The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

159 "l ~<_ We 1)"; our gri we oldd ones. and Lays a ‘ we ha 3 bat '\ 2t 1 On this, the firpt of January of the m 1851, the mneteenth century h” cached its midway term, and many of I: who shared its youth have already '3' ‘7ngs which tail us that it has out- ‘<. We pi: our grizzled heads we older ones, and we talk of ' we have known; .. -’nys 1 bat 1 it is with our $7 L .. ‘ v.3 .' ?< a hard matter .6 . ‘3. i: 1!“ ": $3.: - : VP and our -"- “Hers bcz‘un- n: -' , the same ,z- » but the' 33". .\ "my trains g 7’: $22 ' ‘11.: \ 5:2 _: ' differ- 351‘ '5‘: - u. out . . I “ ,'. :‘ncy an: @auadifljfifi read ;- fi ”333) ... . ‘\ of two a". 913% yn-nrs with t and all n ‘ ‘ . 7 freedom fled ,1: ;:.. - 3’29" ‘. Ml ent. and 110% Ne! . “ V' , and Pitt’s noble mun; v. 01:91] h striving that she should nut ”us as hr ever to take remgo with our Mothers urea the Atlantic. All this they can load, with the date of this treaty or flat battle, but I do not know where they are to road of ourselves, of the forks we were. and the lives we led, and how the world seemed to our eyes when they were young as theirs are now. . ,n __-.. -knuf Lflt'j \VL'lC .vuuuh a.) |llVl~y .u- _. If I take up my pen to tell you about this, you must not look for any story at my hands, for I was only in my earli- est manhood when these things befell; and although I saw something of the stories or other lives, 1 could scarce claim one of my own. It is the love of i a woman that makes the story or a man. l and many a year was to pass before I 1 first looked into the eyes of the mother ‘ of my children. To us it seems but an affair of yesterday. and yet those child- ren can now reach the plums in the, garden whilst we are seeking for a lad- ‘ der. and where We once walked with‘ their little hands in ours. we are glad : now to lean upon their arms. But I i shall speak of a time when the love of a mother was the only-«love I knew. and if you seek for something more then it is not for you that I write. But if yo“ would come out with me into that for. gotten world; if you would know Boy “in; and Champion Harrison; if ye“ would meet my father. one or Nelson’s own men : it you would catch a glimpse of that great seamau himself, and of George. afterwards the unworthy Kin: of England; it, above all. you would see my famous uncle, Sir Charles Tre- gellis, the King of the Bucks, and the great fighting men whose names are still household words amongst you, then give me your hand and let us start. But I must warn you also that, it you think you will find much that. is of in- terest in your guide. you are destined to disappointment. \Vhen I look over my bookshelves, I can see that it is only the wise and witty and valiant who have Jentured to write down their experi- ences. For my own part, it I were only assured that l was as clever and brave as the average man about me, 1 should be well satisfied. Men of their hands have thought well of my brains. and men of brains of my hands. and that is the best that I can say or my- self. Savo in the one matter of havm: in inborn readiness for music, so that the mastery of any instrument comes very easily and natural‘ly to me, I can- not recall any single advantage that I. can boast over my fellows. In all things I have been a hall-way man, for I am .1 middle height. my eyes are neither “Reprinted by pemhaion' from the'illustnted edition published in Bell's Indian sud Colonitl Libmy, by the Coup Chrk Co.. Ltd. mmmmrfiomm Nomfl Nevetakuo, at middle height, my eyes are neither blue nor grey, and my hair, before Na- ture dusted it with her powder, was he- twixt flaxen and brown. I may, per- haps, claim this: that through life I have never felt a touch of jealousy as l have admired a better man than myself, and that I have always seen all things as they are, myself included. which should _count in my favor, now that 1 it down in my mature age to write my memories. With your permission, then, we willpush my own personality as tar as possible out of the picture. I! on can conceive me as a thin and color ess cud upon which my would-be pearls are strung. you will be accepting me upon the terms that I should wish. Our sandy, the Stones. have for many mentions belonged to the navy, and it been a custom among us for the fled: son to take the name of his rath- a’a favourite commander. Thus we can our lineage back to old Vernon who commanded a high-sterned. weed, fifty-gun 3111;) against the . Through Hawke Stone and Ben- how Stone we came down to my f:z!her. Anon Stone. who in his turn cl-mtencd Rodney, at the parish church of St. “on” at Portsmouth in the year of pace 1786. Oatamywindowaslwritelcan me my on: great lad in the garden. and I I ”30.6“! «ant New 1’: {2“ 2‘1‘!‘ u l m w u-u u... ..--.,.._ - v v__ . that I have been true to the tad:- ot our “nib. My dear mother, the best that ever men had, was the second dau hter of Reverend John Tregellis. lea: of ton, which is a small parish upon the lush“ of Langstone. She came of n :0? family, but one of some position. 1- her elder brother was the famous Chsrles Tregcllis, who, havin in- ted the money or s wealthy t n nerehsnt, hecune in time the ink of the town-Ind the very particular d of the Pnnce or Wales. 0: him hall have more to say hereafter ; but M will note now that he was my own uncle, nnd brother to my mother. ‘ ’, FRIDAY. SEPT 24,18W GHAP TER I. ,. Conan Doyle. ads :Y‘ wear: :n‘s WA y can .ul .3313 (:ken \‘S ‘18 _:_____â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"' I can remember her all 'through her beautiful life, for she was but a girl when she married, and little more when I can first recall her busy fingers and her gentle voice. I see her as a lovely woman with kind, dove’s eyes, somewhat short of stature it is true, but carrying herself very bravely. In my memories of those days she is clad always in some purple shimmering stntf, with a white kerchief round her long white neck, and I see her fingers turning and darting as she works at her knitting. I see her again in her middle years, sweet and loving. planning, contriving, achieving with the few shillings a day of a lien- tenant's pay on which to support the cottage at Friar’s Oak, and to keep a fair face to the world. And now, if 1 do but step mto the parlor, I can see her once more, with over eighty years of saintly life behind her, silver-haired. placid-faced. with her dainty-ribboned esp, her gold-rimmed glasses and her woolly shawl with the blue border. I loved her young and I love her old. aml when she goes she will take something with her which nothing in the world can ever make good to me again. You may have many friends, you who read this, and you may chance to marry more than once, but your mother is your first and your last. Cherish her, then, whilst you may, for the day Will come when every hasty deed or heedleSS word will come back with its sting to hire in your own heart. Such then, was my mother ; and as to my father, I can describe him best when I come to the time when he returned to us from the Mediterranean. During all my childhood he was only a name to me. and a face in a miniature hung around my mother‘s neck. At first they told mshn was fighting the French, and then after" 'some years one heard less about the French and more about General Buonaparte. I remember the awe With which one day in Thomas Street, Ports- mouth, I saw a print of the great Corsi- can in a bookseller’s window. This, then, was the arch enemy with whom my father spent his life in terrible and ceaseless contest. To my childish im- agination it was a personal affair, and I forever saw my father and this clean- sharen, thin-lipped man swaying and reeling ‘in a deadly, year-long grapple. It was not until I went to grammar school that I understood how many other little boys there were whose fathers were in the same case. - m_-_- 1:: m" in HR: adult: Lam. Only once in those long years did my father return home, which will show you what it meant to be the wife of a sailor in thOse days. It was just after we had moved from Portsmouth to Fr!- nr‘s Oak, whither he came for a. week before he set sail with Admiral Jervifi to help him to turn his name into 1.30“? St. Vincent. I remember that he finish? ened as well as fascinated me With his talk of battles, and I can recall as it ‘ -' ‘ ~-â€"-â€" â€"1 I- mkhoh tulk OI: Datues, uuu L “n. “-m. r- . it were yesterday the horror with which I gazed upon a spot of blood upon his shirt mflle, which hm: come, as I hnve no doubt. frog: 9. mischancg in shaving. 7â€"-A.-_-.a 6|... {1- no (10110:, 11'0“: u. imam-um... .. At the time I never questioned that it had spurted from some stricken French- {min or Spaniard. d I shrank from him in terror when he laid his horny hand upon my head. My mother went piti- fully when he was (one, but for my own part I was not sorry to see his blue back and white shorts going down the garden walk, for I felt, with the heedleu sel- fishness of a child, that we were closer tafether, she and I, when we were alone. was in my eleventh year when we moyed from Portsmouth to Friur's Oak. a. litttle Sussex village to the north of Brighton, which was recommended to us by my uncle, Sir Charles Tregellis, one of whose grand friends, Lord Avon, had had his seat near there. The reason of our moving was that living was cheaper in the country, and that it was eas‘er for my mother to keep up the appear- ance of a gentlewoman when away from the circle of those to whom she could not refuse hospitality. They were trying times those to all save the farmers. who made such profits that they could. as l have heard, afford to set half their land lie fallow, while living like gentlemen upon the rest. Wheat was at a hundred and ten shillings a. quarter, and the quar- tern loaf at two and ninepenee. Even in the quiet of the cottage ot Friur‘s Oak we could scarce have lived. were it u. n..-+ :n ma hinnkndine suuadron in Frinr's Oak is in a. dip of the Downs. and tho forty-third milestone between London and Bri hton lies on the skirt or the village. t is but a small place, with an ivch church a. fine Vicarage, and a row of red brick cottngen each in its own little den. At one end was flge forge 0! amnion Harrison, with hrs house behind it, and at the other was Mr. Allen': school. The yellow comfe. standing back a little from the road, w th in upper storey bulging forward end a. crisscross or black woodwork let into the llpuu ulc scan ......._- .V and ten shillings a quarter, and the quar- tern loaf at two and nmepence. Even in the quiet of the cottage ot Friarjs Oak we could scarce haye lived. were it not that in the blockadmg squadron in which my father was stationed there was the occasional chance of a little prize-money. The line-ot-batnle ships themselves, tacking on and 01f outside Brest, could earn nothing save honor: but the frigates in attendance made prizes of many coasters, and these. as is the rule of the service, were counted as belonging to the fleet, and their produ '0 divided into head-money. In this man- ner my father was able to send home enough to keep the cottage and to pay for me at the day school of Mr. Joshm Allen. where for four years I learned all that he had to teach. It was at Allen‘s school that I first knew Jim Harrison. Boy Jim as he has always been called. the nephew of Chan: ion Harrison of !'»n vmmm smithv. can see him as Iur “\lru-" '- v...__ 7 :‘m village smithy. f can see him as he was ' those days with great, floun- deringfilt-formed limbs like a. New- foundi puppy. and a face that not every man's head round as he passed her. It was in those days that we be- gan our lifelong friendship, a friendship which still in our waning yous binds as closely as two brothers. I taught him his exercises, for he never loved the sight of a book. and he in turn made me box and wrestle, tickle trput on the Adar, and snare rabbits on Ditchiing‘ Down. for his hands were as active as his brain was slow. He was two years my older however, no that, lonv before I had fin shed my Ichoollnz, he had gone tojelp hi1; uncle at then-mithy. .n ALâ€" “-__- r THE CANADIAN POST. coachmen. with their low-crowed? curly- brimmed hats. and their faces as scarlet as their coats. The passengers used to laugh when Boy Jim shouted at them. but if they could hav e read his big, half- set limbs and his loose shoulders aright. they would have looked _a little harder at him. perhaps, and given him back his cheer. Boy Jim had never known a father or a mother. and his whole life had been spent with his uncle. Chamr‘ion Harn- son. Harrison was the riar's Oak blacksmith. and he had his nickname be- cause he fought Tom Johnson when he held the English belt, and would most certainly have beaten him had the Bed- tordshire magistrates not appeared to break up the fight. For years there was no such glutton to take pnnishmenhan'l no more finishing hitter than Harrison, though he was always, as a slow one upon his I understand, feet. At last. in a fight with Black Barnk, the Jew, he finished the battle with such a lashing bit that he not only knocked his oppou- ent over the inner ropes, but he left him betwixt life and death for a long three weeks. During all this time Harrison lived halt-demented, expecting every hour to feel the hand of a Bow Street runner u n his collar, and to be tried for his 11 . . This experience, with the prayers of his Wife, made him torswcar the ring forever, and carry his great muscles into the one seemed to give him a was a good business trade in which the! n advantage. There to be done at Fri- mfiefleklrom the passing traffic and the these? farmers, so that he soon became the richest of the villagers: and he came to church on a Sunday vnth his wife and his nephew, looking as re- spectable a family man as one would wish to see. He was not a tall man. not more than five feet seven inches. and it was often said that if he had had an extra. inch of reach he would have been a match for Jackson or Belchcr at their hes}. His chest was like a barrel, and his forearms were the most powerful that I have ever seen, with deep groves . tween the smooth-swelling muscles like a piece of water-worn rock. In spite of his strength. however, he was of a slow, orderly and kindly disposition. so that there was no man more beloved over the whole country side. His heavy, placid, clean-shaven face could set vex! sternly, as I have seen upon occasion; but for me and every child in the vil- lage there was ever a smile upon his lips and a greeting in his eyes. There was not a begg.Lr upon the country-Side who did not know that his heart was as soft as his muscles were hard. 5ULL an “ID musty-mu There was nothing that he liked to talk of more than his old battles. hut he would stop if he saw his little mge coming, for the one great shadow 1n her life. was the ever-present tear that some day he would throw down sledge and map and be ofl to the ring once more. And you must be reminded here once for all that that former calling of he was by no means at that in the de- based condition to which it a rwardt tell. Public opinion has gm nan: be- come opposed to it. for the reason that rt came largely into the hands at rogues. and because it fostered ringside rutflan- ism. Even the honest andflbrave pugl; ism. mvcu uu: uvunsu a..- _-._.- rv list was found to draw villainy round him. just as the pure and noble race- horse does. For this reason the ring b dying in Enéalnnd, and we may hope that when ant and Bendigo have passed away, they may have none to succeed them. But it was difierent in the days of which I Speak. Public opinion was then largely in its favor, and there were good reasons why it should be so. It was a time or war. when England with an army and navy composed only of those who volunteer- ed to fight because they had fighting blood in them. had to encounter. as this; would have to encounter.'a power wh could by despotic law turn every citizen into a soldier. It the people had not been full of this lust for combat. it is cer- tain that England must have been over- bomc. And it was thought. and is. on the face of it, reasonable. that a s between two indomitable men. with thirty thousand to view it and three mil- lion to discuss i -did help to set a stand- ard of hardih and endurance. Brutal it was. no doubt. and its brutality is the end or it: but it is not so brutal as war, which will survive it. Whether it is logical now to teach the people to be peaceful in an age when their very ex- ltpnce may come to depend upon their being warlike. is a question for wiser heads than mine. But that was what we thought or it in the days of your ndfat rs, and that is why you might statesmen and lefilanthropisu like W Fox. and thorn at ’the side of the ing. The mere tact that solid men should patronize it was elou in itself to pre- vent the viliatny whic afterwards crept in. For over twenty years. in the days of Jackson. Brain. Cribb. the Belchers. Pearce. Gully and the rest. the leaders of the Ring were men whose ho was above suspicion: and those were just the _twenty years when the Ring ,v: L-_- _-_-J 4- n.â€" ' â€"CEYLON TEA. “SALADA” Jun-v ou~ ~n‘,__' ,-___ vi, 7 um;- u I have said. have eel-red a na- flonnl purpose. You have heard how Pearce saved the Bristol girl from the burning house, how Jackson won the re- a.nd friendship or the best men of age, and how Gully rose to 3 sent in the first Reformed Parliament. These were the men who let the stnndnrd. and their trade carried with it this obvious recommendation. thnt it in one in which no drunken or foul-living man could long succeed. There were exceptions among them, no doubtâ€"bullies like Hick- man, and brutenlike Berks: in the main. thy: our own village. Id eoénamm you we were very pron o e resenee of such a mm :8 Ohm ion inn-thou. 1nd lt folks stued at e 11:13. they would walk down to far the uni y just to have the sight othlm. And he wu worth seeing. too, espechlly on : winter's nlght when the red glue or the forge would beat upon hi: neat mm- gles agd upon__the prondu hnw’k-toee o; L'Icu uuu uyvu snu- -vâ€"â€"y â€"â€"V.~vr e. Boy Jlm as they heaved end swayed over some glowing plough conlter. trem- ing themselves in sparks wlth even blow. He would strike once his thlrty-pound swing slain. and Jim twice with his hand hummer: end the “Clank-cunt. cllnk! clnnkâ€"cllnkmllnkl" would bring me lying down the village street. on the chsnee that. since they were both 1t the anvil. there might be a place for me I; the. bellows. Only once during those can I remember Ohunplon showing me for an Instant the tort ct men thathehsd been. Itelnncedou summer morning. when Boy Jim end I were standing b the smith, door. that there can u at. couch non Bgl‘n- luau, uuu unuus --_-. _ â€". I say again mztâ€"ae; were honeuTIIâ€"eTi; brave and ending-in; tq_an lncrgdible de- ill .t 13": can ‘u‘nâ€"nâ€" " â€"â€" ._-_- tree, and a credit 'to the countfifiirfihfll goduced them. and I speak or whnt I ow. flflflfllflfi ' BEGfllfllflflfl Wm in my day by 30h“ of excellent 1'91““e *“ to mac outbreaks as will mm be- ?hough there was a noon the road. the a :2 :1 EEE 3: E? ‘ a 'F 5.3% iiigsiéai 3 E32 E: {is E 3 E3 a. trusted on the box until 3‘0! can your whip better'n that." “\Vhst‘s that?" cried the driver, null- ing up his team. ‘I bid you have a can. master. or there will be some oneeyed folk along the road you drive." “Oh. you say that. do you?" old the driver. putting his whip into its socket and pulling of his driving-gloves. “I’ll have a little talk with you. my line tel- low." The sporting gentlemen of those days were very fine boxers for the most part. for it was the mode to take a course of Mendoza. just us a few yem afterwards there was no man about town who with Jackson. to boast of after u young blood had token on his coat to him. This one swung himself 08 the box- seat with the alucrlty o! s. nun who has no doubts about the upshot at the quarrel. and utter hanging his caped coat upon the swingle-bnr. he duintily turned_ up the ruined culfs or his white cambnc shirt. The sporting gentlemen were very fine boxers for for it was the mode to u Mendoza, just 1s a few ye there was no man about not had the mufflers on Knowing their own prowl refused the chance of venture, and it was seldc thebargeepr the navig: “I‘ll pay you for your advice. my man.” said he. “I am sure that the men upon the coach knew who the burly smith was. and looked upon it u a. prime joke to see their companion walk into such a trap. They roared with delight. and bellowed out sen or advice to him. “Knock some 0 the soot on him, In!“ Frederick !" they shouted. “Give the Johnny Raw his breakfast. Chi-cl; h.Iu m among his own cinderi ! Show a the wo_rd or you’ll _see the back of tum. ' .l “1.“th "vnu v. av .. "‘ Encouraged by these can-5:. the yuy‘ng aristocrat advanced upon Ina mm. 1hr- mun never moved. but his mouth sot trim and hard. while his tufted "’5’.“ came down over his keen. grey eyes. lhe tanks had fallen, and his hands were hanging tree. .__ n -..z.1 h, uuuslus “ct. “Have a care, muster," said he. “You'll get pepper it you don't}: Something in the assuged voxce: and something also in the qmet pose, warn- ed the young lord of his danger. saw him look hard at his antagomyt, and as he did so his hands and hm Jaw dropped together. _“By__Gad !" he cried, ”it‘s Jack Har- rison !" "My name, mnsmr !" “And I thought you were some .158”! chaw-bacon ! Why, man, I haven t geen you since the day you nearly kxllcd Black Baruk, and cost me a. cool bun. dred by doing it.” How they roared on the coach. “Smoked ! Smoked, by Gad !" they yelled. "It's Jack Harrison the brulser! Lord Frederick was going to take on the cx-chnm ion. Give but: one on the VI 891% A. and seeyheiPBRW‘lfi-mm npruu, rum, u... ”lawâ€",7 But the $333333 already climbed back into his perch. laughing as loudl.v as any 0; his coquqioqgi “‘ “- ~ "-dann ” us an: UL Ina Lv-uy nnnnnnnn ““‘o'll let you off this time, Harrison." said he. “Are those your sons down there ?” “This is my nephew, master ?" “Here‘s a. guinea. to:- aim! He shall never say I robbed him of his uncle._" And so. having turned the laugh in his favor by his_ _merr__v. way pt takingkit. Luvvn u; HQP m‘.._v ".â€" he cracked is whip, and awav they flew to make London under tie fige hours: while Jack Hanfison, With his halt-fullered shoe in hxs hand, went whistling back to the tinge. So much for’ Champion Harrison! Now, I wish to say something more about Boy Jim, not only because he wars the comrade of my youth, but because you will find as you 0 on that this book in his story rather I. an mine, end that there came 3 time when his name and his fame were in the months or all Eng- lnngi. You will bear with me. theretore. while I tell you of his character as it was in those days, and especially of one very lingulu adventure which neither or_ us are likely to forget. -. an or- It was strange to see Jim with his uncle and his aunt, {or he seemed to be or another race and breed to them. Ott- en I have watched them come up the aisle upon a Sunday. first the square, thick-set man, and then the little worn. anxious-eyed woman. and last this lori- ous lad with his ciemut face, his lack curls, and his step so spring and light that it seemed as it he were bound to earth by. some lesser tie than the heavy rooted Villagers round him. He had not et attained his full six toot ot stature, ut no judge of a man (and every wo- man. at least. is one) could look at his rfect shoulders. his narrow loius, and _is proud head that sat upon his neck like. an eagle upon its perch, without feeling that sober joy which all that is beautiful in Nature gives tons-a1” self-content, as though in some was-We also had a hand in e making 0; it. him. or run with him, or swim with him? Who on all the country side, save only Boy Jim, would have swung him- self over “'olstenbury Clifl and clnmher- ed down a hundred feet with the mother hawk flapping at his ears in the min struggle to hold him from her nest 1' lie wns but sixteen. with his Kristie not yet all set.into hone, when he fought and beat Jipsy Lee of Burgess Hill, who called himself the “Cock 0: the South Downs." _It was after this that Cham- gzon Harrison took his training as n xer in hand. “I'd rather you left millin' nlone, Boy Jim," said he, “and so had the missus; but if mill you must it will not be my fault it on cannot hold up your hands to {myth x in the south‘country." _ _-4I‘ But we no used to associate beauty with softness in a man. I do not know why they should be so coupled, and they never were with Jim. 0; all men _that nv nu; sun... -_ â€"‘ _'__ _ And it wnsOnot long betbre he made good his promise. . l have said already that Boy Jun had no love for his books. but by thst I meant school hooks. for when it came to rcsdinx ot romances or or anything which had s touch or gallantry or ad- vcntnrc, there was no tearing lmn awn: from it until it was finished. “’hcn such n book came into his hudsatg‘ri- sr’s Oak and the with became a In to him. sod his life was spent out upon the ocean or wsndcdn over the broad continents with his croes. And he would draw Inc into his enthusiasm ul- so. so that I was glad to lay Friday to his Crusoe when he p fined that the Clamp st Clayton was s desert ls- lsnd. and that wc_ were out npon It {or I iiiâ€"vennkiovii'n, he was Yhé most iron- hard in body und in mind. Who was there among us_ _wl_ng could wglk If}!!! a week. But when I found that we were actually to sleep out there without eoverin every night, and that he pro- posed at our food should be the eheep of the Down: (wild goat! he called them\ cooked upon a fire, which was to be made by the rubbing together or two sticks. my heart tolled me, and on the very first In ht I crept away to my mother. at Jim stayed out there for the whole wary weekâ€"e. wet week it wu, toolâ€"end came back tron it loorkln odeel wildernddh-flerthanhh hero oelinthepletnre-boob. his well that he had 0 moaned to say sweet. font!“ beenemonthhe wouldhevedledoteoldud hunger-be- Ermiboiu. CHAPTER. II. FRIDAY, SW 1. ”melted! pic-ed it side mud. Jim only M m ggnen. and he would to point it out to a mm mm to cm . row" but would answer all 'm. . curl o‘t_ hi- lip uni _... .0. nah name, with Inch 1 sense of his own dig- it “'30. fie might say. as he did mi me! cousin. on msuunu “u...‘. --_ -,, Tregellin. my uncle. was the third: and Lord Avon the fourth. They are 10nd of playing cards for money. these great people. and they plnycd and played tor two days and a night. Lord Avon lost. nnd Sir Lothian lost. and my uncle loct. Ind Captain Bun-ington won until he could win no more. He won their money. but above all he won papers from his older bmthor which meant I. gong deal_ to hip. it was late, on a. , ,,_ -4 ”an... nln u- he'd'n'i‘l‘h his throat cut. “And Lord Avon did it?" “His papers were found burned in the grate. his wristband wan clutched in the dead man’s hand. and his knife lay he- Iide the bodv." "Did you hang him. then?" "They were too slow in laying hnnds upon him. He waited until he saw thut they had brought it home to him and then he fled. He has never been seen since. but it is aid that he reached Am- cricn." “And the ghost walks?" "There are many who have seen it." “\Vhy is the house still empty?" “Because it is in the keeping of the law. Lord Avon had no children. and Sir Lothiu Humeâ€"the umc who won at the card-partyâ€"is his nephew end heir. But he con touch nothing until he can prove 19rd Avon, to Indeed." , A ‘4‘ _n.‘-_- -I I I'll |. “Val I uuuuuuu â€" fiend. night that :b1-y"'si‘o;$pca play- ing. :1 the Tuesday morning Captain Barringtonr was found dead beside ha ul‘. any. Iâ€"- __ 7,, “Roddy! said he 1t last. “will you come with me two-night ond look for en ghost?" {lgttumed me cold. the very thought 0 I “My mother would not let me.” “Slip out when she's nbod. I'll volt for you at the fluidly." “Clifle Royal he looked.” “Ell onen__n ghfipw easy enough.” “5min“; illent :Jâ€"h'iut. pmcil’nx fit the short grassjrjth hiu_ 5:;an “I'm afraid. Jinn." “But you are not afraid it you one with me. Roddy. I'll promise you (hot no ghost Ihnli hurt you." So I gave him my word that I would come. and then 0.)! the mt of the day I went about the moat sad-raced lad in Sussex. It wu l" vcty “oil for Boy Jim! It was that pride of his which W “van: him there. He wouid go became “With s most " thankful been I I “w -wm tell youi about the wou- I derfnl cure effected in her . case. She has been s per- ' 5 feet wreck {or seven long . ,esrs. No words an describe whst she tn: 3 tiered. She eon” not sleep on sceount of 3 ver'e psins. She fried every doctor sround ; here end I nt hundreds of dollsrs without , benefit. fler heurinz of ur wonderful I I I 1 heme-dies I wrote re you. r mother has .tsken six bottles of the ‘Go den Medics! - {Discovery} and six of the ‘Psvorite Pre. seription.‘ sad ht now perfectly cured. Please receive the hesrtiest thsnks snd bless sin from In t‘sther snd seven children for '0. n: the li e of deer mother. Hay God yon snd your Institution. Is the wish of your friend. ' Tens of thounuuln of women have found {complete end pertunent relief from obsti- Inate 1nd seemingly lnemble dine“: by [using the wonden'nl medics tefened to obove. The “Golden Hedicnl Dhcovety" the pecollu fly of nourish- end vlullxhc the lood with the life. m’fimmfilu which build up , IntbeepedflveMuddl-«mol the Malena: 0mg; a»: “Favorite Pie- oerlpdoa ' e . ca pooltivenpodfic. Efimglég‘c mummyh ., AAAA_‘AAJ - ) Parmkudumvomenthmm medicine. the: «sonjointl constitute the gotta-mien! ounce“ moth-st» “thumb -nedlcdpto£euiou. 'l’orncnd soyunDrJ’ieteehuheea thief com t! ”rich: to Inuuh' Eotel uld ' Ilium. K. 7.. an: had ,- mIe-ad Ins-C, «Am clerful cu: «18¢. Sh! feet wrcc? years. No words cu}: desgri .W un film particular Icfiofpmflcc. or“ hit ctnc a mu nun animal‘e‘tfiu: me it I had mnoh, And so it wag first, 5!; conVQ" I. l w.- "-7, coming up it that day. the or merchnnunen in front: like well-trained dog! upon nd two bprly grqter-Iifif-of- x the truth my mother has 1 i v e d with L one foot in the new.” Evy-flee Mrs. ”mi; 5933“ zen o '0. “Walker Awe. .. Houston. Texas. in 1 let- ter to Dr. R. V. Pierce of Buf- mo, 2d. Y. " To tell ot Glide Royal. Still. I could not bring myself to deaert Jim: and so. as I say. I that about the house witn to pale and a race that my dear mother won) have it that I had been at the (men an lea. and sent me to bed early with a o! camomile tea for my upper. put Bldden‘n Fun. meeting only one or two riding omen-I upon the way. There was a brisk wind blowing, end the moon kept peeping through the rifts ot the send. no that our road was some times silver-clear. 1nd sometimes no black that we found ourselves among the brnmhiee and gorse-bushes which lined it. We came at last to the wood- en gate with the high stone pillars by - '- 7...! I--I.:_â€" ohmno}. hp. Ridden or two was omeerl upon the way. There will I. brisk wind blowxnz. and the moon kept peeping through the rites of the send. so thnt our road was some times silver-clean end sometimes no black that we found ourselves among the humble! and gorse-bushel which lined it. We came at last to the wood- en gate with the high “one pillar- by the roadside. 1nd. looking through be- tween the rails. we saw the long avenue ““ ‘-4' A' thin {I . m me “up. It w" w‘ .v..._ ,, ot oaks. at the end of this 111- hodlng tunnel. the pale face of the house glimmered in the moonshine. That would have been enough for me. that one glimpse of It. end the sound of the night wind nighing and groan- ing unonx the branches. But Jim swung the gnte . and up we went. beneath our tread. the cruel fines. nt‘h It towered igh. e old home. with mny little window: in which the moon (Hated. end with e strip of water run~ ,, . A... -u... no if The u-ched swung we 5“: v .. _.._ -r , - 7 the cruel fim‘fii‘b beneath our tread. igh. e old home. with mny little window: in which the moon curated. lad with 1 strippf water run~ hing round three sides of It. The arched dmrstooddghtmthemceotuand on; one side 3 lattice hunt open upon its - - L n-.|.|_n _g.;_,”_”‘ “We're in luck. Roddy." wnu I'm. “Here'- one of the win open.” “Don't you think we've gone enough, Jim?" aid 1. with my chattering. “I‘ll 1m you in first." “No. no. I'll not £10 first.” “Then I will." 0 gripped the and had his knee on it in an in: «50'. Roddy. g‘i‘ve me your . uh, gum-1.46.9225 mm \V 1 Dun nu. w. -.. -__._ “a“; momen (at we were both haunted hguseu - e a _.L- ”u “WU ”VI-r.- How hollow it nonndc-d when we jumped down on the wooden floor! There was such 1 sudden boom and reverbera- tion that we both stood silent for a moment. ThepiJim burst oug laughing. uuu sunny w‘ .v._ --,, moment. Then Jim burst out laughing. “\tht in old drum of a place it is!" he cried; “well! strike a light. Roddy. and see where we are." He had brought a candle and a Under- hox in his pocket. When the flame burn- ed up. we saw an arched stone ~00: above our heads. and broad deal shelves all round us covered with dusty dishes. 1* pins _the pantry. . on As: 1!â€" nun tu‘. Pu“,- “I'll show you round," said Jim. merrily: and. pushing the door open. he led the way into the hall. I remember the high. oak-panelled walla. witn the heads of doe!) jutting out. and a single white bust. which sent my heart into my mouth. in the corner. Many rooms opened out of this. and we wandered from one to the otherâ€"the kitchens. the still-room. the morning-room. the. dininproom. all filled with tl:-- same choking Amell of dust _and_m_':idvv.-., He held up his candle nnd there was I max. dark mudge upon the white plaster above ns. “I believe you're right." said be! “but anyhow I'm going to have a look at it." “Don't Jim. don’t!" I cried. _ “Tut. Roddy! you can stay here 1! you are afraid. I won't be more than a minute. Thore'o no use going on 3 ghost hunt unleuâ€" Gneat Lord. thoro'g_ something coming down the In-“ a. I heard it tooâ€"c shuffling tooutep in the room above end then a creek from the stem. and then another creek, and another. I new Jim's (nee u it it had heen carved out of ivory, with his parted Linn and his staring eyes fixed upon the ck unre of the “air opening. 110 still hel the light, but his fingers twitchv ed. and with every twitch the shadow. sprang from the floor to the ceiling. A: to mvself. my knees gave way under me. end i found myself on the floor crunch- ing down behind Jim, with a screa- frozen in my throat. And still the If?) came slowly from stair to star. hen, hardly during to look. nud yet unable to turn away my eyes. 1 saw I. figure dimly outlined in the mruer upon which the stair opened. There was I silence in which I could hear mi' poor heart thumping. end then when look- ed nxain the figure was gone. and the low creek, creak we. heard once more upon the stairs. Jim sprain: utter it. leng'l m lett heir-him; in the noon- ut it wu not tor long. He wu down Igninjn a minute. qud._ pulsing “This is where they layed the cards. Jim." said I. in a has ed voice. “It was on that very table.” “'Why, here are the cards themselves!” cried he. and he pulled a brown towel from something in the centre of the sideboard. Sure enough it was a pflc 0! playing-cardsâ€"forty packs. I should think. at the leastâ€"which had lain there ever since that We game which was pinged begore I_ was born. A - I_A)_H laid Jim. ' “Don‘t go up there. Jim!" I cned. clutching at his gun . “That must lead to the room of the murder.” “How do you know that?" ”The vicar said that they saw on the coilin'nzâ€"- 011, Jim, you can see it even now." "tin!" down a in in a minute. and. his ban under my am, he halt a hit carried me out of the house. wu not until we were in the fresh min that he opened his mouth. “Cu: Lou sand. Roddy ?" :3" uil'mmegatinx."m his un " 0, pl ma over hi. toteheed. I was a. fool to bring a; on Inch 3n emnd. But I.‘ never eved in such things. I know ' better now." I H t E “Could it have been a man. Jim “I" I naked. locking up my courage now flat I eou hen the doc: barking on the “a? m. m . “ me a up ney.’ “How do on how 7' “Because followed it and now it nuishintonvnnueuuyuuleel into good. Why, Roddy, what's unis: now . ’ “if team were :11 back upon me. and ev nerve creeping with horror. the me any. Jim! Take me up, I" I _cried. - .- , ,7) 1m glaring down the "cane. and his eyes followed mine. Amid the gloom of the out me. wetting m comm: toned: us. We muched u motionless u the m“ Was “ Est" :3" pm: ‘ e wny .0 mt a abmdmgnflomeduponuinm rkneu. Jim spun: upon It like u tiger. ‘_‘Y_ou'n not a spirit. anyway !" he “Well. I'm blend It it lun’t Boy Jim I And what's this 7 Why, it's ion“ Master Rodney Stone. u I'm 1 Vin; sinner ! Win! in the world are you two 4! yucuhmmumuuneot The nun an a about of surprise and thon__ n monf nag. _ A “Who? the WW be round. and flea. :11! been your neck it you don't "threat light not hue loomed Jim's grip, but the voice 65d. “101.53%!" In! cried “Quiet. Roddy. '" whispered Jim. 'B! heavens. come what my. my mu no going round (t this fine' Q5663? éhéh'cé 113;? mi: leads 1897. luck. Roddy." whispered the window: 'I one or "in ihé fur teeth 33., win; arg IREâ€"afi- mbeenin _Clifle Bow, and ‘ “I’ve . ethnz' m up yonder." sand he; “but it": a thin! as I would advise you to am there's enough uouble w‘m u! tolk of this world. Boy Jim, With" out or your way to mix I: With of another} .‘As to young 9, Stone, 1! hlsigood mother n. white ace of ’98- she'd mu- a come m the Hunky more ’ ' w‘lk o and I ll 00(- Fou buck ' 0:5.“ .. t” h - , lJ- $55} {5: halt n mile Derha -We 1111130119 pton overtookug andni could not but obserw that xhuf' _bua(n. 1." 3 a; ’10er V 7 7 angle:- his Miniâ€"WV?" nearly at SEAR-by before Jim at: the question which was already in my « took you up to Cliffs: Rom "$3 " “ u a man gets on “I" Illd the Ohmpion. ‘therc' 'sinmim duty tum up that the likes of you nl. no idea of. 'uthnbcvou re near I v. on mnv k of Wm H{ no“ 11: “'3 v. u"- _ So that wu all we could draw gm him : but. young as I Was, I had hem of coast muzzhnt and of pack!“ m. tied to lonely plugs at night, 50 that from an time on. It I had heard mg the preventive bu! pude a captum'1 yummy untxll hsdseenzh he: of Chunpion Harr' out of hi: Imithy door xson Mk. ;\v,v any. O‘Aua‘.“ . Pangdoan road, and who, when the new of a victory came in. was convulsed With joy because “‘0 had beaten Buonapartt. and shaken with race because we htd beaten the French, so that after the M}: be wept for a whole day out of dehgat and then for another one out of furi- nlternntely clapping his hands and stgmping his feet. Well, I remember hm thm. upright figure and the way in whioh ho inunuly twirled his little cage: I but told you something about Ra'- u's Oak. and shout the life that we u there. Now cut my memory goo; back to the old place it would gladly um. for every thread whgch I draw from tho stein o! the put bnuzs out halt . .101. cu others that yerc‘e-ntangled with it. I was in two mind; when I began '1“. the: I had engugh In nge tqmnkg; hoot thin. upright figure and the way A which he jnuntily twirled his little cane for cold and hunger could not can hm down. though we knew that he had hi: share of both. Yet he was so wow and had such a grand manner or talk ing. that no one dared to ofier him : cloak of}: Inga]: I can so: his {an cloak of a meal. 1 can we um now. with a flush over each or (shockâ€"hone when the butcher made the present of some ribs of beet. could not but take it, and yet w he was stalking of he firm-w :1 ‘.v glance over his shoulder at 11:9 Mr and he said “Monsieur. l have n (1‘ Yet it was Monsieur Rudin and no dog who looked plumper for a we: come. ‘1, “J‘xm. .n no». - .â€".â€"â€" -___ of, and now Iâ€"I'tiiow that I could mi one about Friar-’3 Oak alone, and a. “You livers of a lip!" sa and tho-e like you have M peace for night txm than and cutting throats l‘ae wl {ht- money that is lost in ta Iivcs were spent in saving ] you would have more rig candles in your windows. ‘ that dare to come here to i aninc man?" "We are the people of En 3mm: Master Ovington. tb any Squire. “Ya“! you horse-racing. ne'erâ€"do-weel! D0 _.\:011_ prff And then there were 1no smugsr The Downs swarmed with 1mm. 3 dnee there might b0 no lawful trad? twin France and England. it had to run In that channel. I have been on St. John'- Oonmon upon <3 6: night “a. lying among tho MM! I have m I! may as Rummy mu lpd‘ a man It the head of mob filthng Mat me as silently as from I strum. Not on» of thom hm b‘ “'3 W0 when of the right Fronch " me. or In bah of silk or Lyons ? lace of Vuloncionnm. I know 0 Sella. the bond or them. and I kn T9“ HMO!» tho riding 0mm. and «member the night Hwy mot. “Do ’03 Mt. Dan?" nuke“! Tum” “YOU. Tom: thou must fight for I On which Tom drew his :xixful 1' NI" Dawn bmiing‘out. , .. U Q ”Wie»16ught hini very w but looking back. I am not 8 were not very wicked Qty} Izo'or-do-woel! D0 you pm for the people of England drop. strong. silent stream. the scam. the bubbles. fl truth that flpatg _upon the “It wu I and (him: mm. “but 7 km“ at! a mu for me. 1'0? on." m-vu‘ . If will “'9!!! who maid :1 rW" , BMW m Mr ”H- Iinnd f-IT mm which wo nll 1hnnzbt ‘ m w. “(I good. beginning: "‘1'“ 3m m the (sun lvnd Wm m through the young I: he“. ’ 31”” an. mined his breath. M I“ hnxuld era In death I dare I?! mutt-more t' d but still to $23 in Pate mul- ‘43-! av. cyan: deegfne 0:“?ng CHAPTER III ht thov m0?- Dan?" Mk0" 47““ u must 52‘” {“7 drew his 1‘14“] thing 'tod h" I m 1331' “a! m {or we "N " {C356 ict whilst he flu'f-w :x PM“ r for a week :0 r. PutOI‘SI‘n. 3‘“ you Would 110‘ ._t that time so!“e we, and some I ”body n traitor. no at the time 1 ll man should nrd of a British hey burned I!“ of his farm.- ; thofil‘ who bound to can!!! ugh he might,“ e camf’. 8mm“ in his brown “9' ot suro nun-semi l of each g ly a. flflu‘ :hpm bl“ M It lpronch C0: of 14'0“"; “d I know 9“" w WWW that W fightiu to alt m. . on!" 0" and 5°?" “I: “be“ ’ 5‘0! SATISFACTIU Peace if!“ ”I the Go” “it i ch Ionrulull! m! lid-w uninwn' Publz urday at Indulal 8100 In an AI-Irll noun. Uncool One or tuned M null" u Ill M I ma! thos pert Mc-rllu €381