are my accounts, which I trust
you will find correct, with natural deduc
tions for my expenses in your service. If
you find, as I think you will, that the
estates are In good heart, and that under
my management nothing has been neglect
ed why, sir, I have a good law business
In Edinburgh, aa any lawyer will tell you,
and several notable gentlemen do mo the
honor to trust me as their agent and doer.
What fay you? Shall I continue to act as
yours?"
"Why. Undo John." I stammered: "1
havo not considered"
"I mean supposing that you are satis
fied with my present intromissions?"
I held out my hand. For tho time being
I forgot all about Saul Mark. I only re
membered that my uncle used to make me
paper boate to sail on the pond. They
had a sail amidships, and generally cap
sized a yard from shore.
He took my hand and shook it slightly,
more, however, aa a duty than a privilege.
"Ah. that Is better." he said: "It Is al
ways bet to keep these perquisites within
families if possible. And there may bo
a good many pickings which are as weB
In tho hands of a Stansfleld as In those
of any Dalrymple that ever ate pig meat."
Ho handed me a bunch of keys from a
nail at his elbow.
"You will find the servants civil, though
Caleb behind the door there (he raised his
voice) Is getting Into his dotage"
We heard feet clattering lndlgnantl
down the corridor.
"Tho liquor and wines are In the large
gardevln behind the curtain In the cor
ner. This is (ho key of tho cellar. The
brandy Is fair, the claret excellent. Good
day to you, sir!"
He took his hat from a peg and with
only a slight wave of the band, went
toward tho door, leaving mo aslonlshed
and dumfounded. As he was going nut
he turned with his fingers on the handle.
"And. pardon me. If you wish to have
any turf left, ask these gentlemen to coma
on to the gravel."
And with that he was gone. I heard the
pounding of a horse's hoofs beneath, and,
going mechanically to the window. I saw
my uncle riding down tho avenue. And
he never so much as turned his head to
look at the Great house of New MUns,
which had been his for so long a time.
I went down to the front door, hardly
able to speak for sheer astonishment. Then
I beckoned to Umphray and Will nnd told
j them what had happened from the very.
first word, while all was still fresh In my
memory.
"Did he not take It well." I said.
"Could ever any one have expected him to
take It so?"
Umphray Spurway smiled and slowly
nodded his head with a satisfied sir.
"Blood blood " he said, "that Is whera
blood tells. For me, I should simply
have broken your head and kicked you
down the stairs, young man."
Epilogue.
"And I!" also agreed Will Bowman.
And, now, as my uncle John would say,
I must close the record. I write the last
of there sheets on the afternoon of a Sab
bath day In mine own house of New
MUns. This day at the morning diet of
worship. Mr. John Mell waa more than or
dinary dreich, and that young Imp. James,
fatigued me with his exceeding restless-
I nets. He takes the quality from a near
I relative, though he cannot sling stones as
well as she could.
I saw my mother and Umphray today.
Umphray (how I laughed) standing very
uncomfortably at tho plate, for my mother
had made him accept the eldership against
his will.
"Though born and baptized an Episco
palian." she said, "and with some connec
tions wth papacy as. well (young Will
Lucy) I have always been a convinced
Presbyterian at heart. And so must you
be, Umphray!"
Whereupon Umphray promised. His facet
was by ordinary grave as I passed him,
this morning, yet methinks his farther
eyelid quivered. Nowadays we see but
little ot Will Bowman far less than I
could wish. I mentioned this to my
mother, and asked her if she could lmagino
a reason.
"Why, of course." she criec' (we wera
alone together): "Did you not know? Ho
was always In love with Anna!"
"That Is nonsense, mother," I answered,
for the thing greatly astonished me.
"Why. I have been with him all thesa
years' and noticed nothing. Neither, I am
sure, did Anna!"
Then it was that my mother laughed
heartily: but the Inwardness of her mirth,
I could not perceive.
"Trust a woman to know when a man
loves her'." she said, when she had fin
ished, "and for nil that you think of her,
your Anna is Just like the rest,"
Afterward we went Into the kirk, and
tho service was a solemn and appropriate!
one. though Mr. Bell was well-nigh an
hour and n halt at his discourse. He has
been lecturing through "Canticles" for tha
past four years and a half, and so na
turally he could not find much that was
new to say. But his text was exceedingly
comfortable to me. and when he gave It
out. Anna Mark put her hand Into mlno
round our Jamie's back. It was: "Many
waters cannot quench love, neither can tha
floods arown It!
And It came Into my head, fitting thus
with my wife's hand In mine (but se
cretly and as If to curb the Imp), that
I should tell my mother of Philip Stans
fleld and hU last word, which I had never
done. I had spared her (as I thought) on
board tho Mary, finding her strange and
upset with all her troubles. But now
she was happily wedded and established at
the Miln house. Nothing could fright her
any more. She would go straight and tell
Umphray, whatever secrecy she might
promise.
So sending on Anna with the English
man I told my mother all as well as I
could of how Captain Stansfleld had said
at the last:
Tell her that I did It for her sake!"
But at the first sound of my late father's
namo she cried out shuddering: "I do not
care to hear. Do not speak to me of
Philip Stansfleld or Saul Mark. They wera
both men of wrath!"
And then, letting go my arm. she forsook
me, calling loudly on her husband. "Um
phray, do not go so fast, I want you.
You are alway so headstrong and Incon
siderate. You forget that at this present
I am not strong!"
"Yes. Mary," said Umphray, gently, and
turned back toward us.
My mother stooped to pull her klrtlo a
little up to show her pretty shoes. Then
she took Umphray's arm with a little hap
py Jerk of possession. To hide a smile as
Anna's eyes met mine, I turned to lift tha
Imp over the stile.
"James," I asked him sternly, "what
was Mr. Bell's text this morning?"
"I forget," he answered, prompt as echo
from the wood, "but I killed six flies oa
the bookboard!"
And as I lifted him down I met Anna's
eyes once again over our bairn's shoulder,
and from what I saw In them I knew that
she would never forget the text of Mr.
John Bell's 3th consecutive lecture and
addition upon the canticles, commonly
called the Song of Solomon:
"Many waters cannot quench love, nei
ther can the floods drown It!"
(THE END.)
A Tnle or "Wlionl"
MORNING.
Good-bye. old ho-se. we'll turn you out
To roam o'er hill and plain;
We've bought a horseless carriage and
We'll never need you again:
With naphtha, oil or gasoline
We'll ride from mom till dark.
Ami on a Sunday nfternoon -
Go putting through the park.
You're hardly v. orth a piece of plet
Good-bye. old hcrse. good-bye!
EVENING.
Come here, old horse, we need your pull
To get us home tonight;
This nasty, stinking, puffing thing.
Is not perfected julte.
Ten miles from home it fussed and fumed
And then refused to go;
And minus both a pu?h and pull
It was a case ot whoa!
If you'll return, to will our Joy.
Good boy, old horse, good boy:
Trotter and Pacer.
?lpQlllS(S'g
MGg
AMIE)0AIL iifeg
OWIERZ
F03 THE BLCOD.UVHR, LUNGS.
Experience has shown to physicians
that the majority of diseases have their
origin in the deranKement or disease of
the stomach and other organs of diges
tion and nutrition. The stomach is the
receptacle in which food is received and
the laboratory in which it is prepared to
nourish the different parts of the body.
It prepares brain nourishment in one
way, nerve nourishment in another,
muscle nourishment in another. When
the stomach is "out of order" these
various forms of nourishment are only
partly or imperfectly prepared, and
nerve, muscle, or brain, as the case
may be, is only partly fed, and the result
is pain, which is Nature's protest and
warning. The pain may be in the head
or in the heart, but you must reach it
through the stomach or you can't cure
it. That is the philosophy on which Dr.
Pierce's Golden Medical Discovery is
prepared. It has absolute control of
the stomach and digestive and nutritive
system. It cures diseases in head, heart,
liver, lungs and other organs by curing
the diseased condition ot the stomach
which prevents the proper nourishment
of the various organs and corrupts them
by its own diseased condition, in the
partial nourishment it provides. In liko
manner "Golden Medical Discovery"
purifies the blood, by purifying tho
stomach and other blood-making organs.
It contains no alco
hol, or other intoxi
cant, and no narcotic.
li$rt
Djng
T- - .J,-A-7-
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