The Columbian., November 03, 1882, Image 1

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VOL. III.
ST. HELENS, COLUMBIA COUNTY,! OREGON, NOVEMBER 3, 1882.
NO. 13.
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THE COLOMBIAN.
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JOCELVS'S NOVEL.
She did not look much like an author,
at least not like the typical blue sticking
we were always reading about. She was
a very fair and delicate girl, of a little
more than twenty, with flufiV yellow
hair down to her eyebrows, great, ap
pealing -eyes, soft, white bauds of
fjood deal of "style." But shi had
written a novel iu secret not even her
mother knew of h, much .less her lover.
That was to be a surprise".. She held it
ju her hands now, fresh from the pub
lishers; for, strange to say, it had been
accepted, although never -in her life be
fore had she ottered any o her heart and
brain to the harpies tht rule modern
thought. A dainty Summer idyl, with a
breezy motto and tinted pages and deli
cate covers with the wealth of .Tooelyn's
nature lying between spicy dialogue,
dreamy reverie, flashing wit, and the
back-ground dashed in with a masterly
hand. She felt her heart leap as she
looked at the little volume, and a wild
rose crept into each cheek. How lov
ingly "the niither" would kiss her little
girl when she read this anonymous
prose-poem and recognized the hand
that guided the pen for the dimpled
waxen one she had led in babyhood.
How proud Philip would be when he
knew she had written a book and man
aged everything so cleverly aud unex
pectedly with the aid of a doting uncle
iu the mystical land of publishers; They
had hardly dared dream of success, de
spite her arch playfulness, her sweet
gayety; she had always had this twilight
dreaming thread through tho wool of
her sunrise tinted nature. There were
many hours when she did not oare for
excitement, when sue liked to ereep
away by herself and st and muse with
idle hands. She hard'y knew, 'when
some voice called her back to wakeful
ness of what stuff her dreams had been
made. This last year her soul had
blossomed into new beauty. Her prince
had found her sleeping in the palace
and had kissed her silent lips. Hence
forth the dawns were amethyst above the
mystic hills; the tremulous sunsets wore
such splendor of gold and crimson as
dazzled her wondering eyes; there was a
languor iu the ro3es, an abandon in the
bird's song, a hush in the noon-day, a
holiness in the starshine all the world
was new, strange and beautiful.. And
yet there was an awe upon her, as if in
the midst of a garden of bloom and
scent, a hooded monk should glide forth
with his finger on his lips, and a skull in
his hand. She had never been so happy;
vastier, riven her music failed her;
even her longr dreams could not satisfy
her now. She hardly knew what to do
with herself. Suddenly she thought she
would write a book, a simple, natural
little story. No one should ever see it.
It wouhl bebetter than keeping a journal
journals were stilted and sentimental
things, but this would be something to
chain her attention and banish her rest
essness. j
Often she did not care tor read; she
would go over a chapter twenty times
and see nothing but a pair of dark eyes
looking at her from the pages; sewing
was too dull; music only roused the passion-pain
and rapture in her more
strongly; society palled upon her, it was
like morning ale, stale and flat, after last
night's champagne. So, an hour here,
an hour there, she devoted to the little
desk in her room. At day-break when
the robins were riotous in the apple
boughs; at midnight when the stars be
gan to pale; in the afternoon when
mamma was dozing; rainy days when the
falling music upon the roof made the
pen move faster in lythtn. She had be
gun vaguely, but before she knew; it she
had written out her own sweet story with
its touches of pathos aud joyous care
lessness. Philip was her hero, of course. It was
so much easier writing about him than
any other man men were very stupid at
the best, all but Philip. And as she
write with lingering, loving tiugers, her
heart thrilled again with the surprise
and graciousness that love had brought
her a little while ago. Unconsciously
ha recorded words and events" and hap
penings, an l over all was the glamour of
youth's first changeless fancy. In every
page the womanliness auJ childish
purity of her shone out starry, and the
' winsomeness of a fresh and unspoiled
but thoughtful and cultured nature. No
lovelier summer idyl had ever been
penned, with the strong background and
heavy shadows throwing into, relief the
sunny brightness of her sketch. But
when it was done to the very lust word,
when she had penned it, and touched it
up here and there, she felt the author's
insanity come upon her. Shemust be
printed. She never stopped to think of
the many strange, cold eyes that would
read the "open pages of her heart, she
only Jpnged to see it in clear characters
between covers. Had not Philip given
her this magnificent diamond for his be
trothal gift? And a diamond was a stone
. that any one might bay only a cold
jewel that one might have lor base
money. Supposing she gave Philip this
little book for her betrothal token?
Would he not prize it? Would he not be
wroud and pleased? Why, it was par
of herself it was herself, his Jocelyn.
And so in her eager, impetuous way,
she had consulted no one; but this one
relative, a wealthy, cultured man, who
was always willing to abet his little niece
in any scheme that amused her, and
though he had expected nothing but
pretty school girl sentiment and. gush, he
was none the less ready. "It can't possi
bly be worse than the majority of sum
mer novelties," he said; to himself,
grimly. He read the work with astonish
ment. Tho crisp, breezy, sparkling little
atory was a revelation to him and he had
written a very respectful letter back to
the coming "distinguished authoress,
ereatlv to Jocelvn s amusement.
And now, after many days, this child
of her brain had i come back to her
clothed iu the latest; fashion. And then
a now thought came to her; Philip was
not rich, and she had nothing but what
mamma pave her; if she were very suc
cessful, Philip should have it all. The
home he was working so hurd for now
should be theirs, and he need not look
so pale and harassed. She was lost iu
'the depths of this brilliant thought,
poor little Uoeelynl She had so lately
joined the toiling ranks." What should
she know of the struggle and despair, of
the dreams that must die, the hopes that
must perish, before the white, steep
mountain-peaks were reached? How
should she know how many had faltered
and failed on the way, ami dropped be
hind to be heard of nevermore. How
know how j pitifully few they wero who
stood iu the eternal sunshine, with eyes
blinded by pain, with bleeding feet and
broken hearts? Ah ! Fame is the Jugger
naut that has Tolled over countless loves,
crushing out youth and brightness and
joy from eager hearts forever. But little
Jocelyn never dreamed of fame, she only
wanted to please and surprise her mother
and Philip. I
That oveuinpf as her tall lover was go
ing away she timidly handed him a little
volume, bound in : white with edges of
gold. "I want you to read this, Philip,"
with a dnep and beautiful blush, "and
tell me wuat you think of it."
He took it from her, a little perplexed
at the scarlet cheeks, and the trembling
hands. 44 Who is it by? Oh, anonymous.
Just as well for the writer, doubtless.
4 A Summer Idy 1' like all the rest of
them I suppose, wishy-washy diluted
sentiment; roses and stars and straw
berries, and muslin ! dresses. But I will
read it, my pet. Luckily it won't take
long, it isn't voluminous. It seems to
have impressed you deeply Jocelyn,"
with growing perplexity as he saw the
sweet lips tremble with mortification,
i4if so, I shall find it worth reading;
your taste is perfect my darling," fond
ly, as he drew the slim form to him.
"I will call to-morrow morning with
the horses. It i3 a week since we have
had a canter, and the lake road is gorge
ous now after the frosU. Good-night,
my Jocelyn my joy," and much more
that is irrelevant, j
That afternoon she had placed one of
the little books in lier mother's room,
and now, as she j went up stairs she
peeped in and smiled mischievously to
see the mad re so absorbed as to be quite
unconscious of her pretty daughter, un
til she stooped down aud kisaed hj&r..
"Mamma, mea, isrit nice?"
"Nice!" severely!. "If you read it,
Jocelyn, you would not. call it nice it
is exquisite. But it seems as if I had
read it all before, and yet I know I
never have." j r
"Perhaps when you have finished it
will be clear to youj" demurely. "But
kiss me good-night,1 mother mine, and
let me inform you you are losing your
beauty sleep." ;
Next morning she awoke smiling and
happy, and yet, with a chord of anxiety
jarring on her mood. But she would not
stop to think. I
Before she had finished dressing, her
mother came into her room and folded
her arms about herj "My little girl ! my
baby, how proud mother is of you!"
with many kisses of maternal love and
pride.
After breakfast i Jocelyn wandered
about half nervously. She could not
yet think calmly of her work, nor criti
cise it coldly. She must wait until the
colors laid upon her summer picture
had begun to fade and, even then, would
not memory make it fair and beautiful,
the' picture other bauds had painted for
her, inspired by that immortal master,
love?" j
Ah, here was Phillip now. Sha. ran
down to the little j breakfast-room with
her heart beating tnmultuously. But it
sank immediately. Phillip looked very
grave aud atern, and he did ' not spring
to meet her. She had not. thought the
loving eyes could wear so cold a regard,
and she felt suddenly numb and hope
less. - ' '
Has anything j happened, Phillip?
Have you had bad news?"
"All that has happened, Jocelyn, has
been written out jby your hand and
given to the-world. I had thought you
so reserved," bitterly. "I never dared
fl ltter myself that I held even one of the
keys to so pure and womanly a heart;
but you could unlock it aud expose it to
every rough and vulgar eye that willed
to look. Jocelyn,! how could you so
abuse my confidence? How could you
sully the silence and sweetness of a per
fect love? How could you drag a jeer
ing, scornful mob into the white sanct
uary where no unbeliever's foot had
trodden before? I am terribly disap
pointed in you. I thought I understood
all your innocent soul, but this shameV
less carade " he threw the little whiteN
and gold volume on the table with a
gesture more expressive than words.
And Jocelyn, with a piteous look in
her large eyes, with white stunned lips,
stood silent. This man, her prince, who
had led her to tho kingdom of the sun,
radiant with unimagined glory with the
dark passionate eyes, and the eager woo
ing lips; who had crowned her, and
throned her, and who now stood before
her a relentless judge! She saw the
gates of night shut out her kingdom of
sunshine, she saw herself a beggar,
ragged and houseless, where she had
reigned a queen! 'And then, without a
word, with only that long, siKiechless,
hapless look, she went swiftly from the
room.
She had meant to surprise him ah,
the cruelty, the mockery of it! Until
noon she sat iu the little white room with
her head in her arms, too miserable to
think. And then ;bhe rose slowly aud
" ) slipped the diamond off her finge
1 the little box that held it, and dir
r.sealed
directed it
in a steady hand. Then she opened her
wardrobe and drawer, and when tho
luncheon bell rang at half past two, she
went down stairs quietly. Her " mother
sat at the table alone, and Jocelyn went
and knelt dow n at her side.
'Mamma, I have packed my trunk; I
am going to Uncle Gerald's on the seven
o'clock train to-morrow morning. You
will not refuse me?" imploringly, and
then in a whisper, "Phillip and I we
have I have sent him him back his
ring. Mamma, I cau go?"
"1'es, my darling. Mother's little
woman!" folding herdu her arms with
infinite tenderness. She understood per
fectly, this dear woman. And the'mute
anguished heart of the girl broke into
sobs and tears on the loving breast.
And Philip. Like the rest of us, he
realized, too late, the preciousncss of his
treasure when ho had lost it. For a
week he was proud and bitter, but when
he found the ring upon his desk, he
awoke with a strange ache and fear at
his heart, and rushed to the house
thai had enshrined his love, but it was
closed and deserted. He was well pun
ished for his cruelty. Who, but those
two, would ever have held the key to the
blossomy little story? And was it not
one more beautiful tie between them?
He had been a coward, a brute, to wouud
that loving, shrinking heart.
He went to New York, but could ob
tain no iuformatiou. Even Jocelyn's
old friends only knew vaguely t! at she
had gone abroad with her mother and
uncle. So he went back to his work
moodily. Once in the year, in a fever
of uurest and longiug.he had gone across
the ocean, but nowhere could he find
Jocelyn.
Her book had won a phenomenal suc
cess. I would be afraid to say how many
editions'had been sold, and the press was
unanimous in words of . praise. All the
critics were disarmed by the tender sim
plicity of the story. It was even called
the most perfect story that had ever been
written by an American woman.
By and by another book was ushered
one upon the tide of popular favor, "A
Dream of Fair Travel," : stronger, more
powerful than the first. The work of a
woman, not a girl.
Three years passed, how slow, how
fast, only each heart can tell. Philip
hail won the place he had toiled and
striven for. He was successful and very
wealthy now, but happiness and content
had gone from him. No other head had
ever lain where the golden one had
rested; no other fair lips had ever touch
ed his own. He was lpnely.and sad, tho
more so mat no wore a cureless iront to
the world.
Three years of sun and shadow in
foreign lands, and Jocelyn was home
again. This Jocelyn was calm and
stately, with no winning outbreaks of
girlish enthusiasm, with no vague dreams
and sunny reveries, and piquant co
quetries. The wild-rose blosm had gune
from the delicate face, the 4pallor o' tue
pearl that's fit in a fair woman was
there instead. The lips smiled less
often, the eyes seldom fished and dark
ened, and sparkled. Gravely sweet and
dignified, she had grown into a most
beautiful aud gracious woman. The
bud had become a perfect flower, force
had brought the blossoming time too
soon, and nothing in God's world is so
rare as the bud be it of roses or of
womanhood.
Philip came to her, "Joielyn, are
three years of paiu and remorse aud
hungry longing atonement enough for a
moment's arrogant pride and senseless
anger?"
Sue grew very pale and half-turned
away, then she turned to him fully. 1
He, too, had changed. There were
many lines iu the handsome face; the
dark eyes she loved so well bnrned with
a smouldering tire, restless and miser
able; there were many gray hairs iu the
dark tresses. He had been harsh and
unkind, aud he had wounded her cruelly,
but she had loved him, and when can a
woman forget love?
"Jocelyn," the voice was very low, "I
do not ask you for your love, I am not tit
but I pray your forgiveness."
He paused; but she did not speak.
"I have loved no one but you in my
life it was because I loved you so
dearly, so jealousiy, that I resented .what
I thought was a blemish upon you. I
know better now. I have been punished
hardly for my mistake. Havo I atoned
yet?"
She held out her hand and he took it
in his own reverently, but her face was
turned away from him.
He waited a long time, but she did not
SJJ&tilc
"Then ho said gently, "Good-bye I he
laid his lips against the white wrist; the
pulse beat fiercely. He opened the door
with a3 heavy a heart as a man ever car
ried, and turned for one List look at the
cold woman who stood in the place of
nis sweet girl love.
V hat was there in the slight drooping
figure, in the fair averted face, that drew
lum back with a wild hope, a despairing
eagerness. !
"Jocelyn, look at me!" he said sternly.
She lifted her head, proudly, but a
vivid rose-red flush crept across her face
her eyes were full of tears.
For a moment he stood breathless and
when he spoke his voice was strained
and hoarse, despite his efforts.
"Jocelyn, do yon love me still?"
"Yes, oh yes!" she said with it great
sob, and he drew her to his heart with a
wordless thanksgiving.
An apparatus has been invented for
announcing correct time at a given hour
through the telephone service to each
subscriber.
The apple syrup works at Albany, N.
Y., started by meu from Holland, have
commenced to ship apple jelly in casts
to Holland.
S8VE.Y YKAUS AT d iff QUKNTIX.
!;. n . ; .
"Yu are right, sir, in supposing I
have just been discharged from San
Queutin. I heard the captain of the boat
give ypu a hint as I came on board, and
he has seen so many of us, goiug, in and
coming out, that he can tell convicts as
gamblers tell cards by their backs. I
remember very well, just four years and
nine months ago to day, oq my way to
the prison in company with several oth
ers, that a portly old gentleman, who
maybe had a son of his own about my
age, looked at me kindly and remarked
that it wak too b5 d td re such a trood-
lookfcg young man going to San Quen
tin. The captain glanced over to where
I sat, with my iron bracelets incked outj
of sight, and with a laugh aid he had
'seen thousands of Vm just like me.'
Perhaps he was stretching a little, but
that's the way of the world. Everybody
likes to exaggerate.
''Do I feel sorry for what I've done?
No, sir; not a bit. I went across on a
seven years' sentence, and put in the
time faithfully. Thanks to the Good
win act, I'm free nun agaiu, but I
don't owe society a cent. The old Judge
had a great deal to say about my youth,
good character, first offeuse, and all that,
but I notice the fellows with tho influ
ential friends got' off lighter than I did,
and didn't stay out their terms, either.
That's the way it runs. Everything goes
by favor, and I don t think I am partic
ularly indebted to sc
society under the cir
debt is paid and that's
cum stances. The
all there is to it. Now let us
Now let us begin
again.
"Friends in the city? No, sir; none
worth talking about. I didn't become
a thief for nothing, and when caught,
had too much sense to hand ever what I
had stoleu to the legal sharks who hang
around the criminal courts. Sooner or
later I knew the blow must fall, and was
prepared for it when it did come.
"You never saw such a man? Well,
I'm certainly no common thief. I
haven't asked for your money or your
sympathy, and am abundantly able to
take care of myself. No offense, sir;
but that's just how I feel. Now, the boat
is near the dock and we'll say goodby.
Will you shake hands? Yes; well, you're
a good fellow, at all events, and I sup
pose, a poor devil of a "con." as they
call us over there, ought to feel grateful;
but that's not my style. I feel jast as
good as anybody, and ask no favors.
I'm going to put up at the biggest hotel
in town, and, if, as you say, you want to
hear from me further, shall be glad to
see you any time in the afternoon. I
never was fond. of early rising, and have
had so much of it of iate, that I propose
to make a change In that repect at
least."
The arrival of tho boat here put an end
to the conversation, and the two meu
shook hands and parted with an agree
ment to meet again in a day or two. At
their next meeting the ex-convict said:
"You are prompt. I see, and I suppose
it is the proper thing to feel flattered by
the interest you take in my personal his
tory. I confess your coming is a sur
prise. On leaving the boat I hardly
expected to see you again, notwithstand
ing our appointment. You know how
those things are. People get tired. But
now you are here, be good enough to sit
down, and I'll ring for a bottle of wine.
What is your favorite brand, Mr. B.? I
have to laugh myself at tho question ,
considering the past five years, but 4tho
old time comes over me,' and I feel witb
that in my hand (daintily holding up a
check for 1000), that 'Itichard is him
self again,' or soon will be.
"Now to my story. Before coming to
California I was what you might call a
bright, sharp, intelligent boy. Father
was in business, and after giving me a
pretty good education, started out for
myself. The old gentleman was in tho
hardware line, and didn't think it suffi
ciently hightoned to suit my ideas. His
ambition was to see me a banker or
speculator. 4Look at Brown,' he used
to sy, or 4Jones, Smith and Thompson.
They all had to 4hoo their own row,' and
see what fortunes they have made on
Wall street.' Well, he was eternally
impressing upon my mind the vital nec
essity of making money, without saying
anything about being particular as to
the means by which it was to be made.
Of course he didn't mean anything
wrong, amd was thinking only of busi
ness methods. In our own store, how
ever, and at Clark & Ford's, where I
stopped a year, I found that 'business
methods' em braced trickery, deceit and
falsehood. All manner of sharp practices
were resorted to without a thought of
dishonesty or dishonor. With such
teachings and experiences I was thrown
into tho whirl of financial business in
New York, a mere boy in years. Our
house had a number of clerks, but the
senior of the firm was an old friend of
my father, and that caused me to be
trusted and put forward more than
others of my own age. For a while
everything went on beautifully. I won
golden opinions on all sides, and was
complimented and praised at a great
rata. I really began to think myself
quite a genius, and honestly thought I
could make
a
fortune- in a very
by investing my
a certain stock
short time
savings in
operations on tho street,
is the old story. My
What followed
own little pile
went, and then a few hundreds belong
ing to the bank, which were put in with
perfect confidence of being able to make
good at the proper time. Twice the old
gentleman came to my assistance, with
earnest paternal admonitions of gieater
caution and circumspection. Then
came a discovery and threatened arrest,
but the matter was hushed up and I
found myself on the way to San Fran
cisco with a bundle of letters of recom
mendation. I can assure you, however,
it waa a hard thing to leave Wall street.
It seemed to me as if I were leaving
millions 'that could be had by a few suc
cessful turns. '
"On arriving in this city I found busi
ness very different from what it- was- in
the East! Resolving to turn over a new
leaf, and, avoid the vortex of specula
tion, I secured a good position, with a
mercantile firm, and set to work in earn
est. Here, too, I found business
methods' didn't scruple at trifles, and
mora than once felt disgusted at the mis
erable hypocrisy and petty frauds coun
tenanced and tolerated if not ad
vised and encouraged in mercantile pur
suils. I tell you, sir, this sort of thing
used to shake mr honesV intentions fear
fully; and I remember on one occasion,
after a peculiarly sharp transaction in
trade, when one of my employers, who
was serving on a jury in the criminal
court, began boasting about finding a
hoodlum guilty of stealing a few dollars'
worth of leather from a warehouse on
the water front, that I qnietly asked him
which was the worse of the two transac
tions the boy's or ours? He didn't ap
pear to know wnat to say at nrst, but
laughingly replied : Oh, that's another
thing entirely. There's no law against
what wejdo.'
"Soon! after I had got fairly settled,
and wasjcongratulating myself on laying
up a few dollars in bank, there came a
big 4bo6m' in mining stock. Every
thing was going up I up ! up ! Every
body grew excited aud was crazy to in
vest. The whole town was at fever heat.
My employers gave orders through a
broker occasionally. All the clerks
openly ( id the same thing, including
myself. I had an old schoolmate who
was superintendent of a rich mine in
Virginia City. I told my employers
about it and they gave me money to go
up quie ly and see him and get 'points.'
He was enthusiastic about his mine. It
was a bonanza sure. He also promised
to 4post' me on other mines. On my re
turn I invested all the money I had, on
the strength of his assurances, and my
wealthy bosses put some thousands of
dollars i n the same venture. It turned
out well, and we tried again. Beforo a
month had passed my check wouW have
been honored for 10,000. Not a large
amount you will say, but it was pretty
good far a clerk ona salary of $1500 a
year, j
"Well, my employers time and agaim
come to me for 4points,' and repeatedly
pressed! me to take their money and in
vest it for them. .Even wueal got
afraid the market would break, and re
solved Ito stop in time, they made light
of my
lmidity and urged inrttier in
vest
wa3
vestments on their account. The result
that I became infatuated with the
thing.
Day and night I thought of
else. It haunted me wherever I
nothing
went. I was on the street every hour, to
the utter neglect of everything else, and
the firm made no objection. On the
contrary, thay appeared to take a fierce
delight in spurring me on. Why, even
the wife and daughters of one of my em
ployers at whose house I was an lion
ored guest, begged and implored me to
take their money and buy whatever I
liked. ) They leit everything to me. I
was at the topmost wave of sudden pros-perity-4-petted,
consulted and flattered.
No wonder I lost my head, and sought
some relief from the frenzy that had
taken possession of me of me in fast life
and reckless dissipation. My associates
were going it with a rush. They had
fast teams and faster women. Why not
I? They lived in luxurious apartments
on Keafny street, gave champagne sap
pers at the Mason Doree, played faro at
Briggs'jand squandered money without
a thought of the morrow. I was not
slow inj following their example. Life,
in those days, was a wild whirl of excite
ment. I My employers knew all this. I
made no secret of it. They not only did
not object, but eagerly Bought my ele
gant quarters and enjoyed tho society of
my fast companions.
"Well, as you know, a change came
over theMstoek business. A weak market
one day and strong the next, up one day
and down the next, but steadily growing
weakerl I could have quit with $30,
000 to J my credit, even after the first
shock of the earthquake was felt. The
partners in the firm had made more than
three times that amount. Still we
wanted; more, and before I had fairly
realized the extent of my losses, I found
myself) unable to keep up my margins.
What was I to do? Already my employ
ers hal grown eold toward me for the
loss of their money. I assured them of
my hbijlity to carry their stock, and did
sqfor some time. The coldness and ill
treatment of tnose who had fawned upou
me, put bad-'-noughts in my head. In
plain yords,- I deliberately embezzled
the funds of the firm to a considerable
amount. I saw, however, that a grand
crash was coming, and determined not
to be left out in the cold. With this
object j in view, I stopped paying mar
gins, sold whatever I had, and secretly
put away over a thousand dollars for a
rainy day. Well, the storm burst, and
the firm got a terrible shaking up. An
examination of their books became
necessary to wind uo the business, and I
was found to be short in my accounts as
well as
in m stock operations. There
pity for me then. I was arrested
was no
and thrown into prison. Everybody gave
me thej' cold shoulder. The result you
know, jl pleaded guilty, and his honor,
Judge B., sentenced me to seven years
in the State prison.
"San Quentid didn't prove to be a
very bad place, after all. I found more
kindness -and sympathy there in the
time o disgrace and adversity than was
shown towards me by those who had
wined and dined with me in days of
prosperity. There was no actual suffer
ing in imy imprisonment, for I had my
little nestegg laid away and took things
like & philosopher. Officers and all said
they nBver saw such a oontented fellow,
and made it pleasant for me in many
ways. My time being up I left the
prison just as I entered it, neither better
nor worse. There is one thing, however,
I want to say right here. I found, as a
general iule, that the poor devils in that
place were very much like myself. That
is, they didn't do wrong for - the love of
the thing, but couldn't resist temptation
an?l bad circumstances.
"Now yon have my sory, and I ain't
afraid of you 'giving me away,' to use a '
vulgar phrase, for not one of the- old
firm is left in California. Besides, in
less than half an hour, without an acci
dent happens, I shall be on my way to
Arizona, i So ood-Dy, oncemore"and
forever. I don't know why, but I wanted
to tell the story of my life, and now it is
off my mind I feel better. . '
"WhatI You live in Greenville, and
know the old folks? Let me look at you
again, for now your face seems like one
I've seen in a dream, and your voice
brings back the dear old times. My God!
Uncle John, I know you now, and I'm
ashamed to see you!
"There, don t say any more, sir. I see
hoy it is. Mother knows all about it,
and you have come to take me home.
But in this yon will be disappointed, for
I shall never go back as a felon, to dis
grace those who love me in their old age.
I have pride enough left for that. But
you can tell them that when I have won
a fortune and'an honest name in the new
country to which I am going, and where
my shame is unknown, I will be only too
glad to I return and see them once
again." i
Uncle John took -the Eastern bound
train alone for his New England home,
but he had learned a lesson about loose
"business methods" which he will never
forget. As for the unfortunate nephew,
it only remains to be said that at last ao
counts he was doincr W3ll in his new Celd
of labor, although still indulging his
passion for timing speculations. Now,
however, it is the substance, not tho
shadow- the mines, and not the, stocks
in which he speculates.
The Superintendent Explains.
- A committee of stockholders which
waited upon the superintendent of a
California mine to ask him why in the
blazes the said mine hadn't panned out
anythiqg but assessments, were gra
ciously received,! nvited to be seated, and
the official explained:
"Gentlemen, you are all aware of the
fact that we had scarcely begun work,
when the mouth of our mine was block
aded by a land slide. That put us back
a month."
They nodded. in their remembrance.
"Then we had just got in shape to
take out 4000 tons of ore, worth 2000
per ton,! when the mine caved in. You
recall it?"
They did.
44 Once more we bent ourselves to the
burden of reaping $500 for every $10 in
vested, when the mine was flooded by a
subterranean river."
That was true also.
"Then we had just got the water out
when we discovered that the mine was
located on another man's claim. Wo ,
had him shot to prevent trouble, and
once more we were about to declare a
score of 200 per cent., when the dead ,
man's heirs put in an" appearance.
There were three of them. We chased
one over the range,had another hung by r
the vigilance committee, and I am happy -to
inform you that I have four men out
after the other, and am every hour ex-
pecting to hear that he has tumbled off a
cliff. Gentlemen, there is hope ahead -golden
hope. Please come up and drink'
with me; after which there. will be an
other assessment of 10 per cent." f Wall
Street News.
lho Deadhead
44 Why, yon newspaper fellows go
everywhere . for nothing," remarked a
man to a reporter he met at a publio
gathering the other night; "it must be a
regular picnic."
Yes, it is, unthinking friend. We do
go everywhere and have everything for
nothing. We go to a church festival
(for which we have done $1 worth of
advertising), get a plate of. soup with
one oyster, a cup of coffee and an urgent
request to be sure and write it up- all
for nothing.
We patronize the regular places of
amusement pretty regularly (on tickets
bought by satisfactory interchange of
courtesies with the management) , for
nothing.
We drop into a twenty-five cent lecture
for the benefit of the poor heathen (for
which jwe have done several dollars
worth of preliminary) for nothing.
We eat a thirty-five cent dinner at the
opening of a new dining hall (that it took
$2.25 worth of valuable space to call at
tention to) for nothing.
We ride $22 worth a year on a rail
road line whose time card at regular ad
vertising rates is worth $10 a year for -nothing.
We do ail these things and more, and
?o to all those and many other place
for which privileges we invariably pay
roundly in advance) for nothing.
And when the last day comes to us
and we' depart to the better shore, our
beneficiaries, and perhaps our creditors,
will read our obituary and pick our
character to pieces and abuse us gen
erallyall for nothing. Cleveland
Voice, j
It is one of the severest tests of friend
ship to toll your friend of his faults. If
you are-nugry with a man or hate him, it
is not hard to go to him, and stab him
with words; but to love a man that you
cannot! bear to see the stain of sin
upon him, and to speak - painful truth -through
loving words, that is friend
ship. But few have such friends. Our
enemies usually teach us what we are at
tho point of the sword.