Pittston Gazette

              Oldest Newspaper in the Wyoming Vi lley. ESTABLISHEID 1850. ' VOL. XLIII. NO. (U. ( PITTSTON, LUZERNE CO., I'A., FRIDAY, DECEMBER I, 1893. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. Slli&f CP18*" S3 ¥fflSSS^f retaining1 only the bottle, wtiicn tie uncorked and applied to his lips. The two men—one holding the light and the other , carrying the trunk— passed through a door at the back of the kitchen and entered an inner chamber. This chamber, too. contained a window, which was so blocked up, however, by lumber of all kinds that little or no daylight entered. Piled up in great confusion were old sacks, some partly full, some empty, coils of rope, broken oars, broken fragments of ships' planks, rotten and barnacled, a small boat's rudder, dirty Bails, several Oilskin coats, bits of iron ballast and other flotsam and jetsam; bo that the chamber had a salt and fish like smell, suggesting the hold of some vessel. But in one corner of the room was a small wooden bed, with a mattress and coarse bed clothing, and hanging on a nail close to it were certain feminine attire which the owner of the caravan would have recognired as the garb worn by Matt on the morning of her first appearance. "Shan't promise," she said, '"cause I shall go. My likeness ain't took yet— he takes a time, he does. I'm going to put them things on to morrow and be took again." to nave disappeared aiso, ana sue oe- ■ came again a veritable child of nature. ; 'She looked like a shaggy young pony j always believed that they were a species of humanity which had belonged to pa:-Dt centuries, and were now as extinct as a mammoth. But the girl evidently meant what she said, and thought there was nothing extraordinary in the statement. NYE WRITES TO PLUM I presumed to tell her most gracious majesty that I would, if it were mine, paper it with a pale green shade of paper, sprinkled with silver sprays of lilies of the valley. Also, that I would take out the whole front of the house, including the stone lion and unicorn, and put in a plate glass front. "Then," says I, "you will not go groping about here in this dim religious light, resting anon upon a hair cloth covered throne or passing among royal purple or scarlet typhoid hangings, rich in royal microbes of forgotten years. "Rum!" he said, smacking his lips and nodding at Matt. Then, recorking the bottle carefully, he returned it to the box, and, standing up, reconnoitered the sea on every side. But nothing else rewarded bis eager search; he threw himself down in the stern of the boat and ordered Matt to pull back to shore. fresh from a race on the mountain side, j as she threw herself on the ground in I an attitude which was all picturesque- j ness and beauty. Then, with her j plump, sunburnt hand, she began to carelessly pull up the grass, while her black eyes searched alternately the prospect and the painter's face. Presently she spoke: "He says you're a pryin' scoundrel," she said. Brinkley looked up and smiled. "Who is he, Matt?" "Mr. Monk," she replied, and gave a jerk with her head in the direction of Monkshurst. HE EXPLAINS WHY HE WAS SO ANX- For a moment the light in his ej'es looked dangerous, then he smiled and patted her on the cheek—at which caress she shrunk away. IOUS TO SEE THE QUEEN "That sea don't look ugly, do it?" she continued, pointing at the ocean. "But it is; there's rocks out there, where the ships split on; then they go all to pieces, and the things come He Qeti Some Valuable Suggestion! From AWf "What's the matter?" he asked. "Nothing," said Matt. "I don't like to be pulled about, that's all." the Royal Family and In Tarn Ventures As they went he closed one eye thoughtfully, and mused aloud: Bill and the Prince. to Give Her Majesty an Idea of His Own. "You mean you don't like me?" ashore." "Night before last it blew hull a gale from the south'ard. This here box came awash from the east coast of Ireland. Maybe it was a big ship as was lost; them planks was a part of a weasel's long-boat. More's coming if the wind don't come up from the nor'- rard. The moon's fall to-night and to-morrow. I'll tell the old 'un, and keep a sharp lookout off the Caldron p'int." "Don't know. That's telling." "And what becomes of all the things, Matt?" [Copyright, 1883, by Edgar W. Nye.] Piccadilly Circus, ) London, W. C., Nov. 11,1893. j Mr. Plum Levi (colored), Hair Pomping, Shampooing, Shaving Without Pain Both Before and After Death. Shop Down Stairs on Patton Avenue, Asheville, N. C.: "And yet you've no cause to hate me. Matt, for I've been a good friend to you—and always shall, because I like you, Matt. Do you understand, I like "Come into the garden, Maud," says I, with a ringing laugh. "Get more sunshine if you have to send to Kentucky for it. Allow the breezes to blow "Some of 'em's stole and some of 'em's took by the coast guards. They do say," she added, mysteriously, "as there's lots o' things—gold and silver— hid among them sand hills. Before the coast guards come all the folk was (CONTINUED.) and a blue pilot-jacket, ornamented with brass buttons which bore the insignia of her majesty's naval service. you?" So anxious did he seem to impress this upon her that he put his arm around her waist, drew her towards him, and kissed her on the cheek, a ceremony he had never performed before. But Matt seemed by no means to appreciate the honor; as his lips touched her checks she shivered, and when he released her she began rubbing at the place as if to wipe the touch away. "Oh, indeed," said Brinkley. "It is my amiable equestrian friend, is it? I'm sure I'm much obliged to him. And when, may I ask, did he bore you with his opinion of me?" rapftODUCCS WILLIAM JONES AND HIS FATHER. •My story is now bound to follow in the footsteps of Matt, who, on quittin1 the presence of her artist friend, walked rapidly along the sand-encumbered road in the direction of the sea. CHAPTER IV. Dear Sir—I promised you when leaving the shores of America and the richly caparisoned forests of Buncombe county, as the gay billows of color rolled up the smoky canyons of the Blue Ridge, that I would write you from London and tell you how times are here, especially in the barb line. Presently, without turning- his eyes again from the far distance, the man spoke in a husky, far-away whisper: Matt rowed on steadily till they came within a quarter of a mile of the shore, when William Jones stood up again and reconnoitered the prospect inland. "Matt, do you see summat ut yon- "Last night, when he come to see William Jones. He said I wasn't to be took no more, 'catise you was a scoundrel poking and prying." der?" Skirting the lake upon the left hand, and still having the ocean of sand hills upon her right, she gradus'ly slackened her pace. A spectator, had he been by, would have doubtless observed that the change was owing to maiden meditation; that, in other words. Matt had fallen into a brown study. Matt strained ner gaze tnrougn tne dazzling sunlight, but failed to discern any object on the light expanse of water.Brinkley began to whistle, and went on for awhile vigorously touching up his work. Then he looked up and regarded the girl curiously. "Pull in, Matt!" he said, after a minute, "all's square!" If Mr. Monk noticed this action on the part of the girl, he deemed it prudent to take no notice of it. He said a few more more pleasant things to Matt, and again patted her cheek affectionately, then he left the cottage, taking William Jones with him. Ten As a matter of fact I should have written to you before, but I've been so much taken up with gayety, and my English friends have been so constant in their kindness and hospitality, that I have neglected my correspondence or turned it over to my valet, Clarence, a man who has acquired so much ignorance in 68 years that he is almost a phenomenon. "Look ye now," continued the man; "it maybe drifting weed, or it may be a wreck; but it's summat. Look again." Soon afterwards the boat reached the rocks. William Jones sprang out, and, running up to the platform above,took another survey. This being satisfactory, he ran down again and lifted the box out of the boat, carrying it with ease under one arm. "Mr. Monk seems to be very much interested in you. Matt." "Yes. Coming and going1. Now it comes, and it's black; now it goes, and the water looks white where it was. If it isn't wreck, it's weed; if it ain't weed, it's wreck. And the tide's flowing. and it'll go ashore afore night at Caldron point, if I wait for it. But I shan't wait," he added eagerly, "I'll go and overhaul it now." "Summat black. William Jones?" The girl nodded her head vigorously; then, remembering the odious caress to which Mr. Monk had subjected her, she began to rub her cheek again. Presently she sat down upon a convenient stone, or piece of rock, and, resting her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, looked for some minutes at vacancy. At last she rose, flushed warmly, and murmuring something to herself. "Make the boat fast," he said, in a husky whisper; "and bring them bits o' wood along with you for the fire. I'll cut on to the cottage with this here. It ain't much, but it's summat; so I'll carry it clean out o' sight before them precious coast guards come smelling about." "Why is Air. Monk so interested in you? Do you know?" Aa you know, Plum, my principal business here is to consult her imperial majesty the queen regarding the best style of furnishing my house at Buck Shoals. It was completed over a year ago. Seven or eight times I have had it completed again. My contractor began on the house, forgetting that he had a contract covering the same time for an alcoholic carnival. He told me that he could turn my house over to a subcontractor, but the alcoholic turnverein was something that he would have to look after personally. So he turned the house over to a subcontractor. Anyway he turned it over to some one, for it was wrong side up when I moved into it. "P'raps it's 'cause he found me when I come ashore"" The something was to this effect: "Oh, he found you, did he? Then why doesn't he keep you?" "His hands are as white as a lady's, when he pulls off them gloves, and he said I was as pretty as my picture." said He looked round suspicious, and then Jones." "He do, only I live along o' William MATT POINTED TO THE COTTAGE WHERE I can only guess at the train of reasoning which led to this soliloquy, and express my opinion that Matt had well developed ideas on the subject of the sexes. True, she was not above sixteen, and had little or no experience of men, none at all of men who were both young and good looking. Nevertheless, she was not insensible of the charms of a white hand, and other tokens of masculine refinement and beauty. "Matt, did you see any of them coast-guard chaps as you come alqng?" "No, William Jones." With these words he clambered up the rocks with his burden, leaving Matt to follow leisurely in his wake. Again Brinkley began whistling lightly and working away vigorously with his brush. Presently the conversation began again. "Matt, what things did you come ashore in?" "I dunno." SUE LIVED. A GENTLEMAN FROM HINDIA. into this old stone foundry, and you can easily plant Albert Edward ere the scepter of England shall ornament his umbrella stand at home." wreckers, like William JoneS, and they used to get what come ashore, and they used to hide it in the sand hills." "Indeed.. Then, if that is the case, why don't they take the treasure up, and turn it into money?" "Thought not. They're up Pencroes way, fooling about; so there's a chance for an honest man to look arter his living without no questioning. You come along with me, and if it is summat, I'll pie thee tuppence some o' these fine CHAPTER V. CONCLUDES WITH A KISS. MOKK STOOD IN THE DOOBWAY. I thought a look of pain seemed to come over the face of the good queen, and pretty soon there was one came over my own face also. I found myself among the other plumbers and carpet beaters to the queen, and a large, muscular equeiry or yelper to the royal hounds was just going away with my collar and cravat in his hands. Placing the box down, William Jones carefully covered it with a portion of an old saiL Not f»r from the spot where William Jones had landed, and removed some little distance from the deserted village, with its desolate main street and roofless habitations, there stood a low, one-storied cottage, quite as black and forbidding looking as any of the abandoned dwellings in its vicinity. It was built of stone and roofed with slate, but the doorway was composed of old ship's timber, and the one small window it contained had originally formed the window of a ship's cabin. Over the door was placed, like a sign, the wooden figure-head of a young woman, naked to the waist, holding a mirror in her hand and regarding herself with remarkable complacency, despite the fact that accident had deprived her of a nose and one eye, and that the beautiful red complexion and jet-black hair she had once possessed had been entirely washed away by the action of the elements, leaving her all over of a leprous pallor. The rest of the building, as I have suggested, was of sinister blackness, though here and there it was sprinkled with wet sea sand. Sand, too, lay on every side, covered a small patch originally meant for a Tarden. and drifted thickly, up to the "It's summat, but it ain't much," he fluttered, discontentedly. "Lucky them soast guards didn't see me come ashore. If they did, though, it wouldn't signify; for what's floating on the sea belongs to him as finds it." "You have never heard whether anything was found with you which might lead to your finding your relations?" "No; no more has William Jones. He says maybe they'll find me some day and reward him, but Mr. Monk says they were all drownded, and I "Why? 'Cause them sand hills is alius changing and shifting about, they are; though they know well enough the things is there, there's no findin' of 'em'." "I always thought William Jones was poor?" As he turned to go, his eye fell for the first time on her attire. davs." Well, now I am looking over St. James' palace, Buckingham palace, Windsor, Hampton court, Balmoral, etc., to get ideas and suggestions, which, with my delicate and artistic natural taste, will aid me. Plum, in fitting up my house as it should be. By a natural sequence of ideas, she was led to stretch out her own right hand and look at it critically. It was very brown and covered with huge golden freckles. The inspection not being altogether satisfactory, she thrust both her hands irritably into the pock ets of her jacket and walked on. "What's this. Matt? What are you doinpr in your Sunday clothes?"' AS HIS LIPS TOUCHED HEB CHEEKS SHX The girl was at a loss to reply. She blushed scarlet and hung down her head. Fortunately for her the man was too absorbed in his main object of thought to catechise her further. He only shook his fa* head in severe disapprobation and led the way down to a small creek in the rocks, where a rough coble was rocking, secured by a rustv chain. A sound startled him as he spoke, and, looking round suspiciously, he law Matt entering the room loaded with broken wood. But she was not alone; standing behind her in the shadow was a man—none other, indeed, than Monk, of Monkshurst. One certainly feels a kind of restraint here that he does not in America. In America even our servants speak up as freely as the flowers of May. minutes later William Jones returned alone. ain't got no friends 'cept him and Wil- "So he is, he says!" replied Matt, liam Jones." "cause though he be alius foraging, he "Well, since he found you I suppose don't find much now on account o' them he ought to know; and since you have coast-guard chaps." no relations. Matt, and no claim upon After they had rested themselves, anybody in the world, it was very kind they went a little further up the cliff, of Mr. Monk to keep you instead g ' 'then they followed a narrow winding sending you to the workhouse, ?«. / path which brought them to the shore might have done." J 4 below. Here Matt, who seemed to be On this point Matt seemed ' pretty well grounded in the history of skeptical. place, pointed him out the wonders "Well," continued Brinkley, as he ? the coast. She showed him the went on lightly touching his work. which tradition said had been "perhaps 1 have done my equestrian forniyly used as wreckers' haunts and friend a wrong. Perhaps his unamia- treasuip stores, but which were now ble exterior belies his real nature: Der- washed by the sea, and covered with haps he is good and kind, generous to slimy wdeds; then she brought him to the poor, willing to help the helpless—, a promontory where they told her she tike you, for instance." herself hid been found. This spot "Is it him?" exclaimed Matt: Brinkley txamined curiously, then he "Monk, of Monkshurst! Why, he 'looked at the girl. don't give nothin' to nobody. No "I suppose you had clothes on when yon cameeshore, didn't you, Matt?" course I had. William Jones has got 'em!" '-iftas he? Where?" "In his cave, I expect." "His cavel Where is that?" asked Brinkley, becoming very much interested."Dunno," returned Matt; "perhaps it's somewhere here about. I've seen William Jones come about here, 1 "Where's he?" asked Matt. "Meanin' Mr. Monk, Matt — he be gone!" said William Jones. "Gone for good?" demanded Matt, impatiently. The queen is away, but Albert Edward is here and says anything he can do will be cheerfully done. He showed me You asked me, Plum, how the barbing business is here, with an idea no doubt of coming here and opening up a shop, but I would not encourage you in doing so. Besides you would be lonely. I only saw two colored men outside of a very decayed minstrel show in the two months and over that I have been here. Leaving the lake behind her she followed the road along a swampy hollow, down which the very shallowest of rivulets crept along to the sea, now losD lng itself altogether In mossy patches of supicious greenness, again emerging and trickling with feeble glimmer? over pebble and sand. Presently she left the road and came upon a primitive wooden bridge, consisting of only one plank, supported on two cairns of stone. Here she paused, and, seeing a red-legged sand-piper running about on the edge of the water just below her, made a gesture like a boy throwing a a stone, whereon the sand-piper sprang up chirping and flew along out of sight. While Matt entered the room to throw iowti her load of wood Monk stood in the doorway. His quick eye had noted the movements of father and son. "No, he ain't, Matt; he'll be down here to-morrow, he will; and you'd best be at home!" "Jump in and take the paddles. I'll sit astern and keep watch." "More plunder, William Jones?" he asked, grimly. Matt said nothing this time; sheonly turned away sullenly and shrugged her shoulders. The girl obeyed and leaped in; but before sitting down she tucked up her dress to her knees to avoid the dirty water in the bottom of the boat. William Jones followed, and pushed off with his hands. Calm as the water was. there was a heavy shoreward swell, on which they were immediately uplifted with some danger of being swept back on the rocks. Matt handled the paddles like one to the manner born, and the boat shot out swiftly on the shining sea. One of them was standing in front of a public. A public, Plum, is a place where you can get "a mug of bitter," or "a mug of mild and Burton," or "a thrippence of gin," or "a sixpence of Scotch," or a pint of Bass, but the guileless American who eats a sandwich with his nip will pay for it at a high rate or find himself in the hands of the police: I never saw such a place. The "free lunch" may only be fonnd where the Americans are very plentiful, and in places connected with the hotels where the Yankee abides. In a moment William Jones was transformed. The keen expression of hia face changed to one of mingled stupidity and sadness; he began to whine. "More plunder, Mr. Monk?" he said. "No, no; the days for finding that is gone. Matt and me has been on the «hore foraging for a bit of firewood— that be alL Put it down, Matt; put It down." "Matt," said William Jones, presently."Well?" "Mr. Monk seems uncommon fond of you, he do." Matt reflected for a moment; then she replied: "I wonder what he's fond o' me for, William Jones?" "Well, I dunno; 'cause he is, I suppose," returned William Jones, having no more logical answer at his command.fear." "And yet, according to your own showing, he has helped to support you all these years—you, who have no claim whatever upon him." This was an enigma to which Matt had no solution. She said no more, but Brinkley, while he continued his painting, silently ruminated thus: "It strikes me this puzzle would be worth unraveling if I could only find To this cottage William Jones ran * rove and, entering erv door. Matt did as she was told; opening her arms, she threw her load into a corner of the room; then William Jones hurried the whole party back into the kitchen. By this time she was in full sight of the sea. Dead calm, and covered with rain-colored shadows, it touched the «dge of the flat sands about a mile away, and left one long creamy line of changeless foam. The sands themselves stretched away to the westward as far as the eye could see. But to the left and eastward, that is to say, in the direction toward which she was going, there was a long, rocky promontory, with signs of human habitation. Breaking into a swinglike trot. Matt The sun was burning with almost insufferable brightness, and the light blazed on the golden mirror of the water with blinding refracted rays. Crouching in the stern of the boat, William Jones shaded his eyes with both hands, and gazed intently on the object he had discovered far out to sea. Now and then he made a rapid motion to guide the girl in the rowing, but he did not speak a word. himself in almost total darV *ess; for the light which crept through the blackened panes of the small window was only just sufficient to make darkness visible. Bu* this worthy seaside character, having, in addition to a cat's predatory instincts, something of a cat's power of vision, clearly discerned everything In the chamber he just entered—a rude, stone-paved kitchen, with an open fireplace, and no grate, black rafters overhead, from which suspended sundry lean pieces of bacon, a couple of wooden chairs, a table and, in one corner, a sort of bed in the wall, where a human figure was reposing. Setting down the trunk he marched right over to the bed, and unceremoniously shook the individual lying upon It, whom he iiscovered to be a man, muttering in a heavy sleep. Finding that he did not wake with shaking, William Jones bent down and cried lustily in his ear: I met this colored man in front of a place called the Red Cow. In Dakota it would have been called the Yaller Dog. The colored man was about 60 years of age and poor. His hair was gray, and his toes just able to be out that day fot the first time. I had been lonely all the morning, for t pined for home a little, and the sight of. an old colored man came to me like tha odor of the magnolia and the azalea. 1 "Uncle," says I, "you seem to be oui at luck." M "Beg pawdon, sah." "I say you seem down on your luck—j out of soap; up a stump; stranded;' pooped, as the navigators say;  busted." 'J "Well, I am rawther on me oars, a* the sayin his. I've done nothink for year but 'obble abeout or sit on me 'unk-1 ers and go 'ungry, sah." I was thunderstruck. He had got th4 melodious English accent so sought aft?) ar by the well to do young American who sleeps in the hay mow at night with his English groom in order to learn the stud English of the Derby stables. "Tain t that," said Matt; "he dtra't love me 'cause I'm me, William Jones. There's summat else, and I should just like to know what that summat is, I should." The men seated themselves on benches, but Matt moved about the room to get a light. The light, as well as everything else, was a living illustration of the meanness of William Jones. It consisted, not of a candle, but of a long rush which had been gathered from the marshes by Matt and afterwards dried and dipped in grease by William Jones. Matt lighted it and fixed it in' a little iron niche which was evidently made for the purpose and which was attached to a table near the hearth. When the work was finished she threw off her hat and Jacket, retired to the further end of the hearth and sat down on the floor. William Jones looked at her, conscious that there was a new development of sagacity in her character, but utterly at a loss to understand what that new development meant. through Buckingham palace day before yesterday. He said, "We are all torn up here," and as he did so he drew my attention to the view out at the window as be stepped on a cockroach and ground it into the rich carpet. WITH THE PRINCE. the key. Quero, is the young person have, but I nrver could track him." the key, if I but knew how to use her? Matt's information on the subject Perhaps, since the amiable Monk evi- was so vague that it seemed useless to Oh, how hot it was out there on the wideless waves!. For some time Matt pulled on in silence, but at last she could bear it no longer and rested on her oars, with the warm perspiration streaming down her freckled face. CHAPTEK VL ALSO COROLUDia WITH A KISS. munication with her. But it would be dently dislikes my coming into com look at the rocks, Brinkley proposed institute a search; so, after a regretful useless to lay the case before her, since. that they t.hould saunter back along The style with which the house is furnished is rather a mixture of the Byzantine and San Francisco styles—quiet, yet rich. The stairsteps are wide enough for a team to drive up, and the palace itself is rather low and flat, but the lion and unicorn may be noticed on the battlements engaged in an animated conversation. The lion and unicorn may be seen over half the shop entrances in London, with the announcement that the merchant or tradesman there is, by special appointment, fishmonger or plumber to her most gracious majesty the queen of Great Britain and empress of India. When Matt arose the next morning the first thing she did was to look around for her Sunday clothes, which on retiring to rest she had carefully placed beside her bed. They were gone, and in their place lay the habiliments she was accustomed to wear on her erratic pilgrimages every day. Her face grew cloudy; she hunted all round the chamber, but, finding nothing that she sought, she was compelled to array herself as she best could. if Bhe is the key, she is quite uncon- the shore. scions of it herself." "By the way," said he, "I want you "Pull away, Matt," said the man, not looking at her. "You ain't tired, not you!" He threw down his brush, rose and stretched himself, and said: "Look here, Matt, I'm tired of work. The sun shining on those sand hills and on the far-off sea is too tempting. I shall go for a walk, and you, if you are to introduce me to William Jones." "To William Jones?" "Yes. Strange as the fancy maj seem to you, I should like for once in my life to stand face to face with a real live wrecker." During the whole of this time Mr. Monk had been watching her gloomily; and he had been watched in his turn by William Jones. At last the latter spoke: With a long-drawn breath Matt drew in the oars, and, swift as thought, peeled off her jacket and pulled off her hat, leaving' her head exposed to the Y.irning sun. in the mood, shall be my guide." She evidently was in the mood, for 6he was on her feet in an instant. "All right, master," she said, "I'll :oast untH they reached William Jones ;ottage. Here they paused, principally for Brinkley to take a glance at the luaint dwelling, then they crossed the threshold. What sort of a place he had got into it was utterly impossible for Brinkley to tell; it was so dark he could see nothing. Having crossed the threshold, therefore, he paused, but Matt went fearlessly forward, struck a light and ignited a rushlight on the table. 'i'hey made their way back along the "Matt's growed," said he; "she's growed wonderful. Lord bless us! she's a bit changed she is sin that night when you found her down on the shore. Why, her own friends wouldn't know her!" !s'ow, the silk gown she wore haC evidently been used by its origina owner as a festal raiment, for it haC Ix-en cut low, and had short sleevea -Do Matt's shoulders and arms were Derfectly bare, and very white they ooked in contrast with her sunreckled hands. her sun-burnt face and ' Her bust iva "Wreck! wreck ashore!" "William Jones," she said, when she sat with that worthy at a hermit's breakfast of dry bread and whey, "where's my Sunday clothes?" The effect was instantaneous. The figure rose up in bed, disclosing th« head and shoulders of a very old man, who wore a red cotton nightcap, and whose hair and beard were white as snow. go." "Very well. Tim, bring forth some refreshment. We will refresh the inner man and girl before we start." One tradesman on Old Bond street deals in nothing bnt elephant guns, and announces that he is by special appointment elephant gunmaker to her most gracious majesty the qneen of Great Britain and empress of India, by the grace of God. Mr. Monk stared and frowned. "Her friends?" he said—"what friends?" William Jones fidgeted a bit, then he said: Tim disappeared into the caravan. Presently he reappeared bearing a tray, on which was a small flask of brandy, a large jug of milk, some biscuits and a couple of glasses. This he placed on the camp stool, which his master had just vacated, and which, when not in use as a seat, served as a table. Brinkley poured out two glasses of milk, then, looking at Matt, he held the little flask on high. "Oh, now, that's enough of that, uncle," says I; "drop it. Talk plantation and you'll be rewarded, but when you put on frills you lose my influence. When did you leave Georgia, Uncle Pete?' "Eh? Wheer? Wheer?" he cried, is a shrill treble, looking vacantly around him. "They're put where yon won't find 'em. Look ye, now, Matt, you'd best be after doin' summat useful than runnin' about after a painter chap. I was down on the shore this morning, and I seen heaps o' wood—you'd best get some of it afore night!" if r wa "Why, them as owns her," continued William Jones. "If they wasn't all drowned in the ship what she came ashore from, they must be somewheer. Mayhap some day thsy'll find her and reward me for bringin' her up a good gal—that's what I alius tell her." HER GAZE THBOUGH TUB hastened "oftowmg- a footpath across marshy fields. MATT "Wake np, old 'un!" seizin? him an4 shaking1 him again. "It's me, William Jones." - ' [to be continued ] "Beggin your honah's pahdon, sah, I was never in Georgia, sah, and I never talked anywy but the wy I am a-talkin of. I was born in Calcutta, sah, and don't use the cawse Hinglish of the Hafrican Hamerican. I'm a gentleman, sah, from Hindia, sah." It was a fact. "Here," said I. "Gentlemen from Hindia, 'ere is a art a crown. Buy a gunnysack, gentleman from Hindia, to do up your little toes in. I hate to see them peeping, like Brazil nuts, from your smiling shoes." A Saint on Earth. Another man, a tailor, who makes nothing but fine trousers, has the audacity—but we will let that pass. friend the painter, could he have seea her just then, would have regarded her with increasing admiration. "William? Is It my son William?" returned the old man, peering out into the darkness. lie— makes me a bftter man every time J ki3s you, darling. She—Oh, my, Charlie! How good you must be now.—Boston Gazette. In due time she came out upon a narrow and rudely made road, which wound along the rocky promontory, at low water skirting the sand, at high water the sea. The first house she reached was a wooden life-boat house, lying down in a creek and. It being then low tide, at some distance from the water's edge. On the roadside above the house was a flagstaff, and beneath the flagstaff a wooden seat. All was very still and desolate, without a sign of life, but a little further along the road was a row of eott;" ■ Matt gave a snort, but said nothing. few minutes after her benign protector left the cottage, and a little after he had disappeared Matt issued forth; but instead of beating the shore for firewood, as she had been told to do, she ran across the fields to the painter. Freed from the incumbrance of her j&cket, she now pulled away with easy grace and skill. Further and further the boat receded from the shore, till the promontory they had left was a couple of miles away. Suddenly William Jones made a sign to the girl to stop, and Btood up in the boat to reconnoiter. "So that's what you always tell her, do you?" returned Monk, grimly. "Then you're a fool for your pains. The girl's got no friends—haven't I told you that before?" I always look carefully over the door before I go in to buy, and trade only where the proprietor is entirely unfettered. I do not want a suit of clothes started and half made perhaps, only to be tossed aside, while Albert Edward has eleven suits made against Saturday evening. Moreover I do not like the fit of Albert's clothes very well, and I am a little fussy about my raiment. "Yes, father. Look ye now, you waa a-talking again in your sleep, you waa. A good thing no one heerd you but your son William. Some o* these days you'll be letting summat out, you will, if you go on like this." "Brandy, Matt?" She shook her head. Within an Ace. "Very well, child; I think you are wise. Here, take the milk and drink confusion to your enemies'." C * V V "Certainly you hare, Mr. Monk," returned William Jones, meekly; "but look ye now, I think"— She found him already established at his work. The fact was that he had been for some time strolling about with his hands in his pockets and scanning the prospect on every side for a sight of her. Having got tired of this characteristic occupation, he at length at down and began to put a few touches to the portrait. Seeing that be was unconscious of her approach Matt crept up quietly behind him and took a peep at the picture. Matt took the glass of milk and drank it down, while Brinkley hastened to dilute and dispose of the other. Then he gave some orders to Tim, and they started off. As they had no particular object in view, they chose the pleasant route, and clearly the pleasantest lay across the sand hills. Not because the sand hills were pleasant in themselves—they were not, especially on a d»— the Kim was scorching the roads and making the sea line a mill-pond—but because by crossing the sand hills one came on the other side upon a foot path which led by various windings gradually to the top of breezy cliffs. The old man shook his head feebly, then, clasping his hands together in a kind of rapture, he looked at his son and said: The object at which he had been gazingso long was now clearly visible. It consisted of something black floating on a glassy stretch of water, and surrounded by fragments of loose scum or foam; it was to all appearance motionless, but was, in reality, drifting wearily shoreward on the flowing tide. "You've no right to think," thundered Monk; "you're not paid for thinking; you're paid for keeping the girl, and what more do you want? Matt," he continued, in a softer tone, "cc»me to me." but Matt didn't hear—or at any rate, did not heed, for she made no movement. Then Monk, gazing intently at her, gave vent to the same remark that William Jones had done a few hours before. The prince is not a well man. For some time his life has been far more uncertain than that of his mother. His beard is rapidly whitening, and his merry, gladsome gambols as a young man tire beginning to tell on him now. Few think he will get a crack at the throne, and he himself is falling into melancholy. Yesterday I dressed in a complete Piccadilly outfit, took an umbrella and lighted a black pipe that had the snuffles. "Now," I said to myielf, "I'll see for an afternoon if I can be an American incog." My gloves were large and comfortable. One of them I wore, and one I carried in my hand. They were a slate color, and my shoes were broad and liberal. My trousers were turned up and sewed that way, and I turned to the left when I met any one. Seeing some handsome steamer rugs in the window, I stepped into a store on Air street and looked at them. 1 did not say a word. "Yes, William, I was a-d reaming. Oh, it was such a heavingly dream! I was a-standing on the shore, William, and it was a-blowing hard from the east, and all at once I see a ship, as big as an inaiaman, come in wr an sau set. and go ashore; and I looked round, William dear, and there was no one nigh but you and me; and, when she broke up, I see gold and silver and jewels come washing ashore just like floating weeds, and the drowned, every one of 'em, had rings on their, fingers, and gold watches and cheens, and, more'n that, that their hands were full of shining gold; and one of 'em—a lady, William—had a bright diamond ring, as big as a walnut; but when I tried to pull it off, it wouldn't come; and just as I pulled outmyleetle knife to cut the finger off, and put it in my pocket, you shook me, William, and woke me up. Oh, it was a heavingly dream!" which Beemed inhabited, and n fact the abodes of the coast-guard. Instead of lingering here Matt proceeded on her way until she reached what at first sight looked like the beginning of a v'llage or small town. There were bouse on each side of the road, some of them several stories high; but close -inspection showed that most of them were roofless, that few of them possessed any. windows or doors, and that nearly all were decayed and dilapidated from long disuse, while not a few had a blasted and sinister appearance, as if blackened by fire. And still there was no sign of any human soul. Suddenly, however, the street came to an end, and Matt found herself on a sort of rocky platform overlooking the sea; and'on this platfornC, shading his eyes from the blazing sun and looking out seaward, was a solitary man. William Jones now evinced increasing excitement, and urged his companion to hurry quickly forward—which she did, putting out all her strength in a series of rapid and powerful strokes. Another quarter of an hour brought them to the spot where the object was floating. Trembling with eagerness, the man leaned over the boat's side with outstretched hands. Her black eyes dilated with pleasure. "Oh, ain't it beautiful!" she exclaimed.I Teacher—Who succeedei the king? Promising Child—The queen. Teacher—llight, and should the queen He, who would reign? He says: "Of course I am as fond of mother as anybody could be, but sometimes I think that both she and Bill Gladstone are running longevity into the ground. That, of course," he added, as he stopped to inquire the price of a portable bathtub, "is entirely between themselves." "Where hare you been to-day," he said, "to have on that frock?" Again Matt hung her head and was silent. Monk repeated his question, and, seeing that he was determined to hare an answer, she threw up her head defiantly and said, with a tone of pride in her voice: "So you have come at last," said Brinkley, quietly, going on with his painting. To the sand hills, therefore, they wended their way. Having ga'ned them, they followed a route which Matt knew full well, and which soon brought them to the narrow foot path beyond. During1 the walk she was singularly silent, and Brinkley seemed-to be busily trying to work out some abstruse problem which had taken possession of his brain. She made no movement and no farther ■ound, so he continued: P. C. (like lightning)—The jack!—Fun. The dark came to me at once. ' 'Would you like to look at a rag? We have quite a variety. This way, sir. Something new, light and soft, sir. They are very popular this autumn, especially among your countrymen. We have sold hundreds of them to Americans." • A Talented Man. This conversation occurred on Oxford street, where he had mentioned the fact that he thought some of coming to America nek summer—"that is," he added bitterly, "if mother decides to run her reign into eternity." As he did so. Matt turned her head away with a curious gesture of dread. "Perhaps, now you have come, you'll be good enough to step round, that I may continue my work. I am longing to refresh my memory with a sight of your face. Matt!" Prince Bismarck was once pressed by a certain American official to recommend iiis son for a diplomatic place. "He is a very remarkable fellow," said the proud father. "He speaks seven languages. "Indeed!" said Bismarck, who does not hold a very high opinion of linguistic acquirements. "What a wonderful head waiter he would make!"—Argonaut. "I put it on to be took!" "What is it, William Jones?" she asked, not looking at him. "It isn't— you know—one o' them?" "To be took?" repeated Monk. "Yes," returned Matt; "to have my likeness took. There be a painter chap here that lives in a cart; he's took it." "No, it ain't." replied the man, leaning over the sifle of the cohle and tilting the gunwale almost to the water's edge. "Too early lor them. Matt. If they comes it won't be till Sunday's tide. They're down at the bottom now and ain't yet rose. Easy! Lean t'other way! So there—look out!" "Well, you can't," said Matt; "they're locked up!" His purchase of a portable bathtub would seem to indicate that he hoped to visit America soon. "I will take this one and no questions asked," said I, "if you will tell me how you pick out an American in English dress who has not opened his mouth." It was curious to note the changes in Mr. Monk's face. At first he tried to appear amiable; then his face gradually darkened into a look of angry suspicion. Matt never once withdrew her eyes from him—his very presence seemed to arouse all that was bad in her, and she glanced at him through her tangled locks in much the same manner as a shaggy terrier puppy might faze at a bull which it would fain attack, but feared on account of its superior strength. "Eh—what's locked up—my memory or your face?" When they had followed the foot path for some distance and had gained the greensward on the top of the cliffs, the young man threw himself upon the grass and invited Matt to do the same. It was very pleasant there, soothing both to the eye and to the mind. The cliff was covered—somewhat sparsely, it is true—with stunted grass; and just below, on their right, lay the ocean, calm as any mill-pond, but sighing softly as the water kissed the rocks and flowed back again with rhythmic throbs. On their left lay the sand hills, glittering like dusty gold in the sun-rays, while just before and below them was the village. So intent was he on his occupation that he was unconscious of Matt's approach till she was standing by his side. He turned his eyes upon her for a moment and then once more gazed out to sea. William Jones had listened with Illdisguised interest to the early part of this speech, but, on its conclusion, he p-ave another grunt of undissembled disgust. It was clear Matt could not appreciate banter. She saw him smile and guessed that he was laughing at her, and her face grew blaok and mutinous. She would have slunk off, but his voice stopped her. I give here a copy of photograph of her majesty the queen and his highness Prince Maurice of Battenburg. Batt, as they call him, was powerful wiggly, the day was hot, and her majesty told me that it was a poor picture all around, for she had promised to rush down and get the picture as soon as possible, for parliament was in session and she had left off in the middle of a letter to the police regarding the cuttings up in the house, so, as she said, she was in no state to have her picture taken. "Well, sir," said he, with evident embarrassment, "you see, sir, it's your gait. An Englishman walks as if he were after the doctor, sir. The American walks as if he were going to the station to meet his mother-in-law." And that is a fact. Young Bride (pouting)—Here we have only been married two days, Clarence, and you're scolding me already. A Man's Excuse. As he spoke he struggled with something in the water, and at last, with an effort which almost capsized the boat, pulled it in. Matt looked now and saw that it was a small, flat, wooden trunk, covered with pieces of slimy weed. Floating near it were several pieces of splintered wood which seemed to have formed part of a boat. These, too, William secured and threw down on the footboard beneath him. "Well, you're awake now, old 'un; so jump up. I've brought summat home. Look sharp, and get a light." A 6hort. plump, thick-set man, with a round, weatlier-beaten face, which would hare been good-humored but for itC* ercprc-sionof extreme watchful- Thereupon the old man, who wu fully dressed, in a pair of old woolen trousers and a guernsey, slipped from the bed and began fumbling about the room. He soon found what he wanted —a box of matches and a rude, homemade candle, fashioned of m long, coarse reed dipped in sheep's tallow; but owing to the fact that he w*a exceedingly feeble and tremulous, he was .so long in lighting up that his gentle son grew impatient- "Come here, Matt," he said. "Don't be silly, child; tell me what's the mat* ter, and—why, what has become of your resplendent raiment—your gorgeous Sunday clothes?" Husband—I know, my dear, but just think how long I have been waiting for the chance.—Tit-Bits. ness and The eyes were blue. but verv u 1 -een: the forehead "Matt," said Mr. Monk again, "come here." Tlie Hardest Part. J Jk "Didn't I tell you? They'll locked np." "Ho, hum!" sighed the defeated candidate. "It's bad enough to be beaten in an election, but this having to find satisfactory reasons for the defeat is the most unpleasant thing of all."—Somerville Journal. This time Bhe obeyed; she rose slowly from her seat and went reluctantly to his side. "Indeed?" It will be observed that Batt has the same way of curling up all his toes in a bunch that children have who are born under a democratic form of government. The queen did her crown up in a piece of tissue paper, and intended to bring it to wear while being photographed, but came away and left it on the dining room table, so she had to wear her bonnet. She has rather outgrown her crown, she says, however, and even with a hatpin through it the fool thing falls off, even at state dinners, and gows crashing into the Irish stew. P. S.—Let us strive to learn something wherever we are. Then we will gradually know more by acquiring this knowledge. B. N. "Yes. William Jones done it 'cause he told him. He don't want me to comr here and be took." "Do you see that house'standing all by itself, close to shore?" said Matt, pointing to the cottage where she lived. "That belongs to William Jones. And, look ye now, there be William Jones on the rocks!" "Matt, look me in the face," he said. "Do you know who this painter is?" Matt shook her head. "It's a box, that's what it is," cried "Ohl Tell you what It is, Matt, we will have our own way in spite of them. For the present this picture shall be put aside. If in a day or so you can again don your Sunday raiment, and sit to me again in them—if not, I dare say I shall be able to finish the dress from memory. That portrait I shall give to you. In the mean time, as I want one for myself, I will paint you as you are. Do you approve?" Matt, Cenaonhlp of the Preu. "It's a box, surely," said Jones. "And it's locked, too. And, look ye now. I misdoubt there's nowt inside. "Here, give 'un to me!" said William. "You're wasting them matches Just as if they cost nowt. A precious father you are and no mistake." "How many times have you seem him?" GlyJng I'p. "Say, old man, you sip fhat wine as if it were your life blood." When Rome was still under papal rale a play was once submitted to the prelate charged with the revision of manuscript* for the press. The first scene represented a restaurant and an actor sitting at * table and calling to a waiter: "Waiter, a beefsteak!" "Twice." Looking down, Brinkley beheld a figure moving along the rocks, just where the water touched the edge. or inayhap it would have sunk. Iiowsomever, we'll see!" After an unavailing effort to force it open with his hands, he drew forth a large clasp-knife, worked away at the lock, and tried to force open the lid, which soon yielded to his efforts, as the action of the salt water had already begun to rot the wood; On being thus opened, the box was found to contain only a couple of coarse linen shirts, an old newspaper, two or three biscuits and half a bottle of some dark fluid. "And what has he said to you?" "A lot o' things." "Tell ms one thing." "Well, it cost enough—$50 a bottle," The candle being lighted and burning with a feeble flame he informed the old man of what ha had found. In a moment the latter was down on his knees, opening the box and greedily "H'm! I don't wonder you feel as if you were bleeding at every pour."— Truth, "Very lazy of William Jones," he said. "Why isn't he at work?" "At work?" "He asked me who my mother was, and I told him I hadn't got hone." Mr. Monk's face once more grew black as night. "Yes. tilling the fields or fishing. By the way, I forgot to ask you, is he a fisherman?" Both Wronf, The scrupulous censor wrote in the margin, "Note—When the piece is played during Lent the actor, instead of calling for a beefsteak, will order an omelet."—Opinione. Matt nodded her head vigorously. "Now, Georgie, which ia correct— mamma gave me a piece of pie, or mamma give me a piece of pie?" There is a sort of assembly room at Buckingham palace which I caught myself every little while calling "the other room," thus giving myself plumb away and showing that our own castle only had two rooms—viz, the kitchen and "the other room." This assembly room, as her most gracious majesty calls it, I presume is where she meets the members of the assembly or legislature of London on certain davs. _ examining its content*. But William pushed him impatiently away and closed the lid with a bang. "So," he said, "poking and prying and asking questions. I thought as much He's a scoundrelly vagabond." "Very well," said Brinkley. we will get on." "Then "No, he ain't," said Matt. "He's a wrecker, he is!" •r •" He removed from his easel and carefully covered the portrait upon which lie had been working. Then he put up a fresh cardboard, and sat down, inviting Matt to do the same. Georgie—Neither one. I took it when ghe wasn't lookin.—Chicago Inter Ocean. "PTTIX A WAT, MATT," iAID TKM. MAN. "Theer, enough o' that, old 'unl You hold the light while I carry the box is and put it away." "No, he ain't," said Matt, bluntly. "A what?" exclaimed Brinkley. low and narrow; the hair coarse and sandy; the beard coarser and sandier still. lie might have been about fifty "Matt, my girl," said Mr. Monk, taking no notice of her interruption, "I want you to promise me something." "A wrecker," continued Matt, as if wrecking was the most natural occupation in the world. Brinkley looked at her, imagining that she must be practicing some wild joke. He had certainlv heard of wreckers, but he had * No Place For Exercise. First Little Boy—Has you folks got • piano lamp? Second Little Boy—No. First Little Boy—Wat do you do w'en you wants to climb?—Good News. Forebodings, The glorious fair has passed away; No ehance remains to doubt it; But still we'll dread for many a day iTh« books they'll write about it. - Washington Star. years of age. His dress was curious, After examining these articles one consisting of a yellow sou'wester, a by one William Jones threw them back «uUr Of K*am*n's coarse canvas trousers to the box with gestures of distrust. "All right, William dear—all right," returned the old man, obeying gleefully. "I know'd we should have luck, bv that beautiful dream." "What is it?" "Not to go near that painter again!" Matt shook her head. With the disappearance of the Sivpday clothes the girl's stiffness seemed