WHAT CAME OF KILLING A RICH CNCTJE.
By MARK LEMON.
1.
"'Dane with me. Letty Green." salil
George Poynter, to a pretty girl with
tdue eyes and "hair that shamed the
mora.
Her ample ball dress was of the purest
white muslin, fastened nt the sleeve and
round tho waist with blue ribbon bluer
than her eyes.
"Yes," answered Letty, "I want to
dance with you."
The danco at an end, Ijetty tried to
smooth her golden curia into order with
lier little hand, and then, oH-ning her
pretty blue eyes to their full, said:
'Ueorgo Poynter, I should like some
range."
"Yes, Ijrtty," said the young gentle
man addressed; "and there's lemonade
and negus and such a sponge cake,"
"1 like dancing with you better than
y one, Letty," said George, to his pretty
partner. !
4,Do you? Yhyr replied Letty, her
voice rather obstructed by the sjxmge
cake.
'I think it is because I like you you
re so pretty," replied the young gallant.
"You musn't say that, or mamma will
cold you, GeorgV. Kho "scolds every
one who tells me I am pretty," said the
young lady.
5 But the words had been spoken, and
fronj that night until the end of the
ChristnuiS holidays, George and Letty
aid they were sweethearts.
IL
Some four or fire years had passed and
"Letty Green and her mamma weiv
sitting together tinder the veranda of
their pretty cottage, working, and talk
ing of a pleasant dav they had spent at
Jdr. Poynter's, when Master George came,
lie said, to bid them good-by, as he was
returning to school on the following
morning.
"And I want to ask you a favor, Mrs.
Green, and Ijetty a favor," said George,
coloring slightly.
Mrs. Green would grant It, of course,
and so would Letty, if 6he cduld.
"I want Letty to ride Hufus, my pony,
whilst I am at school. Papa has'no u-se
for it, and it carries a lady beautifnlly.
"But to accent this proposal would give
tomuch trouble."'
".Not in the least, Tom that's our
Tgroom says it won't, and papa says it
wont, and" I say the same; so please" say
-oif 11 use the pony. Straps, the harness
maker, will lend a side saddle.
Mrs. Green accepted George's ofTer, as
Letty was rather fragile, and pony
riding had been declared to lie good for
her; but Mrs. Green's income would not
allow of the expense, she said. There
ere people who called Mrs. Green a
mean woman, and hinted that she loved
money better than her child.
George Poynter went to school very
cheery, because he had made such a cap
ital arrangement about his pony, and he
often thought, when the weather was
fine, of Rufus, and wondered if Letty
wore riding him. George had not for
eotten, perhaps, that years years ago
he and Letty had called themselves
sweethearts.
IIL
More years had passed, and brought
their changes. George and Letty were
' tdone together in a small book room in
Mrs. Green's house, the windows open
ing to the garden. George was attired
In deep mourning, and there were strips
of black ribbon here and there on Lctty's
white dress. They had been talking of
death and sorrow until both had U-eome
silent. After a time Letty took George's
hand, and said:
"Dear George, you must strive to
meet your great affliction with a brave
spirit indeed you must."
"I have I do strive." replied George,
looking away from Letty; "but remem
ber wliat has come to me. Two years
go my father died. A vear before that
villain, Jackson, ruined my father
broke his heart killed him. O Letty!
what have I done to deserve this? What
can I do?"
"Trust still to tho father of the father
less," replied lietty. "We do not know
why great afflictions are permitted to
overtake us anv moro than we can tell
why great good cornea to us when we
least expect or deserve it, dear George.
You are young, clever, good and have
many friends, and one who is more
than a friend."
Sho raLsed George's hand to her lips
irhen she had said this (they wero true
rweethearts now), and he what could
he do but press her to his Itosom, and
kiss her cheek burning with blushes?
Mrs. Green had been walking in the
garden, evidently busy with her thoughts,
tine had stopped near th book room
window, near enough to hear what the
sweethearts were saying to each other,
and sho appeared to be made more
thoughtful bv what she heard.
When Mr. Poynter was a thriving mer
chant Mrs. Green had been more than a
consenting party to her daughter's ac
ceptance of George Poynter's attentions
indeed, she had by several indirect
means encouraged the young people to
think lovingly of each other. But now
matters were changed. Master George,
as he was generally called, had neither
houses nor lands, nor had he "ships gone
to a far countrio," and Mrs. Green was
perplexed how to act. fane knew that
Letty loved her first sweetheart, and
would perhaps love lum more now that
he was poor.
Mrs. Green was relieved from her per
plexity more agreeably than she do-
served t have been, as George Poynter
called the next day, bringing with him a
letter from his uncle, rich old Silas
Cheeseman, promising to provide for Ids
only sister's only son, and hinting that
George might by good conduct look to be
xieir to ail his thntty savings.
Silas was a bachelor, having been
Tlighted in his youth. Ho then took to
loving money, and had been a most suc
cessful wooer, as those clever Fpoople
who know everybody's business but
their own declared old Silas Cheese
man to be worth his hundred thousand
pounds "more or less."
UncleSilas had also procured a situa
tion for George in the neighboring town
of St. Gnats merely a probationary sit
uation, as clerk to a timber merchant,
who was under pecuniary obligations to
Silas. All this was very cheering, and
very kind of Undo Silas, although Mr.
Bawk, the timber merchant, was indeli
cate enough to surmise that George was
placed in his establishment as a spy, and
to watch the interests of his "undo.
George would have scorned such a posi
tion for all Uncle Silas had to give.
IV.
Before we pass on to tho events of the
next few years, we will introduce Chaun
cey Gibbs, a friend of George Poynter.
Chauncey his patronym of Gibbs was
rarely mentioned Chauncey was a good I
nnturivl. good for nothing, unsettled,!
aimisin; fellow, who contrived to live a I
gyiwy kiiul nl life on i-.HK a year, stead-1
lastly refusing to incumber himself with
any employment or to incur resHnsihili
ties more (to quote Chauncey) than his
hat would cover. He was a native of St.
Gnats and known to everylxnly In the
town, but he had no regular abiding
place, as he chow) to wander at will, and
George Poynter would not have been sur-
priced to have received one of t liuuncoy a
brief letter dated from London, Paris,
Vienna or IVkin. lie mostly alli-cled
England, however, and London esjie
cially in the winter. When money was
scarce Cluiuncev walked; when lie was
in funds he u vailed himself of any cheap
conveyance which olTered, sometimes
never inquiring its destination, but
making himself equally nt home wher
ever he was stranded. At Christmas time
he alway-i returned to St. Gnats, and
was n welcome guest at many luwjiitable
tables in that thriving town, making his
headouarlera, however, with his old
friend and school chum, George Povn
ler. He had written to announce "Ids
return to St. Gnats for the Christmas
approaching the end of tho two yeurs
which hail Intervened since George
Poynter had nssumed the stool of otliee
at Mr. Hawk's, and supplies of tobacco
and bitter beer were already secured for
the welcome ixn-ted guest.
Chauncey had a favorite lounge ic
London, a tobacconist's in an out of the
way street in the neighborhood of St
Mary Axe.
The proprietor was a beadle, or some
oflicial of that character, to one of the
comjwinies. and the tolniceo busi'iess was
conducted during the early jtrt of the
day by the beadle's wi'e and daughter.
It "was Chauncey's pleasure to sit on a
snulf tub in front of the counter and
smoke. In turn, all the varieties of to
bacco sold at the beadle's, beguiling the
time, also, with animated conversations
with the daughter, whose powers of
rejwirtee were moro ready than refined.
It is not our intention to chronicle more
than Chauncey 's parting interview and
what came of it, as slang from a wo
man's lips is our abhorrence.
Chauncey was about to leave the shop
after one of his long sittings, when the
younger lady said:
"You won't see me again, I expect,
Mr. Chauncey; I'm going to be married."
"You married!"
"Y'ea, me; why not, 1 should like to
know?" asked the lady, n little piqued.
"I'm sure 1 envy the happy man," re
plied Cluumcey. "It's not the Scotch
man at the shop door, i its"
"Well, I'm sure!" said tho voung lady,
and without another word she tiounceu
into the little parlor at the back of the
shop.
'Now you've regularly offended
Bockv," said Mrs. Beadle, "and such
old friends as vou was and she to lie
married to-morrow, and so rosi notable. "
"Well. I'm glad to hear that," said
Chauncey. ""A here's the wedding to ler
I'll buy a bundle of water creeses and
strew her way into church as an apology
for my rudeness."
' "Oh! she won't want no op logy from
you she knows what you are Mr. Chaun
cey; but she's to lie married at TO to-morrow,
at St. Mary Axe's, but we don't
want it spoko of, as the bridegroom's
nervous," said Mrs. Bern lie, in a whisper.
"I'll le there in time," replied Chaun
cey. "I suppose her father will give her
away in full cotstume, cocked liat, staiT,
and all th-t."
"He will do all thingi that is proper,
Mr. Chauncey," paid M"s. Bendle, with
much dignity, and Beckvat that moment
calling "Mother!" in rather an hysterical
tone, Chauncey was allowed to" find his
way out of tho shop as he pleased.
On tho following morning Chauncey
was at the church of St. Mary Axo a
quarter of an hour bef ore the time ap
pointcd for the ceremony wluch was to
unite Miss Beadle and somebody to their
lives' end.
A hale old gentleman between W and
TO, perhaps, was tho next arrival. Having
made some very confidential communi
cation to tho old pew opener, ho was con
ducted, evidently in great trepidation, to
tho vestry, and there immured until the
arrival of tho tobacconist and family
but without the emblematical Scotch
man. Chauncey concluded, therefore,
that Miss Beadle had captivated tho old
gentleman now awaiting his doom in the
condemned cell called the vestry.
The Beadle was in mufti, but his cos
tume still partook of tho nplendor of his
otiice, and a canary colored waistcoat
with glittering buttons of ruby glass ren
dered him somewhat conspicuous even
in the gloom of St. Mary Axe. His gen
eral expression and bearing wa3 that of
a tempered indignation, as though he
were about to consent to the mlhction of
somo injury which'ho could avoid if he
pleased. A word, a look, might have
provoked him to have torn the license
from tbe parson's hands and to have
dragged his daughter from the altar.
He was therefore allowed to walk up the
aibio unmolested.
Mrs. Beadle was very lively on her en
trance to tho church more lively. Per
haps, than black tea and the occasion
warranted; but, whatever had leen the
stimulating cause of her cheerfulness, it
ran in plenteous drops from her eyes as
sho approached tho altirr.'fcnd must have
been exhausted entirely by the end of
tho ceremony. Kiobe weeping for her
children would have been a dry nurse
compared with Mrs. Beadle.
Miss Beadle was resigned, as lecame
her to Iks at 31. Vith closed eyes and
drooping head sho leaned ujiin her
mother's ana until, 5 vitU par.Uable
confusion, sho released her hand to put
up her parasol as she drew near the altar.
Chauncey rushed to her relief, and with
some difliculty iossessod himself of the
incumbrance, and as thero were no at
tendant bridesmaids tho impudent fellow
attached lumseir to tho wedding party,
to be, as ho said, 'generally usef ul and
to nick u the pieces."
Theceremony proceeded with all proper
solemnity, but there was dome associa
tion with the name of ono of tho con
tracting parties which made Chauncey
tairiy suur, anu men determine to wit
ness tho signing of tho certincate, to
satisfy a doubt which liad suddenly en
tered his mind.
Tho wedding party retired to the ves
try when "Amazement" had ended the
ceremony, and proceeded to sign tho reg
isters attesting the union which had just
been solemnized. Mr. Chauncey Gihbe
being, as ho said, a friend of tho family,
signed also, and thero read what had
better be revealed m the next chapter.
Any one had only to have walked
down tho High street of St. Gnats tc
have known that Christmas was at hand.
i no grocers windows were overrunning
with iusciousncss; tho butchers' shops
wero co choko full of beef and mutton
that the butchers themselves would have
to cut their way out into tho street; the
poulterers had laid in such stocks of tur
keys, geese and chickens, that Mr. Bal
bngo's calculating machine could aloen j
ha e computed them mere human in
tellect would have failed. Tho window
frames of the house seemed sprouting
with luillv and "tho Ivy creen. and no
doubt but mistletoe hung, kiss provok
ing, within.
Mrs. Green had msdo every room In
her cottage an anagram of her name, us
it was holly decked everywhere. Nor
was the sacred bough forgotten "on
the young tieople's account, she said,
though 1a-Uv and George had long
ceas-d to want an excuse for a kiiei."
Georire Povnter was waitinc the ar
rival of his friend, Chauncey Gibbs. A
glorious tire blazed within the grate; the
table was spread to welcome the coming
guest, for i hose delectation a faultless
rumpsteak plo was browning in the oven.
The train, punctual to its time, was
heard screaming into the ftation close
by, and in a few minutes afU'r the two
friends were together.
If you are hungry it I tantalizing to
listen to tho luirticulars of a dinner vou
are not to share; if you are sated, you
are bored by the recitjkitulation of dain
ties you care not to touch, and therefore
we will allow the frit-nds to take their
meal in inare, Neither will we join
their after revel when two or three old
cronies came in and made a niht of it,
until George and Chauncey sought their
beds fairly tired out with jollity.
W hen breakfast was over the next
morning, and Chauncey found tluit
George had excused himself from at
tendance at the timber yard, he said:
"I am glad vou can give tho morning
to me, as 1 luive some news for you that
uiav, perhaps, suritrise and annoy vou."
"Indeed! replied George, "Wliat
Is it?"
"I would not touch tiimn It List night.
although 1 think somo immediate action
should be taken by you or your friends,"
continued Chaunoev, looking very ser
ious.
"Pray rpeafe out," said George.
"Oh res. I must do that, lor I have
no tact, never Uad. to make an unpleas
ant matter agreeable. Have you heard
from vour undo latelv?"
'Yes, two days ago principally on
Mr. Hawk's business," replied George.
"Mt old bov, vour uncle never in
tended you any good when he Bhut you
up in that hvg hour of Hawk's. He "put
you there ror lus own seiiisu purpose anu
nothing else."
" by do you say that asked George.
"He has led you" to supjose tluit you
were to be his heir some day, has be
not?"
"lie has never said that in direct terms;
but be certainly lias hinted at such a pos
sibility." " I hen ho s an old scamp. If he don t
deserve a harder name," said Chauncey,
thumping the table. "Two days ago he
did his best to disinherit j-ou. Y'ou may
stare, but I saw with my own eyes, heard
with my own ears, that old ragamumn
marry a bouncing woman of thirty."
"Marryl Cnclo bilas marry!
"Fast "as St. Mary Axe could do It, to
a snutl sellers daughter;" and Uien
Chauncey, to the astonishment of his
friend, narrated what we already know
of the wedding at which Mr. Chauncey
had so olliciousiy assisted.
"This is indeed a terrible blow, said
George, "an unexpected blow."
" es; 1 am afraii, knowing the hands
he lias fallen into, that he won't have a
will of lus own when a few mouths have
passed," said Chauncey. "I found out
now the matter came liliout. Old Silas
was very ill, and wouldn't liave a doctor;
but a Beadle, I call him got at him,
and then introduced his daughter as
nurse. They first phvdcked him nearly
to death, and then laought him round
with Itottled porter. Thy told the old
fool they saved his life, and he lie
lievedit: and out of gratitude, and the
want of a nurse, he proxsed to Miss
High-dried, and married her."
"This hits mo harder than you know,
Chauncey much harder. Poor Letty
and 1 can never hopo now"
"Oh, nonsense! replied Chauncey.
"Keep your uncle's secret, as be will if
ho can. marry Letty, and let Mother
Green storm afterwards."
George eliood bi9 head, and then
sai-J;
"Chauncey, you advise that which is
dishonorable."
"All fair in love, old boy," replied
Chauncey, with a laugh; "anil if I were
you, to gain the woman who loves me,
whom I love, I'd kill my uncle."
"Great heaven! what do vou say? But
I sec you were joking. No; my "course
U perfectly clear so far as Mrs. Green
and Letty aro concerned. I go to them
at once, and tell what ban taken place.
If I am forbidden to continue my visits
by Mrs. Green who hhall bo oteyed.
Letty, I know, will tc always true to me;
and when I can make a homo for her, 1
can claim her with honor."
"Devilish pretty speech," said Chaun
cev," and all right. I have no doubt. I
still say, kill old Silas Cheeseman, and
tret married; or, stay pcrhais yes
you shall write to him, i ow that he's
honevmoon tmck tell l ' n you want
to follow lib exarnple, an i require ten
tluu .ml pounds to do it."
"1 understand this nonsense, Chaun
cey," replied George, with n sad smile.
"Your friendly chaff Is well meant; but
my case is very Berious. And so good-by
for an hour or two. i pu will lind me
here after that time."
Tho road to Mrs. Green's cottage never
seemed bo long before to Georire Poynter
as it did now that he felt his fate. Tho
happiness, for a time at least, of his dar
ling Letty depended uion tho interview
ho was seeking with her mother. Ho
waa not without somo justification for
the misgivings which beset him, as Mrs.
Green had more than twice or thrice
casually hinted at what a mother's course
should " bo to prevent a child "marrying
into tioverty. Indeed, she had once told
him, when Letty waa not present, how
glad she was when his uncle's recognition
of hiiu produced such a favorable turn in
Georges fortunes, as it had spared them
all the pain which she should have felt it
her duty to have inflicted, lho crisis
had only been deferred. There were tears
from. Mrs. Green regrets and pity; but
thero were wero also cold, cruel words,
which wero not to lx gainsaid, unless
IxHty could disobey Uie mother who had
loved her all her life, and lived only to
soo her happy.
George spared his Letty and her mother
any contest as to tho decision to oo maae.
Ho promised to obey Mrs. Green in all
she required of him; but ho promised
Letty also, when thev were left alone,
that his love never should change, nor
should a doubt ever liave place in his
thouglifrj that ehe could change one tittle
in her lovo for him. And as lie held her
to his beating heart not for tho last time,
no! no! ho told her how ho would ctrive
to make a homo for both that their pro
bation would bo short if a bravo resolu
tion could only find tho meauato work
with. And they would come-the al
ways did; for had not they been promised
bv "the one which could not lie?
Poor hearts! they parted very sadly;
but A good angel was already bufylng
himself for their reunion. And such uu
angel! Chauncey Giblm!
" I Ie won t write to old Silas?" Then I
will," said Chauncey, half aloud, when
George hail left him. "lie won't kill his
uncle an old fool? Then I will." He
oened tho long blade of his iM-nknifa
and trimmed a quill which he found on
George's desk.
I hero were paper and Ink. as may lie
8upMKMd, and there was also the ready
writer, Cliauneev, who liegan:
"HtT Gnats, Deo. 20, 13.
"Df.ar Sib As my friend, Mr.
George Poynter, Is unfortunately Buffer
ing ut this tune from a severe blow in
his chest ('That's perfectly true') 1
have Placed tnvself at his service: Mid
although I shall not express myself as he
would have done on tho subject-. ' 1 hat s
true again, 1 fancy')! hope vou will
take the will for tha deed. News has
reached us here, dear Hr ('He'll
like that dear sir') that after many
years of dclilierate calculation ('No,
not calculation ) -onHideration, you
have discovered that man waa not made
to live alone, and then-fore, with a wise
regard for vour own happiness, you have
sought connubial felicity at the altar of
St. Mary Axe. ('Yery g(xl! muttered
Chauncey; 'tho name 6f tho church will
show that his secret is known to us.) 1
know not whether it is your wish that
your blissful union tdiould be made gen
erally known; but 1 cannot hesitate (on
the iKtrt of my friend, I mean) to olfer
you my sincerest congratulations, and to
wMi vou all the happiness you deserve.
('That's true; anil i RhouliI like to add,
all you are likely to find.') I am aware
that what nu have done must neci-s-
sarilv interfere largely, if not entirely,
with those expectations which you once
or twice TtohaH 1 say promised.' ro
encouraged me to entertain ('What
would old George pay to that.') and
though 1 descend from tho cloud-
('Good figure that') to the sulstratum
of daily toil and eruinncnt anxiety, I
shall know that vou aro sitting happy at
your domestic hearth, smoking the li!e
of peace ( " 1 1 wants something elso to
round o!f the sentence ) and and
(Oh, blow it!') rocking tbe cradle.
"May I request if not askinsr too much
at this hlissful period of your life ulme.
to tell me that I mar ad I tomv affection
ate remembrances an Aunt Cbeeseman?
"I remain, dear sir,
"Your affectionate nephew,
"1'orGEoKGE Poynter"
Cliaimcey paused. "It won't do to sign
my name, or Mrs. o. win rememticr it.
Yes I have it they never beard the
name of C Gums."
Having pealed and directed hU letter,
Chauncey proceeded to post it.
In traveling down from London
Chauncey had learned that a projected
branch railway from St. Gnats was in
high favor with all the moneyed Interest
of tho place; ami when he Buggeated the
propriety of killing old Silas he bad this
railway in his mind, as on tho following
day tbe allotment of filiares was to tale
place. Chauncey knew as ho knew
everybody Mr. Golding. tlio lianker and
chairman" pro tern, of tho projected com
pany. Witliout tho least misgiving or
hesitation be called upon that highly re
iqiectalilo gentleman, and, ufter a few
minutes' interview, gave tho conversa
tion an extraordinary twist, or jerk, as
tliuf:
"You've heard of tho great windfall to
our townsman. George Poynter, I su
pose," said Chauncey. "No? Well, n r
liaps it was hardly to be expected, seeing
what a retiring fellow ho is."
"What is it? ' asked Mr. Golding. "He
is a young man Tor whom I have the
greatest respect. I shall bo glad to hear
of any pood fortune to him."
'And it is a gotnl fortunel II is uncle,
you know, was immensely rich," said
Chauncey. "Tho old bra hefor is no P'ore
went oil three days ago and my friend
George was long ago his appointed heir."
"Silas Cheeseman gone!" remarked
Mr. Golding. with a elirug: "a very
money getting man; and must have died
very rich very rich."
"E-ribr-mously rich! Singlo man many
years; no expenses, you know," said
Chauncey. "I witnessed the last moments
of the old bachelor nt St. Mary Axe.
Went o!T quite composedly after his will
was accomplished. By the bye. it strikes
mo you might oecure the interest of young
George."
"How, my dear cirV" nsked Mr. Geld
ing; "we are always glad to secure a good
client"
"And with puch wealth!" paid Chaun
cey. "You allot shares in the St. Gnats
Junction to-morrow, do you not?"
"Yes." repliW tho banker; "and the
a pplicat ions exceed any t hing I ever k new ;
tho shares will Ikj livo or six premium
before to-morrow is over."
"That's your plan, then! Secure liim a
thousand.
"A thousand" exclaimed Mr. Golding.
"Well, half a thousand nay live hun
dredfor George Poynter; I'll let him
knew whoso inlluenco ho has to thank
for them. You'll bo tho banker of his
immenso wealth his friend adviser."
"But ho has not applied," said Mr.
Golding.
"But vou have. "What's a paltry fivo
hundred to you in comparison to after
gain or to lain? Ho won't caro for the
monev, but the friendliness of tho thing."
paid Chauncey, with a flourish of tho
hand, ns though ho were proposing tho
merest trillo of a sacrillce.
"And you, my dear sir?" abked Mr.
Golding.
"Oh, notldng; I want nothing; and
you may rely uxm my secrecy."
Mr. Golding pressed Chauncey's hand,
and thanked him for the friendly sug
tion. Mr. Golding had but one confidant,
Mr. Baxter, who at that moment entered
tho bank, and was announced as being
there.
"Do you object to my naming tho mat
ter to lay friend Kaxter? great influence
at the board," said Golding.
"Not in the least; ierhai3 ho may help
you to make the allotment a thousand, '
replied Chauncey.
"Oh, impossible my good friend," said
tho banker. "Show in Mr. Baxter."
Chauncey's communication having
been rejcated to Mr. Baxter, tho diplo
matist thought he had better retire; but
ho had not gone many yards from tho
bank when Mr. Baxter overtook him.
"Delighted to hear what you have told
us concerning your friend Poynter an
excellent young man, and deserves all he
gets."
"I am sura of that," said Chauncey,
"whatever good it may be."
"He'll resido at St. Gnats, I suppose?"
"Y'es," answered Chauncey.
"And will want a house suitable to his
new position?"
"Yes."
"Now I am wanting to sell Prospect
House yonder fino garden, abundance
of water and all that would it suit him,
, do you think?"
Cliauncey was rather posed by this in
quiry, and said therefore, "Perhaps."
"1 think it wouid; '3,500 is what I ask
and could get It, but I dislike the man.
You know Cfipt. llanger? of course you
must." said Baxter, with emphasis.
Chauiieey did not and would not know
Capt. Hanger.
"Ho U a troublesome fellow, and 1
should ho glad If he would leave the
place," aid Mr. Haxter. "If Mr. Poyn
ter will buy ho shall have the prefer
ence." Chauncey saw no objection to that,
and promised to speak to his friend If
Mr. Baxter would make the offer in writ
ing; but ..'IS, MM), he thought, wouid be the
utmost that Mr. Poynter wouid give for
a bous".
Mr. Baxter paused for a moment, and
as they v.ere opjiosite. his counting house
he iuvitetl Chauncey in, and subsfuently
gave him a letter to Mr. George Povnter,
containing an unconditional offer of
Prospect House for i."3j0. Chauncey
carefully put away the letter and bade
Mr. Baxter good day.
Poor George had returned to his lodg
ing when Chauncey had transacted all
iIm itnortant business we liave recorded,
tottu uot all his friend s good spirits could
roune lib n from almost despondency.
"My oli I boy," said Cliauncey, "you 11
pink dowii;Vlown, if vou show "the white
feather is this way. You're youm enough
to work, km like it I never did."
"It Is riot hard work hard fighting
with the world, that I am fearing; it is
the effect of this day's cruel trial upon
oor lietty."
A nd then George told Chauncey all that
had passed.'
"Well, vou would be so hastily honor
able," replied Chauncey; "you had better
Ix-en advised by me waited a day or
two until vou had killed yo"r uncle.
O orge looked at hi-3 friend anil raw a
cui.ning twinkle in his eye: but Chaun
cey had bis own reasons for saruig no
more on the subject.
George was very ill tlie next morning
too ill to go to the timber yard; so
Chauncey offered to see Mr. Bawk, and.
if business pressed, to supply George's
Place for a day or two. Sir. liawk de
clined Mr. Chauncey's services, and was
so excessively piolite and anxious in bis
Inquiries r.tiout Sir. Ueorge that Chaun
cey thought tho story of yesterday liad
reached Mr. Hawk.
It was not eo; but Capt. Ranger had
been to the timber yard to 6ee Mr. Poyn
ter, and had surprised Mr. Bawk by as
suring him that hiaclerk must havecoine
into money, as he had bought IYosuect
house at a sum which he (Copt. Han
ger) had refused to give, lie had.
however, left a commission with Mr.
llawk: and Chauncey wormed out of the
timber mercliatit the following particu
lars: Captain Ranger, it appeared, had mar
ried a lady with money not always a
desirable exchange for a man'a life and
the lady never allowed him to forget the
iecuniary artof tlieir engagement. She
had taken a fancy the word is not
strong enough a longing for Prospect
Honre. and tlio captain had undertaken
to obtain it; but, being fond of a bar
gain, he liad disgusted Mr. Baxter with
a t iresome negotiation, and tho house
had slipped from him. To confess this
to Mrs. Caitain linger would lie to in
voke a conjugal teroiest; and in his ex
tremity he bad come to Mr. Bawk to in
tercede with his clerk to transfer his
purchase.
"Well." paid Cliauncey. "George Li a
good natured fellow toogwd natured
ami I will undertake to eav that the cap
tain sliall have lrospect House for ti,
000." "Four thousand pounds!" exclaimed
Mr. Bawk.
"And not ono philling less," said
Cliauncey firmly. "The houso is worth
it as it stands; "but compute its value to
Captain Hanger, and it is cheap at any
money."
Mr." Bawk pleaded to a stono agent
when lie tried to eoften Mr. Chauncey;
and Captain Ranger coming into the
counting houso at the moment, heard the
terms proposed, raved like a maniac for
ten minutes, and then consented to be
swindled robbed, for the sake of peace
and quietness.
Chauncey could lie a man of btii iness
when he pleased, and he was now in a
business mood, lie therefore trotted off
tbe angry captain tocn attorney's, made
the transfer, and secured a prospective
li. 1,000 for bis friend George by killing
his uncle.
As tho day wore on. Chauncey waited
upon Mr. Golding, and found that gen
tleman writing to Mr. 1'oynter, and ex
pwssiug the great pleasure it gave him
to band him a letter of allotment for 600
L-haivs in the St. Gnats Junction, etc. etc.
etc. Railway; adding a hope that the firm
of Golding Silvcrton & Co. might liave
Mr. Poynter's name on their books as an
honored client.
Chauncey undertook to deliver the let
ter, and to us his influence with bis
friend to make the only acknowledgment
he could for .such disinterested gener
osity. Poor George was very ill at ease when
hiu friend i:hniineov returned, and nt
first was dist?osed to be angry at wliat he
. . . , !t Ml
icit to oo ins inconsiucnue rauiery.
"I nm pcrious. old toy, quite serious,"
paid Chauncey, throwing Golding's letter
and tho transfer on the table. "I liave
killed old Silas Cheeseman, and there aro
pome of tho proceeds of the transaction.
Open read und satisfy yourself."
Gcorgo opened theenvelopecontaining
the transfer, and then Mr. Golding's let
ter. Ho was in a mist. Ho thmight lie
was delirious and had lost his reason; and
Chauncey was a long time making him
comprehend how he bad come to be pos
sessed of
Profiton transfer f l.CX
I Tout ou CD kharcs, premium 6 per share... U
Total .3,500
and all by killing old Silas Cheeseman!
Poor George was hard to satisfy that
theso largo gains were honorably come
by, and when he went to sleep hetlreamt
that he had robbed the bank and had eet
Prospect Houso on fire. The following
morning brought a letter from Uncle
Silas. i
Tlio poor old dotard expressed himself
so pleased nt his nephew's forgiveness of
an act which ho liad thought would have
provoked only revilinga and wicked
wishes, that he enclosed a check for 1,
000 and his avunclar blessing.
Waa ever another fortune made by
such means?
Georgo had all the money; Mr. Golding
begging his retention of the shares, as his
commercial acuteness might be dam
aged by a disclosure of the trick which
had been practised upon his cupidity,
and Capt. Ranger was submissively satis
fied, having told his cara sposa that he
had bought Prospect Uouso a decided
bargain.
Mrs. Green would have had to endure
many mortifying reflections bad it rot
been Christmas time hen Letty a;sd
George and all other estranged friends,
are willing' to forget tlieir old grievances,
and, in thankfulness that 6uch a season
was vouchsafed to erring man, humbly
imitate the Great Forgiver.
A ChrUrtma Group .
The Rhlntaff bo!ljr bangs upon tb wall,
IU scarlet cluxters gleaming fn the light
Of ruddy fire Blow, nij th welcome sound
Of silver lnushter; ripples through tho room.
From youthful rok-ra, riiiifct the luiKt.lrtoo
Its white, t rati parent bemltots ternptintfiy
Hone o'er their sunny beads.
Kow kitb and tin
Art grouped la clrclo round the cheery hearth.
Each tell lug his experience of the year.
For soma there bo that only meet at Yule.
The grey hatred granrfxhlre safely nods his bead
Whet tine the prr.ttle of the four year old
The golden tressed youngling of the fioclc
Is poured into bis ear; and on his knees.
Eager to pntte, doth she, wee fairy, sit,
The household darling of a score of hearts.
In yonder snug armchair tils pran-lraamma,
Whilst ten-year Tommy steals beside her knee,
Knowtaf full well, the bright eyed, saucy rogue.
The bidden soft spot in the old dame's heart;
And with a loving, half regretful gaze.
Look ou the children's parents, carried bade
To" the "long syne" when they ibeniaelrea rtr
blest
la childhood's happy, glad Baeotwtoasneaa
Of ills to come; and so, forgetting Time,
They la their treasured triaesoms Uoom again.
i a. h. a "
Cba
Jit .JyfTy'-
Do you blame turn?
The mince pie was a Chritmaa faror
ite in the time of the poet Uerrick, who
wrote of it:
The whHe the nmt is a-h redding
" For toe rare mince pie,
r And ibe plums stand by
To CU the pasta that's a-kaeediag.
The Day Before Christmas.
Fat Turkey I've been firing higW
lately. Wonder what's (tfe afatter.
What is this Christ Ui&s 'business any
way? Thin Turkey (who ha consumption)
You will know before night; ta, tal
Sweet and Bitter.
How sue", and fresh the soft spring air
A baia aa appetizer.
it makes we feel like ent.'nl whew!
Cbnsaru the feniibserl
Burlington Free Pre,
A Stranger Among Strangers.
New York Belle Do you know that large
s New York is there are only four bandred
people tbere who can claiiii to reaUy belong
to the elite?
Omaha kin Sbooldot wonder. It's tbe
Irmeliest place I ever cot into. OllULha
World. - -
Etltel IHploma.
That Ethel i an art Mt.
All miM liiiil rHh grace;
How eouid ona mr doubt It
Who'd ever aeea aer facer
-loodoe) ltd Kn '
SP,CE OP THE SEASON.
The Chrlatrnis time cjmes on apace and
charity bejfina to hum.
The prettiest thing in stocking Christ
mas morning is a pretty girl's foot.
When Kris Kringle coi.ies down th
chimney it 830ta Kris and the childrea a4
well. '
Santa Clans is aiI to be of Cenrnta ori-
gin. His favorite oath, we presume, is
"By Chimney.", y
The pawnbroker Knows that Christmas
iscominjr, o does tbe young man and
so does tiic fi'rl. . .
A facetious divine got so many Christ
mas slippers that he said: "Do ladies
think me a centipede!"
A Christmas bel'e Tb- arirt with the
rinse fn h r voice who will always chime
in when anything is told.
With many people Christmas presents
will only come through the imagination,
which will enable them to exhibit great
presents of mind.
There is nothing the matter with the
small boy who p esents his mother with a
pair of felt slippers for Christmas. He U
just a smart boy, that's all.
The custom of having a ronsuur Christ
mas dinner is not only an ancient one, but
It is tbe most universal of any custom
known to the civilised weld,
Talk about oil trust, rubber trusts, coal
rusts, etc.. as much as you like, but what
we want abcut holiday tirno is a turkey
or goose trussed. Bost on Courier.
Remember that a Christmas gift gains
nothing in significance by being costly,
and that to seek to outdo' others in pecu
niary outlay, simply because you have the
means, is vulgar. .
"Ah, my son,' said the minister, 'fm
glad to see you in the Sunday -choot at
last. Is this your first Sunday f " Yea,
sir " " Bow do j ou like itr Oh. guess.
I kin stnnd it until after the Christmas
tree," Tid-Biis
.As Christmas - approaches, the "young
man who has beeu toasting his toes and
lounging on the best parlor wfa, tries to
get ud a quarrel with his girl so as to es
cape bankrupting himself on a Christmas
present. . ' . ,
Monetary! Clarksby "Good morninji,
Mrs. Gadhy. ShopDinjr. I see V Mrs.
Gadby. " Yes; I've hn picking up a few .
litUe thinirs fir ChHstmas." C "1
haven't seen Mrs. Gadby on "change late
ly." Mrs. G. (.laconically) "I have,"