The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on July 22, 1891 · Page 5
Get access to this page with a Free Trial
Click to view larger version

The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 5

Publication:
Location:
Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, July 22, 1891
Page:
Page 5
Cancel
Start Free Trial

Page 5 article text (OCR)

OOPYftlOHT BY AMERICAN PRESS ASSOCIATION, 1801. rific concussions; now all motion ceased, wa f ta , deaf «ning hiss of steam. # W, breezeblew on hl <» fft <* elt H 10 rnin fallift g- A dark, i m « M loomed 'Usttnctly between aud the sky; and now he heard of PART TWO-TREASURE. CHAPTER VI. TWO DESPERADOES. It will be remembered that the jury adjudged Keppel Darke guilty of murder in the second degree-perhaps to fortify I their consciences against tho phantom of I & man with tho hair on Ms face I The public-so far as the newspapers rep- Jk |g f»i resented it-professed itself satisfied with •^*the sentence of imprisonment for life in F Sing Sing. The prisoner himself, however, was ungrateful enough to declarw himself highly discontented; and Olympia Raven, who contrivod,.iu spite of her mother's protestations, to gain access to the prison before he left New York, said to him words which lie never forgot, and which made him resolve never to give tip the hope of freedom. "Keppel," she Baid, "I know you are innocent. I promise to love you always and never to marrv any man but you." The authorities were very proud of tho celerity winch had characterized their conduct of the case from the beginning Instead of lingering along for two or three years they had their man convicted in three or four months. It was a lovely day in summer when sentence was pronounced, and in order to maintain their good record they arranged to dispatch the prisoner to Sing Sing that night. At sunset a heavy thunderstorm sprang up, and instead of clearing away after an hour or two fresh battalions of clouds gathered as darkness fell, and the elec- 1 trical flashes and detonations shivered 1 and resounded through the heavens. The I! tram with Keppel on board started from JL the station in the midst of a drenchinK ^B fain. ^B Keppel sat in the car next the baggage •F Oar. Frank Monroe, the detective who W had arrested him, sat in the seat by his side. His left wrist was fastened to the right wrist of the officer by the handcuffs. Another officer sat in the seat in front of him. There were about twenty other passengers in the car; but few or none of them were aware that Keppel Was a prisoner— still less that he was the famous murderer of Harry Trent. Most of them began to bo sleepy after half an hour or so and disposed themselves as comfortably as they could for a nap. Even the detective's eyes were and aimless. One wom- was siS? 8 ^ 10 J ct ' d . Piercingly and then was silent He lay in the midst of bewilderment, ruin and death. His arm was paining him. He changed his position so as to relax tho strain upon i*. His wrist was still chained to that of the officer, and was bleeding. He spoke to the man but got no answer; he was lying in a strangely twisted attitude, his head was bent into his breast. Keppel seized him by the shoulder; tho , -- 'j-iwutuci, IHU II1UU 8 head swung over loosely to the fight; his TiPi'lr ttfuo [i*iy.l. A .~ . i .. ' _ ' neck was broken; he was quite dead. Keppel got on his feet, standing on the side of the car. His eyeg becoming accustomed to the darkness discovered the feet of another man protruding upward from a mass of debris. Jn sfc then a flash so in this country; and as to Europe-It was better to select some other profession. Yet what profession could bring the immediate returns that were necessary? Robbery was the only one, and there were objections to that! How was he to procure the means of buying his A sudden thought caused him to search the pockets of his coat and waist- heavy, and he kept himself awake only by a vigorous chewing of tobacco. But Keppol was not sleepy in the least. He felt as if he should never sleep again. He reviewed in his mind all the incidents of the last throe months. A silent passion of rago and rebellion seized upon him. He felt that to gain liberty he Would do murder a hundred times over. He was at deadly war with the world; it had taken from him without justification everything that he held dear. No nable retaliation on his part could be too great. But he was absolutely helpless. He was chained to his captor, and in little more than an hour he would be between walls that he could never scale. The rain dashed against the win- that of the other officer" His body was crushed to a pulp by the ragged end of a broken beam. Keppel waited a rn^nimt to colloct his thoughts. In the midst of the horror and chaos surrounding him a spasm of hope and joy caught his heart and he laughed aloud. Hi B brain became in an instant protornaturaUy cleftr; he saw what lie must do, and realized that no tune was to be lost in doing it. Stooping over the body of the detective, he felt in the pockets of his clothes, and in a initiate found a key—the key that unlocked the handcuffs. He applied it; the n*xt moment ho was free But he was not safe yet; there could bo no safety as long as there remained any probability of pursuit. Kepp 3 l look.-1 around him. Wedged between two seats on tho o:>- posite side of the aisle, which in the present position of tho car was on an i-.- clined plane above him, was a body whose right arm, hanging downward was within Keppel's reach as he stood! He took hold of the hand; it was limp and Clammy—the hand of a corpse. Bracing his feet against some fragments of wreck, he grasped the body round the waist and dragged it from its position. It was, as he had surmised, that of the young man in whom he had fancied a resemblance to himself. He had been killed by amass of metal, which had struck him in the face, crushing in the features and the front of the brain. Except that the countenance was thus rendered utterly unrecognizable, the body seemed uninjured. Keppel chuckled. "You have died to save me," he said, "at the right moment and in the right way. May your soul have peace, brother." As quickly as possible he the dead man's coat and and removed waistcoat ,.~,..w_ >4QV««A*LJW 1/11W (1 1H~ flows; the lightning glared through the darkness. Oh, if heaven would but send & bolt to. shatter his fetters and set him free! His eyes, wandering about the car, be- t?ame fixed upon a young man who was seated in the next seat forward, on the other side of the aisle. It struck him that this young man bore a considerable *esemblanco to himself. He was tall and rather slender, and had long dark hair that hung down on the back of his neck. His hands were slender, with long pointed fingers. The face was scarcely like his; the nose was different, and there was a slight mustache on the upper lip. His coat, too, instead of being black, like Keppel's, was a gray summer tWeed. He sat in the corner of the seat by the window, with his head thrown back, asleep, How careless and secure he looked, He had a happy life before htm, There were no fetters round his Vnristfl; no gloomy jail to shut Out forever the smile of the world and the companionship of men. But for the accursed blind fate that makes the innocent suffer for the guilty, so might Keppel have been Bitting at that moment. He ground hia teeth together and a sweat broke out ou his forehead. V shock 'jarreft next jnomeqfc big left exchanged them for his own putting the latter upon the corpse. Then, drawing the lifeless arm into a suitable position, he passed the free handcuff round the wrist and sprung the lock. The body was now chained to that of the dead detective. "You must submit to be mistaken for a murderer my good fellow," he muttered. "You will never know it; and, besides, I am innocent—if that is any consolation to you. So now—goodby!" Clambering out of the wreck, he stood upon the track beside the shattered tram. He could raguely see people moving about or standing in groups. The noise of escaping steam had ceased, but the groans of the wounded and dying passengers could still be heard intermix tently. A figure approached him carrying a lantern. It vras one of the brakemen. "Are you hurt, sir?" he said, pausing, "Only a few bruises," replied Keppel "But I believe most of the others in our car were killed. And, by the way, there was one odd thing"—"What was that, sir?" "Why, there was a prisoner aboard— he was handcuffed to an officer—they were taking him to Sing Sing, I suppose." "Why, that was the fellow that killed Harry Trent! What became of him?" "I was sitting in the seat next him. He's lying there stone dead, and the detective's with him. His life imprisonment didn't last long!" "Dead, is he?" said the brakeman. "Well, if I was he, I'd rather be killed in a moment in a railway accident than live fifty years in a prison. Some said though, that ho never murdered Trent* But I guess he got his deserts." "No doubt of it. Well, good night. I shall walk on to Tarrytown." "Goodnight, sir." Keppel stepped off up the track. He had no settled plan of flight,.but so long as he did not meet any one who knew him ho felt little or no apprehension. In the belief of the world, tomorrow morning he would be dead; his obituary would be read in the papers by millions of people, Nevertheless, it behooved him to keep out of sight, and as soon as might be, to make whatever changes were possible in his personal appearance. He would cut his hair—he might be able to bleach it, perhaps—he would Jet his beard grow. He must move out of the country too; if he pquld contrive to get to Europe so inuch the better. He must take another name, nod look forward to a life under totally changed conditions, A new life, a lonely life. Henceforth all ™ old ftiends "and acquaintances were bjs deadliestenewiea, AUbutpqaf Olympia had said that she believed ia him, that she loved hioj a^J would marry none but him. Aye, b.u,t she, with the rest of the world, would now tbiuk of ~ ' coat-the garments which he had taken from the dead man. There were papers and letters, and in tho right hand pocket of the waistcoat there waa a small roll of bills—four or five in all. It was too dark to discern the denominations, but there could not be less than five dollars. It was enough for the present; and indeed Keppel, who still had some traditions of conscience left, was glad it was not more. Nobody could feel the loss of so small a sum, audit was of disproportionate value to Keppel himself. He now left the track and turned off to the eastward. The rain gradually cleared and the stars came out. Guiding himself by them, Keppel walked on and on, now clambering over steep acclivities, now plunging into hollows, now toiling over plowed meadows, forcing his way through bits of woodland, stealing past farm houses, where dogs barked and cocks crowed, but occasionally coming upon a stretch of road that went his way. Presently the short night wore away and dawn began to appear. Keppel halted and spent half an hour in removing the stains of mud from his clothing and making himself look as presentable as possible. His left arm pained him severely, but he tbougjit himself lucky in having no bones broken. In one of his now pockets he found a penknife, and with this, as well as he could, he cut his hair short. In a couple of weeks his beard would have begun to grow, and he would be tolerably disguised. He now proceeded slowly, for he was very tired, and also sleepy aud hungry. He had walked more than twenty miles. At length, as the sun rose, he saw, half a mile off, a railway cutting extending toward a small town. Thither he directed his steps, but lingered on the outskirts for an hour or two until the townspeople should be awake. Finally he heard a train coming, an8 managed to reach the station lit the same time that the engine drew up at the platform. Then, as it steamed away again he walked into the town, as if just arrived from New York, and seeing a plain but comfortable looking inn near at hand, he entered and asked for a room and some breakfast. While his eggs and coffee were being boiled he locked himself into his room to think over his situation. But the future was so vague that he was able to oome to no conclusion. As soon as hia money should be gone he would be at the mercy of circumstances. He examined again the contents of his pockets. There were eight dollars in money, two or _ three letters addressed to Burton Fairfax, Esq., of Poughkeepsie, a coirple of receipted bills, and nothing else—except a cutting from a newspaper, hfaded "Some Developments of the Trent Murder," which Keppel proceeded to read with interest. Its date was apparently of the day previous: "The will of the late Harry Trent was discovered yesterday in a package of documents left by him in a bureau drawer at the Bellevue hotel, in Philadelphia. He spent the night of February twenty-second last at this place, and seems to have forgotten to take the documents away with him. The will is dated February twenty, eighteen hundred and seventy, and is very short, devising all his property, real and personal, to 'my wife, Sarah Althea Trent.' It is properly signed and attested.. This will be of interest to those who ventured to express doubts as to the genuineness of the marriage announced in court last Tuesday by Mrs. Trent—until then known as Mrs. Sallie Matchin. Mr. Trent at all events appears to have shared her opinion regarding its validity. The other documents in the package were not of an important character. "It will be noticed that no provision is made in the will for Mrs. Raven and her daiighter Olympia, who are understood to have been distantly related to tho deceased, and to have been receiving from him an annual stipend of some eight thousand dollars. This fact will probably occasion some, comment, as it was intimated at the late trial that Mr. Trent had proposed to make Miss Raven his wife. Possibly the desire that he should make such a proposal was father to the statement that he had done so. His will seems to show not only the baselessness of the assertion, but that for some reason or other Mr. Trent intended in the future to let these two ladies take care of themselves. It is to be hoped that they possess independent resources. "In Mr. Trent's breast pocket at the time of his death was found a letter written in cipher, the purport of which was not made out. It was not produced at the trial, as the prosecution was not of the opinion that it could throw any light on the case. It is now published Wfl8 P 0 ^ 1 " 1688 to render her any assistance. The situation greatly perplexed him; for Harry Trent had told him with his own lips that he intended reserving lilttfM+'vl ft £,.•*, 1. * „ «* - * • . . "-* however, in the hope that some cipher expert may be able to elucid > ':e it, and thus, perhaps, furnish an explanation of some pf the mysterious circumstances «W Wt surround Mr. Trent's tragic end. The letter j s as follows: J?p, it -memory and love aud the «est, But what if he should sen<J her a sear e,t msa- sage or sign informing her of £ He paused in his waft to reflect. would not do, as the message mi awl, if not, wh«| arajj to She could not $s~- x - LJ L not get married ~> know that '$lmpj p,npi. Cq gnl F. pil pink mlhc? npi. E. rnkpi 0, Khnh F, piou S B qkng F. qlm B\kq p, S hupi, F, Q ilg qolg o luho. F, Mpgl. o <>kiq ,pl»no S, Iwni C. oingk. F h}nnj F. mlgi , <nlo. F, oini 0 ngU mkqu V on m ^ F ' pghq rnkqn 0. ngoi, F, iuiqg E lipg which this, appears to bf go 0 E __ - - --- -.«WV«»V*VVA AVsQCJL » AlAtJ Olympia for himself, and he had given it out publicly that Mrs. and Miss Haven were to live with him in his new house, yet ho was married to Sally Matchin at that very time, and five days before had executed a will cutting off Olympia without even the proverbial shilling. There was something odd about this; it demanded investigation. The first thing to be done was to find out the real mur-. derer of Harry Trent; the remainder of the mystery would probably resolve itself. But who would find the murderer out? Obviously, no one would concern himself about the matter unless Keppel himself did, and certainly he was in no position to enter upon such a quest at present. He could only promise himself that he would never forget the purpose to do so, nor rest until it h a d been accomplished. As for the cipher, although Keppel was somewhat of an adept at cryptic writing, he soon perceived that here was a problem out of the common run. It did not respond to the usual tests. Thus, of the seventeen different characters (commas and periods included) that composed it, three occurred six times or less, seven from twelve to twenty-nine times, and seven from thirty to forty times. Plainly, therefore, they could not be signs answering to letters of the alphabet. Again, the cipher consisted of groups of four characters (neither more nor less) and of single capitals. Of the four character combinations— over sixty in all- only seven occurred more than once in the course of the composition. Of the separate, capitals jf occurred twenty-two times, O seventeen times, B six, S five and B four times. All this was very puzzling, and was to be elucidated, if at all, only after prolonged study, of which KeppeFs-lnain, at that juncture, was far from being capable. Meanwhile the housemaid knocked at the door and summoned him to breakfast. He replaced the. cipher in his pocket and went down. After eating heartily he went back to his room and slept till the middle of the afternoon. Thon, after dining, he took the road again, and in the course of a couple of hours arrived at a town on the chores of Long Island sound. On the wharf a couple otf men were just preparing to put out in a catboat. Keppel asked them whither they were bound. "To Port Jeffecson," one of them answered. , "W&at will you ask for setting me across?" inquired Keppel. "How do es a dollar strike you?" '"Done!" said Keppel, and he got on board. He had no idea why he was going to Port. JeSerson, but he felt impelled to go somewhere, and thought he would feel more secure in the comparative wilder- VBSS of Long Island than in a large town. Perhaps he might get temporary employment with some farmer, or he might find a captain of a fishing smack to ship him for a cruise, . When he was a boy in New England he had lived near flie seashore and had learned how to sail a boat. The wind blew from the southwest, and the cafcboat started out on the starboard tack, headed nearly for her destination. In two hours the coast was close on board; f3iey ran into the harbor, and Keppel, haying paid his dollar, jumped ashore. It was then within an hour or so of sunset— a warm, quiet evening. He set out to walk rtf haphazard, and soon found himself following; a imrrow track through an apparently interminable growth of small pi'me and oak. Once in awhile ho passei a lonely farmhouse; but though he vras getting tired and hungry again he could not make up his mind to ask for: shelter. Night came on and found him still tramping onward, -with woods on either hand. But as the darkness increased the paih seemed to fade away and become obliterated, and ho was soon stomlfliBg through, thick underbrush. The boughs and tw%3 whipped his face and Ithe briars caught his feet. Staggering forward, exhaus ted and impatient, he fcjlt his feet sinking in a muddy ooze, and discovered thasfc he was on the borders of a swamp. , He turned to the right and.^ began to rfdrfl along its borders; but again, and again be narrowly escaped plunging neck ant ears in the treacherous morass. Fro js croaked on all sides ftnfl mosquitoes bt zzed around his head. H/J lost all sense of lirection, and thought only of putting on > foot before the other. Often he fell, but scrambled up again and groped om\ -ar I. Whichever way he turned tho swa tnj seemed to lie in wait for him. He th oujht: "It will swallow me up in the em 1! f And it was for this that I escaped ft t» a the railroad wreck!" Just then ho situojbled up a slope, and his feet trod OK. firmer ground, The bushep and trees iaiinnedaway, Looking up he saw before him a black, rectangu- larmass. He drewjnearer; itwasahouso. in the windows. It deserted. But it was and would suffice. 3 corner and found this hand, He envy along the parti- i another door on h e saw a gleam of ;cv > in front of him. u» had crossed the floor and was st?,nqidj[ r on the threshold of an inner roor^i. 1 There was ? 4 low >ed against the opposite. wall ^.t its b ad stood a table, on which was a ligh e£ candle aud some small bpttf . es . The J unrifcwe of i ke room was, wrefr ;hed in th i extreme aud the at- mosphesTf j foul and ti fling. On tb a bed was ptietohed the gaunt figure of a man, who, as appeared, taiijed himself with on him. He seemed all skin and bone; Ws hair grew disorderly on his forehead, and the lower part of his face was covered with a three weeks' stubble of fed beard. His skin was dark yellow, his lips black and parched. Keppel had never seen the yellow fever, but he perceived that the man was dying. He had arrived at this deserted spot in time to behold the curse of Maurice Solange fulfilled upon the thief who had betrayed him. ^^ (To he Continued.) Hr-Back chapters of this story will bo fiiv- siipply lastl °" r Sllbscrlbcrs as Io "g «• "'e >• <«» ^~If you want an unflavored cigar, smoke the Sweets. For sale at Ladendoril's. THE NEW One day last week Babe was a-setten' in my lap, and I was tellin' her a story. I had jest got to the thrillin' part of it, when the good little boy, who always minded his ma, had a hull pail of red apples gin to him. And Babe was a- lookin' up into my faco with her big, blue gray eyes a-shinin' and her golden yellow hair a-fallin' back from her little eager, happy, upturned face. When all of a sudden the kitchen door opened and Miss Pixley came in, and before she had been there some time she says to Babe, a-winkin' to me at the same time: "Your nose is broke now, young lady!' Babe put her little fingers up to her nose and felt of it, and I winked to Miss Pixley to not say no more, for I knew what she meant; I knew she meant that Thomas Jefferson's little new baby would crowd Babo, our Tirzeh Ann's little daughter, out of our hearts. But Miss Pixley went right on. She is an old maiden, and has had five disappointments, and some say seven, and they have embittered her, and says she to Babe: "Little Snow, the new baby will take your place now in Grandma's heart." Babe looked troubled; on her smooth little brow I could see fall the first faint shadow of that great black shape that we call jealousy. Her big, sweet eyes looked as if they was cloudin' up nicely for tears. And I wunk severer and more vigelent winks than I had wunk before at Miss Pixley to stop! If ever a wink spoke them did, to stop immegidly! But she kept right on. Poor creeter, I spoze them disappointments was the cause on't. She kep right on, and ses she: "You won't be grandma's baby any more now; she has got somebody else to love now." And then the cloud did break into a rainfall of tears. Babe jest bust out a-cryin', and snuggled down into my arms, and laid her wet cheeks on my bosom through the force of old custom, and, anon! (how much like older human creeters accordin' to her size) she drew her head away as if sayin': "I can't lay my head tl»ere any more; if the love has gone out of the heart it won't rest me nor comfort me no more to lay there." And pride woke up in her; she was too proud to make a fuss, or beg for love. How much, how much like big children! ' There was no light seemed ruinous anc a human habitatic He passed around the door; it yielded 1 tered, and felt his < tion of the hallway j the left. Passing: light through a en In another moment]] <Wffi<y olty on his left ri g« t hand leveled i to* dsr. The glare w js appalling, and |g hand shook so that ef. pistol waveret "Halt! or I shoot Strong foreign acce itr, "Don't shoot!" his hand, eltww, and with his revolver at the in- of hja sunken eyes from side to side. said, with a crjjpd Keppel, lifting B0 harm, I'm and hunger. I So she sot up'kinder straight in my lap, with her pretty lips a quiverin', and the tears a-runnin' down her cheeks. And I riz right up with Babe in my arms and went out of the room pretty quick, but not vigelent. Josiah was there. I wouldn't misuse Miss Pixley owin' to the six or seven things mentione :". by me prior and before this. But I felt that I must make it right with Babe that very minute. I knew how ohe felt— wounded love and pride and jealousy, etc., etc., etc. I knew that a few syllables of about the hardest lessons of life had come to Babe, and I must help her spell 'em; I must help her with her lesson. So I took her right into the parlor and set down with her in the big chair, and never said a word for a minute or two, only held her clost to me and kissed the shinin' hair that lay up against my cheek. She a-strugglin' at first; jealousy and pride a-naggin' her; and she at first a-not bein' able to hear any voices, only jest them of jealousy and pride— jest like older children exactly. But after awhile, I held her so warm and stiddy, with my cheek a-layin' on the pretty head, the stiddy, firm clasp and contact sort o' calmed her, and then, anon, she drew one little arm up round my neck, and anon the other one, and I looked down deep into her eyes, right into the little true soul, ciul that little true soul saw the truth in mine. Words couldn't have convinced Babe so well as that look that she had learnt to depend on. Love has a language that though maybe it can't be exactly parsed and analyzed, yet it can be understood exactly, entirely understood, and Babe see that I loved her. And then was the time that that sweet little creeter put up her arms and kissed me, and I says sort o' low like, but very tender: "Sweetheart, you know jest how much I love you, don't you?" And then I kissed her several times in various places on her face, every one on 'em sweet places. And then I went on and talked dretf ul good to Babe about the new baby. I confided in her, told her all about how the little new soul had come, unknown to itself, here into a great, strange world, bow helpless it waz, how weak, and how we must all help it, and try to make it teel itself at at home amongst us. And I tried to explain it to her— how that as she had come first she owed a courtesy to the newcomer, and that she must be ready and wiffin' to neighbor Wth her. I didn't use jest those words, out them was my idees. I told her how blind the little creeter was, and Babe, if only ost of must try to see for her, lead walk, and Babe must yo nhenit o' ftw and make a, goodTpath for hop to follow When she got big enough. I told hot jest how hard it was for the little creeter to be put here in the midst of sorrow and troubled and dangers, and how we must all of ns be jest as good to her as we could out of pity for the dear little lonesome creeter. So I roused up Babe's pity fpjf her, and she was all animated about helpin' 6f her; and then I told her the. baby baa come to be a great blessin' and comfort to her if she was only patient and good to her. And, don't you see, the very fact of Babe havin' to do a kindness to Snow, bav- in' to do good things for her, was the safest way of makin'her love her, for it is a great fact in our human nature that yott can't love 'em that you have injured in any way. And at the same time, if you have ever been good to anybody you air ways feel softer towards 'em ever after- Wards and more mellerer. Curius, ain't it? •-'! But it is a fact. ••-. ' And I spoze the reason of it is that you have sort o' lowered yourself in your own estimation by doin' a mean, unkind act, and so, in order to satisfy your mental criticism o' yourself, to make it right with your own soul, you lay hold and bring tip all the faults you can, of that person to justify your own act. And BO you keep on that mental naggin' at 'em; that uncomfortable sort of a feelin 1 towards 'em makes you restless and uneasy, and you feel glad and relieved every time you stand justified to your consciousness by ketchin''em in a badaci Haint it so? Now, honestly', haint it? Why, I know it is, and so I made sure that Babe should begin right. For if you do a good, helpful, thing'for a person your hull soul feels comfortable, and you bring up unconscious mental reasonin's why you did it; it was because they were so good, so. smart, etc., etc. And so you keep on a feelin'good and comfortable, and yon keep'on a prtfvin' up to your own self, till you get fairly in love with 'em. Bless you if you don't! A very curious thing. But the way I do, when I get holt of a strange fact Or truth, I don't expect to explain it'full to myself before I act on't. . •> . . No, I grasp holt of it and use it for my own then, and afterward wonder at it to my heart's content. ' ' So Babe got to thinkin' she was necessary to little Snow's happiness, and that tickled her little self esteem, jest es if she was a older child, only accordin* to her weight. . : She got to thinkin'she must watch over her or she would get hurt, which called out all the good protector's motherly impulses of her little soul which was m her—still accordin' to her weight, forty pounds more or less., And day by, day Babe.'s love for.: the little creeter grew till it was fairly beautiful to see 'em together, and so Josiah said, and Thomas J. said so, and Tirzeh Ann and Maggie and Wbitfield. And as for Miss Pixley, I thought to myself, disappointments or not, I have got to give her a talkin' to. and the very next time I see her. She had gone when Babe and I went out of the parlor—the Babe with happy bright eyes and I with kinder thoughtful, pityin 1 ones, and all four on 'em kinder wet. But the next time I see Miss Pixley alone I tackled her, and she as good as promised me she wouldn't .ever say to any woman's child : what she had said to Babe. And I don't believe she will either, for she's got good in her. She haint such a bad creeter after all, and, good land! what can you expect?7r- seven, right along, one after the other!— Josiah Allen's Wife in Ladies' Home Journal. ••.••>.> DO YOU WANT IT? ANOTHER PREMIUM. We have just completed amujgtf- ments with the NorthwesternTublisU- ing Company, of Chicago, by which we can furnish to every subscriber of REPUBLICAN a copy of the •• LIFE OF qgN, SHERMAN at a low figure. The book contains pages, is finely illustrated, substanti» ally bound in cloth, and will he given to subscribers of the BueyuwCAN for W, or a year's subscription to the BJJ, J-UUUCAN aud toe Ufa of ISherinan &# $2-50. Sample copy of the book inay be seen at Bjsi'uuwcAN office. Orders taken for future delivery. The yeg^ iar price of this book is 93, Thia pjtejp is for new as well as •' - -* ~

Get full access with a Free Trial

Start Free Trial

What members have found on this page