CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY PS asos.Hiess""'""'"" '""'"'^ ^'^''?irifmiiitiLiite„.yy°''''''-''« ^"'' adventure 3 1924 022 322 170 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022322170 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP CHARLEY BOONE AND BARNEY GRAY. BY SAMUEL PEARCE CHALFANT. y^^N— :,,,.,■.;.. 1 3^^^bSSSSS^ ^ 'fflPUBLlSHB^[□^S^ y/y ////in't I'uvwwx^VN. F. TENNYSON NEELY, PDBLISHEK, LONDON. NEW TOEK. Copyright, 1898, by F. Tennyson Neelt, in United States and Oreat Britain. All Bights Beserred. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAOE A Farmer's Boy 7 CHAPTER II. The Grays 34 CHAPTER III. A Wedding at Goosetown 50 CHAPTER IV. Progression , . 66 CHAPTER V. A Soldier Boy , 72 CHAPTER VI. Barney's Account of tlie Battle 85 CHAPTER VII. Mrs. Charley Boone's Letter 93 CHAPTER VIII. " My Brother Bill." 98 CHAPTER IX. Great Opportunities , 109 CHAPTER X. Sad News 119 CHAPTER XI. A Disappointment 135 , CHAPTER XII. Life at Sandon 135 CHAPTER XIII. An Evening at Coogas ■ 160 CHAPTER XIV. An Evening at BoUington's , 173 iv CONTENTS. CHAPTER XV. PAGE A Calamity 180 CHAPTER XVI. Life at a Reformatory >.. . 191 CHAPTER XVII. Morgan Roy 204 CHAPTER XVIII An Explosion . . . , S23 CHAPTER XIX. The Investigation , 230 CHAPTER XX. The Black Ranger 238 CHAPTER XXI. Explanations 247 CHAPTER XXII. Barney Gray Escapes 261 CHAPTER XXIII. Mr. Henry Carpenter 284 CHAPTER XXIV. Strange Developments 289 CHAPTER XXV. Retrospection 310 CHAPTER XXVI. Barny Gray tells his Experience 326 CHAPTER XXVII. Reminiscences 345 CHAPTER XXVIII. Happy Days 354 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER I. A faemee's box. It was a warm, sunny day in spring-time, and the farmers were busy tilling their fields for the summer's crops. He was driving a team hitched to a harrow — this innocent young farmer boy — cultivating the soil prepara- tory to planting corn. It was a beautiful day ; the trees were green, the birds were singing sweetly, and blos- soms filled the air with rich perfumes — indeed, all nature seemed wreathed in smiles; still, this farmer lad, so full of health and vigor, was not happy. He was indulging in dreams — those dreams in which a buoyant youth pic- tures his future life, fancying himself a man among men, and one who has achieved success; which, as general^' understood, means wealth, respect, and admiration. To this boy life was a profound problem. He had been left fatherless at a very early age, and his mother being poor but respectable, had ever impressed upon his mind the importance of making a man of himself, that he must, in some way, obtain an education that he might rise above the ordinary walks of life and honor his father's memory, while he filled his mother's declining years with joy. Plodding over a newly plowed field, following a har- row drawn by slow, poking horses, is not a very encour- aging beginning of greatness; hence it is not strange that the farmer boy should speculate upon the future, and constantly propound to himself the question: "How am I to get on in the world? where is the money to come from to give me a start? who is there to teach me, and what am I capable of doing?" Having been brought up in a rural district, knowing 8 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. comparatively nothing of the 'world beyond his imme- diate surroundings, he had no thought of guile. His training had been of the old-fashioned order — he had been taught that truth, justice, and right-doing in all things was the only course by ■which man could hope to attain prominence among his fellows. He had read the story of George Washington chopping down the cherry tree with his little hatchet, and he believed it literally; he believed, too, that George's illustrious career began with that very act, and resulted in making him President of the United States in after years. As he was driving up to the fence, and while turning his team, old Tobe, the line horse, who had lived so long and become so wise that he would take advantage of every little privilege allowed horses, put his left hind foot over one of the traces ; and while the boy was right- ing the gears, he heard the rattle of wheels coming up the road which bordered this side of the field. Looking up he saw a gentleman in a buggy driving a high-mettled horse with flowing mane and tail. As he came within speaking distance this gentleman drew rein and inq.uired: "Can you tell me, my son, where Mr. Deek lives?" "Yes, sir," answered the boy, "keep right on and you can see the house when you get to the top of that little hill just ahead ; it's the first house on this side of the road. This is Mr. Deek's farm." "How far is it to Goosetown?" next inquired the man. "About a quarter of a mile — only a little ways from Deek's; you can see Goosetown, too, when you get to the top of the hill — it's at the crossroads." "Thank you, my son. It is a fine country about here; and a nice day for working in the fields." "Yes, sir," replied the boy. "Do you like farming?" "Yes — when I have nothing else to do." "I guess you can stand it, anyway, you look strong and healthy." So saying the gentleman laughed pleas- antly, and giving his horse the rein, drove off at a brisk trot, while the boy mounted on the fence looked after the strange man until he disappeared from view. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 9 Who could he be? and what did he want of Ephraim Deek? The young farmer had become fascinated by the gentleman's kindly manner and he longed to associate with just such men. This was a town man, that was evi- dent; for his polished, stovepipe hat, his stiff, standing collar, his satin stock, his tailor-made, suit, and shiny boots were not in keeping with the plain, homespun habiliments of those who resided in the vicinity of the quaint old village of Goosetown. This young tiller of the soil, since his brief conversa- tion with the stranger, felt his insignificance and help- lessness weigh upon him more than ever. He looked disconsolately around over the adjacent fields and the hills beyond, ruminating in a boyish way. He glanced down at his dirty toes — he was going barefoot because shoes cost money, of which he had so little that he was obliged to be saving — arid felt more discouraged still. Eemoving his new straw hat, which had cost a fi'penny- bit at Abe Stall's store in Goosetown, he gently pressed it into its most becoming shape, then snapped it with his finger and puffed his breath upon it to cleanse it of dust that had as he imagined, settled on the brim. This hat, common and cheap as it was, was destined to last the summer through, both for work-days and Sundays; there would be no money to buy another, for this lad was Ephraim Deek's hired boy and his wages were but five dollars a month, and his board. There was more than the usual stir in the Deek house- hold on this day at dinner time, when the hired boy came from the field at noon. Mrs. Deek had brought out her best table set, including the huge teapot with its pro- digious handle, long spout, and enormously high lid. The good woman, though she had more on her hands than she could well manage, made a little run to the barn to give timely information to the hired boy that a fine gen- tleman from the town was in the house, and, as she sur- mised he might be one of the boy's rich relations, advised him to slick himself up a little before coming in to dinner. Mrs. Deek might have spared herself this trouble, however, for the boy quickly answered that if ii§ thought the visitor was any of his kin he should not 10 • SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, go to the house at all, to which Mrs. Deek exclaimed : "Why, Charley! how you talk!" Ephraim Deek and his visitor were already seated at table when Charley entered and took his place. "Ah," said the visitor, "this is the young man I met at work when I was on my way here. Is this your son, Ephraim?" "No," returned the farmer, "this is Charley Boone, my hired boy." "Ob," said the visitor; he remained silent for a full minute, when he proceeded to introduced himself and opened conversation with young Boone. "My name is Gray," he said, "Jonathan Gray, and I intend to become a resident of your pleasant little village here." "I am very glad of that, sir," replied the boy. "Yes," interposed Ephraim Deek, "I have sold him three acres in the corner of that field above the meeting house, and he is going to build a fine house there." "Not what would be understood as a fine house," ob- served Jonathan Gray, "simply a plain, comfortable, country residence; nothing more." "I think it will surprise people about here, sir, to see a new house going up in Goosetown ; it will be the first one since I have lived here — and that has been all my life," spoke up Charley Boone. "Even that has not been so very many years," re- turned Jonathan Gray. "Were you born here?" "Tes, sir; and when you get your new house built and come here to live we shall be near neighbors to you — my mother and I ; we live in that little house, you may have noticed, at the edge of the woods back of the meeting house," explained Charley, and his bright blue eyes fairly danced. "That will be agreeable, I am sure; and I shall expect you to visit my house often ; my library may be of use to you. Are you fond of books?" "Oh, yes, sir, it is my greatest desire to have books and learn something, that I may be of some use in the world, and help mother along." "You don't like farming, then?" SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, U "Farming is all right, sir; but -when a boy has to just work on a farm with no hope of ever having one of his own, it's not very encouraging. I would like a chance to get an education, so that when I am a man I can go out in the world, make money, and be somebody." "That is the right spirit, my boy," said Jonathan Gray, "and where there is a will there is a way ; many of our best and greatest men began life as poor boys and -by perseverance worked their way up. Honest industry — close application — truth and right must tell in th« end." "Then I can have hope, at least," said Charley Boone. "Yes," replied Mr. Gray, "and when I get settled here we shall see what we can do; it always gives me pleasure to encourage and assist a young man who has honest aspirations, and is willing to exert himself that he may become useful in the highest walks of life." "You are very, very kind, sir," said Charley, "and I am so glad you are coming here to live." And now, having finished his meal, young Boone rose from the table and was about to quit the room when Jonathan Gray extended his hand and, grasping the hand of the boy, held it while he expressed his pleasure at hav- ing met so interesting a young friend at the village which was to be his future home, trusting that they should meet again at no distant day when their acquaintance and friendship would be renewed. The hired boy then quitted the house, carrying with him a lighter heart than he had known for many a day, and getting his team, returned to the field. But the work was easier now; old Tobe seemed to step along more briskly, the birds sang more sweetly, the trees and even the hills in the distance looked more beautiful; and the farmer's boy himself whistled and sang as he followed the harrow on its rounds; for this boy was happy now — the happiest half-day he had ever known since he had been old enough to think — a sort of an oasis that man in his later years is wont to visit in thought and yearn to return to, only for a little while, that he may look around and then quietly, peacefully die. 12 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Thia was simply natural, for the boy had been brought in contact with a man of experience, kind, generous — one who had given encouragement, and even offered to assist him; and this, too, from no selfish motives, but solely from noble instinct and a desire to help the help- less. He had made the acquaintance of a fine-looking, scholarly, well-informed man — in short, a gentleman, the very kind of a man the boy intended to be himself when he grew to man's estate. True, Mr. Gray was about to retire from urban life and locate in a rural district — even at old-fashioned Goosetown, the place of odious name; but this was that he might have a larger field for doing good in the way of elevating his fellow creatures. Those in large cities made plenty of money, always sharing it with their neighbors who were less fortunate ; and it was among these people this farmer boy wished to mingle when he went out into the great world to be a man among men. So reasoned Master Charles Boone. He was very inno- cent, as may be observed. There was a difference be- tween him and his new-found friend which he was too young and inexperienced to discern. Jonathan Gray had seen something of the world; had been in it indeed, and had been caught in one of its snares, from which he had had considerable difficulty to extricate himself, and was now inclined to retreat and live in quiet where he would be surrounded with more simple-minded and un- suspicious people. While young Boone, on the other hand, knowing nothing of worldly ways, was anxious to fit himself to take a place in the great whirl of life, and forge his way to fortune and to fame. He had accepted, too, Jonathan Gray as a fair sample of the men with whom he would be brought in contact when he started on his career. He knew of but one really mean man in all the world, and thia was his rich uncle who lived in Philadelphia; but he was an exception — he was mean for spite, because his sister-in-law, Charley Boone's mother, had refused to marry the rich old bachelor he had picked out for her, but had married instead Clarence Boone, a poor schoolmaster, and her rich relative, being an obsti- nate man, had never forgiven her, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLt). 13 After CBarley had left the dinner table to return to his work, he was, as may be supposed, the subject of some talk between Jonathan Gray and Ephraim Desk. "That is a very smart boy ; he is made of the right sort of mettle; he will make his mark in the world if he lives, I venture to say," was Jonathan's remark. "Yes, he's a pretty good boy; he works well," re- turned Ephraim. "He is hardly in his proper sphere; a boy like that ought to be given a chance — sent to school, or have a private tutor, which is better, and be educated." "Well, I don't know much about education," Ephraim said. "I think too much education spiles lots of good boys — no account when they get too much schoolin'. There was Jake Lewis — lives about two miles above here — he sent his boy Tom o£E to school for three j-ears, and when he got back he was that tarnation lazy he couldn't stand up without a post or something to lean against, to keep from fallin' down." "There is a great difference in boys, you know. I warrant this young chap will never need any posts to keep him on his feet. He is active and energetic, and has a frank, open countenance; he impressed me favor- ably the minute I saw him." At this juncture Mrs. Deek, busy housewife that she was, who kept skipping back and forth from the kitchen, brought in a little girl, the pride of the family, and seated her close up to the table — first elevating the seat by placing a box on a chair — for the little one, like her mother, had not yet had dinner. The little one was facing Jonathan Gray. She was as clean and crisp as a new pin ; her eyes sparkled like dewdrops and her little curls were yet moist from recent dressing. She sat as straight and stiff as a stick — pursuant to previous in- structions — with hands folded, all very precise and proper. Mrs. Deek had, at intervals during the dinner course, been preparing the child for exhibition with the expectation that she should be noticed and praised. Mr. Gray looked at the little tot for a moment, then, in his kindliest manner, said: "Who in the world is that pretty little girl with such rosy cheeks, sitting there so nice?" 14 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. The little one, making a wry face, exclaimed, at the top of her voice: "Now, you're a matin' fun o' me!" and, covering her face with her arms, began to cry with all her might. "Now, there, pap, that's some of your work!" ex- claimed Mrs. Deek, as she came flouncing in from the kitchen. Then, by way of explanation, she informed her visitor that Ephraim was in the habit of telling the child that when any one told her she was pretty and nice, they were simply making fun of her for their own amusement. "He always does try to make the children so that a body has to be ashamed of them," said the indignant lady. Jonathan Gray, to make amends for the disturbance he had unintentionally created, drew forth his purse and selected a bright, new quarter of a dollar and tossed it in the little girl's lap. "There," he said, "if I didn't think you one of the prettiest little girls I ever saw I wouldn't give you that." "Oh, my I" exclaimed Mrs. Deek, "just see; that's more money than you ever had! Now what do you say to the stranger for all that?" "Without waiting for an answer the fond mother caught the child in her arms, kissed her rapturously, then smoothed her hair, and arranged her again in proper shape at the table. Peace having been restored, Mrs. Deek turned her attention to her visitor. "Have you made out your dinner now?" she asked. Jonathan Gray answered that he had eaten very heart- ily and enjoyed his dinner very much indeed. "Can't I help you to some more of the pertatesses?" Mr. Gray declined to accept any more. "There's a nice piece of the custard left," she persisted, "won't you have that, now?" Jonathan observed that the custard was excel- lent — he had never tasted better — but he could not eat any more. "Well, I'm real glad you made out," began Mrs. Deek, in her rattling way, "for indeed I didn't have much; but if I had only known that you were comin' I'd have had somethin' real nice; but as you're goin' to come here to live you must call and see us often, and I'll get up some of my real fine dinners." Mr. Gray politely thanked the good woman as she paused. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 15 "You and Ephraim were talkin' about our hired boy, Charley Boone?" she remarked, changing the subject. Her guest admitted that there had been some conversa- tion relative to the boy, and that he judged him to be a very promising youth. "Yes," said Mrs. Deek, "Charley does very well; he's a good worker, takin' all in all I think he's the best we ever had — but sakes alive! the candles that boy does waste ! Two whole candles last week! just think of it! more than Dave Duck — that's the boy we had last year — burned the whole summer. But Chai'ley is real good and helps me a great deal. He's so thoughtful about everything; always up early in the morning, though he goes to bed late enough, dear knows, makes the fire for me, puts the tea-kettle on, and then he always keeps plenty of wood cut, and never passes the wood-pile when he comes in from the barn but what he brings an armful along; if he finds the water bucket empty, he goes to the pump, fills it an' brings it in, an' little things like that, you know, helps a body out like everything. "And then he is so handy to have around when we go visitin' ; last week me an' Ephraim went to visit his sister Sarah ; she lives over near the Gap, about ten miles from here, an' she always was the greatest hand to keep a body — has so much to talk about — an' I was in such a hurry; 1 wanted to get home an' get the cows milked. We had the black mare hitched, an' she goes like a streak, but even then we didn't get home till after dark, an' I come runnin' in the house — didn't even take time to change my frock, just pinned up the one I had on — an' I got the buckets an' run out to the barnyard, but law me! when I come to find out, Charley had the cows all milked — the milk strained and put away as nice as a girl could do it, or myself either, for that matter. So I just made up my mind I wouldn't say anything about the candles — just let him have his own way, an' if the tallow gives out before next butcherin' time we'll have to clean up the old lamps an' burn fat; that's all there is about it." As Mrs. Deek paused in her rhapsody to take breath, Jonathan Gray embraced the opportunity to ask about the hired boy 's antecedents. This started Mrs. Deek off 16 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. again, and she narrated, ■with all her loquacity and her habitual gesticulations, nods, and wags of her head, arch- ing of the eyebrows, and all the rest, how Clarence Boone had come to Goosetown years ago and opened a select school for boys and young men. He was a very good man, much liked in the community, and succeeded well with his school, his pupils coming mostly from a dis- tance ; the sons of wealthy men who were desirous of ^ placing their boys beyond the limits of large towns and cities, until the third year, when he died with pneumo- nia. She related, also, how Mrs. Boone, Charley's mother, was left with almost nothing after her husband's death, and had been obliged to support herself, princi- pally by fancy needle work, which she sold to a store in town. That Mrs. Boone had a sister married to a very rich man who lived in town, but that the brother-in-law and sister-in-law were not on friendly terms and never visited one another. Mrs. Deek told, too, with many minute details, what a hard time Mrs. Boone had to get along; that Charley was only two years old when his father died, and that his mother owned the little house she lived in, which was all she had in the world. "But Matilda Ping can tell you more about these things than I can," said Mrs. Deek, in conclusion, "she knows a great deal more about 'em- than I do." "Yes," interposed Ephraim, "Matilda can tell you all you want to know, and more too." Mr. Deek never had much to say when his spouse was present; it was easy for her to do the talking for both. On inquiry from Jonathan Gray relative to Matilda, Ephraim gave information which conveyed the idea that she was a gossiping old maid, who had long been a resi- dent of Goosetown, and was known for miles around for her oddities and eccentricities. "An' I bet she'll be here before night," he said, "to find out who you are an' what you 're after." "Oh, well, now," put in Mrs. Deek, "Matilda's real good, especially when there's sickness in a family — of course she's queer — talks too much, an' all that — good- ness mel if I kept my tongue runnin' the way she does hers -when she gets started I think it would wear me out." Schooled by the world. 1'? Mr. Gray, however, -was more interested in hearing of the doings of Charley Boone, than of the peculiarities of the staid Matilda, so he reverted to the former subject by inquiring why the boy made use of so many candles? "Oh, my land!" started in Mrs. Deek again, "he's got a lot of old books, papers, an' things up there in his room, an' he pokes over 'em half the night. I think he's got a notion that he's goin' to be a great preacher, a big lawyer, or somethin' like that some day; but I guess he'll find out when he gets a little older — like many before him, that there's just as smart folks in the world as he is, an' a little smarter. Of course, I don't care what he does with his books an' things, so long as he don't let work go to poke over 'em, though I do hate to have so many candles wasted — ■ Great goodness me! talk about a ghost an' its sure to appear! there's Matilda Ping, now!" "I told you so," said Ephraim, with a knowing look. From the position in which Mrs. Deek was sitting, she had seen Miss Matilda coming along the walk toward the door, and, jumping up, she flounced out to meet her. Miss Ping wore an immense sunbonnet which enveloped, not only her head, but shoulders and body as well, down to her elbows. "When she came in she was introduced to Jonathan Gray in Mrs. Deek's most formal style. He received the lady very graciously, even rising from his chair and shaking hands with her. When all were seated again Mrs. Deek apprised her caller of the nature of Mr. Gray's business in Goosetownj at which Matilda, who had by this time dropped her bonnet back on her shoulders, exclaimed: "Well, now, I want to know!" Jonathan, who accepted the exclamation as an earnest appeal on Matilda's part for still further information relative to his affairs, began and gave a somewhat ex- tended account of his having bought ground of Mr. Deek, that he would proceed to erect a house upon it at once, and come to live in the village of Goosetown at no distant day. He then paused, and Matilda, who by this time had her mouth, eyes, and ears all wide open, raised her hands as she exclaimed: "Dew telU" 18 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, Now, Jonathan was naturally gentle and kind in man- ner, and he seemed to think that Miss Ping was more anxious than ever to have him discourse upon his per- sonal matters; so he proceeded to explain that he intended to engage in the nursery business : propagating trees, flowersand plants of all kinds — an occupation he had always liked, and that he would, perhaps, keep a horse and carriage, quite as much for pleasure as from necessity. He mentioned, too, incidentally, that he had met young Charles Boone, with whom he was much pleased, and hoped that he might be of some assistance to the boy in obtaining an education and advancing him to a more elevated sphere. Jonathan expressed some regret at not having called upon Charley's mother, but said that he would do so when he next came to Goose- town. He finally came to a dead stop and showed no inclination to say more. Then Matilda, after waiting a moment, sighed reflec- tively and said: "Well, well, well; who'd a thought it!" Miss Ping, herself, now started in and gave a disserta- tion on Goosetown from away back. She told what a poor, dead old place it was now, compared to the days that were gone, before the railroad was built and stages run through the village. She related, with evident sad- ness, what grand parties and dances used to be given at the tavern in those days, when she was a girl — the tavern that was now so old, decayed, and neglected — and of the conquests she had made. She told how often and often she had heard her mother tell of old Hannah Good who kept the tavern when it was first built, and of the great flocks of geese she used to keep, whence the name of the town, and the immense sums of money she made by sell- ing feathers, "les, yes," said Matilda, "them times is all past and gone. I've had my day. I've had my chances — plenty of chances ; but, somehow, the right one — the one that suited me, never came along. And here I am," turning a placid smile on Jonathan Gray. "Yes, here I am, and I suppose all is for the best." Taking advantage of the lull in Matilda's talk, Mr. Gray rose and said that he must be going or he would b9 too late to catch the train at Flagtowa. SCHOOLED BV THE WORLD. 19 Then Miss Ping observed that she had stayed longer than she intended, and by way of apology for her intru- sion, remarked that she had seen a stranger walJjing around with Ephraim and that she took him for a doctor, so she called to see if any one was sick. Miss Ping did not go direct to her home after she left the Deeks. She stopped in at Stall's store. Then she called on Mrs. Miller, the blacksmith's wife; and two of her neighbors whom she met on the road she held in con- versation for a considerable time; so, before night set in, it was common talk that there was an old beau of the "widow Boone coming to live in Goosetown ; that he was very rich and would marry the widow at an early day, and she was to have horses, carriages, and other comforts galore. The man's name, so report had it, was Jonathan Graves. He was going to send Charley Boone to some great college and make a preacher of him. He had so much money that he was going to build a great big house; he would live in a part of it and the other part he intended to keep as a nursery for poor children, and they were to have a beautiful playground planted with all kinds of trees and flowers. But Ephraim Deek, when he heard all this, laughed loud and long, and said that was just like one of Matilda Ping's yarns. It must not be supposed that the position of hired boy on a farm was the original intention of Clara Boone — Charley's fond mother — for the way in which her son was to begin his career. His going to work for Ephraim Deek was brought about by an episode which changed the whole course of the boy's life from what had been marked out for him. For long years it had been a hope fondly treasured by the widow that, by appealing to her sister Hattie, who was the wife of James Grapman, a rich and prominent merchant of Philadelphia, she could get her brother-in-law to take her son into his employ. This, as the widow reasoned, would give her son an op- portunity to become familiar with business methods, and afford advantages for obtaining an education. Consider- able correspondence passed between the sisters relative to this project, and finally a letter came from Aunt Hattie which was the cause of bringing to an end all negotia- 20 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. tions in reference to Charley Boone's mercantile pursuits, and setting at rest, for all time, the good widow's cher- ished hopes. ; "I have succeeded at last," Mrs. Grapman wrote, "in ' persuading James to take your boy and give him a good trial. But James, you know, is very firm, and he declares that he will grant no special privileges to your boy on account of his being a nephew. And about the clothes, Clara, James would not hear to it. So I can't send you any money in advance, or clothes either, as you requested, that your boy might come to us looking respectable. Just let him come on in the best he has, and we will dress him up nicely in one of our Freddie's suits when he arrives here. Freddie must be about the size of j'^our boy, for he was born, as you remember, only six months before you were married. The dear child has more clothes than he knows what to do with, and I can never get him to wear a suit half out. Now this is the best I can do, Clara, because James is so very firm in his busi- ness dealings with everybody." This letter Mrs. Boone read to her son when he came home from the old red schoolhouse, where he had been attending during the winter session ; and then followed something of a commotion. Both mother and son were silent for a little time after the reading of the letter was concluded, each waiting for the other to speak first. Presently the mother remarked in a mild tone: "It is real kind of Aunt Hattie to arrange everything so nicely for you." "Yes, very," replied the boy laconically. "And it will be such a good schooling for you," re- sumed the widow. "Your uncle James was always con- sidered one of the very best of business men — so shrewd and far-seeing; such excellent judgment." "I don't doubt it," was the boy's curt answer. "And there's your cousin Fred," the widow went on, "just about your age — of course you will become very fond of each other ; and who knows ? you and he may go into business together some day, and be great merchants, surrounded with everything that money can supply. In- deed, I have been quite made-up since Aunt Hattie '9 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 21 letter came, and have been building all sorts of air- oastles." The boy, unable longer to restrain himself, sprang from his chair, as he exclaimed: "Mother! I would do anything in the world for yon, but don't! don't! ask me to go near those people! I just can't stand it! A pretty how-do-you-do! make me an object of charity — a poor relation — wear their boy's old clothes — charge them up against me, too — that's what they would do! Accept favors — accept anything from such people? No, never!" Seeing the pale anxious face of his mother, the impet- uous youth repressed his wrath and resumed his seat. The widow with her eyes bent over her work, went on stitching nervously. Presently she ventured, in a very subdued voice, "But what in the world are we going to do, darling? it is the only chance of your life. Of course, it might be a little unpleasant at first; but it would not be so for long. We all have to put up with disagreeable things sometimes. And just think how hurt and disappointed Aunt Hattie will be." "Yes, it's a great pity about Aunt Hattie, " returned young Charles, in a milder tone, "to tell the truth, I don't think much more of her than I do of her husband. Look at that letter. It's as cold and heartless as a stone. A great sister, she is; never been to see you in all these years — has not even invited you to her bouse." "That, you know, is Uncle James' fault," interposed the widow. "I guess she could come to see you if she wanted to," Charley continued. "The truth is they are ashamed of us, and they think if they didn't hold us ofE we'd be begging money of them. That letter shows it plain enough. They needn't trouble themselves; I wouldn't accept a cent from that man Grapman! I'd starve first. " "But what are we going to do?" "Do?" echoed the boy, "anything; I'd take to the woods before I'd put myself in the power of the Grap- mans and have them take advantage of my poverty. Why, that man Grapman is the meanest man in the world — there can't be many like him, or the world wouldn't hold together. I'll bet that man lies awake nights fum- 23 SCHOOLED BV THE WORLD. ing and fretting about his money — afraid somebody might get a cent of it, and scheming how he can cheat some fellow in a bargain. Tou are not serious, mother, IJjnowyou are not; you don't want me to go with a man like that? You've been telling me all my life that you want me to grow up to be truthful, honorable, justice- loving and all that, and how could I, if I had to live with such a man as Grapman ? I look at it this way : If a boy submits to injustice — allows himself to be run over, and put upon, and degraded, he grows up to be a cowardly, sniveling sneak of a man ; and who would want to have anything to do with a man like that? "Who could trust him? Such a man would steal, that is my opinion." The widow made no immediate reply. She was in a pensive mood. But, as silence was becoming painful, she said: "You know, darling, I shall not insist upon your doing anything that is really disagreeable to you; perhaps your judgment is better than mine." She had no sooner uttered these words than the boy was at her side, and throwing his arms around her neck he kissed her most affectionately. "I knew you wouldn't want me to go to those people after you had time to think over it a little." "But what are we going to do?" she said again sadly. "Do?" he repeated, "I'll tell you what I am going to do. Ephraim Deek asked me, the other day, if he couldn't hire me to work for him, and I'm going right over there to tell him that I'll take the job. I don't care much what I do, so long as I am treated as a white boy by those I am doing for. The Deeks are good, nice folks, and I'd rather work for them for board and clothes than to have anything to do with old Grapman." "How about your education, dear?" suggested Mrs. Boone. "I will get an education somehow; don't let that worry you, mother." Clara Boone sat at her little window and looked after her son as he went down the road toward Farmer Deck's place. She was not so sad and downcast as one might suppose, nor as she had appeared to be; for, in truth, she never had felt so proud of her son as she did at this time. SCHOOLED SY THE WORLD. 23 Such will, such determination, such strength of char- acter, such noble sentiments — her boy must surely rise in the world and have his name recorded in history. She 4 was a visionary little woman, and had always been noted for building great aircastles. Already she fancied she saw the name, in large type, "the Hon. Charles Boone" — her son's name. She fancied herself reading such lines as: "His Excellency, the Hon. Charles Boone, addressed a large meeting at so and so;" "The house broke into tremendous applause when the Hon. Charles Boone rose to speak," and so forth; and the poor little widow smiled in contemplation, though her son was beginning life as hired boy for Farmer Deek. In truth, the little widow detected in her son the in- herited traits of character of his father, Clarence Boone, for whom she had forsaken friends and relatives, being proud and happy to become the wife of a poor nobleman — a nobleman of nature's own creation. 24 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTEE II. THE GRAYS. Pursuant to expectations, a new house was soon build- ing in Goosetown, a short space above the meeting house, where the two big black oats grew. It was quite an innovation for the quaint old village; there were teams hauling lumber, lime, sand, and so forth ; the sound of carpenter's tools could be heard, and three young men had taken board at the old tavern — the first it had known for many years — and business really seemed to be looking up in Goosetown. It was not until some considerable time had passed, after Jonathan Gray's first appearance here, that any- thing was known of his antecedents. He was a large, robust man, not young, nor very old, though his dark hair was plentifully sprinkled with silver threads. The questions, naturally, were: Is he married? Has he a family? Is he a bachelor, a widower, or what? The report, somehow, finally got about that Mr. Gray was not only married, but that his marriage was of recent date; and after this piece of news was confirmed, Matilda Ping again donned her old calico frock and left off slicking lard on her hair. Jonathan Gray, like all who have live to man's estate, had a career; rather prosaic and uneventful, perhaps, nevertheless it was his career. He was born in Virginia, where his father, Eobert Gray, owned a plantation of con- siderable extent, and kept upon it a number of slaves. When Jonathan, who was an only child, was yet a young man in his teens, his father died, leaving his entire estate to his widow. Jonathan, however, at the solicita- tion of his mother, assumed entire charge of affairs and SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 25 SO engaged himself for a term of years, up to the time of the death of his mother, which occurred about four years previous to his advent in Goosetown. The plantation had not thrived in any marked degree under Jonathan's management, for the reason, it may be supposed, that the occupation was not to his liking, and his heart was not in it. He had imbibed, even in his earlier years, ideas prejudicial to slavery, and one of his first acts after he came into full possession of the Gray estate was to eman- cipate all the slaves on the place, and by doing this he incurred the enmity of all his neighbors as well as that of his most intimate friends, for they regarded him as an enemy to an institution which they ardently cherished. Hence Jonathan Gray's life on the old homestead in Vir- ginia was no longer congenial, and he longed for a change. Now during the last year that he lived in Virginia, there came along one day, a man whose home was in Philadelphia — one Mr. Moses Tackem, who kept a store on South Ninth Street, and dealt in what he termed fancy goods and notions. He remained in the neighbor- hood several weeks, recuperating his health, as he said, and put in the greater part of his time at Gray's house. Moses Tackem was gifted, cheerful, and an entertaining conversationalist — in short, splendid company; more especially for a man who was as downcast and gloomy as Jonathan Gray was at this time; alone in the world, with a large property on his hands which he was contemplat- ing disposing of — he was a victim for such a man as Tackem. Mr. Tackem, after he had become well ac- quainted with our friend Jonathan's affairs, had taken an entire survey of the land, as it were; he expostulated with great volubility upon the impropriety of Mr. Gra3' longer remaining in that part of the country, and, with no less enthusiasm, he set forth how easy it would be to make enormous wealth in Philadelphia if he only had a partner with sufficient capital to enable him to move from his small quarters on South Ninth Street to a com- modious building on Chestnut Street, and lay in a large stock of such goods, and so on — dealing direct from Jlyrope, m^ S'U that, llr, T^pkew ^ye>n put feisQseW t,0 2(5 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. the trouble of figuring out just what everything would come to^ — the amount of money that -would be required in the aggregate, and the profits that would annually accrue to each member of the firm. Jonathan Gray saw the plausibility — that is, he thought he did — of Tackem's plan as clear as day, and declared himself ready to enter into it with the least possible delay. So the old plantation was put up for sale, and a purchaser, through the intercession of the active Tackem, was soon found, and Jonathan Gray betook himself to Philadelphia, where he expected to make his future home for all time. In due course, an imposing establishment on Chestnut Street had a sign over the entrance bearing the names Tackem & Gray. This firm entered into business under very propitious circumstances. Mr. Tackem was a keen, active business man, with plenty of experience; while Mr. Gray, though he knew nothing of business, had plenty of money. The house of Tackem and Gray re- mained open for one year; but it didn't pay, at least so said the junior partner, who declared that his returns had not been more than enough to pay his current living expenses. An accounting was demanded; legal advice. was engaged; the books were experted; but everything was shown to have been conducted as straight as a string — the business had simply not paid. Some wrangling and hard words passed between the iiartners ; the junior favored closing out the whole concern ; to this the senior was not agreed, bat finally, he proposed to buy the other out, and try the business for a year more alone, to see what he could do — times might be better. The positions of the two men, apparently, had changed. Mr. Gray now had the experience, and Mr. Tackem the money. How- ever, driven to the wall as he was, to sell to his partner was the best and only thing that Mr. Gray could do, so he accepted a sum of money which was very small indeed in comparison to the amount he had invested, and retired forever from mercantile pursuits; and glad enough he was to get out of it. And then Jonathan Gray repaired to Goosetown, where he built a snug little house, while Mr. Tackem erected a spacious mansion in the suburbs of SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 37 Philadelphia. But this is not saying that Moses Tackem ■was a bad, dishonest man. Not at all. He was only a shrewd, wide-awake, far-seeing business man. While residing in Philadelphia Jonathan Gray had his lodgings on Pine Street with Mrs. Earner. This lady was a widow, of slender means, and had, for several j-ears, been an invalid, so sorely afflicted as to be unable to leave her room; so that keeping the house and letting furnished apartments was left to the old lady's daughter, Margaret. It was one day, late in the afternoon, that Mr. Gray was walking along Pine Street and, like Mr. Pickwick, saw a notice posted in the window — "Furnished Apart- ment to Let. " Liking the location and the appearance of the house, he pulled on the bell-knob and the door was opened by a lady whom he afterward learned was Mar- garet Earner. Stating the nature of his business, he was shown into the first-floor front, comprising two parlors, well-furnished, with good light, everything scrupulously neat, and all that could be desired. After a short conversation relative to terms, service, and so forth, Jonathan Gray said: "Well, I suppose you require references?" Margaret Earner was too much of a woman to act girl- ish, and had too much sense to act foolish; so, after hesitating a moment, while she looked at the applicant for lodgings, she replied: "Pardon me, sir, but in your case I think I can make an exception to my rule. "Your face is all the reference I require from you." Jonathan attempted to say something in the way of a compliment in return, but his words were incoherent, though he managed to say, distinctlj' enough, that he would take possession of the rooms on the morrow. Making his home at Mrs. Earner's house in Pine Street, he would go out in the morning, and return in the evening — or, in the night, as the case might be, and let himself in with a key which he always carried. He knew nothing of the house in which he lived — had no knowledge whether it contained other lodgers besides himself or not; he never saw any one as he would come and go. When his rent was due he would pull a bell- 28 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. rope which hung in the hall and Margaret Earner would come from above stairs and get her money; the compli- ments of the season would be passed between them, and Mr. Gray never failed to ask after the health of Margaret's mother, and he always received about the same answer, which was that she was much the same as usual. In this way things ran oh for about a year, until after Jonathan had severed his connection with the house of Tackem & Gray, when, one day, in perusing a newspaper, his eye fell upon a special funeral notice; and by this he was apprized that Eliza Earner, who for many years had been a confirmed invalid, had been buried the day before from the house in which he lived. From this notice he learned, too, that Eliza Earner was the widow of Judge Earner who died twelve years before. The Earners were eulo- gized in high terras, in this newspaper article, which called attention to the prominence of the judge and the high estimation in which he was held in his lifetime. Mention was also made of the many excellent qualities of Mrs. Earner, as well as of the daughter, who still sur- vived. Now the day that Mr. Gray read this account was the very day on which his rent was due; and when he re- turned to his lodgings in the afternoon, a little earlier than usual, he pulled on the bell-rope in the hall. Mar- garet Earner, in answer to the bell, made her appearance as she had always done, coming down to the foot of the stairs, looking pale and sad. When the rent was paid some conversation ensued, naturally, on the verj- recent death of Margaret's mother. Jonathan, in a very kind and considerate way, extended her his sympathies in her sad bereavement, saying, among other things, that he knew nothing of the death until he read the account of the funeral in the paper. "Yes," said Margaret, "poor, dear mother had been ailing for so many years, and was such a constant care, that it was very seldom I could leave the house, or even her room except for a short time. She was very helpless and was, in all truth, a sad charge; yet I had come to love it all, and now that it has passed I can't but wish f.ov it fiH back agw that I might live it all over again," SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 59 "Come into the room. Miss Earner, and have a chair, you look tired, it must weary you to be standing." So saying Jonathan opened the door of his front room and entered, and Margaret mechanically followed, seating • herself on a chair just inside the door. Jonathan took his large easy chair in which he was accustomed to sit, near the window. There was a moment of silence; and then Jonathan ob- served: "It seems to me you would find it very sad and lonely now, living in this house all by yourself? You ought to have a change — a change of scene — different at- mosphere—a different mode of life entirely — something to drive sadness and care away and bring joy and smiles to your pret — your good face." Margaret intimated that she did think something of making arrangements so that she could go off to some place in the country for a time. "I like the country," resumed Jonathan, "I like the freedom one has there; I like the beautiful scenes, and I like to hear the birds sing. I am tired of the city where all is garbage, dirt,' smoke, and confusion." With all this Margaret coincided. "Would you — or, what I mean is, have you ever thought of marrying. Miss Earner?" and Jonathan Gray shifted slightly in his chair. Margaret looked up, perfectly composed, and replied : "Very little; indeed, not at all since dear mother was taken down and became such a charge." "Eut you have that charge no longer." "Very true." "And will you now marry me ?" Jonathan Gray spoke these words very quickly, but in a subdued voice. A smile spread over Miss Earner's face as she replied : "Yes," she said, "I believe I will, if you so desire it; I know of nothing better that I could do." Mr. Gray looked just a little confused. He was not expecting to be answered in that way. '.'We have not had much of a courtship," he remarked by way of some- thing to say. "It is not necessary," returned Margaret, as she looked him steadily in the face. "Before we say any 30 SCHOOLED BV THE WORLD, more/' she resumed, "I had better,perhaps, explain my- self. I am willing to marry you, Mr. Gray, because I have had ample opportunity to understand your char- acter, and I admire and respect you. I believe you to be really good; therefore, I know that I can, as your wife, love you with all the intensity of my nature; so, if you have the same regard for me that I have for you, we may dispense with courtship until after the ceremony is performed ; we will then begin to court and keep it up as long as we both live. Much of the trouble arising be- tween married couples, as I understand it, is caused by their having done too much courting before marriage, and, not enough after. Love should never be spoken of until after the couple are made man and wife." "When Miss Earner paused Jonathan Gray laughed good naturedly and said: "¥ou may rest assured I in- dorse your sentiment; so when shall it be?" "Whenever you wish," was the reply. "To-day; to-morrow; next week, or shall it be a month hence?" "To-daj', if you prefer, " replied Margaret, in the same even tone. "I thought, perhaps," ventured Jonathan, "that on account of the — the recent death " "I am sorrowing only for the death of my dear old mother," interposed Miss Earner, "whose death was daily looked for this long time ; I have not buried any husband." An understanding was now soon reached, and all ar- rangements made; so, in the evening of the following day, Jonathan Gray and Margaret Earner were privately married. To find a retreat in some country district or quiet village was the wish of both, and when Jonathan mentioned this, incidentally, one day to an itinerant dealer in live stock, he was advised to visit Goosetown and call upon Ephraim Deek, a well-to-do farmer, whose fields 'bordered the village, and with whom all necessary arrangements could be made; there Mr. Gray would find just the sort of a place he wished. So Jonathan Gray went to Goosetown, bought three acres of land, and started building a new house. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 31 It was an event of more than ordinary importance in the staid old village when the Grays took up their resi- dence there, and the first Sunday after their arrival the little brick meeting house was crowded as it had but seldom been before ; and yet there was no special attrac- tion; services were the same as they had ever been, and not one among those, who had not been to meeting the Sunday before, could not have told why they were pres- ' ent on this particular day. Still, to tell the truth, the Grays were much more talked about, when church was out, than was Mr. Pawkins' sermon, or even Mr. Paw- kins himself, who, on being joined by good Mrs. Pawkins, made themselves very gracious to the newcomers. Save for these none advanced to extend a hand of welcome to the recent adjuncts to Goosetown, but were content to stand apart and look, as though with a mingling of awe and admiration. The Grays were decidedly conspicuous among these plain, honest homespun people with whom they had chosen to cast their lot. Mrs. Gray's rustling silk, with its fashionable cut, contrasted strangely enough with the plain bombazines and alpacas of these simple-minded folk ; while Jonathan, with his glossy hat, black tailor- made clothes and spotless linen, felt himself greatly out of place in this community where nothing better was worn for Sunday than cassinette, and this, too, cut and made at home. But this state of things did not last long. Since man's ways in life are directed entirely by environ- ments, the Grays soon adapted themselves to their sur- roundings and, before they were aware of it, became typical Goosetowners. True, there was always a marked difference between the Grays and those the.y dwelt among. They always retained their good manners — which is good breeding, resulting from education — but they became plain country people like their neighbors, and were regarded as being no better. Time moved on apace, and the Grays had been living in their new home for about a year when their baby boy was born; and a bouncing infant he was, weighing a good thirteen pounds, which was quite enough to make his advent into this world of more than ordinary import- ance, even had he not belonged to the Grays. 33 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, "What name shall -we give our boy, my love?" in- quired Margaret of the infant's father one day, when the child was not yet a week old. "We will not give him any name, my dear," returned Jonathan. "Being our first born he has come into the world with all the name he requires." "I don't quite understand you," replied Mrs. Gray. "No?" said the husband, with a twinkle in his eye. "Why, don't you see? My name is Gray, yours is Earner; so the boy's name is Earner Gray — there is no way of getting out of it, and that is all the name he needs." "I never thought Earner a very pretty name," sug- gested Margaret. "I did," answered Jonathan quickly, with a quiet laugh. And thus was the baby named; but Charley Boone, who had come to be regarded as one of the family within the Gray household, and was as proud of the baby as its own parents, laughed in his good-natured way when told the name. "That's a good name," he said, "but nobody will call him Earner; he'll be Barney Gray all his life." And so, sure enough, it proved ; for the child was hardly out of his swaddling clothes before he was known to every one — except his rather dignified and reserved father, and gentle, though naturally stately, mother — as little Barney. Time passed away until it run into years, without any- thing happening relative to the Grays or Eoones that need be narrated in this veracious history. Charley Boone, it is true, did not remain all this while as hired boy at Ephraim Deek's ; for he was now conducting a farm on shares for Simon Cloud, who lived a mile further out on the road, and whose farm bordered on Deek's. Simon had grown old and had suffered so severely from rheuma- tism that he was incapacitated — confined to his bed the greater part of the time ; so that he was obliged to let his farm, implements, stock, all combined. This was a very auspicious opening for a young farmer — since there was no capital required — and Charley Boone availed himself of the opportunity. He hoped, in this way, to accumu- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 33 late sufSoient funds that he might be able to establish himself in some sphere more to his liking than farming ; or at least in a position that would bring him more in contact with men of the world ; for Charley, having had the tutorage of Jonathan Gray, applied himself assiduously to study and was now a scholar of no mean order. Still, he was badly hampered, as all young men, are who have neither money nor agreeable rich relations. True, he was now capable of making his own way, and might have branched out in the world on his own account ; but his filial affection was strong, and he could never entertain the thought of separating himself from his gentle, loving mother. He was frugal, almost parsimonious, for he still lived in the future, not in the present, and was only pre- paring himself for life to come. Barney Gray receiving proper care and not being con- stantly dosed with paregoric and various kinds of sleep- ing-drops had grown to be a strong, healthy lad. He had not yet been sent to school because of the prejudice of his father against the plan upon which schools for the young were conducted ; he declared that his son should never enter school until he was physically and intellect- ually strong. Hence a private tutor — a governess — was wanted for Master Gray. There was considerable cor- respondence with various applicants for the position, but it was finally decided to accept Miss Marion Harlow, on account of the excellent references she gave ; her experi- ence as a teacher; she had not only had charge of little boys and girls in numerous "best families" in Philadel- phia, but at one time had served in the very important and responsible position of instructor to ladies at the Female Seminary of Frostburg. So Miss Harlow was called to Goosetown, and in due course became an adjunct to the family of Jonathan Gray. The lady was no longer young; indeed, singular as it may appear, she no longer professed to be; white threads showed plainly in her tawny hair; she wore spectacles with gold rims, and upon the crown of her head she wore a little patch of lace, arranged with exquisite neatness, in lieu of a cap. Miss Harlow was very prim, very exact, a good disciplinarian, and Master Barney begau 34 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. making rapid progress with his books under her super- vision. He discarded pretty much altogether his hobby- horse, "wagon, and other toys — all the handiwork of Charles Boone — for the new play at books, as his fond parents had taught him to regard his lessons. Though Miss Marion Harlow had been out of employ- ment for a whole season, and was very anxious to secure the situation offered bj' the Grays, she was far from con- tented; for she simply abominated Goosetown, as was shown by a letter she wrote to a niece — an aspiring younglady of whom the spinster aunt seemed very fond — and in which she expressed her mind with perfect freedom. "Dear Agnes," Miss Harlow wrote, "I am so heartily sick and tired of this benighted place that I am at a loss to know how to express myself. The two months and more that I have been here seem the longest I have ever known. I have no society here, and this makes me feel terribly alone. The people are very sincere, honest, and kind, but what does all that amount to when they are uncultivated, so uncouth in their manners, and lacking so much in all the refinement as to be utterly unable to entertain one and make themselves agreeable? I have really seen nothing more interesting than ox carts, driven by the oddest-looking men, since I came here. Were it not that the people with whom I am staying, Mr. Gray and wife, are educated and refined, I positively could not have remained here as long as I have; but this makes my situation bearable. "The little boy that I am educating is a very bright child and a very good child, so that I have become really attache''d to the little fellow. Mr. Gray gives himself considerable concern lest his hopeful son should not be properly taught; seems to fear the boy may inbibe ideas that might lead to a life of dishonesty. He is very, very particular about having the child taught the literal truth in all things, as well as the importance of observing the truth under all circumstances. Just as though 1 could be guilty of teaching a child anything but what is right and proper. Did you ever hear anything more absurd? 3ut, of course, I shall not remain here muoh longer. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 35 Just as soon as Parson Smoothvoice succeeds in procur- ing me a situation in the city I shall leave here. I can frame some sort of an excuse to tell the Grays why I quit them. They are very nice and I would not hurt their feelings for the world. "So, you see, Agnes dear, I am not likely to find that rich young man for you, nor the wealthy old bachelor for myself, that we talked about when I last saw you. Goosetown, I should say, is about the last place in the world for us to look for prospective husbands. But, come to think, there is one young man living in this community who is a perfect jewel; the only trouble is that he is as poor as a church-mouse. He is a young farmer, and though his hands and face are sunburnt and his clothes of the coarsest kind, one seems not to notice them when conversing with him — he is so much a gentle- man. He is self-educated and is destined to be some- body some day, for he has it in him, as the saying is. He is well connected, I am told, being related to the wealthy Grapmans of our city, if you please. Mrs. Grapman I knew years ago — but this was before your time, my dear — ^she was a Summerville; there were two girls, Harriet and Clara. Harriet married Jim Grapman, as he was then called, before the death of her parents, and after their deaths — I don't know how it was — ^the Grapmans got all the property. Clara then made her home with Harriet up to the time she married — a mar- riage opposed by the Grapmans, I am told — when she disappeared and I never knew what became of her until I found her in this outlandish place. She is a nice, quiet little body ; makes a complete recluse of herself, and cares for nobody except her darling son, whom she is doing an injustice to, because she keeps him here; or at least he says he will never leave so long as his mother lives, and she declares that she will never quit her be- loved Goosetown forthe reason that her husband — who died many years ago-^is buried in the old graveyard here. Her son — whose name, by the way, is Charley Boone — is a great friend of the Grays; is made one of the family, indeed. "So, you see, Aggie dear, there is an eligible catch 3(5 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. here after all; and I really 'wish you could become ac- quainted with the young man — though, to be sure, you would not care for him now- — for it would be a good plan to keep him in hand and wait developments. I had a mind to bring about a correspondence between you and him, but he is so deep that it is hard to dr^w him out. Why, when I spoke to him of the Grapmans, he pre- tended not to hear me, and began talking about some- thing else! Of course, the Grapmans do not recognize him now, but they will when he makes his mark in the world, which he is sure to do." It is very evident that at the time Miss Harlow penned the above epistle, there was nothing further from her mind than that the time was nigh when she would be- summarily dismissed from her position as a person utterly unfit to be trusted with the education of a child. And yet such was the case. It was on Christmas Eve that the careful and conscientious matron received her ignominious discharge as the guardian of the morals of Master Barney Gray. It came about in this way : Miss Harlow had directed the boy to prepare for bed, and Earner, having been taught obedience, soon an- nounced that he was ready. "Why, darling, have you not forgotten something?" said Miss Harlow lovingly. "No, ma'am," returned Master Earner, "I never for- get anything!" "Have you not forgotten what eve this is?" "Oh, no, you told me; it is Christmas Eve." "Well, are you not going to hang up your stocking for Santa Claus?" "Who is Santa Claus?" "Why, have you never heard?" Miss Harlow went on, "of the old man with long, white beard, who goes about on Christmas night filling the stockings of good little boys and girls with candies, toys, and all sorts of nice things?" "And will he fill my stockings with nice things, if I hang them up?" inquired little Barney eagerly. "Certainly he will, for you are the best little boy I Jsaow, and I'm sure " SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 37 "Miss Harlow!" This came from Jonathan Gray, -who ■was sitting in his accustomed chair reading his news- paper. Miss Marion, observing his severe tone, turned and, facing him said, with perfect self-possession: "Well, sir, what is it?" "Put the boy to bed and then return here to me; I wish to speat to you." "Certainly, sir." "But who is Santa Glaus, and how does he know about me?" pleaded the child. "My son, say no more; come to me in the morning and I will tell you," commanded Jonathan Gray. Miss Harlow rose majestically and, taking the boy with her, quitted the room. She was a recognized authority on training children and, knowing her ground, was prepared to defend it. So, when she returned, she seated herself with freezing dignity and said: "Well, sir, I am ready to hear what you have to saj'." "It is nothing more than to tell you that your services are no longer required, and I will settle with you just as soon as you can make it convenient to leave." "Indeed!" Jonathan Gray kept glancing over his newspaper and made no further remark. After a mo- ment's silence Miss Harlow said, with cutting severity : "As my right, I demand to know why I am treated in this shameful manner." "For the reason, madam," replied Jonathan Gray, in a firm but quiet voice, "that I will have no one about my house who deceives my little boy and tells him lies." "Deceive? Lies? Do you know whom you are talk- ing to?" almost shrieked the spinster. "Have you for- gotten my reputation ? Do you not know that I have educated the children of the best families in Philadel- phia? The Pembertons, the Wallaces, the Gardners, the Van Aliens? besides having the highest recommendation from such a man as Parson Smoothvoice? Well, this is rather amusing — it is, indeed, after giving the greatest satisfaction to the Pembertons, the Wallaces, and all those, to come to Goosetown to be told that I am a goose!" and Miss Marion forced a stringent "He! he!" 38 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, "It is not necessary to become excited, " said Jonathan Gray, in his polite and quiet manner. "You may suit other people well enough, but you don't please me. I am opposed to practicing deception upon children, even in what is supposed to be a harmless way. I think it tends to make a dishonest child ; and a dishonest child necessarily becomes a dishonest man or woman. It is my fondest hope that my son may grow up to be a noble, manly man, an honor to himself and a credit to me; but this he can never be if he is not taught, from his earliest childhood, to shun deceit and falsehood as he would a pestilence." Mr. Gray's coolness had a tendency to abate the storm that was raging within Marion Harlow's breast, and when she spoke again it was with much less vehemence. "I am sure this innocent — deception, as you are pleased to call it," she began, "is in vogue among the best people; there's the Pembertons, the Wallaces, the Van Aliens, and all those; besides, I know it has always been encour- aged by Parson Smoothvoice, and I am sure no one can say that he is not honorable and trustworthy, or he would not be at the head of the society of moral culture." "Parson Smoothvoice is one man and I am another," returned Mr. Gray, "so it is not necessary to argue the matter. I don't want your services any longer, and that settles it." ""Well," replied Miss Marion, with a contemptuous toss of her head, "this is the first time in my life that I have been discharged from any position — and to think of the many responsible ones I have held. But it makes no difference. I am perfectly satisfied; for, permit me to tell you, I detest the place, and before I had been here three weeks, I wrote to Parson Smoothvoice, asking him to get me a situation in the city just as soon as he could; so, you see, I was expecting to leave you at any time." "I am not at all surprised at that," said Mr. Gray, "and this bears me out in what I was saying. Those who will deceive a child stand ever ready to stultify them- selves and deceive whomsoever they have dealings with. Both yourself and Parson Smoothvoice, doubtless, were deceived and lied to in your childhood, by fond aad lov- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 39 ing parents, and you have grown to mature years with hypocrisy so thoroughly instilled in your blood, that it has become a part of your natures; and now you set yourselves up as examples, and even attempt to teach morality, being unable to perceive that you are as false as false can be. Evidently Parson Snioothvoice is no better than he should be." Marian Harlow winced, very perceptibly, while Jona- than Gray was speaking. She saw where she was caught off her guard ; she recoiled from the force of the thrust, and retreated from the field. "Well," she said, "if I am to go I shall be ready to leave early in the morning." "I shall see to it that you are taken to the station," replied Jonathan Gray. Then Miss Harlow rose from her chair, but not with the queenly sweep and defiant manner with which she had seated herself, and quitted the room. The next morning, bright and early, she bade farewell to Goose- town forever. But — -and this must be recorded to her credit — before she did so, she visited the room where the little boy slept, kissed him fondly, and placed some beautiful toys and sweetmeats beside him on his pillow as he slept. Two weeks had not passed, from the time Marion Har- low took her departure from Goosetown, when the stage, so called — though it was nothing more than a rickety old Dearborn, drawn by two lean and hungry-looking horses — drew up before the house of the Grays, and a very plain-looking girl alighted. It was a cold, winter day and the wind blew chilly blasts. The girl drew her thin cloak closely about her, and, taking a little bag the stage-driver handed down, entered the gate and passed along the walk up to the door of the house. As she stepped upon the porch, the door was opened by Mrs. Gray who received the girl very kindly and, seeing she was suffering from cold, assisted her in removing her hood and cloak; then invited her to be seated close to the fire. "This, I presume, is Mrs. Gray," said the girl. On receiving an affirmative answer she resumed, "1 hope you will pardon me — you may think I am very bold ; but I 40 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLt). came all the way from Philadelphia to see if the place is still vacant that Marian Harlow had here." Mrs. Gray replied that no one had been engaged. ' "Then I should like so much to have you try me, and see if I would not suit." Mrs. Gray inforined the applicant that it was a matter upon which her husband must be consulted, and that he had gone out to the- barn, but would return soon. "I hear him coming now," she said, in conclusion. Then, as Jonathan entered the room, she said: "My dear, this young lady has come all the way from Philadelphia to apply for Miss Harlow's place, and I have referred her to you." Jonathan Gray looked at the girl for a moment and then said: "You look rather young." "I am growing older every day," was the quick reply. "Have you had any experience in the care and teach- ing of children?" "None whatever." "Do you think you could fill all requirements?" "I should do my very best." "Have you anj' letters of reference?" "None, I prefer that you should try me on my merits. " "What is your name?" "Oh, pardon me," said the young miss, with a little laugh, "you see I am not accustomed to introducing my- self. My name is Mary J. Parmer." "Mary Jane?" "No, Mary Jessie." "Pooh!" ejaculated Jonathan Gray, "who gave you such a name as that?" "My parents, I suppose; I'm sure I had nothing to do with it." "Are your parents living?" "No, sir; both dead. If you will permit, sir, I will give you some account of myself and tell how I happen to be here. I will be very brief. I am all alone in the world; my poor mamma died six years ago, and dear papa four years later. Since then I have been support- ing myself by working as lady's maid, and oh! that is so hard, at least to one who has any feeling. I know Marioa SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 41 Harlow; she was governess at one time in a family where I worked. I saw her only three days ago, and she told me of having been here, and said it was just the place that would suit me. I got so anxious and worked up over it I didn't know what to do. I thought of writ- ing to you, but changed my mind and concluded that the best way was to come on and see you, hoping that you might think well enough of me to give me a trial." Mary Parmer paused here, and Jonathan Gray mused a moment in silence. He then inquired : "What pay do you expect?" "Nothing more than you feel inclined to give. It is not money I want so much as a home — to be with people who, if I prove myself worthy, will care a little for me and show me some affection and kindness. Anything within my power, I would do for them, then, in return." "And you would tell my little boy no lies — not even about Santa Glaus?" said Jonathan Gray, with a sar- donic smile. Mary Parmer laughed a little at this, and said : "Marion told me about that." "What did she say?" "She said you were very peculiar and eccentric." "Tou thought so, too, I suppose?" "Well — since you mention it," said Mary Parmer, hes- itatingly, "I admired you very much for what you did; you see, I am said to be a little queer, too." "Then you do not approve of deceiving children re- garding Santa Glaus?" "Of course, I naturally entertain the views that were taught me when a child. Dear papa always said that deception and falsehood practiced upon children, even though in a kind and loving way, was simply sowing the seed of crime in virgin soil. He maintained that a child so brought up would, naturally, feel justified in doiug wrong because its parents had set the example by not being honest and true. And it seems to me, so far as Santa Glaus is concerned, children should be given to understand — so far as they are able to comprehend — what it is, the origin of the term, and so on ; then, if kind friends wanted to give things under this ruse, all well 42 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, and good ; but to deliberately lie to innocent children, as I have heard so many parents do, seems to me perfectly dreadful." Jonathan Gray was in a reflective mood. Mrs. Gray, v?ho sat at the further side of the room near the windovp, kept busily stitching awa.v at her sewing. "But," spoke up Jonathan Gray, after a little silence, "suppose you were to come here and find me not a very agreeable employer, ■ij^hat then?" "Oh, I don't see how that could be!" "There is my wife, Mrs. Gray, you might not like her. " "Please don't say that," said Mary Parmer plead- ingly. "No one could know Mrs. Gray and not love her. For years I have not been spoken to so kindly and con- siderately as by her the moment I entered this house." "And Earner, my son, do you think you will be able to manage him?" "Oh, I apprehend no trouble from that source; I am passionately fond of children — good children — and Marion Harlow said that you had, without any excep- tion, the most lovable little boy she ever knew. Where is he? I should like so much to see him," said Mary Parmer, with considerable enthusiasm. Mrs. Gray here explained that Earner was spending a few days on a farm with Mr. Boone. "He is very fond of the child," she said, "and would have him constantly if we permitted it." "All that I am nervous about," interposed Mary Parmer, speaking to Jonathan Gray, "is that you might be disappointed in me; but I would do my very best, and I always like to be useful. I am not very wise, though I am anxious to improve, and I know that you and Mrs. Gray can teach me a great deal, and I should always seek your advice." "Margaret, my dear," said Jonathan, rising and going over to where his wife was sitting, "it seems to me that we ought to have just such a young lady as this in our home. I am sure she is most deserving. Suppose we accept her as our daughter — and have her live with us always. "What say you?" "Such an arrangement would be agreeable to me," re- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 43 plied Mrs. Gray, "Miss Parmer impresses me very favor- ably, indeed ; and I am sure would be a pleasant com- panion." "Then, Miss Parmer, " said Jonathan Gray, with a bright smile, "if it please you, this is your home so long as you wish to make it so ; unless you should give us cause for directing otherwise ; but of this, I assure you, I have no fear." "Oh, I was not expecting such kindness as this!" said Mary, her eyes suffusing with tears; then, rising impul- sively from her chair, she stepped quickly to the side of Mrs. Gray and kissed that ladj' most affectionately. And so Miss Mary J. Parmer became a member of the family of Jonathan Gray, as well as a resident of Goosetown. As this young lady becomes a very important factor in this veracious history we will describe her appearance at this time. She had rather large brown eyes. Her hair was chestnut-brown in color; and, as she combed it straight back from the sides of her forehead it was dis- played in beautiful little waves of nature's own make over and above her ears. The hair was gathered at the back of the head, near the crown, where it was fastened with a bit of brown ribbon allowing the bulk to fall over the back of the neck in a style of careless elegance that was once so much admired, and was called a waterfall of curls. Her teeth were perfect, and very white. She had a pretty foot which made the rather coarse shoe that covered it look neat and comely. Her face was full of animation, and her features strictly patrician. The dress she wore, though of cheap material, was fitted perfectly to her faultless form. In short, Mary J. Parmer was, at the time she came to Goosetown, a handsome girl in her teens, with every mark of refinement and intollgence. The better she became known the better she was liked,, and the village really seemed to advance a step or two- within a short time after she came to live there. Being naturally gifted she could cut and make clothes for either men, women or children ; and, thoroughly unselfish, was ever ready to lend a helping hand or give advice in mat- ters of this kind. Hence the Goosetowners got to wear- ing neater and better clothes; even Matilda Ping looked 44 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. more as though she belonged to the century in which she lived instead of to one of the past. Mary herself, owing to the generosity of Jonathan Gray, had a rather more ex- tensive wardrobe than other young ladies of her acquaint- ance. She had three beautiful silk dresses, and it was well-known that she carried a little gold watch that really kept time, and was the talk as well as the wonder of all. No one denied that Mary Parmer was the aristo- crat and belle of Goosetown ; yet no one begrudged her her good fortune in being Jonathan's adopted daughteer for she was generous, honest, and kind, and so easy in manners that she made a friend of every one with whom she came in contact; and the result was that people liked her, and people — as a rule — are not envious of those they like. After Mary Parmer became a member of the Gray family she could not very well avoid becoming ac- quainted with Charley Boone, because he was a constant visitor at the house; never a week passing but he spent one or two evenings there; and it may be supposed that all his leisure time would have been spent in company with his highly esteemed friends, the Grays, had it not been for his unfaltering devotion to his mother. "When Charley and Mary first met, they were, of course, introduced, and Charles then passed on to the library where he spent the evening with Mr. Gray, as he had done scores of times before. "Well, Uncle Jonty," said Charley facetiously (Char- ley Boone was the only one who took the liberty — and perhaps the only one who would have been permitted to do so— to call Jonathan Gray "Jonty," and he never did this in the presence of a third party), "you have your family quite made up now; with your adopted son," meaning himself, "and your adopted daughter, besides Earner," Charley never called the son by his pet name, Barney, in the father's presence, "you have a very re- spectable household." To this Jonathan Gray replied that he should not object to increasing his family of adopteds a hundred- fold, providing they were all like those he already had, and he could afford to be of any service to them. SCHOOLED SY THE WORLD. 45 As time ran on Charley Boone and Mary Parmer be- came pleasant acquaintances. Then they became very good friends, and used to sit, on summer evenings, on 1 Jonathan Gray's front porch and exchange little con- fidences, incidentally, in their conversation upon the va- rious topics in -which they sometimes entered. Finally, Charley took to walking with Mary to meeting on Sunday evenings, and, when services were over, would meet her again at the door — promiscuous sitting was not permitted in the meeting-house at Goosetown — and walk home with her. But it was not until Charley one day drove to the house of the Grays, with a fine turnout, and took Mary to the county fair at Dabberton, fifteen miles away, that folks began to talk of a wedding in the near future. And then, when it was reported that Charley had given Mary a ring — a real gold one, Matilda Ping said — very sug- gestive in design, having for a top two hearts blended in one, and lettering on the inside, some folks in Goose- town began making actual preparations to attend the im- portant event. It was Barney Gray, who had by this time grown to be quite a lad, who set all mystery at rest regarding the ring and the engagement of Charley Boone and Mary Parmer. Matilda Ping, seeing Barney coming down the road one day, made it convenient to walk out in her yard and rest her elbows on the front gate. "Well, Barney," she said, "and how are all the folks up at the house?" On being informed that they were in the best of health, Matilda exclaimed : "Well, now, I want to know!" But Barney being familiar with Miss Ping's oddities, gave the lady no further information, until she asked: "And is it a pretty ring that Charley gave Mary?" "Oh, it's a beauty," Barney answered. "Dew tell! And what are the letters inside?" "Only their names — Charlie Boone and Mary Parmer," replied Barney. "Well, well, well, I do want to know; and so they really are goin' to get married?" "Why, of course, they are going to get married," said Barney. "They don't know just when — but some time." 46 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Immediately after this conversation Matilda called on her neighbor, Mrs. Miller. "Well, it's all settled," she said, "they are to be married, and it may come off any day — I shouldn't wonder a bit if it would be to-morrow. " Miss Ping then proceeded to narrate the interview she had just had with Barney — giving many embellishments which originated in her own fertile brain — concluding with a sort of a lament: "It do beat all! There's no use a tellin' me there's no such thing as luck. Now, there's Mary — not that I'm a saying she's not a nice girl, for every- body knows she is — she came here to Goosetown, with hardly any clothes to her back ; the Grays take her up and make a fine lady of her, and now she's to marry the nicest young man — the nicest in the world, I may say. Oh, well; so it goes. I've had my day, and my chances, plenty of chances, but the right one never come along, so here I am, and I suppose it's all for the best." From Mrs. Miller's house Matilda Ping went direct to her own home, shook the camphor out of her black silk dress, hung it out to air, spent half a daj* smoothing the creases out of it, and sat up half a night scouring up her jewelry. But Matilda, like many others, was doomed to disappointment; for time kept running on without the marriage taking place. Charley Boone was certainly prosperous enough ; the Cloud place was a rich and pro- ductive farm, and Charley's annual income must be con- siderable. Besides, it was believed that he made some money in other ways; for it was known that he would occasionally write an article pertaining to farming for publication in the journal of agriculture. It appears that it was one of these essays from his pen that caused a let- ter to come to Goosetown one day, addressed to Charles Boone, Esquire. When Charley received this letter he opened it carefully and proceeded to read. "While doing so his face paled perceptibly, and by the time he had read to the end his indignation knew no bounds; for he crushed the letter in his hands, and was about to tear it to bits, but he paused, and, seeming to repress his agi- tation, put the letter in his. pocket and started straight- way to see his mother. "Mother," said Charley Boone, "I have a letter here I want to read to you." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 47 "Oh, what is it, my son?" exclaimed the little widow, "I hope it is some good news!" Her son unfolded the letter and read as follows: Mt Deab Nephew : My esteemed friend, Mr. Scraper, came to see me a few days ago, and called my attention to an article in the Farmer's Guide, written by one 'C. Boone.' Upon inquiry I have learned that C. Boone is the son of my wife's sister, who became estranged from my family many years ago. I now, as your affection- ate uncle, extend the hand of friendship — and in this I am joined by my entire family — and congratulate you not only upon your scholarly attainments, but the superior thought and research which your excellent article shows you possess. Permit me to say, also, that my family — your aunt and cousins,join me in burying the past,and we all extend you a cordial invitation to visit us at an early date. I shall take pleasure in introducing you to my friends, among whom you will find men of no ordinary character and influence who can aid greatly in advancing you to those positions which you are so well qualified to fill. I here inclose my card, which gives the street and number of my residence. "Permit me to subscribe myself, "Your affectionate uncle, "James Grapman. "P. S. This invitation extends also to your mother should she be still living. J. G. " Charley Boone had no sooner finished reading than his gentle, loving mother was in ecstasy. "Oh! isn't that splendid!" she cried, "to think that Uncle James has relented at last; we'll go and see them right soon, will we not, son? And how fortunate that you gave me that beautiful dress, for, of course, we will be taken to the the- aters and all sorts of fine places; and only think! you will meet your cousins, Estella and Maud, and they are very grand ladies now, I have no doubt." The little widow, noting a peculiar expression in her son's face, paused in her rhapsody and regarded him with an inquiring look. 48 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, "Mother," he said, sadly, "it grieves me to stand in the way of anything that could give you pleasure ; for you are the dearest little woman in the world, and would forgive anything or anybody, no matter what crime they might commit; but you are too vivacious and act without thinking, or you would not be willing to recognize those people after what they have done. To rob you of your patrimony — ^turn their backs upon us and withhold a friendly hand when we were in actual need, lest we might appeal to them for succor." "Yes, but, son," ventured Clara Boone, "you must remember Uncle James has relented." "He has, has he? wherein does he show it? Does he ask any forgiveness or show any contrition? Look at that letter and read between the lines. That cruel, selfish man has some sinister motive at the bottom of all this — he thinks he can now make use of me to benefit himself. But as for you, he secretly hopes that you are dead and out of the way — that postscript tells the tale. You were simply an after-thought. No, mother dear, we will not visit the Grapmans ; we will treat them with the contempt they so richly deserve. This letter, envelope and all, I shall simply return, without a word of comment, to the writer; and that, I hope, so far as we are concerned, will be the end of the Grapmans." And it was. The little widow sat again at her window, looking out after the retreating form of her manly son, and again she was filled with pride and exultation, for now, more dis- tinctly than ever, she fancied she could hear his praises sounded throughout the land. But calculations and fancies are often vain. The loving and lovable little woman did not count upon the intervention of death to prevent her witnessing the greatness which she felt assured her son was destined to achieve. If it was true, as Charley stated, that James Grapman secretly hoped his sister-in-law was dead, he had not long to wait for his hope to be realized. For within a month from the time he wrote to his nephew, Mrs. Clara Boone was one day taken suddenly ill and died very unexpec- tedly. This cast a pall over all Goosetown, and changed the entire aspect of things. Instead of talking and pre- SCHOOLEt) 6Y THE WORLD. 49 paring for the wedding, all joined in extending sympathy to the sorrowing son in his sad bereavement. The day the mortal remains of the little lady were consigned to mother earth, the blacksmith shop, the store, and even the doors of the old tavern were closed, for evreybody went to the funeral. 50 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER III. A WEDDING AT GOOSETOWN. Although but little waa said for a long while after the death of widow Boone about the impending marriage of Charley Boone and Mary Parmer, these two saw more of each other and passed their evenings together more fre- quently than ever. Charley found much solace in Mary's company; her cheery voice and animated manner drove dull care away ; besides, there was much to talk over — the plans for the future, and so forth. The sum and sub- stance of many of these confidential talks may be gathered from a conversation they had one night while sitting together paring apples in the cozy little kitchen at Jona- than Gray's. "Yes," said Charley, "I have decided it is the best thing we can do. We will start for the West immediately after we are married ; there are much better opportuni- ties there for a man to advance himself. Here in old Goosetown I might live and die, and not have much in the end, and nobody would be much the better ofE for my having lived at all. The West is the country of the future — the best men we have are drifting in that direc- tion, and I want to take my chances in a broader field. Why, you don't know but what you may be Mrs. Senator Boone some day, Mollie. " "Oh, yes," replied Mary, "I suppose it is all right. Wherever you want to go I'll go, if it is to the end of the earth ; but I know I shall cry my eyes nearly out when it comos to leaving dear old Goosetown — but then, I'll get over it, of course, in time." "I see it is very hard for you to make up your mind to quit this sleepy old place; but it will be all for the best, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 51 you may rest assured of that — for the West is the country!" "I admit it is hard; but you must remember, dear boy, since poor papa died I was never so happy as I have been here. If a\] the people in the world were as gdod and kind as Uncle Jonty and Aunt Margy, it would be different. Besides, I have so many dear friends here; I am suspicious and reallj' afraid of the world, and it seems to me that Goosetown's the best place of all." "Have no fear, I'll take care of you; and when we get settled in the great "West, among live people, you would not return here for anything, except to make a visit, and that you shall do whenever you want to." "If we could only take Earner with us," Mary said, "I have become so attached to the boy; it seems as though he were really my own brother, and I am sure I shall always think of him as such." "You don't regret leaving Barney behind any more than I do," Charley replied; "but we'll have him come out and join us some day. He'll be a young man before many years, and he will not tie himself down for life to Goosetown, you may rest assured of that; besides, I have promised Uncle Jonty that, in case anything happened to him, I would act as a sort of guardian and elder brother to Barney." "Oh, wouldn't that be just splendid!" said Mary en- thusiastically, "if Barnej' were some day to come and live with us; he would always be a link between present and past, and we could never forget the happy days we have all had here together. " Finally all was settled, the day was set, and the invi- tations were sent out. Then followed a great shaking-up of old finery, long packed away, and some new clothes were bought; for this wedding was an innovation for Goosetown; it was regarded as a marriage in high life, and all were inclined to turn out in their best to do honor to themselves as well as to the occasion. The cere- mony would come off later in the evening, after which the happy couple were to be driven to the station at Flag- town, to take the night train for the West. Hence, on this day, there was considerable bustle and confusion in 52 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Goosetown. Vehicles began coming in early in the after- noon, and many persons who were comparative strangers in the village could be seen parading the street or loiter- I ing about the tavern. In private homes frocks were tried on, inspected, and taken off again, let out a little in one place, and drawn up a little in another. In some families there were differences in opinion and high words ensued. Especiallj' was this the case at Ephraim Deck's. Mrs. Deek, whose admiration for Mary Parmer was unbounded, was determined to show proper respect and appreciation of the young lady on this, her wedding day, as well as her last day in Goosetown. So the good Mrs. Deek bought a large roll of cloth for a new frock. It was light material, both in color and weight, and not expensive; though it looked very gay when made up, especially in the gaudy style of Mrs. Deek's own design. It was flounced and frilled prodigiously, besides having rather an extensive trail. "There'll be no waste," Mrs. Deeksaid, "for it's sewed with long stitches, and I can easy rip it up, and my good- ness me! there's stuff enough in it to make two nice frocks for me an' two for Katie." The Katie spoken of was the daughter who appeared in the first chapter. She was now a slip of a girl, and not averse to being told that she was pretty, providing the compliment was given with becoming tact. She, of course, was going to the wedding too, and had a very nice white frock, which had been cut and fitted by Mary Parmer herself, and when Katie got it on, she looked just as sweet as could be. Mrs. Deek was decked out in her costume for the even- ing, when her husband came in from the barn to shave, wash up, and get on his best clothes. She had patterned a little after Mary Parmer, for she had let her hair down, and had some artificial flowers twined through it. "How do you think I look, pap?" said Mrs. Deek, smiling, as her husband entered. "Why, what have you got yourself up that way for. Sue? There will not be anybody else there dressed like that," said Ephraim, in his mild, good-natured way. "There you go again!" exclaimed Susan, "the minute SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 53 you get in the house you must jaw an' scold about some- thing! If it's not one thing it's another; an' I tell you right now I'm not goin' to stand it much longer!" "If you would cut the tail ofE that thing it wouldn't look so bad," suggested Ephraim, as he started to shave. "If you were a man instead of a brute!" cried Mrs. Deek savagely, "you'd be ashamed of yourself! To rear up an' make all this fuss just because I spent a few cents to look nice an' respectable on that dear girl's account; after all she's done for our Katie — an' there's Charley Boone, although I do say it, he wasted a power o' candles when he lived with us, I called that settled long ago, for he's paid it back a thousand times — if in nothin' else he's paid it in writin' your old law papers, an' doin' your figurin'for you — an' never got a cent for it, I'll be bound. An' now you're as mad as a hornet just because his weddin' happens to cost you a penny — for two cents I'd go to Charley an' Mary this very night an' put them up to make out a bill for every blessed thing they've done for you an' your child, an' take the law agin ye an' make ye pay it, an' it would serve you just right!" "That wouldn't do you any good; they wouldn't do it. All I ever had agin Charley was that he would never let me pay him anything for what he would do for me." "Oh, no, of course he wouldn't; an' you tried so dread- ful hard, too, to git him to take pay — I know you, Mr. Ephraim Deek," said Susan, her dark eyes flashing. At this juncture Ephraim turned around from the look- ing-glass which was hanging against the wall, and ac- cidentally stepped on the sweeping train of his wife's dress, as she passed just back of him. This produced a rip of several inches where the skirt was sewed to the bodice, besides displacing some of the flounces. "Blame the thing!" said Ephraim rather impatiently, "why can't you pin that thing up. Sue, out of the way?" "That's right! that's right!" retorted Susan, "tear the clothes off my back, then you'll be satisfied. You'd better strike me — knock me down an' kick me, why don't ye? then you'll be satisfied, I'm sure!" "The tarnation thing, I didn't see it," muttered Ephraim ; "I can't see how you're goin' to get along at the 54 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. weddin; ther'll be lots of people there, an' they'll be trampin' on that thing all the time. There'll be no room for anybody else in the house, when you get there, with that thing on." "Goon! keep it up! I see there's no help for it; you'll never be satisfied, Eph Deek, till you've pestered the life out of me an' sent me to my grave an' I'm not goin' to stand this sort of thing much longer." With this pitiful complaint the injured Susan tore her hand- kerchief loose from v;;here she had it pinned at her v?aist, and pressing it to her eyes with both hands, flung herself into a chair near the window, sobbing, apparently com- pletely overcome with grief. She had been in this position but a moment when, on hearing the approach of a conveyance coming down the road, she cocked her near eye above her handkerchief and beheld a turn-out, quite aristocratic in appearance, driving at full speed. The horses were high-spirited bays; their sides flaked with foam, having had a long and hard drive, while the carriage, harness, robes, and trappings were of a rich and fashionable order. Mrs. Deek bounded up at once. "Gracious goodness me!" she exclaimed, "who in the world isall thiscomin'? Come here, pap, quick! It's the Morris girls, all the way from Dry Eidge, as sure as I'm a livin' woman! Yes, there's Louweze, an' Feebe, an' Dave Ford drivin' — an' that's Steve Henderson on the back seat with Feebe Morris — I tell you there's quality an' style for you! I see it, pap," here Susan brought her hands together with a smack, "I see the whole thing just as plain as I see the nose on your face : the Morris girls are Mary's best friends, an' they're to be the bridesmaids; Dave Ford and Steve Henderson are Charley's best friends, an' they're to be the groomsmen. I tell ye this is a weddin' for ye. Goosetown never saw anything like this before. Now, then, Mr. Smartie Deek," Susan went on with a look of triumph, "what have you got to say now? I'd a looked nice, wouldn't I, goin' among all that style an' fashion with my old bombazine on? I tell you, when the Morris girls come out is when you see the fine dresses!" "1 can't see that old John Morris' folks are any great SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 55 phakes; old John has been sold out by the sheriff three times, as everybody knows," remarked Ephraim. "There you go again!" shouted Susan, "you've got to jaw an' find fault about something, it seems. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself to talk like that!" "I don't know why; I'm sure it's true enough," Ephraim replied. "Well? Suppose it is? had that dear girl, Mary Parmer, got anything to do with that? There you stand up an' run down her best friends, an' try to make it out that Mary is not much— when she is the nicest girl and the finest lady that ever lived, as everybody knows, an' I'm not goin' to hear any more such talk, I tell you that right now." "I've got nothing agin Mary, I'm only saying that John Morris don't pay his debts, an' somebody else has to pay for the fine clothes his girls wear." Susan made no immediate reply. She straightened her- self up in a tragical way. Her face assumed a serious oast, and when she again spoke her voice had a solemn sound. "Ephraim Deek," she said, "ever since I was married I have tried to do my duty as a faithful wife to you. I have worked hard and I have suffered much. But this can go on no longer. I can't stand it. You are bound and determined to pester the life out of me, and you have don6' it, until you have brought me down near to my grave. I can put up with it no longer. Ephraim Deek! I am a goin' to leave you! I will take my darling child with me. We will go our way, and you can go yours. People will talk, I know; but when they come to find out what you are, no one will blame me for what I have done. I wish you no harm, but hereafter we are strangers." After making this declaration, so overpast with gloom, Mrs. Susan Deek gathered up her damaged skirt, and, carrying it on her arm, quitted the room, closing the door with a bang. Ephraim 's equanimity was not in the least disturbed by his wife's sudden desertion of him, for the reason, it may be supposed, that since his marriage his helpmeet had abandoned him scores of times with quite as much 56 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. tragical solemnity as on the present occasion, and he had grown used to it. Now it is unfortunate that this controversy in the Deek family, which the eve of the wedding brought about, be- came known and was recorded; for, naturally, one might conclude that Miss Parmer's friends were not of the proper sort. Besides, reflections have been cast upon the character of honest John Morris. Mary Parmer has been introduced as a young lady of becoming modesty, and one who always conducted herself with proper decorum and hence these things must be cleared up. That John Morris did not always pay his debts was not 80 much his fault as that of his wife, Liddy Ann. It was she who played the mischief. John himself had but one weakness, dissipation, or whatever it may be called ; and this was for fine horses. He always kept a good number of them on hand, more, really, than were required to do the work of the farm ; but he was fond of them, and it was John Morris' boast that, when on the road, he took the dust of no one. And it is doubtful if he coyld ever have forgiven his fair daughters had they, when out driving, permitted themselves to be passed by any of the brag stock of the country. However, it was not John Morris' fancy horses and carriages that kept him in per- petual debt. These could be taken care of well enough, but the bills constantly run up by Liddy Ann for silks, satins, velvets, laces, feathers, and expensive finery of every description — not for herself at all, oh, dear, no! but for her superb daughters ; for never was a fond mother more proud or more willing to make sacrifices for her girls than Liddy Ann Morris. Many were the confidential talks she and John had over their pecuniary affairs, when the innocent young ladies were sleeping the sweet sleep of peace, for all family troubles were cautiously guarded from them. John was well and favorably known ; he endeavored always to do what was right, and would make payments toward liquidating his debts so long as he had a dollar to pay with. Hence his credit was good, and this Liddy Ann knew, and she was not slow to take advantage of it. The farm was secure, no matter what happened, for it was a legacy to Liddy Aim from her father. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 57 "I don't know what is to become of us," John would say, after his hard day's work, when sitting alone with his wife of an evening, "bills keep coming in, and I have so more money to pay on them. I can't see why our girls should cost us so much more than other people's girls cost them." "Other people's girls are very common affairs in com- parison with ours, if you want to know it, ' ' his wife would reply. "But why should they be dressed so much finer than other girls? There is nothing made by it. All the young men who are of any account are afraid of them ; they imagine it would take a banker to support one of our girls the way you send them out. And you never let them do a thing — working yourself to death to keep them up, when you are really only doing them an injury. The girls are all right, if you would do different." "It's bankers or some rich men they ought to marry; they were never intended for poor men's wives. Just look at Louise! where did anybody ever see such a beautiful creature? such a form, such eyes, and such a complexion, hair, and everything. And there's Phoebe, as pretty as a rose, with such a talent for music ; it would be a nice way to do, to send her in the kitchen to cook, wash, and scrub, wouldn't it? You needn't worry, when the girls are married off we can save and pay up all our debts easy enough. There are no better girls than ours, and they deserve all they get." "I am not saying anything against the girls, and it wouldn't be well for one who did, if I were present. We know very well that if they were not pure and virtuous all the young bucks for fifty miles around would be running after them. But as it is, I'm afraid we will have them on our hands, and the sheriff will be down on me before long." "Well, it makes no difference; the girls have got to be kept up if I have got to go without shoes, and that is all there is aboutit;"so, in this way, these confidential talks of the Morrises would generally end. Liddy Ann was one of many ambitious mothers. Pey own life, ehe felt, h^id been a failure, Jolin Morris 58 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. •was handsome, but poor, when she married him, and she had had a hard struggle. All the enjoyment the poor woman now had was the living over again her own young days in those of her daughters. To elevate them, to see them queenly and accomplished ladies; then, should they marry wealth, she would feel compensated for her own hard lot. She had managed, by some hook or crook, to send her daughters off to good schools; and Phoebe, hav- ing a natural gift, had become a musician of no mean order. This brought additional expense, for the house of Morris now boasted the only piano for miles around. Everybody knew the Morris girls, and yet these girls had but few intimate friends. When they attended celebra- tions, or other public gatherings, they would go in the family carriage. If they walked through a crowd people gave them room by stepping aside, and looked at them with awe, mingled with admiration as they passed. Mary Parmer's friendly relations with these young ladies was brought about by a singular episode that took place at the Dabberton fair, in time long past. There was a good premium offered at this fair for the best span of carriage horses; and, while there were a number of teams entered to contest for the prize, knowing ones de- clared that the honors would be won either by David Ford's fancy bays, or John Morris' famous team of iron grays; but the bays were the favorites. In order to show the superior qualities of his horses — their gentleness, how easily they could be managed, and all that, John Morris had resorted to a novel idea. He had it noted in the pro- gramme that his team would be driven without bridles, and this, too, by a lady. The lady's name was not given, though it was generally believed she was none other than John's lovely daughter, Louise, as proved to be the case. The contest was to take place that afternoon, and was to be the closing scene for the day. Mr. Ford, always fond of display, and thinking to win additional favor for himself and his splendid horses, con- cluded to exercise his team on the course soon after the noon hour; but he didn't care to drive before all the people alone, he preferred to have a pretty girl with him, and for this purpose he singled out Mary Parmer, with SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 59 whom he was ■well acquainted, and who was at the fair in company with Charley Boone. Mary declined at first, not wishing to make such a public exhibition of herself, but David insisted. Then Mary appealed to Charley Boone and asked: "Shall I go, Charley?" "Do as you like," said this gallant — so off they started. Now, it was purely a coincidence that, when Dave Ford drove into the course, Morris' team entered at the same time just a short space ahead. The fair Louise was driving, with her sister. Miss Phoebe, sitting at her side. The grays looked very fierce, with their bridleless heads in the air, and crimson ribbons floating from their mouths back over their shoulders. The arrangement of the bits in the horses' mouths was unique. The animal's tongues were tied down, the bit slipped in the mouth and held by being fastened to the lower jaw — then ribbons were looped in the bit-rings. Both teams were hitched to light buggies without tops. "Now, that is unfortunate, " said Dave, in a self-im- portant tone, "there is the Morris team. I've got to pass them — hate to do it, too ; but I should want no better fun if braggy old John was only holding the ribbons in- stead of his daughter. " Mary Parmer tried to dissuade him from attempting it. "It would not be gentlemanly," she said; but David could not see it in that light. He was passing in review, and he knew it; so he gave his high-spirited steeds the word and away they sailed on a brisk trot. Miss Morris glanced over her shoulder and saw who was coming, and the grays immediately increased their speed. The bays came on still faster — caught up, and Ford pulled to the side to pass, and was actually doing so, when the whip was played smartly upon the grays and they broke into a gallop. Ford gave a shout of com- mand to his bays and they leaped into a run and passed the grays like a shot. Miss Morris now leaned forward, caught up her lines, and, like an Amazon, lashed the grays over their sides, flanks and backs. Both teams were run- ning now with all their might, and it really looked as if everything would fly to pieces. People came running 60 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. from all parts of the fair grounds; they leaped upon boxes, fences, wagons — ^anything that would give them a better view. When the turn was reached. Miss Morris, being in the rear, took a short curve which made her buggy careen; the crowd saw this and women screamed and men hurrahed; but the buggy righted itself and Miss Morris gained her point, bringing her horses up to the side of Ford's. It was David that was using the whip now, and urging his bays with all his power to keep the lead. When the turn was made, and the teams were started on the down stretch, they were nose and nose running like wild. The more timid Miss Phcebe Morris held on to her seemingly fearless sister, while Miss Parmer clung for dear life to Mr. Ford. Excitement was high, and, as the running qualities of the grays began to tell, and they forged slowly but surely ahead, leaving, before more than half the circuit was made, Mr. Ford and his bays a full length in the rear, excite- ment rose to a tumult. But some of the cooler heads ran into the driving course, brandishing sticks and waving hands to put a stop to this mad race, which was so very much out of order and not down on the bills. Miss Morris guided her span of panting grays off of the track, and the crestfallen Dave Ford followed after. Everybody gathered round to congratulate Miss Morris. Even Dave Ford stood upon his buggy seat, and removing his hat, made a number of very profound bows to Louise : "I takeoff my hat and bow to the lady," he said, "and I do it right here before all the people. When a lady beats me handling a pair of horses I am that lady's slave," and Dave made a bow so low that he seemed in danger of falling forward on his nose. He did not seem to mind it a bit when Mary Parmer up- braided him roundly for bringing on the race, and stig- matized him as no gentleman. Mary, as soon as the excitement had quieted down a little, joined the Misses Morris to apologize for the un- seemly conduct of Mr. Ford, and assure them that she had not approved of it. Now, instead of the bold, coarse TTonien tb^se girls w§re generally said to be, Mary Pat- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 61 mer discovered that they were amiable, refined, and cul- tured young ladies. "I can assure you no one regrets the'disgraceful scene more than myself," said Miss Morris, in answer to Mary Parmer, "but I was peculiarly situated. I knew that papa would never forgive me if I allowed his horses to be defeated ; besides, I supposed that Mr. Ford had entered after me on the course for the purpose of showing the superiority of his team." So favorably impressed was Mary Parmer with the Morris girls that when the carriage horses were driven before the committee of judges, it was Miss Parmer who sat beside Louise when she drove the iron grays. Of course John Morris' iron grays took the premium, though there were many who did say it was his daughter that won the honors, and not the horses. This friendship which sprung up so quickly between Mary Parmer and the Misses Morris resulted, before the fair closed, in bringing together David Ford and Louise Morris; and the young man, true to his word, was the lady's slave ever after. He was a constant visitor at her home, he threw himself at her feet, offered her his name, his fortune — everything. He was accepted, and then there was trouble at the house of old Silas Ford. This close, though rich farmer, shook his fist in his son's face, and declared that if he married the girl he would not only disinherit him but kick him off the place. Then, to make matters still worse for poor David, his mother sanctioned every word the father said. She told her son that she wanted none of the Morris girls, and would not permit one of them to enter her house. ""Why, there's not a farm in the State that could support one of them girls!" she said. So the marriage was de- ferred indefinitely. To return to the wedding at Goosetown. Mrs. Deck, after spending some time above stairs, whither she had taken herself after leaving her husband, came down, as night was setting in, with the necessary repairs made to her frock, and all dressed to proceed to the home of Miss Parmer. As she entered the room she inquired of her husband, who was dressed in his best and waiting for his 62 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD.'*^ •wife to return, if Eube had gone to the barn to hitch ur« "Hitch up?" said Ephraim, "I hope you're not goin' to have the carriage out to go that little piece?" This remark started Susan again on the war-path. "It's none of your business whether I am or noti" she snapped out. "People might think you never saw any- thing but a cow-yard. You're not goin' along with me to the weddin' anyhow, I can tell you that; an' I never want you to speak to me again." At this juncture, Eube, the hired boy, pursuant to previous instructions from his mistress, appeared with the carriage; when Susan, after gathering up her skirts and guarding her very wide, flowing sleeves, sallied forth and was driven in state to Jonathan Gray's. Ephraim followed on foot, a little later. Many people had assembled about the premises of the Grays; more, by long odds, than could gain entrance to the house; but room was at once made for Mrs. Deek when she arrived. As the time drew near for the cere- mony, all were in anxious expectancy. Necke were con- stantly craned at windows and doors in hope of catching a glimpse of the bride, for her wedding garments had been the talk of all Goosetown for some days. Matilda Ping, was present, and a very interested spec- tator she was, too. She wore her black silk, which was of ancient pattern ; too long in the bodice and too short in the skirt; still, it was Miss Ping's silk frock and the one she always wore on occasions of state. She wore the Ping jewels, also. These had' been in the family for generations, and consisted of a breastpin the size of a dinner plate, metaphorically speaking, and earrings that reminded one of pictures he had seen of the aborigines of the Cannibal Isles. The hour for the marriage arrived. The Eey. Prazer oflSciated, and did his part in a very impressive manner. The bride was gowned in white silk (a piece of goods that it was a burning shame to put scissors to, so Mrs. Deek said), with a lace dress over it, and the traditional bridal veil. It was a question hard to decide which looked the most charming, the bride or her attendants (for Mrs. Deek was right in her prediction relative to the SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 63 bridesmaids and groomsmen), since the Morris girls were hard to excel. They were costumed in spotless white; their dresses and their hair were very artistically and becomingly arranged. They wore no jewels — not because they did not have them, but because they had excellent taste, and for the Morris girls to attempt to add to their beauty, when in evening costume, by bedecking them- selves with gewgaws would be like trying to beautify the delicate tints of the rose with daubs of paint. The marriage ceremony over, the evening ran into night while there was feasting, drinking, and merry- making generally. Jonathan Gray had provided bounti- fully, for both he and Margaret had agreed that nothing was too good for their children, as they sometimes called Charley Boone and Mary Parmer. Mrs. Deek, with considerable difiBoulty, being obliged to carry her train over her arm most of the time, suc- ceeded in elbowing her way through the crowd to the side of the bride. "Oh, my dear Mary!" she said, "you don't know how bad I feel to think that you an' Charley are goin' so far away, where we may never see you any more ; but indeed, I wish you joy an' good luck. Of course, I know I always did say that Charley did waste a power o' candles when he lived with us, but goodness knows I don't charge that up agin him, for he paid it back long ago; an' even if he hadn't I, wouldn't care ; for I think he must have made, good use of the candles or he would never got to be so smart. And, now, Mary, the best thing in the world I can wish you is this." Poor Mrs. Deek paused here. Her eyes were filling with tears and she seemed to be trying to swallow something sticking in her throat. Overcoming her emotion, she repeated: "The best thing in the world I can wish you is this : That Charley will always be as good and kind to you as my Ephraim has always been to me. Ephraim is one of the best men in the world ; of course, he pesters me sometimes an' gets me out of patience, but he don't mean anything by it; an' then I love him all the more because he just lets me have my own way an' never fights back. No, indeed, I have never been sorry that I married Ephraim Deek; of course, he's 64 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. not a great scholar like your Charley — but so good an' kind. Charley, I suppose, will be a great man some day, everybody says he will, an' make a great lady of you — take you to live among the great folks in Washington ; an' then, Mary," Mrs. Deek now looked very sad, "you will never think of your friends any more that thought so much of you when you lived in Goosetown." Mrs. Charles Boone put her arm about the elder woman's neck, kissed her tenderly, and assured her that no matter what station in life she might be called upon to fill as Mrs. Charles Boone, she should never forget the dear friends she was leaving behind in Goosetown. At this, poor Mrs. Deek broke down completely and sobbed aloud. Miss Ping gave the bride some logical advice at their last parting. "Well, now, I'm real sorry to see you go, Mary," she said, "but I suppose it is all for the best; everything that comes to us is always for the best. But don't expect too much, my dear; I've seen so much trouble grow out of marriage, that I'm not sorry I never said yes to any of the many offers I've had; but the right one never came along, and I think it is all for the best. No, Mary, now don't expect too much. Charley is all right now, but the best of them change sometimes, and there is no tellin' what he may be after awhile; so don't expect too much." The young bride assured Miss Ping that she should never regret the step she had taken ; that she knew Char- ley to be so honorable that she had no fear of his ever changing; and that no matter what his conditions in life might be, she should most cheerfully share his lot and do all in her power to help him bear his burden. As the time drew nigh for the bride and groom to depart all was bustle and confusion. They had their wedding garments to pack and their traveling clothes to put on. Good-bys, wishes of good luck, and so forth were said over and over again. Jonathan Gray delivered his last benediction to the young couple with much feel- ing, and in a voice that was very impressive, causing many eyes to fill with tears. Young Barner Gray, who had taken much interest in the night's proceedings, did SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 65 not feel so bad as one might suppose ; for it had been agreed by all concerned that he was to visit the Boones in the "West within a few short years, and the thought of this served to keep up the boy's spirits. "When the bride took leave of Mrs. Gray she gave way and wept as only a woman can. "Cheer up, dear," said kind Mrs. Gray, "think of the nice letters we can write to each other ; and you must write to me very soon." "I'll write to you from Pittsburg, auntie dear; we stop over there for a day or two," the bride answered, as she was taking her seat in the carriage. It was Dave Ford's carriage, to which his fine span of bays was hitched. "We will have to make a run for it, Davy, or we'll be too late for the train," said Charley Boone. "Have no fear, I'll get you there," said the confident David ; then he spoke to his horses and they started ofE at a gallop, making things rattle as they ran. The bride thrust her head out at the side of the vehicle and looked back. There was a lurch and she came near falling. ""What are you doing, my darling?" said Charley Boone, "you will be pitched out, if you are not careful," and he gently drew her toward him. "Oh! but, Charley dear, I must look!" Then, rising, she peered out through the little window in the curtain at the back of the carriage. The horses were going at a rapid gait — then came another lurch and the bride nearly lost her balance. "Come, sit down," said Charley kindly, "I am afraid you may fall." She did so, nestling close to his side, trembling. ""What ails you, my darling," he said, "you seem frightened?" "Oh, Charley dear!" she replied, and her voice was husky, "why did we not start earlier? To leave dear old Goosetown and all our kind friends there in such a way as this! It makes me feel as though we had done something dreadful, and were fleeing for our lives, and to escape the law." "Hush, don't talk so foolishly," said Charley, 66 SCHOOLED BV THE WORLD. CHAPTEE IV. PROGRESSION. After the Boones were settled in the "West, a corre- spondence was kept up for some time with punctual regu- larity between young Mrs. Boone and a number of her most intimate lady friends whom she had left behind in the East. Then, as the cares and duties attending mar- ried life and household affairs accumulated, Mrs. Boone's letters came less frequently, until finally, one corre- spondent having been dropped after another, only one re- mained. This was Mrs. Jonathan Gray. To this good lady Mrs. Charley Boone never left off writing so long as they both lived, but there were often long intervals be- tween the letters ; though this was always made up by length and the news the epistles contained when they were exchanged. "I seem to have so little time for writing, now, dear auntie," Mrs. Boone stated inoneof her letters. "Since baby came I have so much more to do, and am kept busy from morning till night at one thing or another. Still, I always try to have everything done up by the time Charley comes home, so that we can have the evenings all to ourselves. Charley says that the time is not far off when neither of us will be obliged to work so hard, for his business keeps increasing constantly. He handles horses, cattle, and lumber on commission now, along with other things; and as he has made a reputation for fair dealing he gets along nicely. "He predicts that our little town will be a large place some day, when the railroads center here, as he says they are sure to do. For my part, I wish Dressington would always keep just as it is, for if it grows to be a city there SCIlOOLEt) BY THE WORLt). 61' will be classes and social caste, and this always breeds selfishness and meanness of all sorts in a community. As we are now, all that is required to be a member of the best society is good manners and honest dealings; some- thing that never existed in any large city that I ever heard of. Charley says it will make no difference how many circles of society may be formed here, because he will attend to it that we move in the first class; but this does not satisfy me — only I don't tell him so. "Now, there is Mrs. Snyder — the little Dutch woman of whom I wrote you, and who lives just back of us; it would break my heart if I had to turn my back on her, and could no longer go to the stores with her and help to select cloth and things for herself and children, just because Mrs. "Whimsby and Mrs. Bimsley, who have some old maid daughters they are trying to marrj' off, turn up their noses and say it is not the proper thing for a lady to do. Mrs. Snyder is one of the best little women in the world. True, I don't think she can write her own name, or even read it when it is written ; but it is won- derful how much she knows about those things that are really worth knowing. Why! when baby had the croup, I really think she would have died, had I not run with all my might for Mrs. Snyder, who knew in a minute just what to do and how to do it, so that baby was soon out of danger. I secretly hope, however, that it may be a long time before Dressington becomes the flourishing city Charley thinks it will be. "Write me a good long letter very soon, auntie dear," Mrs. Boone concluded, "and tell me all the news from dear old Goosetown." In Mrs. Gray's reply to her dear girl, as was her wont to call Mary Boone, she wrote that Barner was getting along nicely at school at Marsville, whither his father had sent him to complete his education; that he was growing like a weed, and was large and strong beyond his years; and that he kept ever in mind the promise made him, that he was to be allowed to visit the Boones, and was anxiously waiting for this time to come around. "We intend to let him go when he is through with his school," Mrs. Gray wrote, "for Charley has written to 6g SCHOOtteD BV tilE WokLS. Jonathan that he should lite to have Earner with hiifi, and he would give him employment, or procure for him a situation in any line of business he might like. "As for news, my dear girl, there is not much ; for you know Goosetown never changes, though I may tell you something that you will be glad to hear about a couple of your old friends. I am happy to say that David Ford and Louise Morris are at last married. It all came about in rather a singular way. David was taken very ill, and, so it was reported, his life was despaired of. The poor fellow kept constantly pleading that his ladj'-love should be brought to see him; but his father was obdurate. So, finally, the attending physician told old Mr. Ford that unless he wanted to kill his son, he must accede to his wishes, and it was then that Miss Morris was sent for. It seems that she had been at the Ford home but a short while when the old folks were as much in love with her as was their son — who recovered rapidly under her gentle nursing; and as soon as David was able to be up and about, both his father and mother requested that the marriage take place without further delay. It was a very quiet affair — no display of any kind. I hear old Mr. Ford is wonderfully proud of his daughter-in-law, and says it makes a great difference when you really know a woman, instead of only thinking you know her. "I had the pleasure of meeting the happy couple a short time since, at a woods picnic, over in the direction of Dabberton — Jonathan and I indulged in this dissipa- tion of an outing for a day— and they both inquired , very kindly for you. Mr. David cautioned me, with much earnestness, not to forget to tell you of his mar- riage when I again wrote to you. I don't think I ever saw a husband more proud of his wife, but, of course, he is pardonable for this. Louise is still very beautiful, and dresses well, but nothing like so extravagantly and gayly as when Liddy Ann clothed her; although she is now much better off in this world's goods than her poor mother ever was. Louise told me, and I was very sorry to hear it, that her sister Phoebe's marriage did not turn out to be a happy one. She met the gentleman— the fel- low, I should say, when she was away on a visit to a SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 69 friend of her schooldays, and they were married after a short acquintance. He, judging by appearances, thought he was getting a fortune, and when he found out his mis- take treated her very cruelly. She has since left him and is now living in Philadelphia, supporting herself by teaching music — preferring this to returning home to be a burden on her father. "I am very glad, dear Mary, that all of Charley's efforts have been attended by success; and we sincerely hope that you may be so situated that you can come and make us a visit in the near future." Apropos of Earner Gray's entering the institution of learning at Marsville, an epsiode occurred soon after his admission thereof which Margaret Gray gave no account in her letters to Mary Boone. At the time it brought about an exchange of letters between Jonathan Gray and Pro- fessor Nowkum, president of the school. Since Earner has been represented as a very tractable, well-behaved boy, his conduct upon his first going among strangers — ■ especially at such a strictly disciplined place of learning as the Marsville University, may be worth knowing. To present the letters will suffice to tell the story. The first came from the professor, and ran as follows : "Mk. Jonathan Gbay. "Dear Sir: I regret to say that your son has not proved himself the docile youth you represented him when you left the boy in my charge. He has created a disturbance here, which, were it to become public, would militate very seriously against the reputation of this institution. It has ever been a custom among the pupils here — a custom which I do not approve, but find it impossible to prevent — to put all newcomers through a course of initiation, commonly called hazing. ^ Your son was expected, as a matter of course, quietly to summit to this innocent amusement as all others had done; but, instead of doing so, he was defiant and made violent threats — even going so far as to buy a pistol — declaring that be would shoot the first one who molested him. "The boys — boys will be boys, you know — not to be yO SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. outdone, procured a rope and waited their opportunity to catch your son outside of the buildings after dark. AVhen they did so find him, the rope was thrown over his body — care being taken to do him no bodily harm — and they started on a little run, bearing him down toward the duck-pond. Now, my dear sir, your son really did draw his weapon and fire at young Crozer ; shooting him through the arm. That young Crozer was not instantly killed was no fault of your son. This put an immediate stop to the proceedings, but it is a very sad affair. "Mr. T. M. Crozer, the father of the boy who was shot, is a very wealthy and influential man, and one of my most valued friends. Should he become acquainted with this disgraceful act on the part of your boy, I fear he will not be inclined to pass it over lightly. I have succeeded in keeping the whole thing quiet so farj young Crozer's wound is said not to be serious, and I have or- dered that your boy be kept locked in his room until I hear from you. I trust that you will send him, through me, 3 severe reprimand, and admonish him to conduct himself differently in future ; otherwise he cannot be per- mitted to remain at this institution. There is no doubt at all of his guilt, for he admits it. His frankness in telling the truth about the whole thing is, I must say, really astonishing. "Hoping to hear from you at the earliest date possible, I am Yours, "J. J. NOWKUM." Jonathan Gray wrote his answer to the above epistle just as soon as he read it. It ran thus: "J. J. NowKDM, Sir: I demand of you, immediately upon receipt of this, to release my son from confinement. And, I will say further, that if you will refund the money I paid you in advance I shall be glad to removo my son from your school, which, as your letter proves, is so un- worthy the name of an institution of education. Had I known that your government was so feeble, your disci- pline so lax as to permit such barbaric practices among your pupils as you speak of, I should have provided my SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. yi son 'with weapons for his own defense before he left home. Tour complaint of my son's conduct is entirely uncalled for. I should not have wished him, under the circum- stances, to act otherwise ; and I will remind you right here that you could not offer me a greater insult than to insinuate that my son should tell you a falsehood about anything. "If your esteemed friend, Mr. T. M. Orozer, is dis- posed to make any trouble about the well-deserved hurt of his ill-bred offspring, please be kind enough to refer him to me. I wish, also, to have you bear in mind, that if I ever hear of any more indignities being put upon my son in the shape of hazing, or otherwise, I shall visit your place of business, in company with able counsel, very soon thereafter. When ray son, of his own motion, is guilty of any reprehensible conduct; when he shows you or any of his other superiors, disrespect; when he im- poses upon the weak and takes advantage of the helpless; when he is lazy, indolent, and dilatory ; then I shall thank you if you will apprise me by sending in your complaint; but until then hold your peace. "Yours for right and justice, "Jonathan Gbay. " Since Mr. Gray's letter was not replied to, and no sub- sequent reports were made derogatory to the behavior of young Barney, it may be taken for granted that every- thing, so far as the boy was concerned, ran along in per- fect harmony at the Marsville University during his stay there. It was all planned, as Mrs. Gray mentioned in one of her letters to Mrs. Boone, that Barney was to go "West and join the Boones as soon as his education was completed; but well-laid plans are not always carried out, and so it was in this case, for the fates decreed that Barner Gray was never to receive a diploma from his Alma Mater; notwithstanding he made good progress in his studies, and was credited with being an excellent student by even so high an authority as Professor Nowkum. W SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER V. A SOLDIEE BOY. The school at Marsville was closed and the students were having vacation. Earner Gray was at home, and, as the time was drawing nigh for his return to college, Mrs. Gray was busy getting her son's wearing apparel in or- der; providing new undergarments, seeing that buttons were all in place, and fitting her darling boy out with everything that might be required during his next quar- ter at school. But it so happened that at this time, as well as for a considerable time previous, not only Goose- town, but every town and city in the United States, was in a state of ferment; indeed, the whole country was in- volved. The war was on. Soldiers were already in the field engaged in bloody conflicts. The battle of Bull Eun had been fought and lost with great disaster to the Union army. Everybody seemed filled with dismay, and there was nothing but war talked of, or even thought of. Jonathan Gray was the leading enthusiast on the topic in Goosetown, expressing himself in most emphatic terms; advocating the crushing out of the rebellion and freeing every slave in the South. He regretted that he was not a younger man that he might enlist for a soldier and go forth and battle for the Union and for justice. While the excitement was at its height there came to Goos«town one day a man wearing a military coat and hat. His hat was set a little to one side, and it had a plume in it — .an ostrich feather, which was so long and heavy that it drooped back over the wearer's shoulder. This stranger introduced himself as Captain Allen Custy, and said that he was recruiting soldiers for the army. The captain, though he carried himself with military bearing SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ^3 and looked every inch soldier, was not what one — ladies especially — would call a handsome man. He was a good figure, straight and compactlj' built, but his nose was crooked, looking as though it had once met with a mishap and been broken ; besides, the lid of his left eye drooped and gave him rather a sinister expression. The ends of his mustache were waxed and twined out into little horns so that Captain Gusty, with his cold, graj' eyes, had decidedly an arrogant and fierce look instead of one gentle and kind. The captain put up at the old Goosetown tavern, and after making inquiry and stating his business, was not long in finding Jonathan Gray, who at once volunteered to do all he could to assist the captain in obtaining recruits. Darkness was coming on, so some lamps were procured — lamps that had been carried by the wide-awakes the year previous — and placed about the porch of the tavern. Gusty called for a flag, a big banner of the Stars and Stripes; when he was provided with this, he got into the middle of the street and while he waved the flag with all his might, he rent the air with wild hurrahs. Interject- ing exclamations such as "Eally round the flag, boys!" "Fall in line for the defense of your homes and firesides!" "Jeff Davis and his whole army is marching on to Wash- ington!" and "Abe Lincoln calls for soldiers!" "Now ia your time, hurrah! hurrah!" It would have been very strange had such a scene as this not caused a considerable crowd to assemble, and that, too, in a very short time, in the usually quiet village of Goosetown. When a fair number had been brought together, the captain mounted a box and proceeded to state the nature of his business. He gave information that he was organ- izing a company of soldiers; that he already had a num- ber of men who were quartered at Gamp Gurtin, Harris- burg. He frankly admitted that he did not yet hold a captain's commission, but he expected to get one as soon as he had the requisite number of men enlisted to entitle him to such rank. He said that he had served three months in the army, and was thoroughly acquainted with military tactics; that he wanted only good soldiers in his CQmmand. "I have been there," be said, "and I know H SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. what it is; and I want men that can stand up and face fire alongside of me; that is all I ask." He continued talking for some time, using a pronoun in the first person too often for good taste, and then, drawing a paper from his pocket, he called on those who wished to enlist to come forward and put down their names. A .young stripling stepped up and announced himself ready to head the list. "What?" exclaimed Custy, "I want men for soldiers ! I'm not after children for an orphan asylum." The boy replied that he thought he would do for a soldier. "But you are too young," returned Custy. "My father is here somewhere," the boy answered, "and if he gives his consent I guess that will settle the question so far as age is concerned; I am big enough." At this juncture Jonathan Gray came forward and said that he was the boy's father, and that he freely consented to his son's going for a soldier if the boy so desired. "Well — I suppose we can try it, " Custy said hesitat- ingly, as he handed over his fold of paper to the young aspirant for the honors of war. The boy took it and wrote, in a plain, bold hand, the name of Earner Gray. . The name had hardly been written when a faint, plain- tive wail was heard at one of the second story windows of the tavern. This came from Mrs. Gray, who had come, in company with her son, to see what was going on, and had gone into the tavern above stairs, taking a seat at the window to observe the proceedings. "Now," said Custy, speaking to the new recruit, with a self-important air, "I don't want you to turn tail the first tight we get into and run away." "No, I'll not," replied Barney modestly, "unless it is to take after you and bring you back." There was a gleam in Custy's eye and the lid of the left one dropped still lower,as he said : "I shall remember that remark of yours, young fellow." The self-constituted captain exerted himself to obtain more recruits, but as he had not made a very good im- pression upon the Goosetowners, no others volunteered their services, When he quitted the village it was with SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 15 the understanding that Barney Gray should meet him at Flagtown the next day but one to be transported to Har- risburg. The time intervening before Barney was to depart for the war was fraught with much anxiety to poor Margaret Gray. She seemed to fancy that her boy must take with him his trunk filled with clothes, and everj'thing the same as though he were going back to school ; but when \ her attention was called to the fact that Barney would require nothing other than the garments he carried on his beck, and that even these would be cast aside for a soldier's uniform, the good lady merely replied that she knew that very well, but seemed to have forgotten it, and that she really didn't know what she was thinking about. When the suffering mother ventured to suggest to her husband, who was a typical stoic, that she would not feel so badly if their son had enlisted under a different sort of an officer, and gently advised that some arrangement ought to be made for sending the boy off in charge of a more kindly and gentlemanly captain, Jonathan said, "Pooh! the boy will set an example for his superior officer and teach him how to be a gentleman," and then poor Mrs. Gray, so downcast and sad, felt sadder than before. The morning that Barney left home he bade his mother a loving good-by within doors, while his father was wait- ing at the gate, and looked after the carriage which was to take the young soldier to the railroad station. "Now, you stop worrying about me, dear mother," said Barney, "I'll be all right; the war can't last long and I'll be back home sooner than you think." After saying this he ran out, down the walk, and got in the carriage with his father, who drove off out the road at a brisk trot. Mrs. Gray went sadly down to the gate and looked after the carriage until a bend in the road shut off her view. She then hurried into the house, and, from an up- stairs window, peered after the retreating vehicle so long as a shadow of it could be seen. Then retiring to her own private apartment, she gave way to tears and wept as if her heart would break, Eecovering from this, she % SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, sought solace in writing a letter to her ever dear and true friend, Mrs. Charley Boone. On the way to Flagtown Jonathan Gray had some talk with his son on the great change in life that he was mak- ing, and the proper way for him to conduct himself when he became a soldier. "Although you will be only a pri- vate in the ranks," Jonathan Gray said, "you must not feel yourself/ dishonored on that account. If you pay strict attention to duty — always prompt, willing, and obedient — you are just as independent in your position as a captain or a colonel is in his. The discipline can't be irksome to you, for the reason that you have ever been accustomed to discipline from the time you were a child. "I have not a very high opinion of this man Custy," Mr. Gray went on, "still, whatever his failings may be, they can cut no figure under military law; for there all those in authority are obliged to conduct themselves as gentlemen, and he has no more privilege to treat you with disrespect than you have so to treat him. I merely men- tion these things that you may be prepared to meet them ; not that I have any fear but what you will deport your- self in a proper manner, and win the confidence and com- mand the respect of all with whom you come in contact." "Custy acts like a fellow who thinks himself very great," replied Barney, "and I don't believe he likes me a bit, just because I didn't stand before him in awe, when he was trying to appear so brave, instead of making a remark which implied that I considered myself quite as brave as he is. I shall see that I am up to the mark so far as duty is concerned; and as for Custy — of course, I'll show him all the attention and respect his position demands, but I'm not going to cringe and supplicate to him or anybody else, for the sake of winning personal favor." "Certainly not, my son, certainly not; I am sure you have intelligence enough to know that you could com- mand the respect of no one by such a course ; it is only thieves, cowards, and menials who resort to such low measures; and, whatever else you may do, my son, I sin- cerely hope you may never be guilty of anything degrad- ing or mean," SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 1^ Thus were the father and son conversing, ■while the mother was at home engaged in writing to Mrs. Boone. And, since in this letter Mrs. Gray gave free expression to her grief at the loss of her boy, and her fears for his future welfare, the letter is here transcribed. "My dear, dear Mary," it ran, "how I do wish that you were with me at this time to console and comfort me, for I am more sad than words can tell. The cause of it all I am sure you could never imagine, so I will tell you at once. My dear child has enlisted for a soldier and gone off to the war — left me just this morning, his fathet taking him to the station. I do not profess to be less patriotic, or more foolish than other mothers, but it seems to me that my boy is not like other boys — some- times I think he has not been properlj' brought up ; that is, has not been taught so as to be fitted to go out among strangers and cope with the world. He believes that all that is necessary for success is to observe strict probity in dealing with his fellow creatures. The poor boy has no idea of the plots, the schemes, and the dissimulations that even our so-called best men resort to in order to advance their own selfish interests ; and this is what wor- ries me so. Of course, dear Mary, we loo^c upon our husbands as exceptions to the general run of men, and I really think they are ; but, so far as my Jonathan is con- cerned, he is not among worldly men — one year of such life was enough for him, and, as you know, he has lived in retirement ever since. As for your Charley — well, I sup- pose his reputation for honesty and fair dealing grew with the country, and so he has the confidence of the people, and I assure you I am glad he has done so well, and it was always such a comfort to me to think that Ear- ner would some day join him, for I knew that then all would go well with my boy; but all my fond hopes are knocked asunder now. "I hope you understand me, my dear girl. Far be it from me to want my son to be a designing rascal ; still, I think a boj', who is expected to make his own way in the world, should be made to understand that he n^ust play a little policy — that is, not to be too honest and truthful—" ■yS SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. you know what I mean — when he discovers that he has nothing but crafty scoundrels to deal with. But Earner is so young, so innocent ; he goes out among strangers like a wing-clipped dove among hawks; and his father encourages him in all his erroneous ideas. Jonathan, I do think, is one of the purest and best men in the world ; but he has such peculiar ideas about honor — thinks every- thing of that kind and all that people say about it should be taken literally. My father, as I have often told you, dear Mary, was a lawyer — afterward a judge — and I used to hear him tell what he sometimes did in order to win cases; so I imbibed very different notions about such things. But, as you know, I could never argue or differ with Jonathan on the question of Earner's training. "I should not feel so distressed about my boy, were it not for the man under whom he enlisted — one Custy by name, who came here to Goosetown looking for recruits; and I could tell by his very looks and actions that he is overbearing and hateful. I know that Earner will never brook wanton insult or abuse, and I am so afraid he will get into trouble with this man ; but I shall bear up as well as I can, and hope for the best. "You must write to me soon, for now, in these exciting times, there will be so much to tell that our letters must be more frequent. I trust you will burn this one as soon as you read it, for it is written to you in confidence, and should it fall into the hands of one not knowing me as well as you do, I might be thought a very bad woman. "Yours lovingly, "Mabgaeet Gray. "P. S. In all my fret and worry I forgot to tell you the latest news from Goosetown. Who in the world do you suppose was married not long since? No other than Miss Matilda Ping! This certainly emphasizes the truth of the old proverb that everything comes to those who wait. So, you see, in Matilda's case, the 'right one' did come along after all. He is a man who came here more than a year ago, and has been working for the Deeks. He is well along in years, as you may judge, but Mr. Deeksays he is a very honest and worthy man, and I presume he and Matilda will be very happy— I hope so, at least. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 'iQ "Mrs. Deek called on us one evening not long since and talked of but little else, during the whole time of her stay, than you and Charley. She thinks a great deal of you both, though she has never forgotten the candles Charley wasted. With all her oddities she is a good soul and one can't help but like her. Miss Katie Deek, so it is reported, is engaged to be married to a young man who comes from the neighborhood of Dabberton. "M. G." This letter of Mrs. Gray's was replied to without any unnecessary delay, and tho answer she received was filled with words of encouragement and good cheer. "I am ever so sorrj' that Earner has left his home and school and gone off to the war," Mrs. Boone wrote, "but you must not feel so sad and worry over it, auntie dear. Going to the army, you know, is not as though he were going out into the great world to battle among strangers for his subsistence; so his shortcomings, of which you speak — 'pardon me, auntie dear, but I couldn't help laugh- ing a little, with all my agitation, when I read your let- ter — will not be to his disadvantage under military law. I have talked it all over with Charley and he says the dear boy is made of just the right kind of stuff to make a splendid soldier, and predicts that he will make a bril- liant record for himself. As to this man Custy, of whom you speak, Charley says there can never be any trouble with him, because he will be very fond of Earner when he comes to know him, besides, even should it not turn out so, Charley says no ofScer can ill-treat a soldier with- out cause — and Earner will never give this — for he would lay himself liable to punishment; so things are not so bad as you think. Of course, your darling boy will be ex- posed to danger, but then, soldiers don't all get killed and wounded, so we must live in hope that he will be one of the fortunate ones. "And now I must tell you some of the news from our house. We have another baby with us — another little girl, as fair as a lily, with blue eyes — Charley's eyes. Eut it's hair — I can't help smiling when I write it — is 80 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. the reddest hair I think I ever saw in my life. She doesn't look a bit like her sister Maggie, nor me ; she is a thorough Boone in every way ; has a large frame and will, if she lives, grow to be a large woman, I should think. Charley is delighted with her, red hair and all — he says it will, if she lives, grow to be a beautiful auburn in time — so, of course, everything is all right. He has named her Lillian, which was my mother's name, but ' Charley can't abide Lil nor Lilly, he thinks them not dignified, I suppose, so our second daughter will always be called by the full name, Lillian. "Now, as you say, auntie, we must write oftener to each other, since the war has brought on such confusion, and Charley and I will be so anxious to hear of Earner." The young soldier's first letters home were couched in short sentences, saying that he was well, getting along nicely, and so forth; so bhat it was not until his company got its full quota of men, was assigned to a regiment, and mustered into the United States service, that a letter came containing any intelligence that was really cheering to Mrs. Gray. This information was that Allen Custy did not succeed ia getting a captain's commission, as he expected, but was obliged to content himself with a lieu- tenancy. This was the highest rank to which he was entitled for the number of men he had enlisted, so he combined with one Captain Chambers, signing his squad over to the captain, making his company a full one, and accepting the position of first lieutenant in the same command. "Captain Chambers is a fine gentleman and a good officer," so Barney wrote, "and the boys all like him; but nobody likes Lieutenant Custy. I know very well that Custy fairly hates me, I can tell by the way he looks at me; but I don't care anything about that, so long as he treats me decently, and this he is obliged to do so long as I behave myself and attend strictly to business." Barney's regiment was soon transported to the city of Washington, whence his letters came. He wrote in a happy vein, and told of the joys of a soldier's life; the grand parades, the great reviews, the drills, and all the duties incident to his camp life with the great army. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 8i It was while the regiment lay at Washington, encamped on Kalorama Heights, that a clash came between Lieu- tenant Custy and Private Gray. One morning at guard mount the lieutenant was in charge. He was dividing the camp guard into squads, and assigning them to their various stations, in charge of his platoon, but an addi- tional man was required in the guard which stood just three paces in front. The lieutenant pointed his sword at the private and called out in a loud, gruff voice, "Say, you! march three paces to the front there, and join the other squad!" Private Gray gave no heed to this command, nor even looked in the direction whence it came. "Do you hear me?" the lieutenant shouted. Private Gray then glanced at the lieutenant, and said : "Are you speaking to me, sir?" "Yes! are you deaf?" roared the lieutenant. "No, not at all; but I want you to distinctly under- stand that my military title is Private Gray — not you." The lieutenant burst into a towering rage, and with sword uplifted, rushed forward, exclaiming: "What! you puppy! you insult and defy me?" Quick as a flash Private Gray brought his piece to a charge and gave a thrust at the lieutenant's breast; he threw up his arm to ward off the stroke, but the bayonet cut his coat and made a hole from which a tuft of wad- ding protruded. Lieutenant Custj' leaped backward, nearly falling, and his face was as white as death. Pri- vate Gray brought his piece to a right-shoulder-shift, and quitting the ranks, walked away. "Where are you going?" gasped the lieutenant. "lam going," returned Private Gray, "to get a few points on military law." "I command you to come back here," shouted the lieutenant. "No, not now," and Private Gray repaired directly to the quarters of Captain Chambers, to whom he made a straightforward statement of all that had occurred, and concluded by asking what was to be done about it. By ■4he time Private Gray had completed his recital, the face of Captain Chambers was as pale as was Lieutenant 8^ SCHOOLED SY THE WORLD, Custy's just after he had warded off the bayonet thrust. The captain drew a long breath, and passed his hand over his forehead, then, putting on his hat, he ordered Gray I to remain there until he returned. He quitted his marque and essayed to interview his first lieutenant, and it was some time before he returned. "With a very grave countenance, and in a serious tone, he informed Private Gray of the sad condition in which he had placed himself. "The lieutenant charges," said the captain, "that you insulted him and then attempted to take his life. This is a crime under martial law for which the penalty is death." The young soldier showed that he was not so much agitated as his captain. "Then the two of us ought to be put to death at the same time," he said, "for the lieutenant was the aggressor. He came at me with his sword drawn as though to cut me down, and I acted only in self defense." "But he says you disobeyed his order," the captain replied. "I didn't know that a soldier was obliged to obey his superior officer when he ordered him in a voice and man- ner intended to humiliate and degrade him in the eyes of his comrades," returned Private Gray, with perfect composure. "You should have obeyed the order first, and made your complaint afterward," said the captain. "Well," answered Private Gray, "I am very sorry if I have done anything wrong ; still, I think the lieutenant is just as much to blame as I am — if not more so." Captain Chambers placed his hand upon the young soldier's head and stroked hishair. "Yes," he said, "in the light of all that is right and just. Lieutenant Custy is entirely to blame. Yet, were you to be tried by court- martial, you would certainly be convicted and shot. Martial law is a peculiar thing. Justice is not its ob- ject; it aims only to maintain discipline in an army. However, we will not let you be shot yet. I have suc- ceeded in getting the lieutenant to agree to drop this matter, and he did this only after I told him that if he pushed the case against you, I should prefer charges SCHOOLED BY THE WORLt). 83 against him for conduct unbecoming an officer and a gen- tleman, and have him cashiered in disgrace from the ser- vice. So you are all right this time, but you must be careful how you conduct yourself in future. I can't afford to lose so good a soldier from my company as you are," here the captain laughed a little and playfully pulled the boy's ear, "I -want to keep all my fire-eaters until we get in front of the enemy. I regret that Lieu- tenant Custy and yourself are not better friends; but, since you are disposed to be at war with each other, you must be ever on your guard that he may have no oppor- tunity for taking exceptions to your line of duty or be- havior. The lieutenant is a brave and generous fellow — ■ really has many good qualities — and I think you would like him if you knew him better." "To take advantage of his position to put upon and humiliate a soldier, is not very brave and generous, it seems to me," said Private Gray. "Well — " mused the captain, "we all have our faults. But," and here he hesitated, "I will tell you what the lieutenant said. He insists upon it that you are a coward at heart and depend on me to defend you " "He was never more mistaken in his life," interposed Private Gray. "Of course, " resumed the captain, "people are some- times mistaken; but I was telling you what Lieutenant Custy said. He says that if no other chance presents itself for him to square accounts with you, he will bide his time until he sees you in battle; then, if he finds you showing the white feather or shirking in any way, he declares he'll kill you on the spot." "I suppose he is fair enough to be willing that I shall serve him the same way, in case I see my chance?" quickly responded Private Gray. "To tell the truth," answered Captain Chambers, with a sardonic smile, "I didn't ask him about that, but I promise you I shall tell him what you say." Prom this time on military etiquette was observed between Lieutenant Custy and Private Gray with an ex- actness 60 strictly in accordance with all the rules and 84 SCHOOLED BY Tftfi WORLfi. regulations of war as to make their regard for each other BO very profound and cold that it was positively freezing. With the lieutenant it was: "Private Gray, I order you ■ to do so and so," and these orders were always obeyed with promptness rarely equalled. On drill, every move of the private was observed by his superior. On com- pany inspection, when Lieutenant Custy was in charge. Private Gray, his clothing, accouterments, and every- thing belonging to him, was examined so closely as to leave no doubt but that all was up to the standard. His gun would be taken and looked over with scrupulous care; the lieutenant would even rub his clean glove about the lock and in the muzzle, and then scrutinize the glove to see if it was marked in any way ; but it was no use, the greatest martinet that ever lived could find nothing to censure in Private Gray. There was a bloody battle fought in front of Bich- mond, and the ground was stubbornly contested between the two armies. The regiment to which Barney Gray belonged was hotly engaged in the thickest of the fight, losing half its number in killed and wounded and prison- ers. Thousands of lives had been lost, yet nothing had been gained. It was a calamity. Barney Gray, think- ing of the anxiety of the dear ones at home regarding his safety, embraced the first opportunity after the smoke of battle had cleared away to write to them and tell of his own experiences, and of that which came under his im- mediate observation. As this was Barney's first fight, and as his description of the battle differed somewhat from the accounts which appeared at the time in news- papers, or have since been published in histories, his letter is reproduced in the next chapter. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 85 CHAPTEE VI. baknet's account of the battle. "My dear father and mother, " he wrote, "of course you have read all about the big fight and the great loss in our division, so I know how anxious you are to hear from me. This is the first chance I have had to -write since the battle ended, and my letter ma.v be a pretty long one, for I shall have some funny things to tell you before I get through, although they didn't seem a bit funny at the time they occurred. First of all I must tell you that which you are most anxious to know, and that is that I went through the fray with flying colors, and came out without a scratch — not hurt at all, so I am still as sound as a dollar. "But in order to tell you all about the fight, I shall have to start in from the time the battle opened. Our regiment was encamped in a grove a good piece away from the rest of the brigade, which was in a deep woods to our left. It was noontime, and our boys were just cooking their dinners, when we were startled by a heavy volley of musketry coming from the woods where the brigade lay. This caused such a scatterment of coffee- pots, beans, pork, and such half-cooked dinners, as would be hard to describe, for the regiment sprang to arms, and we were in line ready for fight in a minute. "We didn't have long to wait until one of the general's aides came riding as fast as his horse could run, and delivered a verbal order to our colonel. "We were then ordered out and taken on the double-quick to the woods, where the firing kept growing hotter and hotter, and as the artil- lery now began to play the music became much louder. ""We marched into the woods a little to the rear and on the right of where the fighting was then going on. The 86 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Confederates saw our movement, evidently, for they trained one of their batteries to cover our position. Things were getting very interesting, I can tell you — shot and shell came flying over and falling among us in a way to make a fellow think the world was coming to an end. The scream of cannon balls through the air is bad enough ; but when they come tearing and crashing through timber, it is something awful. I think I'd have been all right had we been allowed to pitch into the fight at once, but standing back and witnessing the horrors of it all made me feel sick. "The battle had grown so fierce that the artillery and musketry united in making one continuous roar — the wounded came trailing back — some of them with an arm dangling, others limping — all of them with clothes soaked with blood and faces white as death — a horse came tearing along at full speed ; his rider, an oflScer, appar- ently in the throes of death, was clinging to the horse's neck to keep from falling. The sight of all this, as I said, made me feel sick. I had such a strange feeling — differ- ent from anything I had ever experienced in my life before — I tried, but it was no use, I couldn't control it. It seemed I was getting weak; my eyes were dim and I thought I was going to faint. Then I thought of how I should disgrace you dear ones at home, and I really think it made me tremble a little. I can't tell yet what was the matter with me, unless it must have been that I was scared nearly to death. "All of a sudden I thought of Lieutenant Gusty. I turned to look for him. There he was, just back of me, with his cold, gray eyes — I should say eye, for his left one seemed to be entirely closed — fixed upon me. Oh! I never was so thankful for anything in my life! In- stantly, as if by magic, all sickness left me, and I drew myself up to my fullest height; I think I even raised my heels a little from the ground in order to look as tall and fierce as possible. Then I turned and looked at Gusty again. There he stood, just as before, in his easy pose of parade-rest. Our colonel came by at this time, giving words of encouragement to his men and ordering them to stand firm. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 87 "Looking steadily at the lieutenant, I cried out, in a voice much louder than was necessary : 'Why don't you commanders run us in? What are we standing here for? .They are killing our men by the hundreds in there!' "Gusty answered me very civilly, saying that he thought we were being held to strike the enemy at a weak point and pour in a cross-iire. He changed his position ; began pacing up and down — seeming to give me no fur- ther attention. The order came to forward, and our regiment went into the fight on a run. The Confeder- ates seemed to be taken unawares, for their line, where we made attack, soon began to waver as their ranks rapidly thinned. We advanced still further, keeping up a deadly firing, and the Eebs were falling back. An officer dashed in among them to stay them, but I saw him reel and fall from his horse, when his line broke in con- fusion. "We were about to charge, but suddenly fresh troops confronted us; they came on, yelling like demons, cut- ting out ranks with their hailstorm of bullets, while artillery blazed away at us from the right. Our poor boys were falling thick and fast, and it really looked as if none would be left to tell the tale. They were falling on my left, on my right — all around me, when I received a shock that staggered me. I thought I was done for, sure, but it was only my gun that had been struck by a piece of shell, shattering it and rendering it useless. I quickly picked up another and kept on at the bloody work — 'there was an arm thrown around my neck, and a voice roared in my ear: 'Go it, Barney! Give 'em hell! that's right! Oh, for a thousand men such as you!' "Now you may think it strange, but this was Custy. He had been keeping quiet, but now — and this is no figure of speech — his voice could be heard above the roar and din of battle. I soon saw what had occurred. Our second lieutenant was shot dead — Captain Chambers was down, badly wounded, leaving Custy in full command of the company; and I tell you he's a good one. You may think it odd that I should speak so well of him, after what occurred between us; but I think we understand each other now, and I hope the poor fellow is all right, at 88 SCHOOLfiD BY THE WORLD. least that he is alive, and as well as can be expected, for he was wounded and taken prisoner — but I am advancing things. "Gusty is the greatest fighter on recovd. He wades into it like a wild bull at a red rag, and after taking com- mand of the company he started in storming things. He tore the belts off of one of our bleeding boys and strapped them on — sheathing his sword and picking up a gun he began loading and firing with all his might, while he kept up a constant shouting and hurrahing which was intended to dismay the enemy and encourage his own men. 'Go in! give 'em hell, boys!' he kept yelling, 'Our reinforcements will be herein a minute and we'll sweep the blank blankety blanking blanks from the face of the earth! Give 'em hell, and don't forget that every man who proves himself a soldier to-day will have his name in every newspaper in the North I and in big letters, too!' "The battle was raging most fiercely — the Confederates were giving way. Custy caught hold of me and nearly threw me off my feet, crying out, at the same time : 'Fall back, Barney, follow me, they're surrounding us!' and off he started as fast as he could run, while I did my best to keep up with him. Our troops retreated clear of the woods, and formed, for the second round, in the open field. By this time our boys, those that were left and still in fighting trim, were a sad-looking lot. Their faces were black from powder smoke — many of them bare- headed — clothes torn nearly off, they didn't look like their natural selves. "Our general came dashing along the line at full speed. He was mounted on his fourth charger, three ethers hav- ing been shot under him. His hat had been lost and his gray hair was flying wildly. As he came by our com- pany. Gusty cried out, at the top of his voice: 'Run us in again, general! we'll lick 'em yet!' Then, turning to me, he called out, 'Won't we, Barney Gray?' and, rush- ing up to me, he really embraced me, saying: 'We're all right now, eh? we've buried the hatchet, and are sworn friends for three years, or during life?' The lieutenant had never called me Barney until this day, but I wag SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 89 delighted with his change toward me, and returned his friendliness with quite as much warmth as he himself manifested. "The tumult of the battle had been comparatively quiet for a spell, but the general, having got our artillery in position, now opened on the Eebs who were forming their columns under cover of the woods. Their batteries, however, opened almost immediately in answer to ours; training their guns on our artillery horses, and the way the poor things were slaughtered was frightful to see. But the cannonade of the Eebs soon ceased, and then they came sweeping down upon us in a charge-bayonets. It was no use, our depleted rants could not withstand such an avalanche ; so a further retreat was ordered, but not until we had opened fire on the advancing enemy. Our cannoneers were spiking their guns — they couldn't be moved, for the horses were nearly all dead or dying — and our line was breaking in confusion. Lieutenant Gusty kept on fighting like a tiger and swearing like a pirate. "The Eebs began firing as they advanced, and I saw the lieutenant throw up his hands as he fell to the ground. I sprang to his side and asked if I could help him, but he said, 'No, no, fall back and rally the boys, we can lick 'em yet.' The Confederates were so close by this time that I was obliged to fly for my life, while bullets whizzed and zipped about my head. "After retreating from the second line our troops kept on until they found cover in a woods, some distance to the rear. The Confederates made no attempt to follow, for night was setting in, and this put an end to the bat- tle. I couldn't understand it — ^night was setting in, it was growing dark, and yet it seemed to me that not more than twenty minutes had elapsed since the battle first began. "As the night advanced I became so cold and stiff that I could hardly move. I was hungry, but had nothing to eat, chilled and shivering, but no fire, no blanket, nothing to warm me. A drizzling rain set in, and I rested myself against a tree, giving way to sad musings. I thought of the poor boys that had been killed or wounded ; I thought of you dear ones at home, and wondered if I should ever see you again; I thought of Lieutenant 90 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Custy, and felt so sorry for him. It is too bad that, just as we had become friends, 'we should be separated. I hope he is not badly hurt, and that he will return some day; for I realls' like him now. I felt a little comforted when I thought of Captain Chambers, for I saw him car- ried from the field and knew that he would be cared for. "The night was so long, it seemed that day would never come again, and I think I must have fallen into a sort of sleep, for I had a strange dream. I dreamed that I was in a raging battle, and had been shot down — that Lieutenant Custy rushed to my aid and was dousing water over me, in hope of saving my life. I came to myself — ■ scrambled up, rubbed my eyes, looked around, and dis- covered that I had fallen into a pool of water which the rain had made at mj- feet, and day was just breaking. "Now I have told you all about the part I played in the great battle, but I still have a piece of startling news for you. After the remains of our regiment was got into proper shape, a dress-parade was held, when general or- ders of various changes and so on were read off. Imagine my astonishment when the adjutant, among other things, read out that Private Earner Gray was to be made a lieutenant as a reward for special gallantry — these were the words — in face of the enemy during the late battle. And now I am in a quandary. Perhaps Custy deserves the credit of it all. However, after parade was over, the colonel sent for me and congratulated me in the name of Lieutenant Gray, at the same time officially plac- ing me in command of my company. So, you see, mother dear, your mind can now rest at ease so far as Lieutenant Custy and myself are concerned. Your son is an officer in the army, though he has not grown any taller in consequence of the honors thrust upon him. "Very affectionately, your son, "Babnek Gray." It was subsequently learned that Lieutenant Custy, though severely, was not dangerously wounded, and that he was held a prisoner in Eichmond, where he remained for several months. Captain Chambers, while convalesc- ing, obtained 9 furlough and visited his home in the SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 91 North, and when he again returned to the field it wai colonel at the head of a new regiment. This left young lieutenant. Gray, in command of the company ..y^j. a long while, and he led it through a number of engage- ments with much credit to both himself and his men. He was a general favorite with his subordinates, for the -reason that he possessed those qualities which sometimes are innate, but never acquired; the qualities that make man fit to have authority. Hence those beneath him in rank liked him because he was strict, manly, and kind; while his superiors admired and respected him, for the reason, perhaps, that they feared him. After Barney's letter reached Goosetown, one of the happiest women in the world was Mrs. Jonathan Gray; and this good lady allowed not many hours to pass be- fore she was engaged in writing an account of her son's heroism, coupled with the favorable turn of affairs rela- tive to the previously disliked Lieutenant Custy. This long and interesting epistle was addressed, of course, to Mrs. Charley Boone, in the West; and so promptly was it answered that the letter must have been written immedi- ately after the one from Mrs. Gray was read. And, as Mrs. Charles Boone had a great deal to tell that was really news, and which goes toward connecting events in this historical tale, her letter will make a very good chapter. 93 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER VII. MES. CHAELEY BOONe'3 LETTEE. "My Dear Auntie Gray: Tour letter telling such splendid news is at hand, and I rejoice with you in all that has come to you and yours. I was thinking of writ- ing to you when your good letter came to hand, for I, too, have some stirring news to tell, and I may as well come to the point at once : Charley has gone ofE to the war; so we can now sympathize with each other in real earnest. "After our army met with such great loss in defeats, followed by a call for more soldiers, our little town has been kept in a fever of excitement, and everybody seemed to think they ought to go to war. Meetings were held, speeches made, and men paraded the streets with flags and drums. The mayor of our town — we have a mayor now — started in to raise a company, and succeeded in doing so in a very short time. I had not the least idea that Char- ley intended to go, but then you know he has a way of doing things peculiar to himself. He started out after supper one evening to go to his barber, and when he returned — which was a little later than usual — he told me that we must stir ourselves and get things in shape, as he had enlisted and expected to leave in a day or two for the war. Of course, it was a shock to me, but knowing how much Charley dislikes everything partaking of a scene, I controlled myself the best I could, though I was at a loss for a moment for something to say — woman as I am. "When he took oS his hat I noticed that his hair was combed in a hideous fashion, so I said that I thought he ought to take his barber along, for then he could always have his hair cpmbed just that way, and he would make SCHOOLED SY THE WORLD. 93 such a pretty corpse if he got tilled. After saying this, my nerves were steadier, and I was able to talk more sen- sibly, though my brain was still in a whirl, and I hardly knew what to do first; but I managed to do considerable after I got started, and I presume everything was all right, for Charley seemed perfectly satisfied. "It turned out that the company was recruited with the understanding that the ofiicers were to be selected by ballot from among those who had enlisted ; so by this means Charley was made captain, for he was elected without a dissenting voice or vote. "Well, when the day came for our brave soldiers to leave for scenes of horrible battlefields, all business was suspended, and everybody went to the town hall, where a great meeting was held to do honor to the departing heroes. Speeches were made, songs were sung, presents were given, and baskets of the choicest provisions and flowers were literally showered upon the boys; and there were cheers, and there were tears, while the band played the 'Star-spangled Banner'- — really, auntie dear, I never saw such a hubbub in all my life. "Of course, as the captain's wife, I felt that I should show my patriotism and do something proper in honor of the occasion; and I did — yes, I overdid it. Truly, auntie, I never felt so humiliated. I will tell you how it was : You see, I wanted to do something that would both please and surprise Charley ; for so long aa he was satis- fied I didn't care for anything else. So without saying a word to him about it, I sat up nearly all night making a little dress and hat for baby Lillian— he thinks the sun rises and sets in this baby — of red, white, and blue to represent the flag. Had I thought for a moment that I should create the sensation I did, I should never have attempted such a thing. However, when the time came I had everything fixed as nice as could be. Charley had been so busy that I saw but little of him, but I knew he would be at the hall when I got there; so I gave Maggie in charge of the girl^ — I have been keeping a girl for a long while — and took Lillian on my arm — she looked real cute— and started off for the town hall as brave as you please. 94 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "By the time I got there the hall was not only full to overflowing, but the street in front of the building was full of people as well. When I reached the steps leading to the hall every one tried to make way for me to pass, and three gentlemen came to assist me all at the same time. When I got as far as the door the pressure was so great it seemed impossible to enter, but_ just then a loud voice called out to make way for Mrs. Captain Boone, and this made me feel so foolish I didn't know what to do, although everybody immediately began to push and get out of my way as fast as possible. As soon as I was in- side some one with a terrible voice called three cheers for Mrs. Captain Boone! and then followed a chorus of such hurrahs and shouts it nearly took my breath away, while it scared poor baby almost to death. "Before I had time to think or really knew what was going on, one great fellow caught Lillian and held her for exhibition at arm's length above his head, and carried her in this way through the crowd, while, at the same time, two others took poor me by main strength and car- ried me upon their shoulders to the platform where I was given a seat of state among a lot of men. You can imagine, auntie, how I felt; but what could I do? Then all those boisterous soldier boys insisted on kissing Lillian, and this annoyed me so I don't really know what I should have done had not one of the men who sat near me interceded, gone and got the child, and brought her back to me. I was more worried than I otherwise should have been, perhaps, because I was afraid Charley might be displeased. He always was a little queer, you know, about notoriety, and all that. "Well, that latter part of the exercise of this great meeting was the most affecting, if not the most exciting. The last speech was made by our mayor, who is a very eloquent man, and it was a treat to hear him talk. When he finished eulogizing the company collectively, he turned his attention to its captain individually, and just then some one handed him a sword — with belts and all to go with it; beautiful things — gold-mounted, and must have cost a lot of money; but I knew that something was going to happen— I could tell by Charley's looks, for I know SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 95 him so ■well. So, after speaking of the company's cap- tain in words of praise as a high-minded and honorable man, the mayor said he had been requested to present the handsome sword to Captain Boone, in the name of the citizens of Dressington, as a token of their esteem and confidence in him, and that they knew he would garnish its blade with additional brilliancy by using it in leading brave men to victory and glory, and all that. "The mayor then stepped forward and handed the sword to Charley — the house breaking into an uproar at once, without waiting for anything more; but it quieted down again almost instantly, for Charley, instead of tak- ing the sword, stretched himself to his fullest height and gently waved the mayor aside; while the house became as still as a tomb, and necks were craned to see what was going on. Charley made a brief reply, and I regret that I cannot remember his exact words, for he was very cogent and made a profound impression. Still, I can give the substance of what he said, and this is all that is necessary. He first thanked the mayor and his fellow townsmen for the high honor they would thrust upon him, but said he was opposed to partiality in the affairs of men — 'that he always tried to be just, and the simple fact of his volunteering to go forth and risk his life in defense of his country did not entitle him to be honored any more than others who gave their services in the same cause. He said he had enlisted among his friends, and they all stood on common grounds — that they had seen fit to make him their captain, and, as such, he would endeavor to do his duty honestly and faithfully. As to the sword he said he could not accept it unless it was presented to the company as a whole; then if it was the wish of his comrades that he should carry it in their honor, as well as in the honor of those who gave it, all would be well; otherwise, the proffered gift was respect- fully declined. "Everybody thought this was a funnj- way to do, but, then, it's Charley, you know, all over. When he ceased talking and sat down, the silence that followed was some- thing painful, until one of the soldiers — a mere boy — cried out at the top of his voice: 'Bully for our captain!' S6 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. and then all hands broke loose again, excepting some of the older men on the platform, and these looked de- cidedly foolish — especially the mayor, who, after con- versing quietly with some of the most important-looking personages, stepped to the front to try it all over again. This time he started out by saying that Captain Boone bad proved himself to be a much greater man than was at first supposed; that actions spoke far louder than words in reflecting a man's true character and so on; fol- lowing this up by paying the most glowing tribute to Charley that could be paid to any one, either living or dead. I can't describe my own feelings when all this was passing, auntie, for I began to think I must be the wife of the only really great man in the world. "Well, the mayor concluded his second little speech by presenting the sword to the company, so he passed it over to one of the soldiers — a Mr. Sergeant, I believe his name was — and he made some appropriate remarks in the way of thanks; after which he turned to his cornpany and called for all those who were in favor of Captain Boone carrying the sword to signify their willingness by hold- ing up their hands. I am sure every one held up both hands, because there were so many of them that the con- trary vote was not called for, and the sword was given over to Charley at once. He rose to his feet as he ac- cepted it, and everybody seemed to be looking for some- thing wonderful from him, but they were sadly mistaken, for the poor fellow — I felt so sorry for him — seemed so confused he only stammered out something — I couldn't hear what he said — and then sat down, as though over- come with humiliation. A great fuss to make, don't you think so, auntie dear, for such a little thing? "As soon as the sword was properly disposed of, the brave soldiers prepared to march to the railroad station, take the train and go off to war — and all get shot — per- haps. I can see them yet, as they marched off down the street behind the band, which was playing 'The Girl I Left Behind Me. ' "A carriage was provided for my special benefit, and in this I was driven to the depot to see them on the cars, and give Charley the last good-by. Just as he was leav- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 97 ing me I gave him my ring — the one he gave me before ■we were married, you know. I could just manage to squeeze it on his little finger, and as it has both our names in it, I told him I wanted he should wear it, so in case I were to wander over battlefields looking for him among the killed, I would make no mistake in his iden- tity. I just had to say something of this kind to keep from breaking down before he got well out of the way. "But now, here I am, as Matilda Ping used to say, and I feel very much as though I were in reality a grass widow. It is too bad, dear auntie, but my contemplated visit to Goosetown must now be given up, and there is no telling when I shall ever get there Give my love to uncle, and have him read this letter, for Charley's sake. "Maggie has written you a letter which you will find here inclosed. No doubt you will be much interested in her account of papa having gone to war. "Yours lovingly, "Maky J. Boone." 99 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER Vm. ''my beothee bill." When Lieutenant Allen Custy was released from the Southern prison, he was much debilitated, inconsequence of suffering from his wound, combined with close con- finement and short rations of indifferent quality. There- fore he was granted leave of absence and permitted to •visit his home and friends that he might recuperate his strength before joining his command in the field. His salary had been accumulating during the time of his imprisonment, so that now there was a considerable sum of money placed at his disposal, enabling him to pur- chase an entire new uniform of the best quality, includ- ing a hat with a prodigious plume. Besides this, his bran new coat was ornamented with shoulder-straps, indicating the rank of captain, for this commission had been waiting his return ever since Captain Chambers had resigned his position as company commander to accept the colonelcy of a regiment. So when Captain Custy returned to the front to win new laurels, he was by far the neatest, cleanest, and best- dressed officer in the entire brigade; just as he expected to be — indeed, as he wanted to be; for he knew that his return would attract attention and be the topic of con- versation among his fellow officers; and Allen Custy was not averse to being made the subject of general talk when he believed that he was well spoken of; and we may ask, who is? The captain's coming had been heralded in advance, and had been talked of and commented upon for days previous to bis arrival by the members of his company. "I wish old Custy had been kept a prisoner till the war was over," said Private Hangback, one day to Lieu- tenant Gray. SCHOOLED SY THE WORLD. 99 "That will do," said the young lieutenant, "I can't permit such talk. Lieutenant Custy, that was, is now our captain, and as such he must be obeyed and re- spected; he is a good officer, and a brave, fearless man; and we, as his subordinates, have every reason to be proud of him." "But he puts on too many airs, and orders a fellow around as if he thought himself lord of creation ; I would rather have you for captain ; you are more strict than he is, but you don't put on any style about it, and that makes it easier to obey, so the boys all like you better than they do Custy," ventured Private Hangback, in the way of argument. "That may be a matter of taste, " returned the lieuten- ant, "we all have both our good and bad qualities — ^you have many bad ones, I'm sure ; but if you will only prove to Captain Custy that you admire and respect the good that is in him, letting his shortcomings pass unnoticed, you will have no cause to complain of him. Our captain likes a good soldier, above everything, and I hope the boys will give him a royal reception on his return by sending up a round of hearty cheers, and congratulating him on his appearance, his recovery, his promotion, and all that." It soon became known that it was Lieutenant Gray's ardent wish that Custy's return should be hailed with something like an ovation, and every member of the com- pany was prepared to do his best in extending welcome to the old lieutenant, but new captain. He came into camp late in the afternoon, just as his regiment was getting ready for dress-parade, and when he reached his company's street in the regiment's line, the boys broke out with such vociferous cheering, many of them even throwing their hats in the air— and it may be added that no one was more demonstrative in his enthusiasm that Private Hangback — that those who heard the hurrahing at a distance thought news had come of some great victory. Then the boys crowded round their captain, shook him so heartily by the hand, said so many nice things of him, and showed in so many ways their pleasure at his return, that poor Custy came near break- 100 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ing down. It was impossible for him to maintain a particle of his old time austerity, and only by the great- est effort did he keep the water, which gathered in his eyes, from rolling down his cheeks, a thing he regarded as very unmilitary-like. When the captain and his lieutenant were alone together — Barney was now a first lieutenant, since Gusty 's promotion, leaving the position of second lieu- tenant vacant, since the company had become so reduced as not to entitle it to three commissioned officers — ^they found much to talk over of a confidential nature. The captain could not find words to express his delight at finding the company in such good shape; so well drilled, ' under such excellent discipline, and, which was the most singular of all, that the boys had grown so fond of him during his absence. "How do you manage it, Barney?" Captain Gusty asked, one day — it was Barney and Al between these two when of£ duty — "But then," the captain went on, answer- ing his own question, "I believe you could make the devil himself like you ; these boys would run through fire for you, and you know it, and you even worked on them in such a way as to get them to let on that they think a wonderful sight of me; but it don't go, you can't fool me, you are at the bottom of it all and I know it. That great reception I got when I came back; they never would have done that, not in the way they did, if you had not had a finger in it. But I'm not maMng any com- plaint; I'm satisfied. I tell you what it is, I think a whole lot of you, and I always feel ashamed of myself when I think of how mean I used to treat you, and ■" "Oh, that's all right, Al," interposed Barney, "you would always have treated me first-class had I not made such a fool of myself; I am the one who is to blame for the whole thing and I " "No, no," interjected the captain, "I'm the one that was to blame, and I'm the fool ; I am your superior in both age and rank, and ought to have had more sense than to have acted as I did. But it is all over now, and I like you ten times better than if you had knuckled ^own, and shown that you were afraid of me. I didn't SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 101 understand you then ; that was the trouble. I supposed that you were like all others who had been brought up as you were — an only son of a country gentleman — never did anything but go to school — had been petted and spoiled, and was nothing but an upstart; so I got the idea in my head that you looked down upon me because I was a tradesman, and used to make my living by sling- ing bricks and mortar. Believing this, as I did, I also i believed you to be a bloody coward (for I claim that no- body but a coward will look down on a man who makes his living by honest labor), but when we got into that big fight I soon saw that I was mistaken in my man, and I tied to you quick, didn't I, though?" "Yes, and I tied to you quite as quick, Al," returned Barney, laughing. "The truth is," he pursued, "I was just as much mistaken in your character as you were in mine; I naturally thought that you wanted to crush my spirit and humiliate me just because you had some au- thority over me." "Oh, yes, you were all right, I see it all now, for I think I have a little better sense than I used to have; we never get too old to learn, you know; besides, I'm trying to pattern after you, Barney, and I really think the boys like me a great deal better than they used to." Lieutenant Gray assured the captain that such was the case, and that every man in the company was very proud of him. "I owe a great deal to you, Barney, I admit," the captain resumed, "and I have done all I could to make amends for the past. I gave you a fine send off to all my friends when I was at home; I told my brother Bill about you, and he got so interested that he didn't care to have me talk of anything else; and Bill don't take much inter- est in such things, as a rule, either. I told him of the set-to you and I had at Washington when we started in to kill each other, and you just ought to have heard him laugh, I thought ne'd die. And what do you suppose my brother Bill said when I told him that?" Lieutenant Gray replied that he did not have the least idea. "Well, he said it was a pity you didn't run your 102 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. bayonet clear through me; it would have served me right. Yes, sir, when Bill got through laughing, he says: 'Well, that boy is a trump, and he'll take any trick that's played ; I'd like to know him and keep my eye on his career.' " and the captain, thinking of his brother, laughed heartily. "I wish you could, Barney," he went on, "meet my brother Bill some time. He's smart — well educated, a royal whole-souled fellow — a good friend to have; money's no object to Bill — sling a friend a hun- dred dollars any time, to get him out of a scrape. lie's a big, fine-looking fellow — older than I; the oldest of our family." The lieutenant said that he sincerely hoped at some future day he would have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the captain's brother; that he felt sure he should like him, and so on ; concluding by asking the captain in what business his brother was engaged. "Well — Bill's business is not very hard work — he's too smart for that," the captain replied hesitatingly. "The fact of the matter is," he continued, "my brother Bill ia a sporting man; but a gentleman, a perfect gentleman, and a philosopher, too, the greatest philosopher I ever saw ; you just ought to have heard him talk the old folks down (my father and mother, I mean), when they took him to task for turning out to be a professional sport. They had great hopes of Bill, the old folks bad, and spent all their spare money in educating him, intending that he should be a lawyer, and he was a lawyer for about three years ; then he threw the whole thing overboard — took to cards, horse racing — gambling of all sorts, and got the name of being a regular sharper. "I'll never forget the day when the old folks called him to time on the way he was doing. I pitied mother, she cried for nearly a whole week, but it was no use; Bill was too great a philosopher. He said that all our leading men were nothing but sharpers; that they all played a great grab game, and the best man was the fellow who could get away with the most money and yet keep out of jail. He told them that for his part he would rather be an out-and-outer; that his conscience was more clear, and he felt more like au honest man to show his SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 103 hand and let people know -what he was, than to play the hypocrite and betray the confidence of those who reposed trust in him. He said that by accepting the situation and acknowledging himself a sharper, he could form a better idea as to who his friends were, and when he swindled people out of their money he suffered no re- morse, because they knew what they were running up against; consequently, had no right to kick. But I can't tell it anything like the way Bill can," the captain ex- plained, "he's the greatest talker I ever heard in my life — you just ought to hear 'im. If he had only stayed in the law business and played policy, he'd have been a great man some day ; could have made the United States Senate, sure." The captain paused, and Lieutenant Gray remarked, incidentally, that the captain's brother was, undoubtedly, a very bright, interesting man, and a philosopher of no mean order. Although he could not altogether agree with him, or justify him in the course he had chosen to follow, he should like very much to know him, and re- peated that he hoped at some future day he should have the pleasure of making his acquaintance. "Oh, you would like my brother Bill, all right," said the captain enthusiastically, "everybody likes him, be- cause he's such a perfect gentleman — understands people, you know. Why, if you were to meet him, it wouldn't be two minutes until he'd make you feel as though you had known him all our life. I wrote to him not long ago, and I told him a whole lot about you, because I knew it would interest him, he has taken such a liking to you from hearing me tell of you. I left him in "Wash- ington; he came on that far with me; and I'll bet he's making money like dirt in Washington now." These ooniidential talks between Captain Gusty and Lieutenant Gray were of frequent occurrence and engaged in at divers places, often at night when in their tents together; on the picket line, when their minds were prone to revert to home, friends, and scenes of the past, before cruel war was known in the land. The regiment's mail was brought to camp one day — it had been accumulating for a week or more at a safe dis- 104 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. tance in the rear — and Captain Custy received a number of letters. He read them quietly, though he sometimes made comments and told who certain ones were from. One among the number was quite bulky and contained several pages. Before the captain finished reading it he paused and laughed heartily, saying: "This is from my brother Bill, Barney, and he has got something to say about you." "Well, out with itl" replied the lieutenant. "He wishes to be kindly remembered to you, and hopes you may have all sorts of good luck," the captain said; then, turning to his letter, he read off the follow- ing: "Judging from what you have said and written of this young chap, I am satisfied that he has not been prop- erly trained to cope with this mean, contemptible world; and, while I do not wish that any harm should come to him, I cannot but think that the best thing for him to do would be to get himself shot before the war is over. I am constrained to believe that if your young friend lives to more mature years, and is obliged to battle with his fellow creatures for his subsistence, he will many times have cause to regret that he did not leave his bones for buzzards to pick, on one of the war's bloody fields. This world, he should know, has no use for perfect indi- viduals.' " As the captain finished the above paragraph, he started in again, laughing. "Your brother evidently takes a very pessimistic view of things," remarked Lieutenant Gray. "Well, you see, I understand Bill, and you don't, Barney, that's all. He is the best fellow — except you — ■ that ever lived. There are times when a man will say a thing that he wouldn't say at other times. Now, Bill, before he wrote this letter, has had a run of bad luck; he has lost at some game, and has gone home late at night and written this when he was alone in his room, before he went to bed. Bill's mind always did take a gloomy turn when he was alone. But here's the billet, Barney, my boy," said the captain, taking from his pocket a small, sweetly perfumed envelope, containing a letter, very neatly written, showing extreme care in the pen- manship. The fold of paper was small, delicately tinted, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 105 and two of its pagea were filled— save the spaces between each short paragraph. The captain had opened and read this little note the moment his letters were handed him; he had ihen slipped it in his pocket, and he was now preparing to read it over again. "I don't mind telling you, Barney; I tell you everything," the captain went on, "but this is the favored one. Oh, she is a lovely girl — such eyes — such a form — roses on her cheeks — no, I don't mind telling you, Barney, that the little lady who wrote this sweet little letter," here he pressed the dainty billet-doux to his lips and kissed it, "is to be my wife when the war is over. I send her all my spare money, and she is keeping it for me until we get married and settle down, and then you can come and see us, Barney. I have told her all about you, and here in this letter, she asks for you, and says I can give you a little bit of her love, if I like, but that I must keep the largest share for myself. The only unkind thing my brother Bill ever did to me was to run down this little lady." "What was his reason for doing that?'' Barney asked. "Well," the captain explained, "I told Bill that I was engaged to the best and sweetest little woman on the face of the earth, and he insisted on seeing her — wanted me to take him around, introduce him, you know. That was all right, so one evening when I called on the lady I took Bill along, and the way he talked to her — saying everything to please and make her laugh he could think of, you'd thought he had fallen dead in love on first sight. But when we started to go home. Bill and I, we were hardly outside of the house when he let out one of his big laughs, and says he 'Look here, Al, you had bet- ter drop that damsel before this thing goes any further. That girl hasn't got sense enough to go in out of the rain ; besides, she has neither heart, conscience, nor any ' other redeeming quality that a good woman ought to have; she'd throw you over in a minute if some loafer stepped in that has more money than you've got — she doesn't need any sense to play you for a sucker, because you are in love, and a man in love ia not in his right mind; he can seQ no defects in the object of his affections.. 106 SCHOOLED BV THE WORLD, thougli she may be the most heartless, worthless — ' I don't know what more Bill would have said if I had let him go on, but I stopped him right there, and said that if I heard another word from him against that little lady I'd never speak to him again as long as we both lived, and he knew I meant just what I said, so he gave in at once. Bill always was good that way, he'd never argue and quarrel with anybody. All he said to me, after I called the halt on him, was that I had a right to go to hell if I wanted to, and if I chose my own route I would have nothing to grumble about." "Well, now, Al, I should have thought you'd been glad to have the advice and counsel of your brother Bill, as a man of the world, understanding people so well, as you say he does; and, surely, you couldn't doubt but what he had your welfare at heart?" suggested Barney Gray. "Oh, yes, I understand that all right," the captain resumed, "and while Bill understands other people well enough, both men and women, he don't know this young lady as well as I do. I'm better acquainted with her than he is, and that makes a big difference, you see." And Barney, taking a little time to think, assented. "Yes," he said, "that does make a big difference." The cruel war continued to rage with all its savage fury, and the regiment to which Captain Allen Custy and Lieutenant Barner Gray belonged was ever at the front taking part in the sanguinary contests that were con- stantly being waged. The ranks became sadly depleted; husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, and lovers had fallen upon gory fields; but though the captain and his lieu- tenant were never absent from their posts of duty, and had many narrow escapes amidst smoke, fire, storms of bullets, shot and shell, they always came out unhurt as though shielded from harm by a magician's wand. While the war lasted, letters were exchanged with per- fect regularity between Margaret Gray and Mary Boone, for the purpose of keeping each other informed of the latest reports which came from their dear ones who were risking their lives for their country's sake. "Charley was in such a battle at such a time where thousands were killed, but I am so glad to say that he is stUl safe," SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 107 would come from Mrs. Boone. "It seems to be Earner 'a fate to take part in every great battle that is fought in Virginia, but I am so thankful that, at last accounts, my dear boy was still unharmed," would be returned by Mrs. Gray. The Confederate general, Eobert E. Lee, surrendered at Appomattox, and the war closed; then the "boys" prepared to "come marching home." Those ties of friend- ship which had been "formed too romantic to last" were torn asunder; albeit comrades bade affectionate good-bys, exchanged addresses, and swore to keep in close touch with each other so long as life should last. Many of these addresses are still, at the present day, between the folds of Bibles and other family books, where they were placed long years ago, and soon forgotten. Perhaps no one was more earnest, or more sincere in his declarations of eternal friendship than Captain Allen Custy when he wrote "B. Gray, Goosetown," on a little slip of paper and put it in a small case, which he always carried, so that he would be sure not to lose it. "I can't give you my address now, Barney, my dear boy," said the captain, "for the reason that I do not know just where I shall be; but that makes no difference; you will hear from me very soon, you can depend on that. I'll send .you my wedding cards soon, and then, when I get Settled down, I'll write for you to come and make me a long visit; and you've got to do it, too, or I'll be after you." It may, probably, be as well to state right here that Barney Gray never received the wedding cards; neither did the invitation to make the visit ever come to hand, and it was many years before he knew what had become of his friend and comrade. Captain Custy. It was, in the main, a very cheerful letter that came from Mrs. Boone after dear Charley's return from the war. "But, don't you think it too bad, dear auntie," she wrote, "not until he returned home and I noticed an ugly scar in his shoulder did I learn that he had been badly wounded and lay in the hospital for a long while. It seems he would not only keep from writing of it bim- Qelt, but had forbidden all others from making any men- 108 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, tion of his misfortune, lest I should hear of it. Of course, it is all right now, since he is at home again, safe and sound; but, suppose he had died, and I to know nothing of his suiiering from being wounded until after his death! it would have worried me all my life; but Charley has such a peculiar way of doing things — still, he thinks everything he does is for the best. "He predicts that now, since the war is over, the West will settle rapidly and our town of Dressington will soon be the great place he has always declared it would be. So confident is he of this that he has bought up a great deal of land bordering on the town, calculating that, in a very few years, it will be worth from five to ten times what it costs him. If this proves to be the case it will make Charley the richest man in this part of the State. Of course he knows best, but it seems to me that he has taken a great risk, for he has mortgaged all he owns in order to make the first payments on the land — mortgaged all but our dwelling house; and this, as I think I wrote you once before, belongs to me. As soon as the house was built and furnished, Charley gave me a deed for the whole. I didn't care to have it this way, but it was his idea of right; he said that since the woman had to look after the house and all it contained, the property ought to belong to her. "How thankful we should be, dear auntie, that, now the cruel war is over, we have our loved ones with ua again, and no further need to fret and worry. "Charley wishes me to say that he is ready to receive Earner just as soon as he is prepared to come; and how glad we shall be to have him with us." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 109 CHAPTER IX. GBEAT OPPORTUNITIES. When Earner Gray arrived at his home, after his bril- liant military career, all Goosetown turned out to do him honor, and there was a constant run of visitors at hitj father's house to see, to welcome, and to congratulate the young soldier on his safe return. Many were the in- vitations he received to dinners as well as to teas — no, not teas, the good folks of Goosetown never had tea — it was simply plain, old-fashioned supper, and of many of these he was pressed to partake. The honest people of the quaint old village could not well have manifested their pleasure in a more friendly spirit, at seeing the young man safe, sound, and at home again, than they did. Nevertheless, the ex-lieutenant of the army was ill at ease. Goosetown no longer had any charms for him. There was nothing to see — nothing to do; he could not imagine why his father had chosen such a place for his home. The very name annoyed him as it had never done before. "Where did you come from?" "From Goosetown, sir." "Where were you born?" "At Goosetown, if you please." These were some of the soliloquys of Barney as he strolled along by-paths, lanes, through fields and woods — cozy nooks where he had dis- ported himself in his earlier youth, never once thinking that he should crave better or more prosperous days when he arrived at man's estate. True, he was still a boy, inasmuch as he was not yet a voter; but he felt that he was now a man of knowledge and experience, well able to cope with the best of them in the devious ways of life. "Live in Goosetown? well, no," he thought not. "It would make a very respectable graveyard if fenced in," he remarked facetiously one day. 110 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. The mother, the father also, if their son left home, ■would like to see him carry out his original intention, and go to the West where the Boones were. But they could not insist upon this, because their son was now a man able to act and do for himself. Yes, he might go and join Charley Boone, he didn't know; he cared less about that project than he formerly did. He had not seen the Boones since he was a little boy, and they would seem to him almost the same as strangers. Sin'ce he had been out in the world, mingling with different people, passing through such exciting scenes, the desire of his earlier years had waned, and he had but a slight recol- lection of how Charley Boone and Mary Parmer really looked. It is seen that, after all, Mr. Barner Gray was, in some respects at least, very much like other young men. He had perfect confidence in himself and felt under no obli- gations to anybody. His filial affections were strong, and for this reason he disliked to quit his home for good; but be had been away from his parents so long that he was used to doing without them. Yea, Barney Gray, by an honorable, upright course, had been a success in the army. What then, was there to prevent him from suc- ceeding in any of the walks of life in which he chose to engage? More especially when so many great opportuni- ties were offered him from all parts of the United States ! The plebeian inhabitants of Goosetown had come to look upon Barney Gray as a personage of far more than ordi- nary importance, for he had not only been crowned with laurels for distinguished services in the war, but now, since his return home, it was well known that he was con- stantly receiving letters, papers, and documents of various kinds from different parts of the country. Barney him- self could not account for the number of persons who had become acquainted with his name and address; though he reasoned, very naturally, that a grateful people had taken measures to inform themselves of the names and places of residence of all honorably discharged soldiers, and were desirous of rewarding .them for having risked their lives in defense of the homes and firesides of those who were prevented from going to war in consequence of more pressing business in other directious. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Ill So the ex-lieutenant received his packages of mail mat- ter with the nonchalance of a man who accepts that which is his due, and who is familiar with all forms of a busi- ness nature. He carefully read all the pamphlets, cir- culars, and all else that came, and felt thankful for the pains good and kind men had taken to apprise him of the many opportunities that were open to him for engag- ing in pursuits which would, beyond peradventure, prove both agreeable and profitable. Many of his letters were from parties who professed to have good paying business already established and desired a partner with small cap- ital ; no previous experience necessary — net profits so and so much per annum. Documents in plenty came from manufacturers of new inventions, soliciting agents to dispose of their wares — agents already in the field were making from ten to twenty dollars per day. A large number of circulars and pamphlets were from business colleges, medical colleges, and other institutions of learn- ing, setting forth the advantages to be derived from tak- ing a course at this or that establishment. That this was all true, it was invariably noted that many young men, after leaving professor so and so's college, had made fortunes in a very short time. But the most attractive card — at least the one which interested Earner Gray the most — came from Hooper, a new and thriving town in the West. This very prosper- ous place had come into existence since the close of the war, and, according to the announcement Barney re- ceived, people were pouring into it, buildings were going up, and everything was growing with such rapidity as to eclipse all things of the kind ever before heard of. Mr. Barney was so favorably impressed with the outlook that he wrote on to Hooper for more explicit information rela- tive to the town, surrounding country, and so forth ; ad- dressing his letter to Mr. Dewer, whose name appeared in the circular. Barney solicited Mr. Dewer's advice as to whether Hooper would be a good place for a young man to locate; stating that he had been through the war, and had some money to invest, when he met with a good proposition. Due course of mail brought Mr. Dewer's answer, and 113 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. certainly it could not have been more encouraging. He ■wrote that there was not a better town on the face of the earth for a young man to settle down in than Hooper — that dwelling houses and stores were in course of build- ing beyond anything that could be described, and yet there were not houses enough to accommodate the people who were constantly arriving. Property was enhancing in value daily, and if Mr. Gray wanted any town lots he would have to make haste, as they were selling off like hot cakes; but fortunately there were still a few desirable ones left. Mr. Dewer was so very solicitous for the wel- fare of the ex-soldier that he sent him, by the same mail that brought the letter, additional proofs of the prosper- ity of Hooper in the shape of maps, diagrams, pictures, besides a great package of clippings from newspapers, all telling of the miraculous growth of Hooper, and what a wonderful city it was destined to be in the near future. This was a great opportunity for a young man with a little money, so Mr. Dewer wrote ; and, after reading the ad- vertisements, all of which were so favorable to the new city. Earner Gray concluded that this was the very place for him to make a success in life — to settle in and grow up with the country. It caused some regret to Jonathan and Margaret Gray that the route to Hooper did not take their son along the line where the Boones lived; but this was of little moment to the son, for while he should like to visit his old friends well enough, there was no hurry about it, and he could put it off to a more convenient time. To be at Hooper as soon as possible was, evidently, very import- ant; so he began making preparations to depart without any unnecessary delay. Good Mrs. Gray now felt no concern about her boy not being able to paddle his own canoe safely through the turbid sea of life. Her fears had been subdued; she had been so agreeably disap- pointed in his outcome in the army that she now regarded her son as a man fully equipped to compete with his peers in any undertaking that he might choose to engage. His father, at parting, gave the young man a few words of good advice and enjoined him to be ever honorable and upright, as this would carry him safely through. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 113 On the way to Hooper young Gray fell in with many whose destination was the same as his own. Of these many were like himself, veterans of the war, who had a little money to invest, and were going to Hooper — having been lured thither by the seductive advertisements — with the intention of building little homes, settling down themselves to a life of peace and industry. Men having wives and children with them were also in the van. Some among them had sold comfortable homes in the East that they might invest their money to greater ad- vantage at Hooper, of which they had heard and read such glowing accounts. "When Earner Gray arrived at this new settlement, he was in no wise disappointed at the appearance of things; for it was true all was rush and bustle. The buildings were crude, cheap structures as a matter of course, for the demand was great, and they had to be put up in a hurry. The hotels and boarding houses were crowded, and enormous prices were charged for very poor accom- modations. The town teemed with drinking saloons, gambling halls, and dance houses of ill repute. Money was plenty and used carelessly ; still it was self-evident that everybody at Hooper had come for business, not for health. The real estate trafiSc seemed to be the chief in- dustry of the town, and building lots were bought one day and sold the next — they were even auctioned off on the street corners to the highest bidder. Earner Gray, after looking about the town and ac- quainting himself somewhat with scenes that were strange to him, sallied out to look up Mr. Dewer. This gentle- man found, he greeted Earner with great cordiality, say- ing how glad he was to see him in Hooper, the very place of all places in the world for a young man to pitch his tent and make his fortune. "Why," said Mr. Dewer, with a wave of his hand, "just look at our great expanse of territory! room enough here to build a city that will eclipse London! and this will be done, too, I can assure you, in a very few years. Why, even now we have the streets and avenues of Hooper staked out for more than twenty miles around ! And town lota I they're going up in price every day— by 114 SCHOOLED 6Y tHE WORLD. the way," here Mr. Dewer's voice fell to a very confiden- tial tone, "have you invested in any town lots yet, Mr. Gray?" I Earner explained that he had not invested in anything as yet. "You don't want to lose any time," urged Mr. Dewer, "a man has got to be wide-awake here. Prices are going up every day. You'll have to pay more to-morrow." Earner replied that he was thinking of looking for a position in some kind of business before launching into speculation, as he preferred to feel secure and go cau- tiously about matters of which he had no knowledge or experience. "Oh, I see," said Mr. Dewer, "you would like to get permanently settled in something substantial that would bring you a steady income?" Earner answered that such was his idea. "Well, I think I've got just about what you want," replied Dewer reflectively. "I need a partner," he con- tinued, "the worst kind of a way in my business. The last partner I had left here just a week ago. He made a barrel of money while he was with me; but he didn't like this place, so he took his money and went home — wasn't the right sort of a man for a place like this, nohow. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do, my friend, I'll sell out one-half my business to you for one thousand dollars cash, and that is dirt cheap — you stand a chance of making twice that inside of a week, for I do the biggest business of any man in Hooper. I have been expecting a man on here to go with me, and he was to pay me two thousand dollars — but, there's no telling, he may not come; be- sides, I am not willing to wait. I like your looks, and I am a friend of the soldier — had two brothers killed in the war — would have been in it myself, but the examining board rejected me on account of my having heart trouble. Now, what do you say, my friend? This is the oppor- tunity of your life, and it remains open to you for just one hour." Earner inquired in what business Mr. Dewer was en- gaged. "The real estate business! buying and selling town lotsl" returned Dewer, with a surprised look. SCHOOLED BY tHE WORLD. Il5 It was in a drinking saloon that this conversation was taking place — this being where Barney had found his friend — but Mr. Dewer now proposed to walk around to his office, so they started off together, Mr. Dewer, the while, expatiating volubly on the prospects and oppor- tunities for accumulating great wealth by keeping pace with the times, and making lucky turns in dealing in Hooper real estate. "But, what is the chief industry of the place? Are there any workshops or manufactories of any kind here?" inquired Barney. "Why, bless your soul, my dear boyl" exclaimed Mr. Dewer, "how could you expect anything of that kind in a new town like this? The first thing we've got to do is to get the people here, and where the people are every- thing else follows. There will be shops and factories enough here before long. Don't trouble yourself about that. "Why, only a few days ago I sold a whole block of groun-d to a company who are going to erect a building for the manufacturing of patent medicine. Industries! Why look at our facilities — look at our water power 1" and the eloquent Mr. Dewer pointed to a little stream that trickled through the street, and from which the townspeople procured their water supply. At his juncture he entered a small cabin, built of rough boards, which contained a table, three chairs, and two spittoons. The table was littered with papers, pens, ink, circulars and so forth in promiscuous confusion. Mr. Dewer seemed to feel called upon to make some apology for his quarters for he said they were entirely too small for his constantly increasing business, but that small be- ginnings made great endings, and in the near future he intended to build a large four-story edifice on the ground where this little shanty now stood; declaring that he had the plans all drawn and everything arranged for the same. He glanced at his watch, and called his young friend's attention to the fact that time was speeding on, and as the proposition which he had made him was open for one hour only, he must decide quickly as to what he intended to do; otherwise he (Mr. Dewer) would send a telegram to the other party who desired to enter into 116 SCHOOLED BV THE WORLD. partnership, as he had agreed to do upon this very day. While he was thus talking two men called in, and after being introduced to Barney, general conversation was in- ' dulged relative to the real estate market — the recent sales that had been made, the profits realized, and so on. Both men congratulated Barney on his timely advent into Hooper, and predicted for him a brilliant future. After their departure Mr. Dewer returned to the matter of partnership, with the result that within a few minutes he was engaged in writing up the forms of agreement for equal partnership between Dewer and Gray, and one thousand dollars changed hands accordingly. Before many days had passed, Barney Gray, at the advice of Mr. Dewer, had invested a few hundred more — nearly all he had — in town property of Hooper, and he then settled himself down as chief ofSce man of the firm of Dewer and Gray, agents in real estate, stocks, bonds, etc. ; while he patiently waited for the town and country to grow up, increase business, and enhance his property in value. But Hooper seemed to have reached the acme of her greatness ; the sale of town lots was not as brisk as it had been, and prices were falling instead of rising. Mr. Dewer explained, very ingeniously, that the stagnation was simply a lull after a storm, and that business of all kinds would be better than it had ever been just as soon as a few thousand more people arrived. Traffic in e^ery line was at a very low ebb in Hooper when one day Barney Gray received a dispatch by tele- graph. He tore it open instantly, and read : "Come home at once; your father is not expected to live." Glancing at his watch he saw that he would need to be in haste to board the train for the East which would be along within an hour. Packing his clothing and giving Dewer full authority to act for him in all matters relative to business, the selling and buying of property in Hooper and so forth, Barney Gray was soon on his way to the home of his childhood, as fast as a railroad train could carry him ; but even this mode of travel seemed entirely too slow. Jonathan Gray lay very ill. His life was despaired of, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 117 but he lived from day to day, seemingly by the exertion of his own indomitable will. He was very weak, still he would often inquire, with a faint voice,for his son saying he wanted to see his face once more. It was a rapid drive Earner made from Flagtown to his father's house. On arriving and entering the sick room, his father greeted him with a smile, while he faintly raised his hand to clasp his son's, he said: "My beloved boy, I have been waiting for you. I can die in peace now that you are with me. " These were his last words. His eyes closed and he seemed to fall asleep, and his breath- ing ceased. The funeral was largely attended, for Jonathan Gray was beloved for his many sterling qualities. Mrs. Gray was prostrated with grief, and was supported through the trying ordeal by the arm of her robust, manly son. From the funeral she returned to her lonely house and took to her bed. Her ailment seemed to be beyond med- ical skill, for she kept gradually declining from day to day. Earner, who was constantly at his grief-stricken mother's side, said to her one day : "A letter has just come for you, my mother dear, and I think it is from Mary Parmer, or Eoone, I should say, shall I open it and read it to you?" "Not now, son; open it and read it yourself, and then tell me what my dear girl says." This request was complied with ; Barney read the let- ter, but, as his mother seemed to have forgotten all about it, he said nothing to her of its contents. The poor lady kept constantly sinking, until, a little over three weeks from the time her good husband was buried, she died, apparently from inanition, though the attending phy- sician pronounced it a well-defined case of heart failure, a disease that was becoming very fashionable about this time, and was being extensively introduced among the upper classes. Earner Gray, sad, and alone in the world, was the sole heir to his father's estate. Eut this was not large, for the principal had been drawn upon for living expenses for some years, and all that remained was not a large sum. 113 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, The homestead with all its belongings had to be sold, and the general settling up of affairs took time, which held Earner at Goosetown, and the days were long and dreary. Apropos of this letter which came from Mrs. Charley Boone, it was, under the circumstances, far better that Mrs. Gray should not know what it contained ; though it behooves the chronicler of these pages to give this letter ^ verbatim, in the next chapter. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 119 CHAPTER X. SAD NEWS. "My Deab Auntie Gkay: Never in my life before have I undertaken to write a letter with such painful emotions as I feel at this time. Tou will excuse it, will you not, auntie dear, if mj' paper is soiled and blotted? for I have cried my eyes nearly out and it now seems that tears flow from their own will, although it has been a long while since this sad affliction has fallen upon me. For the sake of a little relief to myself, and that I may not keep you in suspense, I will tell at once what has hap- pened — unreasonable and incomprehensible as it may seem: Charley has gone away, under the most peculiar circumstances — has left me and the children, and I don't know -where he is, or what has become of him. I have been putting off writing, hoping that he might come back, or that I should hear something of him, but it seems no use; from bad things are becoming worse with me, and now I am in such a condition of nervousness and despair that I had to do something to ease my throbbing brain this lonely night, so I thought I would write to you — my best and dearest friend, and tell you of my troubles and heart aches. "I must tell you how it all came about; that old land ■ — which I wish had been at the bottom of the sea — that Charley bought just after he came from the army, has been the cause of all our misery and distress. Charley was right in his predictions that property here would go up in price after peace was restored. It has enhanced in value greatly, and our town has improved beyond any- thing that was ever expected. "Well, some rich men from a distance formed themselves into a company and were 120 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. buying up all the land around here they could get. They were very anxious to have Charley's land — of course they offered him more for it than he gave, but property kept going up in price all the time, and Charley knew that he could get a great deal more money for the land by wait- ing longer, and this he could well afford to do, because his business was good, and he could always meet his pay- ments on time, even in the face of these rich men, who, as Charley was well aware, were doing all they could to embarrass him and injure his business so that they might get his property from him. "At last a great calamity came! Charley's warehouse took fire one night and was burned to the ground, with everything it contained. Oh, such a time as we had! I shall never forget it. Poor Charley was completely broken up; the more so because he felt convinced that the fire was an incendiary one, perpetrated for the pur- pose of causing his ruin, which it did. Everything he had was heavily mortgaged, so all his property was lost to him — all except the dwelling house, and that, as you may remember mj' writing you, belonged to me. "I can never tell you, auntie, what anxiety and worry I have suffered. Not so much on account of our loss, but on account of Charley. He acted so strangely I feared his mind was becoming affected, for he said such queer things. He told me one day that the world was made up of thieves and robbers, and that justice was a mockery and a by-word — that land should not be the property of individuals, but was, in the light of all that could be just, the common property of all the people. You see, it was not the loss of property, either, that so much troubled Charley and caused him to brood, but because he had been wronged — unjustly used by his fellow men. The thought of this seemed really to make him vicious. He instituted an investigation into the cause of the fire, and traced it so directly to the men who wanted his prop- erty that he was about to bring charges against them; but his lawyer — a man who had been a friend of Char- ley's for years — advised him not to do so, as there was too much money against him, and the charges could never be proven. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 131 "Isn't it awful that one has to be at the mercy of bad men who protect themselves in evildoing by the wrong- ful use of money? And only think of it! that men for the sake of greed should plot and scheme to ruin poor Charley, who has always been so good and never did any harm to a human being in his life! Oh, why did we not remain at dear old Goosetown? where we could always, have been so happy, and this great trouble would never ' have come upon us. "Well, as I was saying, I was so worried about Char- ley. He was no longer his natural self, and I was in con- stant fear lest he should do something desperate. He would even get up at dead of night and steal quietly out of the house. I always followed and watched him, and saw him walk to and fro in the garden for hours, with his head bowed and his hands clasped behind his back. I did all in my power to encourage and cheer him. I besought him to let me sell the house and to take the money and start in business again in a small way, but he would not hear to it. He said that he could not live in the same town with those men who had so greatly wronged him — that he must go away to some other place, and for me to keep my own property and do the best I could with it. This alarmed me still more, for it dawned upon me that he was intending to go off without me and the children ; not that he was anxious to get rid of us, or wanted to forsake us — dear knows! but because his spirit was broken, his pride crushed, and he wanted to go to some wild, unsettled country where it would not be pleas- ant for us to follow, in the hope of restoring his lost for- tune before sending for us or returning to us. "That I was right in my conjecture was proved when he came to me one day and said that he was going to the gold mines in the Far West, and as soon as he was so situated that he could provide well for us, he would send for me and the children. Oh, I begged so hard, even with tears I could not restrain, to be permitted to go with him ; but it was no use — you know how Charley is, I never could do anything when he was set against it. Though I'm sure he would have taken me had it not been for the girls ; it seemed he could not bear the ide» of having them go 123 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ■where they might be deprived of schools and be obliged to associate with uncouth people. I insisted that he must write to me every week, and letters did come for a time, then ceased altogether. I wrote to the place where his letters had been mailed, and finally I received word that a man by the name of Charles Boone had been there, but had gone off alone in the mountains on a prospecting tour, and as he had never been seen or heard of since, it was believed he had been killed by the Indians. "Oh dear, oh dear! poor Charley, I do wonder where he is! One thing I am sure of, that, if living, it makes no difference where he is or what he 'does, he will never for- get Lillian, for never was a father more fond of a child than he is of this one, and he always said he should make her the greatest lady of the land some day. No, I cannot believe that Charley is dead, and so long as I live I shall cling to the hope of seeing him again. One thing he did, and I thought it a little strange, just before he went away. He asked me to get him our old engagement ring, saying that he wanted to take it and always keep it with him. He wore it all through the war and I suppose feels attached to it for many reasons. "I can write no more to-night, dear auntie, though I have not yet told you all; but I feel so tired and worn, and I must try and sleep a little. Will finish this long letter to-morrow. "I will now try to bring this to a close. I feel better, having slept quite soundly until late this morning, and am strong enough to tell you all of my sad story. Trou- bles never come singly they say, and so it has proved in my case. After I could get no tidings from Charley, and when it was reported that he was supposed to be dead, I didn't know what to do, so I went for advice to an old friend — a man whom Charley and I had known for years. He seemed to feel very sorry for me, and manifested great interest in my welfare. He advised me to sell the house and buy or rent a smaller place where I could open a little store, or something like that, so I could make living expenses. I thought this a good idea, and the house was sold within a few days after it was advertised — property sells very quickly her© pow— and I was pai4 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 133 the money cash down — at least I was given a check on the bank for it. "Then Mr. Raker — ^this is the name of our once friend — came to me and said that if I would let him take my money he would invest it for me where it would double itself in a short time. Well, I never knew much about stock business and speculations of that kind, so I was foolish enough to trust him implicitly, and let him have the money to invest. About a week after he called to see me, looking very sorrowful, saying that the stocks in which he had put my money, instead of going up, as had been expected, had gone down, and my money was all lost. Now, you can imagine, auntie, , how I felt, and I even tremble yet when I think of what Charley might — in case he should come back — do to this man Kaker. Of course, I saw a lawyer about the matter, but was told, after be had looked things up, that, inasmuch as I had given the money of my own free will, I had no redress and could recover nothing. "Oh, dear! I was never in such a trying situation in all my life, and I don't know what would have become of us had it not been for the Snyders. I had not seen much of Mrs. Snyder for a long time — the people who visited me of late years were not of her class, so she dropped out of her own accord, and, somehow, I got out of the way of calling on her ; but oh ! how humiliated and ashamed I felt when, after hearing of all my sore trouble, dear Mrs. Snyder came to me and insisted on my bring- ing the children and making her house my home until something better could be done; and this is where I am now, with the Snyders. They are no longer poor people, by any means; Mr. Snyder had some property here which enhanced greatly in value, making them very well- to-do and indeed they deserve it, for they are the only kind of people in this cruel, wicked world that have any right to be rich. Mr. Snyder has kindly offered to as- sist me in getting a little place where I can live and carry on dressmaking and millinery; I always was handy at that kind of work, you know, and Maggie is now quite a big girl — she can help me a great deal, while I shall try and keep Lillian at school for a time yet. I shall now be 124 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. obliged to live very dififerently from what I have been accustomed to — make every little count, and give up society, but I don't care for that; I never again, so long as I live, want any better society than the Snyders. "Now I have told you all, auntie dear, but I hope you will burn this as soon as you read it, for it will, perhaps, be better if uncle should never know what has happened to us, and it may never be necessary to tell him. But you, of all persons in the world, I wanted to know the truth. Though I am miserable myself, I hope you and yours are all happy and well. Let me hear from you ere long. AfEectionately yours, "MiRY J. Boone. "P. S. Should Charley return,or if I hear anything from him, I shall write you at once. M. B." Barney Gray, after reading the above letter, put it in his pocket, and made no mention of it to any one. The unhappy turn of affairs with the Boones, the dear friends of his parents, of whom he had such pleasant recollections because of their affection and kindness to him in child- hood, pained him exceedingly, and he was at a loss to know just how to act. At first he thought he would write an answer in return, telling of his father's death, and the sad state of his mother's health; then, when he had read the letter over again at his leisure, he changed his mind and concluded to wait for his mother's recovery. After her death he read Mrs. Boone's letter again, and was on the point of writing her the sad tidings, but again changed his mind, believing that such sorrowful intelli- gence could only increase the poor woman's unhappiness, BO he thought it best to wait. He would write to her from Hooper, or, if his circumstances warranted it, would make it his special business to go and see Mrs. Boone, tell her all, and if possible, do something to help her out of the unfortunate condition into which she had fallen. Such were Barney Gray's intentions; but, alas! how much better this world would be if all good intentions were carried outl SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 136 CHAPTER XI. A DISAPPOINTMENT. As haa been before stated, the time hung heavy on Barney Gray while he was held at Goosetown settling up his father's estate. Every familiar hill, every tree and nook seemed to have a sad tale to tell as he gazed upon them with the peculiar feelings of pleasure and pain. He felt that he was spending his farewell days at the place of his birth, and looking upon scenes of his childhood for the last time; for he knew that he should never want to return again to such a dreary, staid old village as Goose- town. Old Ephraim Deek accosted him one day and said: "Well, Barney, I suppose you will stay with us now — get married, settle down, and live in the old home?" "What?" said Barney, "live in Goosetown? Oh, no, excuse me ; I have seen too much of the life, the strife, the rush and excitement of the world for that, and while I can't say I really like it, there is something intoxicat- ing about it, and I must go out and mingle with it. Oh no, I could never be satisfied to live in Goosetown, although I shall ever remember the good people I leave behind me, and may often regret, mj' good friend, not having acted upon your suggestion and remained with you." It was Ephraim Deek who, urged by Susan, finally bought the Gray home, paying but little more for it than years before he had received for the unimproved ground. He concluded to retire from the farm and spend the rest of his days at ease and comfort. Barney was anxious to get back to Hooper and look after his interests there, for he had heard nothing, either 136 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. directly or indirectly, from this flourishing city since he left it. He had -written two letters to his partner, but no answer had been received to either of them ; though this caused Barney no alarm, for he knew that Mr. Dewer was a very busy man, and inclined to be negligent re- garding his correspondence, except when pressing busi- ness demanded promptness. Night was well advanced when the train carrying Barney Gray came to a stop at Hooper. The station was not called, but Barney knew that his objective point had been reached, so, gathering his traps together, he alighted from the car without making inquiry. It was a strange sight that met his gaze, so far as the darkness permitted him to see. The station house had disappeared; no buildings of any kind could he descry; no human being could he see; no shouts of energetic haokmen greeted his ears, as upon the occasion of his first arrival at Hooper. He stood alone, peering about, as best he could, through the blackness of night, and endeavoring to compose his confused thoughts. The train moved on, and Barney mechanically walked along the track in the same direc- tion the train had taken. He found his trunk, which had been put off pursuant to direction ; then, a little farther on, he came upon a water tank, and a cabin near by, from the window of which glimmered a light. Making his way to this abode he rapped on the door. "Who's there?" came a voice from within. "A traveler," answered Barney. "What do you want?" "I should like to find lodging for the night," Barney replied. Then followed a shuffling of feet over the floor, and the door was opened by a rusty, battered-looking old man, carrying a lantern in his hand. "Got left, did j'ou?" he said, eyeing his visitor closely. "Yes, it seems so," replied Barney, stepping inside. The cabin consisted of one room, and the furniture of this was spare and crude. Barney seated himself on a box, just inside the door; then, removing his hat, mopped his forehead with his handkerchief, though the night was not warm, neither was he sweating. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 127 "Well," said the host, "my accommodations here are not much to brag of, but I suppose you'll have to try and make out, for it's the best you can do, since you got left, until the train comes along to-morrow." "Say, my friend, what has been the trouble here? There was quite a flourishing town here not a great while ago, but everything seems to have disappeared. Not even anybody living here?" inquired Barney Gray. "Oh, this was never anj'thing but a boom town," re- plied the proprietor of the cabin, "started by a lot of sharpers to get away with people's money and as soon as the game was played out, and no more money in sight, somebody set the town on fire and burned it down." "Were you living here then?" To this question the old man gave an affirmative an- swer; then he went on to tell how he had seen the town start from nothing and end in nothing; he was a black- smith by trade, and saw a good opportunity, during the whooping times of Hooper, to make a few honest dollars, so he opened a shop, and so long as the booming times lasted, charged the highest kind of prices for his work; until, just before the town was burned, he was so unfortu- nate as to be kicked by a horse, and this disabled him, for the time being, so that he could not work at his trade. He had accepted the position of tending the water tank and switch for the railroad company, until such time as he was strong enough to resume work at the anvil. Becoming somewhat confidential, he gave the information that his name was Dobbs, Silas Dobbs, and that he was commonly called old Sile. "Did you know a man here by the name of Dewer?" ' Barney inquired. "Oh, yes, that infernal old scoundrel," replied old Sile, "he robbed more women and boys out of their money than any other rascal that ever set foot in the place." Barney sought further information from his apparently well-posted and talkative friend, by inquiring into the whys and wherefores of such a town as Hooper and how Dewer, and men of his ilk, could wield the influence, advertise so extensively, deceive people by engaging ia 138 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. such outrageous business, and yet remain unmolested by the law. Old Sile gave a dry laugh accompanied by a sly wink, and then replied: "You don't seem to understand, Mr. ." "Gray," interposed Barney, "my name is Earner Gray." "Well, you don't seem to understand, Mr. Gray," Silas Dobbs resumed, "that Dewer and his kind are only cat's paws in big stealing schemes such as this was at Hooper. The men who put up these jobs, have the advertising done, get the poor folks together to be robbed out of their money, are men who stand above the law — in fact they make the law ; they are our honorable, upright, re- spectable people who never allow their names to be asso- ciated with such low, disgraceful business as this at Hooper. They stand in the background and don't do anything but rake in the biggest share of the boodle, while their agents, such men as Dewer, shoulder all the blame and are content to do a little stealing on the side," and old Sile gave another dry laugh and another sly wink. "This Hooper excitement," he continued, "was got up by the railroad companies, the lumber companies, the manufacturers; in fact, anybody and everybody that had anything to sell, or thought they could make a few dol- lars, jumped in to help it along; they call it progress, you know. And yet anybody that had any sense ought to know that a town could never hold out here — there is nothing to support it; the land hereabouts is not worth a cent an acre; but that cut no figure; everybody was on the make, and every fellow wanted to get money from some other fellow, and that's the way it goes." Mr. Dobbs paused to fill and light his pipe, then arranged his seat, which was his bed, making it more comfortable. Barney admitted, in a disconsolate way, that it must have been a very sorry time, and that it was beyond his comprehension how men could be so cruel and thoughtless of the welfare of their fellow creatures as to engage in such dastardly business that could only end in doing harm instead of good. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLO. 129 "Thoughtless?" echoed Silas Dobbs, "people think enough, but it is every fellow thinking of himself. Devil the bit does he care what becomes of his neighbor if he can only get away with his money." Earner Gray changed the conversation by inquiring about the surrounding country — the most desirable local- ities, and what town in Mr. Dobbs' judgment, would be the best for a young man to go to in the hope of finding employment of some kind. "Well — let me see," said old Silas, taking time to scratch his head, "there's Slower, about three hundred miles from here, is a good town; good people; good sur- rounding country. I think a young fellow might get a job there of some kind as quick as any place." "I am much obliged for your advice, Mr. Dobbs," Barney said, with a quiet laugh, "I like the name — I should like to find a place a little slower than Hooper was when I first struck it, so I shall start for Slower on to- morrow's train. And, now, Mr. Dobbs, if you will allow me to remain with you for the night, and let me have a bite of something to eat in the morning, I am willing to pay you a fair price for the same." "You are welcome to the best I've got, "returned Silas, "but you will not pay me anything, I tell you that; I don't charge a man for a little favor — especially when he is out of luck — and that may be the reason I could never get rich; but I don't intend to change my way of living now; I'm too old." Slower was a very substantial western town, and Barney Gray, soon after his arrival there, procured a situation with a firm engaged in the manufacture of agricultural implements. His position was that of bookkeeper, cor- respondent, and general business man. His employers were fair-minded, agreeable men, and all went well with our hero during the years he remained in this uniformly thriving place. The bitterness which had rankled in his breast and which had been caused by the base treatment he received at Hooper, gradually passed away, and he was disposed to regard his experience there as a good lesson in the ways of the world, and one that had pre- pared him to be more guarded in his dealings with 130 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. strangers in future and never again be so easily duped. He was readily accepted into the best society of Slower, and the papas and mammas of marriageable daughters treated him very graciously. But Barney was not, in the general acceptation of the term, a society man. In the company of ladies he was reserved and taciturn, making no effort to draw attention to himself or to win the good will of any one; and it was his retiring modesty — albeit he did not know it — ^which made the dear crea- tures like and admire him more than had he conducted himself otherwise. Barner was ever conscientiously guarded in his inter- course with the opposite sex, and this, too, from the noblest principles. The influence under which his earlier years had been unfolded had impressed upon his mind, more by implication, perhaps, than instillation, the wrong that was done and the harm which so often grew out of the trifling with the affections of young and innocent maidens; that he had come to look upon those who in- dulged in this sort of pastime as criminals, pure and simple. Hence, while the young man was not indifferent to the charms of ladies' society, and recognized the re- fining influence of their presence, he had a respect for the institution of marriage too sincere and profound to make any advance which might lead any of his young lady acquaintances to believe that he entertained serious in- tentions toward them, or that he thought of entering the field of matrimony with any one. Another reason for his retiring disposition was that he knew himself to be human, and he wished to avoid be- coming infatuated with some fair one, and marrying while under the pressure of enchantment, from which, perchance, he might awaken at a later day only to find that he was wedded to a life of misery as had been the case with so many who had fallen under his observation, even in his limited experience. He believed that before a young man took upon himself the responsibilities of matrimony, he should have something tangible to go upon — that he should be so situated as to be able to make comfortable and happy those dependent upon him, and shield them from all suffering which arises from poT- Schooled by the World. 131 erty and want. That Earner Gray entertained these peculiar views relative to the marriage state, may account for the omission of some blue-eyed, flaxen-haired beauty, •who is lingering in some remote part of the world, pining with love for him, and for whom he is struggling and racking his brain, that he may overcome obstacles to fly thither, clasp her to his breast and marry her, as is always the case in histories of this description. Barney, during his stay at Slower was careful and at- tentive to business, giving entire satisfaction to his em- ployers. To be of some good in the world, to add some- thing to the happiness and well-being of mankind, was, to his mind, of far more importance than accumulating money. The position which he held brought him in con- tact with the farmers, and he had heard from them many sorrowful tales of the ravages made on their crops by gophers, rabbits, and other pests ; and of the serious loss such vermin caused the tillers of the soil. Now Barney Gray was endowed with considerable inventive genius, so he put in his leisure time in contriving a trap for the extermination of pests which infested the fields and de- stroyed grain. He worked diligently and persistently on his invention before it was brought to anything like per- fection. Considerable expense was incurred, too, for the purchase of materials, such as wire, iron bands, steel springs, much of which, after it was bought, had to be dispensed with and something else substituted. After many trials and many failures, he eventually succeeded in producing a very simple and inexpensive contrivance which was not only most effective in reducing the number of destructive rodents, but was valuable to hunters for the ensnaring of game of every description. Barney's handy device, when completed and found to work to perfection, attracted much attention, and many were made and sold in the little town of Slower, under the name of Gray's Automatic Game Trap. Now, it so happened that there came to Slower one day an itinerant dispenser of small contrivances for the sharp- ening of knives, scissors, and the like. This man's at- tention was called, in a casual way, to the automatic game trap, and he became intensely interested inj,he ingenuity 132 SCHOOLED "UY the WORLt). displayed in its mechanism. He was a very active, busi- ness-like man, though his general appearance was not such as to inspire confidence; and when he wished to introduce himself — as he often did — he extended a card bearing the name of Jepson Slickneck. Mr. Slickneck, before he quitted Slower, became acquainted with Barney Gray, and, incidentally, got to talking about the game trap. "That is a very neat little invention of yours, Mr. Gray," said Jepson Slickneck. "Just like everything else; very simple when one happens to catch the idea," Barney replied. "Ah, yes, but that's it," returned Jepson, "to get the idea. Now, I have been an inventor all my life," he went on, "and I know just how hard it is to get the right kind of an idea. I've sat up whole nights, before now, scratching my head till I've torn my hair all out — " here he raised his hat and displayed his ill-shaped, bald head — "trying to get the right idea about things; but I never got up anything that took very well until I brought out this sharpener, which is the greatest thing of its kind ever invented," and Jepson displayed again now, for the third time, the wonderful invention for putting a keen edge on all kinds of cutlery. "But I am very glad that I have met you, Mr. Gray," Slickneck resumed, "for the minute I saw that production of yours I wondered if the inventor had disposed of all his State and county rights, or whether he had any use for more agents, and the like of that, you know." "Well, as to that," replied Barney Gray, with a good- natured laugh, "1 had never given it a thought, for I was not actuated by mercenary motives when I engaged iu the inventing business." "Oh, certainly not, certainly not!" said Jepson, "but — you have your rights protected — you have taken out you papers for patent?" Barney answered that he had given himself no trouble about a patent, nor had he any intention of doing so. "Well, now, that is strange, Mr. Gray. Are you not jBfraid of losing your invention? Some one might get in fthead of you and take your right away from you," SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 133 "There can't anything be taken from me which in jus- tice belongs to me," Barney replied. "But, you see," persisted Mr. Slickneck, "any fellow who sees one of those machines of yours can go to work and make one for himself if he wants it, without any thanks to you, or fear of prosecution for infringement." "Well, that is all right. That is what I got it up for; to do a little good for suffering humanity. I have the benefit of thousands of discoveries and inventions which were made by other men, so it would seem nothing more than right that I should do my share toward helping the world along, without expecting the earth for my effort. That was Benjamin Franklin's idea, and I think Benny was a pretty good man — got along well in life, too. He wouldn't accept a patent, even when it was offered to him, for any of his inventions," Barney Gray explained. "Well, now you are a funny character," returned Mr. Jepson Slickneck, "but I like you — I admire you for it — ■ I do, really," and Jepson gave a stringent ha, ha. "Your innocence — pardon me — I mean your generosity, so pure and undefiled, such unselfishness, Mr. Gray, makes us greedy, grasping, selfish fellows feel ashamed of ourselves, really it does!" and Mr. Slickneck, giving another "ha, ha, "told Barney Gray over again how proud he was to have met him, and, pressing his hand warmly at parting, said that Be should remember Mr. Gray and cherish him as one of the best and noblest young men he had ever met. As the demand for Gray's automatic game trap kept constantly increasing, it dawned upon its inventor's mind that he could well afford to quit Slower, which was widely isolated from commercial centers, and betake him- self to a large city, and give his undivided attention to the manufacture of game traps, and from whence they could be more widely introduced to the country at large. For this purpose the city of Sandon presented itself to Barney Gray's mind, because of its extensive commercial and manufacturing interests. Besides this, Sandon held out many inducements which interested our young friend, and caused him to long for urban life. He had seen but little of the confusion and glitter of large cities, and he 134 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. possessed an innate desire to mingle with the busy throngs of which he had only a glimpse, but of which he had heard and read so much. Sandon, then, was just the place. Everybody talked of Sandon ; everything that was worth having came from Sandon, and, in short, to the provincial inhabitants of Slower, Sandon was one of the great head-centers of the world. So, after settling , his affairs, expressing many regrets, bidding affectionate ^ good-bys, Mr. Earner Gray quitted the town of Slower, where he had spent so many quiet, happy days. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 135 CHAPTER Xn. LIFE AT SAND ON. It was a dark, rainy night -when Earner Gray first set foot in the metropolis of Sandon. Entering the first coach at hand he was driven to a hotel, and early on the following morning he began looting about in search of quarters suitable for his business pursuits. As it was a small building that was desired, he had but little diffi- culty in securing one that answered all requirements. When this was fitted up, workmen employed, negotiations with the proper houses entered into, Earner Gray's fac- tory opened under very auspicious conditions, and his success, even from the beginning, was all he had ex- pected, so he was much encouraged and well pleased with himself in consequence. The young gentleman was now much changed from his boyish appearance of former days at the close of the war. He was now a man of mature years; of powerful physique and faultless form, while his upper lip was set off by a handsome mustache. Eecognizing that he must keep pace with the better class of city men, his clothes were of the most fashionable cut, and sometimes he carried a cane, for ornament only. Always accustomed to early rising he would usually, in the early morning, board a street car and ride to the park, where he would disport himself for exercise in the fresh air by walking the grav- eled paths beneath the trees and listening to the singing of the birds. One morning while taking his habitual constitutional jaunt, he overtook a gentleman of about his own age, and they walked along together, conversing in a friendly way. At parting they exchanged cards, and the one which 136 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Earner Gray received bore the name of Clay Masters. They met again on the next morning, and took their walk together, so it -was not long until this incidental acquaint- anceship ripened into warm friendship, and the two saw much of each other. They became confidential, as inti- mate friends always do, and talked over various matters and exchanged opinions on divers topics. During one of their walks in the park together, Mr. Masters took occasion to aak his friend what he did with himself evenings, who his lady friends were, and what social gatherings he attended. To this Barney Gray re- plied that in consequence of his being naturally a little retiring in disposition, he had made no friends among the ladies, nor had he, since being in the city, attended an entertainment which could properly be called a social gathering — that he had been to places of public amuse- ment, but nothing more. "Oh, well, that won't do," said Clay Masters, in his cheery manner, "if you think our Sandon girls are going to allow a big, fine-looking fellow like you to live in their midst and run around without giving them any atten- tion, you are very greatly mistaken, and don't you forget itl Why," he went on, "do you remember that dark- eyed beauty with the coal-black hair we passed the other day when we were walking down the street together? I don't know whether you noticed it or not, but she sized you up in great shape, and she couldn't rest till she came down to see me on purpose to find out who you were, and all about you. When I told her that you were a new arrival in the city, and so on, she was in a great way to make your acquaintance. She is dead gone on you, Bar- ney, and waiilH to get her work in ahead of the other girls, you see." Barney expressed regrets that the lady should be seri- ouly smitten, since he was not in a position that he could feel justified in marrying, as it was a step in life fraught with too many responsibilities to be thought of lightly, or entered into hastily. This remark caused Clay Masters to burst out into a hearty laugh; and, as soon as he could control himself, he said: "What's the matter with you, Gray? I don't SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ISY know what your advantages or experiences among women have been, but it is very evident you don't understand our Sandon girls. If you suppose the dashing brunette has any thought of marrying you, you are plumb off. All she was thinking of was to add a new string to her bow — have a new fellow to sport with, and a fine-looking chap like you, a stranger in the bargain, is quite a vic- tory for the first girl that gets you on the string. Oh, no, my dear boy, don't let your conscience trouble you; the girls of Sandon are capable of taking care of them- selves. And, by the way, I saw the lady again last even- ing," Masters continued, "and she gave me a special order to bring you to the ball which comes off next week at the Baker House. She said that she would see to it that you received cards through me, so you must be prepared to come out and show yourself. It will be quite a swell affair; full dress; lots of pretty girls, and a good crowd of fellows, and it will give you an introduc- tion into our set at once." Barney was inclined to demur, saying that he knew he should feel greatly out of place; was not a good dancer, and unaccustomed to fashionable entertainments. But Mr. Masters would accept no excuse, and so it was finally agreed upon that Barney Gray would appear at the ball at the Baker House. He made some preparations during the intervening days for the great event. He bought a new pair of gloves, a new silk handkerchief, and even took a few private lessons in dancing from Professor Prinewinder; so that by the time the evening arrived for the ball he was in excellent trim. Mr. Masters' young lady was staying at the Baker House, so this gentleman was free to escort his friend, Barney Gray, to the ball. By appointment they met at Barney's lodgings and proceeded thence to join the gay festivities. The house was well filled by the time they arrived, and immediateb' after stepping inside the door. Clay Masters was accosted by the charming brunette, who was gorgeously arrayed in evening costume. "Oh, Clayl" she exclaimed, as she came running up, "I have been looking for you all evening; I was so afraid you would not come!" 138 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Why, good-evening, Alice," returned Mr. Masters, and next he said: "Mr. Gray, allow me to make you ac- quainted -with Miss Cooga." Having made the rather informal introduction, Clay Masters turned and walked to another part of the room. ."Oh! I'm BO glad to meet you, Mr. Gray!" said Miss Cooga, "the first time I saw you I knew you must be a jolly fellow, and, do you know, I was so bold as to tell Mr. Masters that I wanted him to make me acquainted with his handsome friend at the first opportunitj'. " "Thank you very much. Miss Cooga, for the compli- ment," returned Barney, "it is really refreshing to meet with a lady having such good taste, and could I find words to express myself I should endeavor to reciprocate, for I can assure you that the desire for an introduction was mutual." "Oh! you gay deceiver!" exclaimed Miss Cooga, "just like all the men." It will be observed that Earner Gray was getting on apace, and, to tell the truth, since Miss Cooga had been represented to him as a heartless coquette, he had made up his mind to meet her on her own ground, play the game to which she was best suited, and return as good as she gave. However, to do Miss Cooga justice, she was a very pretty girl, and was really the belle of the ball. She was one of the very few ladies in the assemblage that wore diamonds in her ears, and her costume was more expensive than the most of those about her. Her frock was pure white, trimmed with lace and plentifully be- spangled with little bows of crimson ribbon. Her hair was prodigeously frizzed, swirled, pufied, and twisted, according to the fashion of the day, and from among the folds peeped here and there scarlet rosebuds. Her jew- els, in addition to the diamonds in her ears, consisted of a necklace of gold beads, a heavy bracelet, which had evidently cost money, and several very pretty rings. The lady that came nearest equalling, if not surpassing Miss Cooga in costly raiment, was Miss Kate Flasher, Miss Cooga's dearest and most intimate friend. The gentlemen of the ball were, in most part, clerks, law students, medical students, druggists, and dentists, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 139 During the little time that Barney and Alice conversed, after being introduced, and while they stood near the entrance door. Miss Cooga had,' incidentally, as it seemed, placed her hand on Barney's arm, -when he im- mediately extended his elbow by placing his hand across his breast. Miss Alice needed no further invitation to catch on, so they marched off together through the hall, while the lady glanced about in triumph. ' "Do you see that girl over yonder near the window? the blonde dressed in pale blue?" asked Miss Cooga. Eeceiving an afSrmative answer to her question, she con- tinued: "Well, that is Kate Flasher, my best and dearest friend ; we think the world of each other, but I know she is awfully jealous now. I'll give you an introduction when the next dance is over." Miss Cooga was decidedly very proud of her partner. She knew that he was conspicuous as he moved in the throng, because of the contrast he presented in compari- son to the majority of the gentlemen present. They, in most part, were of light build, thin legs, thin necks, and in every way rather delicately organized in comparison to Mr. Gray. Besides, he was a newcomer, and Miss Alice was the only girl that knew him. A waltz was next on the programme, and the band soon started the music, when Barney Graj-, taking Alice for his partner, joined in the merry dance, turning and swinging most gracefully. They passed Miss Flasher, who was dancing with young Mr. Upperdown, and she caught Barney's eye, when she arched her own blue orbs and smiled, just enough to show her pearly teeth. Bar- ney returned both her glance and smile ; when Miss Alice, seeing this, exclaimed : "Why, Mr. Gray, I am really surprised! I knew Eate would try to attract your attention, but I supposed you were too much of a gentleman to notice it. Kate is a dreadful flirt, and surely, you don't like flirts, Mr. Gray?" Barney's reply to his gay partner was confined to a quiet laugh, and this so hurt poor Alice that she pouted. She fully recovered, however, long before the waltz was concluded, and as soon as the music ceased she caught 140 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. her partner's arm, saying: "Now I must introduce you to my friends. Over here is Kate and Mr. Upperdown, I'll introduce you to them first." Barney was presented to Miss Flasher and the doctor in very proper form, and Miss Kate was just getting her most fascinating arts to work, when Alice interposed with the remark: "You must excuse us, Kate, Mr. Gray is an entire stranger here, and I am just taking him around to make him acquainted withour set, "and she whipped him off at once, without further ceremony, or ev^n waiting for Kate's parting shot, which was: "Excuse me, Alice dear, I'm sorry I detained you so long." "With a tight hold upon Barney's arm, Miss Cooga escorted him about from one to another of her most in- timate friends ; presenting him as though exhibiting a treasure. Having gone the rounds among her set she complained of being fatigued, and suggested taking a seat in some remote corner where she could get a breath of fresh air and become rested. As Barney agreed to this proposition Miss Cooga led the way to a small alcove apart from the main rooms where the company was con- gregated. Secure in this retreat, and cosily seated. Miss Cooga, in her peculiar way, became very confidential with her new friend. She told how sad and lonely she often was, and how she longed for some real, true friend in whom she could confide and trust above all others. The world was so cold and selfish she often thought of giving it up entirely and going to a convent, where she would spend the rest of her days. To all this Barney remained silent, looking occasion- ally with a roguish twinkle into Miss Cooga's eyes, and when she observed this, and had satisfied herself that he was not disposed to condole with her, the young lady broke into a giddy laugh, and exclaimed: "That Clay Masters is the biggest humbug in this town! Just wait till I see him ! He told me that you were as innocent as a boy, and knew nothing whatever about women, or the ways of society ; but I see you are a vain trifler, just like all the rest of the men!" Miss Cooga then changed her tack and sought to draw ber friend out in a difierent way. She inquired after his SCHOOLED BY TH£ WORLfi. 141 welfare; how long he had been at Sandon; how many- balls he had attended since he came to Sandon, and so on. Beceiving satisfactory answers to her many ques- tions, she wound up by asking: "And are you fond of the theatre, Mr. Gray?" Barney replied that he was not very well versed in theatrical matters, not having attended many such places of amusement before coming to Sandon, though he was very fond of a good play. "I see Booth is to be here next week — opens at the Eagle," observed Miss Cooga, in a languid way, "and I suppose there will be a great display of the fashionables the first night. I am not going myself, for pa and ma" (she pronounced it paw and maw), "care so little for the theater, unless it is farce or comedy of some kind ; so I shall be obliged to remain at home and content myself with reading of the brilliant performances. You will go to see Booth, of course, Mr. Gray?" Barnes' admitted that he intended seeing the celebrated actor, and that nothing could give him greater pleasure than to have Miss Cooga's company on the occasion. The lady withdrew herself gently, while a pained ex- pression came over her beautiful face. "Pardon me, sir," she said, "but I don't know just what you mean. I simply mentioned the theater in a general way — not that I wanted you to offer to take me ; I never force my- self upon any one, Mr. Gray — that is something I never do, so as much as I should like to be present at Mr. Booth's opening performance at the Eagle, my own self- respect bids me decline your very generous offer." Barney apologized for his abruptness, and said that he intended asking Miss Cooga for her company at the the- ater even had she not, incidentally, brought the matter to his notice. "Oh, well," replied Miss Alice, in a more happy voice, "if such was your intention, that, of course, makes a difference in this case, and I am at liberty to reconsider my decision." Thus it was arranged that Miss Cooga was to be escorted to the theater on the opening night of the week following. The young lady now proposed quitting the place of 143 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. their retreat and joining the merry dancers in the halls. She excused herself and left Barney to roam at will and enjoy himself as he pleased, now that she had secured him for a future engagement, and she hastened to inform dear Kate of the compact which had been made. Miss Flasher was by no means pleased with dear Alice's con- duct, and she told her so in very plain terms. She also made some very unkind remarks about her dear friend Alice, which were intended for this young lady, to Miss Mary Overtop, saying, among other things, that she should never speak to that Coogan girl again as long as she lived, and that she thought it a pretty pass to come to when people had to drop letters from their name in order to appear aristocratic. As can be seen. Miss Flasher was greatly put out, and she couldn't even spare poor Barney Gray, for she said that she couldn't see that Coogan had much to brag about, for from all she (Kate) could learn, the fellow was nothing but a manufacturer of mouse traps, anyway. Poor Kate ! the ball lost all charm for her. She complained of feeling ill, and im- mediately after refreshments were served, she insisted upon Dr. Upperdown taking her home. While Miss Cooga, if she never had been happy in her life before, was supremely happy at the ball atn the Baker House. It was an early hour in the morning when the gay party came to a close. As Miss Cooga would remain at the Baker House until the following day, Mr. Gray was at liberty to return to his lodgings with Clay Masters, who joined him, and they left the house together. "Well, Barney, old boy, what kind of a time did you have?" inquired Clay, as the two started off, -arm in arm. "Oh, I had a royal time! these Sandon girls beat any- thing for having fun with," Barney replied. "I knew you would have, and that is the reason I kept away from you. Did Cooga introduce you to her friend, Kate Flasher?" Barney admitted that such an introduction had been given. "She didn't let you have much chance to talk with her. did she?" SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 143 "No, none at all." "I knew she wouldn't, but I'll tell you, Barney, you can have more fun than any man alive, if you only play fast and loose with those two girls for awhile ; so long as you are new. They are friends, you see, and hate each other like sin. Flasher will be as mad as fury at Cooga now, and won't speak to her for a whole week." Barney here informed his friend that he had made an engagement to take Miss Cooga to the theater, at which Clay gave a hearty laugh, and said: "Well, that's doing fine; but I'll give you a pointer, my boy. Don't forget to take a well-filled purse with you, for Cooga will be nearly starved when the theater is out." The Eagle Theater was the highest priced place of amusement in the city of Sandon, and there the wealth and fashion assembled on all important occasions. Miss Cooga on the night when she appeared attended by Bar- ney Gray, had figured the time just right, for she had no more than got comfortably seated, adjusting herself so as to appear to the best advantage, when the curtain rose on the first act of Hamlet. Mr. Barney was intensely in- terested from the first, and seemed to forget for the time, that the beautiful Alice was at his side. She reminded him of this fact, however, as soon as the first scene closed. Touching his arm gently, she said: "I see Kate Flasher over to our left; poor, dear, unhappy girl, I know she is not enjoying the play one bit. She is in company with her old uncle, who makes his home with Kate's father. Tou can see him if you look over that way — that old man with the bald head and thin, white beard. ' His health is not good, besides being troubled with asthma, which causes an odd wheezing in his breathing. It is very disagreeable, and I know dear Kate dislikes it exceedingly. " Miss Cooga then placed her opera glasses to her eyes, and began scanning the audience, pausing occasionally to call Mr. Gray's atten- tion to certain ones, and to tell him who they were. "Can you tell me. Miss Cooga," said Barney, "who that man is sitting in the end seat of the sixth row, back from the orchestra, and to the right of the center aisle?" Miss Alice adjusted her glasses, and it took a minute 144 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. for her to count up and locate the seat in question. She then said: "Do you mean General Browdeane?" "I allude to that distinguished-looking individual with the short, pointed beard," Barney replied. "Well — that is General Browdeane ; I thought every- body knew him." Barney explained that he had not been in Sandon long ^ enough to know all the notables, but that his attention ' had been called to this man on account of his having seen him, on several occasions with a very fine turnout — high-spirited sorrels and black driver; and he supposed that he was one of Sandon 's representative men. "And always alone, too," exclaimed Miss Cooga, pet- tishly, "I just detest such men as he is, the old stick!" Barney remarked that he could not see that the gen- eral had been verj' seriously affected by age as yet. "He is old enough to get married, and do a little good with his money, anyway," replied Miss Alice curtly. "The very idea," she continued, "of a man being worth millions, and nobody but himself! I just wish I had the making of laws; I'd put a tax on every rich old bach- elor, so high that they would be glad enough to marry a cook, rather than remain single." "Are you acquainted with the general?" Barney- "YeS'— that is, I was introduced to him once. One seldom ever meets him out; he tries to be so very ex- clusively aristocratic, but I happened to meet him once at Flasher's, and, oh dear! you ought to have heard Eatel Of course the way she told it, Browdeane called there to see her; but he called to see Mr. Flasher on some matter of business, as I happpened to find out — very much to Miss Kittie's vexation." Athough Miss Cooga was in the best of spirits, and enjoyed every minute of the time at the theater, was de- lighted with the excellent supper to which she was in- vited after the close of the performance, she flung herself disconsolately upon a sofa, the moment she entered the parlor of her own home, and rested her head on her hand as though she was suffering great pain. "What is the matter. Miss Cooga, are you ill?" in- quired Barney Gray, in a sympathetic voioe. SCHOOLED BY THE WoRLfi. 14S "Oh, Mr. Gray!" wailed poor Miss Cooga, "is it pos- sible that you do not understand my nature? "Why do you seem so cold? so distant? so disinterested? Have I not done everything I could do, without overstepping the bounds of propriety, to let you know how much I think of you? Have I not complimented your beautiful hands and the exquisite neatness of your nails? Even your handsome feet have not escaped my remark, while you know very well I have repeatedly spoken in terms of praise of your perfect teeth, your eyes, your hair, your form — in every way I could think of I have tried to please you. But what have you given me in return? Even after spending the whole day preparing for this night that you might admire me — this love of a hat I have on was bought specially for this occasion, and the plumes in it are of Madame Montegue's most expensive selections, and nothing in that fashionable audience to- night could compare with it — yet, when you called for me, you never gave me so much as a look of approval, and you have no idea how it hurt me after I had gone to so much trouble to please you. Oh, Mr. Gray!" Miss Cooga had her handkerchief now and was pressing it to her eyes, "it drives me nearly distracted when I think that — that you do not love me." Barney, not to be outdone, put all reserve aside. He threw himself on the sofa at Miss Cooga's side, caught her in his arms, pressed her to his breast, and kissed her fondly. "Oh! my lovely queen," he said, "can it be possible that my seeming indifference has caused you pain? You must remember, my darling, that I am from the country, and am a little slow at catching on; but, be- lieve me, light of my soul, to use paltry words in praise of one so perfect as yourself is to insult all that is divine. Why, mj' dearest Alice, who could look upon you and not love you? Such eyes, such hair, such a lovel.v nose, while your complexion, Alice dear — your complexion puts the lily of the valley — 'why, hang it all, Alice!" and Barney rose from the sofa as he began brushing his clothes, "your complexion rubs off; I've got it all over my coat, what's the matter with it?" "Iwould just like to killj'ou!" exclaimed Miss Cooga, 146 SdtlOOLEt) BY THE WORLD. springing to her feet, her eyes flashing. "You are the ■worst deal I ever struck in all my life. To look at your mealy face, with its innocent, child-like expression, one ' would think you didn't know anything; but you are a regular old rake, in my opinion ; and if the truth were known, you've got a starving wife and half a dozen chil- dren back East somewhere." Barney picked up his hat and was about to quit the young lady's presence, when she came up to him, smil- ing, and said: "You will call and see me before long, will you not, you great big, ugly thing? But if you will only go and fool Kate Flasher I'll call you the sweet- est thing that ever lived." Prom that time Barney Gray came to be looked upon as one of the society young men of Sandon, and was a habitual attendant of gay entertainments, as well as a frequent caller at residences where young people often congregated to spend a pleasant evening. Clay Masters called upon his friend one day, saying that he had an invitation for him from Judge Wiseman to be present at the judge's lodgings and meet a com- pany of gentleman, very informally called together, on the evening of this same day. Mr. Masters explained that the judge was a very genial old gentleman who was fond of the society of younger men, and frequently gave entertainments in solace of his arduous duties of presid- ing at court six days out of seven. "The judge and I are good friends," Clay Masters said, "and I told him I had a friend who was a jolly good fellow, and that I should like to bring him along, and the judge insisted on my doing so. Meet me at my quarters at about 8 o'clock, Barney, and we'll go around to the old gentleman's rooms, where you can depend upon having a good time. There will be some good singing, and instrumental music; besides, you will make some very pleasant acquaintances. And, by the way, General Browdeane will be there. You have never met the general, have you?" Barney replied that he had not had that pleasure, though he had seen him on several occasions. "■Well," resumed Masters, "it will do you no harm to SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 14? know him. He is considered a sort of shining light here; especially bj' Judge Wiseman, who thinks Brow- deane something more than ordinary. I know but little of him myself. He is one of your lordly chaps and soars entirely too high for me. I'd need a balloon to sail as high as he carries himself, but you will meet him to- night and can form your own opinion. Eight o'clock, sharp, remember," concluded Masters, quitting his friend. It was nearer 9 o'clock than 8 when the two friends sallied forth to join Judge "Wiseman and his guests at the Eoyal House, where the judge had his apartments. On arriving there, Barney was presented and received very graciously by the host, who took es- pecial pains to introduce the young man to every one present. "I have several friends by the name of Gray," the judge said, as he started to escort Mr. Barner through his spacious rooms, "and that I may be able to distin- guish them I shall have to ask for your full name; Mr. Masters failed to mention it." His request being com- plied with the judge proceeded with the introductions, and by the time the round was made, Barney was made aware that there were present two others by the name of Gray. "Has the general not yet arrived, judge?" inquired Clay Masters. "Not yet; he is late to-night, for some reason." "I hope he will not fail to put in an appearance, for I should like to have our friend here, Barney, as I always call him, meet him." "Have no fear of that, " the judge said, "he will be here; the general always keeps his word." At this juncture the door was thrown open and the attendant announced General Browdeane. It was a very commanding and dignified man who entered, just as the judge said: "Why, here he is now!" and he went for- ward and greeted his guest very cordially. "We were just speaking of you, general," the judge explained, "some of my friends were getting uneasy;, lest you should disappoint us, but I vouched for you on that point, as I 148 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. know you to be man of your -word. Now, I believe yOU are acquainted with all my friends here, except another Mr. Gray, who has been added to my list, and who has been kind enough to come to help cheer the sad hours of an old man like me — ah! here he is now; Mr. Gray, let me make you acquainted with my esteemed friend. Gen- eral Browdeane — this is Mr. Earner Gray, general." The general's keen eyes gave a quick, penetrating dart into the face of Earner Gray, as he took his hand, say- ing: "I am very glad to see you, sir." He then turned and began shaking hands with others with whom he was acquainted, before taking a seat by the side of the judge, and engaging in conversation in a usual way. A quartette of professional singers furnished the music for the evening, both vocal and instrumental, and the entertainment was opened by their singing a few well- known pieces of the day. They were heartily applauded at the conclusion of each song, and before they retired to give place to the whist games, Judge Wiseman asked for the indulgence of one more piece. "Sing that old song the general likes so well," he said. " 'Faded Flowers,' I know he prefers it to any- thinge else, though he doesn't like to say so." While this pathetic selection was being rendered, the general's face assumed a very grave and serious cast, as though his thoughts were wandering thousands of miles away, and especially when the singers' voices, with such telling effect, came over the words: "The cold, chilly winds of December, stole my companions from me," the austere gentleman seemed to forget entirely that he was General Browdeane, and was only called to himself when he happened to glance at Barney Gray. Tables were arranged and partners selected to engage at whist. Barney, who was requested to take a hand, excused himself on the plea of being unable to play well, and then the judge asked to be let out, saying that he wished to converse and become better acquainted with Mr. Earner; so they would withdraw far enough from the players in order not to disturb them. Mr. Wiseman usually wore a melancholy expression, yet his counte- nance would light up and beam with benevolence and SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 149 good-nature on the slightest provocation. He was par- ticularly cheerful in his talk with Barney Gray, for the reason, perhaps, that Barney was the sort of a young man who most interested the old judge. After talking over various matters the judge casually remarked: "And so you never met my friend, General Browdeane before, Mr. Gray?" Barney said that he had to thank the judge for the honor of the general's acquaintance. "I didn't know," the old gentleman continued, "but I couldn't help noticing it; he eyed you very narrowly two or three times when you were not observing him — taking your measure, I presume, and you may rest assured he has done it," and the judge laughed good-naturedly, "for he reads character like an open book. The general is a very remarkable man — a very remarkable man indeed. I have known him quite well for several years, and he has frequently had occasion to consult me on questions of law in connection with mining — that is the general's business, he is largely engaged in mining — and, from the very first, I was struck with his honorable, open, frank way of dealing, and none stands higher, in this respect, in our community, than the the general. As I have often said to him, it seems we can never get our best men in position where they would be of the most use to us. I have tried to get him to enter politics — at our last election I did all I could to have him consent to his name being introduced as a can- didate for governor; but he was simply immovable; would not hear to it under any circumstances. I became a little vexed and demanded his reason. Now, what do you suppose he said?" and the judge laughed in a quiet way. "Eeally, I cannot imagine," answered Barney Gray. "Well," said the judge, still laughing, "he said that all his life he had made it a rule to keep out of bad com- pany. " When time arrived for serving refreshments, the whist games were broken up and all hands joined in talking at once, and the judge quitted his seat at Barney's side and mingled with his guests. While all this was going 150 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. on Earner retained his seat, and was surprised when the general approached and occupied the chair which the judge had just vacated. "Pardon me, Mr. Gray," said the general, in his lofty way, "have I not had the pleasure of meeting you some- where before?" Barney thought the general was mistaken, and so in- formed him. "The reason why I ask," pursued Browdeane, "is that your face looks very familiar; reminding me of some one I have formerly known. I think you must be related to Amos Gray, who had several sons, and all lived in the same town where I grew up, as a boy, in the State of New York." Barney said that he had never heard of Amos Gray or any of his family. "But you were born in the East?" "Yes." "In New York State?" "No, I am a native of Pennsylvania." "And a very good State it is; I knew a great many people living in different parts of it. Did j'ou ever hear the name of Van Deventer where you lived?" The general's inquisitiveness was beginning to annoy the young man. Goosetown loomed up before him, and he would just as soon not mention this place to General Browdeane; but he scorned anything partaking of cow- ardice, so he straightened himself up with the intention of putting an end to the General's questions, and satis- fying his mind to his (Barney's) pedigree, place of birth, and so forth. "It is not at all likely, general," he said, "that I ever knew any of your friends in the State, for, while I was born and grew up there, my opportunities for knowing people were confined to rather narrow limits. Neither is it reasonable to suppose that you ever saw any of my ancestors, since my father was an only son, and I am his only son, so I have no relatives of my own name that I know of. My father was a native of Virginia; married in Philadelphia rather late in life, then retired to a quiet old village called Goosetown, where I was born, and ■where my parents both died, a few years ago." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 151 As this was spoken in rather a decisive tone of voice, the general followed with an apology. "I sincerely hope," he said, "you will pardon me if I have been over » inquisitive; for, I assure you, had there not been some- thing about you which impressed me in your favor, I should not have been so importunate ; we cannot always account for our likes and dislikes, you know." Barney met this with a quiet laugh, saying that no harm had been done. "Permit me to say," Browdeane resumed, "that, if agreeable, I should like very much to see more of you and become better acquainted. Can you not call and see me? I should be pleased if you would call often — come and spend your evenings with me." Barnej", though usually cool and collected, was a little flurried by the general's manner, and the earnestness with which he spoke. "Allow me to thank you, general," he said, "for showing me such disinterested preference, and I not only have no reason for declining your kind invitation, but really feel honored by receiving it." Barney, to tell the truth, felt his insignificance in the general's royal presence, and when Browdeane took from his pocket a gold card-case, taking a card therefrom which, after writing something upon the back, he pre- sented to Mr. Barner, saying that if he would present that at the Globe, at which house the general's ai)artments were, it would insure immediate attention, the young man was constrained to feel as though he had been ele- vated to a higher social position than he bad ever before attained. "Perhaps we had better have a more definite under- standing," said Browdeane, after a moment's reflection. "Let me see — I have a business engagement which takes me out of the city to-morrow, and I may be absent for some days; but if you will allow me to take your ad- dress, Mr Gray, I shall send you word when I return, and you will do me the favor, will you not, of coming and dining with me?" Barney again expressed his thanks, and taking from his pocket a visiting card, he wrote upon it the street and number of the house where he lodged, then handed 15^ SCHOOLED feV THE WORLD. it to his distinguished though seemingly patronizing friend. Barney would have done this before, but he didn't suppose the gen'eral cared for it. "Word will reach me there," he said, "or at my place of business," and he produced another card which gave the location of his factory and the nature of his vocation. Browdeane looked at this with close attention, though there was nothing in his manner to indicate that he was particularly interested in what it contained. He placed both cards in his pocket and brought the colloquy to a close by telling Barney that he should hear from him at an early date. Clay Masters and Barney Gray were among the first to quit the house, and before they had proceeded far. Mas- ters brought up the subject of Browdeane. After he had been informad of all that had passed between the general and Barney, Masters seemed greatly surprised. "Well," he said, "that is the strangest thing I ever heard of, for Browdeane has the reputation of being the coldest man in all Sandon, and never makes friends with anybody, excepting old Judge Wiseman, and a few others of the same order." Barney replied that he was as much mystified as any one, since he could not account for the general's seeming to take a fancy to him. "Oh! it's your winning ways, Gray," Masters said; "I wish you would tell me the secret of how you work it — I'd like to get some old duffer who is worth a few mil- lions to take notice of me — adopt me and make me his heir. But I think you were born for luck, Barney," Clay went on, "for if Browdeane is so disposed he can lift you right up in this town. He has the entree to the wealthiest houses of the city, if he chooses to exercise his influence." Clay Masters showed far more interest in the Browdeane episode than did Barney, and he kept up his talk; speculating on Earner's brilliant prospects until they parted for the night. It was the fifth day after Judge Wiseman's reception, that a gay turnout was driven through Toy Street, a narrow, smoky byway of Sandon, and drew up in front of Gray's Game Trap Factory. For so stylish an equi- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 153 page to appear in this remote quarter caused tradesmen to stop work and gape -with inquiring interest, while they muttered in protest against the privileges of bloated aristocrats. It was Browdeaue's victoria that was driven into the street, and the general alighted and entered Gray's factory, looking for the proprietor. Barney was found in his little counting-room, and rose to receive his visitor with becoming courtesy. "Please do not allow me to disturb you," said the general, with his superior air, "I returned to town only tbis morning, and while out driving I directed my coachman to come this way that I might see you. I trust you can make it convenient to dine with me this evening at six?" Barney said that he knew of nothing to prevent. "Simply in a friendly way, there will be no formalities at all," Browdeane added, "a private affair between our two selves that we may learn to know each other better. As he turned to go, Barney invited him to look through the establishment and see how work was being done. It was a very cursory inspection the general made of the premises, simply remarking as he glanced about, that he was pleased to know Mr. Gray was doing so well, and that he was always gratified to see honest industry re- warded. "I shall look for you not later than six," he said, taking his leave. It was about half past 5 o'clock in the afternoon when Barney Gray put in an appearance at the Globe House, and when he presented his card to the clerk at the office, he was at once conducted to General Brow- deaue's apartments. The general, who was fully prepared to receive his visitor, greeted Barney in a very friendly way ; exhibit- ing rather less dignity than had characterized his manner on former occasions. "I am glad to see that you are prompt, Mr. Gray, my boy," he said, "the prompt man is always the successful man, for the reason that he can be depended upon. And now you see where I live," waving his hand and glancing around the richly fur- nished room, "this answers for parlor and sitting-room, and this," here he opened a door of a room joining, "is 154 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. my dormitory where I slumber in sweet repose and dream of the happy days that have past, and of those we hope to come." "I should judge your present days were happy enough to engage the attention of your dreams," Barney Gray observed. "Yes, that may be true," the general resumed, "but yet the wear and tear of business weighs me down — busi- ness, as you certainly know, my dear boy, always carries with it cares and responsibilities that ever keep one in a fret and worry — I can truthfully say that I dislike it; dislike it exceedingly; still, like an old horse in a tread- mill, I am obliged to work on from day to day." "It seems to me that if I were situated as you are, general, I should retire from the cares of active life and spend the rest of my days in ease and comfort," said Barney. "Just what everyone tells me — just what everyone tella me," repeated Browdeane, "and it is what I am con- stantly promising myself I will do; but we selfish mor- tals think we never have enough, nor can we ever get too much. Though, within a year or two more, I hope to get my affairs in shape so that I can act upon your ad- vice ; retire from the busy world, and let it drift along without me. I have been in the harness and at work all my life, and I think I should enjoy a respite. I shall indulge in foreign travel, and let change of scene divert my mind from care. This, " said the general, pointing at a door as he passed along, "is my dining room where our repast will be ready shortly." Further on a door was standing partly open. This led to a small room which answered for library and private office. As the general entered here he said : "And here is my sanctum-sanctorum where I write my letters, do my planning, sum up my accounts and all that. I keep no secretary or clerk — attend to everything myself; and for this I have a reason — a very good reason, too, Mr. Earner." The general adopted this name of his own accord, seeming to like it better than any other. Barney remarked that he did not doubt but the general had very excellent reasons for doing everything pertain- ing to his business iu a way whioh be thought best. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 1§5 "Yes, of that you may rest assured," added the gen- eral. "I will tell you," he went on, "how a rascally secretary I once had, served me and put me to no end of trouble and expense. I opened a mining claim which I had located, aad it turned out to be very rich — far be- yond anything I had expected. "Well, this secretary, Scooper was his name (a very appropriate name, too), knew where this property was situated — its yield and all about it. Now, what does he do but go and tell some of his friends. Then, the first thing I knew, my district was invaded; claims located in all directions; surveys made with lines running across my property in every way, so that I got tangled up in lawsuits that cost me thousands of dollars before I could extricate myself. So, since that time, I have attended to all my private business myself, and make it a rule never to let anyone know where I do my prospecting, where my properties are located, or anything aboutit, and Ihavehad no trouble." As the general concluded this explanation he gathered up some letters and papers which were scattered over his desk, and tearing some of them in bits, cast them into the waste-basket, while others he placed in a pigeon hole, saying: "These are letters that came in to-day, and I must give them my attention the first thing in the morning." At this juncture the general's colored servant opened the door of the dining room and began tingling a little bell, which was the announcement for dinner. The meal was served in courses, and considerable time was con- sumed in partaking of the various dishes, while the gen- eral, who was in an exceptionally good humor, kept up a constant flow of talk. "Did I understand you to say, Mr. Earner," he in- quired, in the course of the conversation, "that you were your father's only child? or simply the only son?" Barney replied that he was the only child. "And you have no near relatives?" "None that I know of," Barney said, "though I be- lieve I have some relatives on ms' mother's side, but I know nothing of their whereabouts." "And your mother's family nanae?" 156 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Was Earner," the young man replied. "Oh, yes, yes," said the general, his countenance lighting up, "I knew there was something about you that looked familiar! Now I see it all — strange that I had not thought of it before — you must be related to the Earners who lived near my old home in New "York, you look so much like them." Earney could not say ; his mother had lost track of her people, and he had never heard her tell much about them ; but he did know that her father had been a judge in the courts of Philadelphia. "The very same, the very same, that explains it; these Earners had relations in Philadelphia, and I remember hearing them say there was a judge among them ; so, now, I know who you are. The Earners were very good people — no better, and I should think you would like to look them up — I might be able to assist you in getting some trace of them." Barney thought that since his relatives had never given themselves any concern about him, he should not trouble himself about them. "Still, you must feel quite alone in the world," the general continued. "Tour father was evidently a man in good circumstances to be able to retire from active business so early in life. I should have thought that he would have adopted a hapless child or two, to make his country home more cheerful and happy." "Oh, my father was not indifferent in that respect; he had the reputation of being a very benevolent old gen- tleman, " said Earney, showing considerable animation; and he then went on to tell how his father had taken a poor girl into his family, and treated her as his own daughter. "She was a mighty pretty girl, her name was Mary Parmer, and as smart as a whip," Earney ex- plained, "and she lived at our house till she got married. I shall never forgot the we Iding. It was the greatest event that ever took place in Goosetown." "Goosetown!" repeated General Browdeane, "they have some very peculiar names for their towns and vil- lages in Pennsylvania. I remember hearing of Hard- scrabble, Smoketown and Slabtown, but Goosetown! that is something new. I never heard of th^t before, " SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 157 Barney suggested that he had nothing to do with naming the place of his birth. "Nor have any of us anything to do with our advent into this world, for that matter," added Browdeane. "But this young lady you speak of," he resumed, "she must have seemed very much like a sister to you, and surely you felt a brotherly interest in her welfare? Did her marriage prove a happy one?" Barney Gray launched forth again, telling, with many particulars, how Mary Parmer's marriage was considered a great success; that she married the finest young man in the neighborhood, Charles Boone, who had been a great favorite with his (Barney's ) father; that the happy couple left for the West the same night they were wedded; that they did well — made money; that Boone served through the war, came home, and, after meeting with misfortune, run off and left bis wife and family to shift for themselves. "Well," said Browdeane, drawing a long breath, "and so the poor girl was the victim of a rascally sort of a fellow, after all?" The general touched a bell which called his servant to change plates and bring the next course, so silence was observed until they were again . left alone. "Yes, he must have been a rascally sort of a felloV, after all," repeated the general. Barney followed with an apology for poor Charley Boone, saying that he should not be judged too harshly, since he had had much to contend with. "And now the worst part of the whole thing for our poor Mary was, that after Boone bad left, and she could get no word from him, some old thief, under the guise of friendship, persuaded her to sell her house and all she had, and let him have the money to invest in stocks, so she lost every cent and was reduced to absolute pov — Are you ill, general?" Barney Gray sprang from his chair. The color had fled from the general's face, and he was trembling perceptibly ; but it was not till Barney de- manded to know if he was ill, that he clapped his hand over his heart, and said: "Don't be alarmed, don't be alarmed ; pray keep your seat, it is nothing serious — a slight affection of the heart; my physician cautions me 158 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, to be very careful — it generally comes on at meal time — any little thing helps it." And, without seeming to know -what he was doing, the general reached for the vinegar cruet, poured out a spoonful of its contents, which he swallowed with a gulp, making a very wry face as he did so. "I am better now, Earner," he said. "Very singular, general, that one so strong and robust as yourself should be so affected," remarked Barney. "Yes, but appearances are deceiving you know. I suppose I shall die in one of these spells some day, but it will make little difference; no one will miss Lloyd Browdeane." Barney chided the general with placing too little val- uation on himself, and the general said it was a matter of but little consequence, any way." "Let me see," he resumed, "what were we talking about? Oh, yes, I remember now; your friends, the Brunes." "Boones," interposed Barney. "One name is as good as another to me," the general said, "but I had become quite interested in your story. I always like to hear these little romances of real life, for the reason, I suppose, that my own life has been so extremely prosaic, and I almost envy my friends when I hear them tell of their own exciting and diversified careers." Barney said there was nothing more to relate and went on to tell how he came in possession of bis information relative to the Boones, at the same time making excuses for himself for not having answered Mary Boone's letter. "But she hadn't lost confidence in her husband, neither did she believe that he had been killed by Indians, as reported. She was living in hope that he would return to her some day, and he may have done so long before this, for anything I know," Barney said in conclusion. There M'as a pause until the servant left the room, when Barney resumed. "You surprise me, general," he said "by telling that your life has been tame and com- monplace; for surely you have passed through the excite- ment and dangers of the battlefield, and that is not very prosaic." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 159 Something akin to a smile played over the features of Lloyd Browdeane as he returned answer. "No," he said, "I cannot even claim the honor of having risked my life in defense of my country. This title of general, by which I am known here, is purely a local appellation, and I really don't know myself how it was brought about. My friends began calling me so, and I never pro- tested against it; still, when any one asks, or even insinu- ates that I have been in the army, I always set them right by making a truthful statement, for I never sail under false colors." Barney gave Browdeane a little compliment by saying that his friends had undoubtedl.v conferred the title upon him for the reason that it became him so well. The dessert had been served, so the two men rose from the table and repaired to the sitting-room, where they beguiled the time by engaging in general talk upon the common topics of the day. Before they parted for the night it was mutually agreed upon that they should see each other again soon and often ; that they would go out together of evenings; take pleasure drives together, and specially did Browdeane elicit the promise from his friend, Mr. Barner, to meet him on the following Sunday and accompany him to church when he would make him acquainted with Mr. Pompton, the pastor. As Barney was taking his leave, his ardent friend put his arm fondly about him, and so walked down the stairs to the street door. The young man had not proceeded far on his way along the street when he turned and looked at the Globe House as it loomed up in the moonlight. "And so he knew the Barners," he said to himself, "and that accounts for his taking such a fancy to me." Glancing at the doorway, which he had so recently left, he saw some one looking after him. It was Browdeane, who then waved his hand as a parting salute, and Barney doffed his hat as a salute in return. Lloyd Browdeane retraced his steps to his apartments, where he paced the floor for long, weary hours; occasion- ally heaving a sigh. Now and then he would stop at the window and gaze steadily out upon the stillness of the juight. 160 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER Xni. AN EVENINa AT COOGAS. After Mr. Graj' began driving out and appearing at public places in company with General Browdeane, many queries and surmises went the rounds of Barney's friends at Sandon. One Saturday afternoon, while strolling leisurely along the city's fashionable promenade, he overtook Miss Alice Cooga, whose escort he became as they walked with the crowd. Alice, after the first greeting was over, brought up the name of Browdeane at once. "Some folks are getting verj' high-toned of late, I understand," Miss Cooga re- marked, with a knowing look. Barney assumed innocence and asked her what she meant. " Oh, how dull of comprehension you are; you couldn't guess in a thousand years what I mean, could you now? Of course your devoted friend will make you his heir, so don't you really wish — now tell the truth — don't you wish he would die very soon?" queried Miss Cooga. "Well," returned Barney,' "if you are referring to General Browdeane I am free to say I have no greater wish for his speedy demise that I have for that of anj' one else. The general and I are good friends — nothing more; he is a splendid gentleman, and I think a great deal of him. His attention was called to me on account of my strong resemblance to some of my relatives whom he knew in the East." "Oh yes, I know you are very much taken up with him, every one says so, and that accounts for so little being seen of you this while back. But you needn't drop your old friends,, even if you sre the special favorite of his SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. IGl greatness; you can call just the same and bring the gen- eral with you." "Yes, I may do that some time," Barney said. "Oh, do!" exclaimed Alice, in great earnestness. "Bring him out next week some evening, but be sure and let me know, so I shall be at home." "Well," replied Barney, "I'll tell the general you sent him an invitation through me to call." "No! you great stupid! don't tell him that. Just say that you would like him to go along with you some even- ing and be introduced to a friend of yours — and then let me know what evening you will come." "The general is out of the city now, but when he re- turns I'll see what he has to say," Barney replied. "If you will bring him out to the house and spend the evening some time, Barney, I'll call you a real sweet thing!" Miss Cooga was very familiar with Mr. Gray now, and put aside all conventionalities when conversing with him. Whenever Lloyd Browdeane returned from his peri- odical visits to his gold mines, he always notified Bar- ney Gray and requested that he call at the Globe at his earliest convenience. So, after Barney's talk with Miss Cooga, wherein she expressed such ardent desire to have the general call at her house, he visited the general in the evening of the same day on which he was apprised of his return. In the course of the conversation, Mr. Gray mentioned, in a casual way, that he intended calling upon a lady friend and suggested that Browdeane had better join him when he concluded to go. The general said that he was not in the habit of making evening calls upon the ladies, but that he did not object to going in com- pany with his friend, especially since he felt an interest in knowing what kind of associates the young man had, and so on. It was finally agreed upon that Miss Cooga should be visited the next evening but one; that Barney should meet the general at the Globe not later than 7 o'clock, when together they would repair to the lady's house. Barner notified Miss Alice of the intended call, and it Xaay be taken for granted that the young lady was happy 16^ SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. accordingly. At all events, she told her pa and ma of the expected callers, and the parents were as much pleased over it as their daughter, so they all began making special preparations for giving their distinguished guest a hearty ■welcome in the shape of a familj- reception. The Cooga residence -was in the suburbs of Sandon, and ■while it ■was a substantial home, it was not marked by any superabundant wealth ; though it may be supposed that the dwelling would have presented a very different aspect in this regard had Cooga himself designed the construction of the building; for the Coogas were not the kind of people to allow their light to shine beneath a bushel. Pa Cooga had loaned money and taken a mort- gage on the house, and this he foreclosed as soon as he could do so by complying with the requirements of the law, and took possession of the premises. When Barney Gray and Lloyd Browdeane presented themselves at the Cooga home, there was nothing to indicate that the family expected company, for there was not a light to be seen at any of the windows. After ring- ing the door bell and waiting an unusually long time before any one came in answer, they were admitted by the maid-of-all-work, who showed them into the parlor, lighted the gas, and went to announce the arrival of callers. Delaying for about the proper length of time before making her appearance. Miss Alice came in, and she was so delighted by the agreeable surprise of seeing General Browdeane that she entirely forgot, for the time being, the presence of Barney Graj'. "Why, General Browdeane," she exclaimed, as she entered the parlor, "what an unexpected pleasure this is, really! I thought you had forgotten me, since we met at Mr. Flasher's." "Oh, yes, I remember you now; I believe we have met before; but I had quite forgotten the name," the general said. "Now, pardon me, general, but you are not at all com- plimentary to me," returned Miss Alice, with a strained laugh. The general observed that he had called at the solicita- tion and in company with Mr, Gray, to whom, by a look, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 163 he directed Miss Cooga's attention. She then turned and shook hands with Barney, thanking him very pro- fusely for bringing the general to see her. Miss Cooga looked very charming indeed on this even- ing, arrayed as she was in a flowing frock of black crepon, with a bunch of red roses at her throat and a flower of a still more crimson hue in her hair, which had been arranged by a professional dresser. Miss Alice, after seating herself, sought to entertain her callers by giving an account of the latest parties and balls, speculating upon those that were soon to take place, while reported engagements and those that were to be married in the near future, were told with all at- tending particulars. After Miss Alice had told all she knew, or at least all sh6 wished to reveal, she excused herself and quitted the room. In a moment she returned, bringing with her Mrs. Cooga, whom she introduced to both Browdeane and Barney as my ma. "And so this is Sheneral Prowteane," said ma Cooga, "how glad I am to see you; when Alie comes out and tells me that you was here, I says, 'Well now, I must go in and speak to the sheneral; and how do you do, shen- eral — I hope you are well." Mr. Browdeane assured Mrs. Cooga that his health was excellent, and then began commenting on the state of the weather. But this did not seem to interest the lady, for, when the general paused, she branched off by telling him that the doctor would be in she knew, if he only was aware that it was General Browdeane who had called. The doctor, it must be understood, was Mr. Cooga. Although Barney Gray had called at the Cooga resi- dence many times, he had not until this time been intro- duced to, or even seen, the parents of Miss Alice. Mrs. Cooga was a stout old lady, dressed in a rustling black silk. She had beautiful brown hair, which, upon close observation, could be detected as having grown on some other head than hers. She wore large gold pendants hooked in her ears, which weighted them so heavily that they were drawn to an unsightly shape. A number of large rings adorned each hand, while about her neck she had a heavy gold chain, at the end of which were at- 164 SCHOOLED fiY THE VfORhti. tacbed her eyeglasses. These opened and shut in a case like a jactknife, and she kept constantly -working them back and forth by touching a spring in the handle. Mrs. Cooga would invariably clap her glasses to her eyes when she began talking to one. The door opened and Dr. Cooga made his appearance. He was broad shouldered, short and fat, with bushy, gray hair; and, though he laughed heartily and was very merry, his face carried with it a sinister expression. "I heard your voice, general, I heard your voice!" said Dr. Cooga, coming forward and shaking hands with Browdeane, laughing as he did so, "and I made up my mind that I would not wait for an invitation, but just come in, shake hands, and bid you welcome to my humble abode, which I am very proud — honored, I may say — to have you visit. We are not strangers, general, not strangers; we know each other well enough by reputa- tion to shake hands without the form of an introduction. " Browdeane replied that he had, he believed, as he came to think of it, heard of the eminent Dr. Cooga before. Miss Alice then embraced the opportunity of making her pa acquainted with Mr. Gray, and as their greetings were passing the door bell rang. Presently three young gentlemen were ushered in; friends of Miss Cooga's, and they were introduced, one as Mr. Meek, one as Mr. Hay, and the other as Mr. Fay. The first bore a pale and studious cast of countenance, while the other two seemed to be rollicking young fel- lows of the day. This interruption diverted the attention of the elder Coogas from Browdeane for a moment only. They took entire possession of him, and, seated as they were on each side of him, they talked to the general alternately, though at times they both talked at once. The doctor endeavored to be entertaining by expatiating upon his large practice; the responsibilities connected therewith, and the many critical cases he had successfully treated after other noted practitioners had failed. Mrs. Cooga — who put great stress upon some of her words, while she aspirated or sibilated others, and spoke with utter disregard of all grammatical rules, called at- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 165 tention to herself by speaking up, as she held her glasses to her eyes, saying : "Well, sheneral, -while I think of it, I want to ask you something. "You bein' such a very rich man, you know all about law an' things of that kind, so you're just the one to tell me what I ought to do about the way I've been treated by some of my sisters-in-law. "You see, sheneral, I had two brothers- — — " "Why ma! General Browdeane is not interested in hearing of private family matters." This interposition came from Miss Alice. "Just never you mind, me lady," returned ma Cooga, "if ever you get as rich as the sheneral you'll know what interests rich people an' what don't. But, as I was sayin', " pursued Mrs. Cooga, turning her glasses again upon Browdeane, "I had two brothers, an' they thought the world of me; now there's Paul, when he got married he settled down an' went in the potegraph business an' got very rich. Well, Paul died about a year ago, but didn't leave me a cent. Now, don't you think, sheneral, that Paul was a little wrong in his mind? An' can't you tell me some w-ay that I could get the law to work that would make Paul's widda give me what would have been mine if Paul could have his way about it?" Mr. Browdeane said that he was unable to decide so momentous a question. Dr. Cooga then sought to turn the conversation by describing a new process of his own he had lately intro- duced for the treatment of mumps, but Mrs. Cooga was not so easily put down ; so, after three ineffectual at- tempts to again get the general's attention, she reached over and nudged his elbow with the handle of her eye- glass. "Excuse me, shentlemen," she said, by way of apol- ogy, "but I wanted to tell you, sheneral, about my brother Simon. He settled down in loway an' got in the pork business. Well, he used to send his pork to the sassage men in the big cities, an' he got as rich as rich could be; but then when he died he didn't leave me a cent neither. So, you see, sheneral, there is some- thing wrong." 166 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Lloyd Browdeane was slightly annoyed, and felt grate- ful toward Mr. Hay, who called Mrs. Cooga's attention to himself by saying: "If your brother supplied the sausage factories with meat, he could at least see to it that you got all the sausage you wanted at reduced price." "If you please, sir," said Mrs. Cooga, straightening herself up with dignity, and looking through her glasses severely at Mr. Hay, "if you please, sir, my brother never wanted his sister to eat what he wouldn't eat him- self. He didn't eat city-made sassage; he knowed a little too much about pizness for that, let me tell you." Again father Cooga endeavored to change the talk to a more agreeable subject, and was this time more suc- cessful in getting all interested. "Have you seen to- night's paper, general?" he asked. Browdeane answered that he had simply glanced over it. "Well," pursued Cooga, "you ought to read the ac- count of the Black Eanger— it beats any novel I ever saw; I tell you that Eanger is a great fellow, whoever he is — I was reading about him when you came in." All hands, excepting Browdeane and Barney Gray were at once electrified, and began talking at the same time. "I read that!" said Mr. Hay. "So did I!" echoed Mr. Fay, "and I tell you I admire that fellow." "I wish I knew him," added Hay, "I'd like to go into partnership with him." "I have no doubt at all but you would find him a perfect gentleman," this came from Mr. Meek, while Miss Alice cried out: "Oh! how can you men" talk that way about that horrid negro robber?" The noise was quelled presently by the stern, com- manding tone of Browdeane's voice. "I am very sorry," he said, "to hear the acts of an outlaw meet with such hearty approval, even in jest; for I am sure, young gentlemen, you cannot be sincere in what you say." At this both Hay and Fay laughed sardonically and SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 167 gazed at the floor, while Mr. Meek attempted to defend his poaition. "So far as I am concerned," he said, "I have nothing to retract; neither do I hesitate to say that I have more admiration for the Kanger — let him be black or white — than I have for men who make a pretense of being honest while they are constantly robbing their fellow men within the limits of the law." Mr. Meek said this with a voice and spirit of determination which brought a trace of color to his pale face. Browdeane looked greatly pained as he made his reply, saying: "Pardon me, Mr. Meek, but I have no desire to argue the matter with you ; even were I to do so, I should choose a more appropriate place for such discussion than a private drawing room." "But you ought to see what to-night's paper says, general," interjected Dr. Cooga. "Alie, my dear," turning to his daughter, "fetch me the evening paper from the next room." When the newspaper was handed him, the doctor ad- justed his spectacles and drew near the light, and read thus: "This time.it is the Eiverton stage that is held up by the Black Eanger — He Eifles the Express Boxes and secures the booty — as usual the robber makes good his escape. "Excuse me, doctor," interposed Browdeane, "I have no wish to have the article read. I think it deplorable that newspapers should give so much space to news of that kind." "Oh! no, general," returned Cooga, "I was only read- ing the headlines; I didn't intend to read it all — why, there's over three columns of it! But, there is a para- graph or two that struck me as being pretty good, and I thought they might interest you. Now, here is one," and the doctor began reading : "After stopping the stage and demanding in his usual stern voice that the treasure box be thrown down, two women who were aboard became greatly frightened, and began throwing their purses and valuables at the rob- ber's feet, begging piteouslj' that their lives might be spared. 'Ibis bold knight of the road, after warning the 168 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, male passengers that the slightest move on their part ■would be followed by instant death, gathered up the articles at his feet and, with the suavity of a dancing master, gallantly returned them to their owners, saying: 'Do not be alarmed, dear ladies, keep your purses and your trinkets; I have no use for them. I am frail woman's protector, not her despoiler. ' " Mr. Meek was about to make a remark, but was fore- stalled by the doctor speaking up. "There is some poetry here I want to read," he said, looking over the columns of the paper, "the Eanger, you know, is some- thing of a poet, and always leaves a few lines behind him to be found by his pursuers. Here they are," and he read off the following : " Prepare yourselves for fiery fray! Your course leads straight to Hell! Black Ranger runs the road to-day, Your future to foretell." Any discussion that might have followed the reading was averted bj' Mrs. Cooga, who had previously quitted the parlor, and who, at this juncture opened the doors leading to an adjoining apartment, and invited the com- pany to the dining-room to partake of refreshments. As this announcement was made. Miss Alice looked longingly toward Browdeane, but Barney Gray rose and offered the lady his arm, which she reluctantly accepted, and they started off, leading the way to the table, which was loaded with good things. There was chicken salad to begin with; there was sliced chicken, cold; oysters, both stewed and fried; cakes of several kinds; ice cream of two different flavors and different in color; besides there were wines, fruits, nuts, and etceteras too numerous to mention, for the Coogas knew how to provide a table for distinguished company; there was no mistake about that. Mrs. Cooga did throw out a side remark that had she known the general was coming she would have had things much nicer; but her apology fell short — no one took the slightest notice of it. When all were seated, Dr. Cooga, who seemed to think the Black Kanger was the most interesting topic that SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 169 could be kept going, said, "I should think, general, you ■would stand in danger of being waylaid by the bold Eanger when you are traveling about the country, and going back and forth to and from your mines." Browdeane explained that he had taken every precau- tion against molestation of midnight marauders. "But you must ship a great deal of gold over the different roads, general?" Browdeane replied that he did have considerable to do in that line, but that he had his business thoroughly systematized, and the product of his mines was handled and transported by his own employees. "In what section of the country are your mines located?" This question came from Mr. Meek, but Browdeane, apparently, heard him not. At least he made no an- swer, but, casting aside his taciturnity, he entered upon an extended dissertation on mines, mining, and all the incidental particulars connected therewith, so that he soon had all present gaping with wondering awe. He told of the different ways of mining; explained the difference between a shaft, a tunnel, and a drift; de- scribed a whim, also a whip; he used Mrs. Cooga's best silver -handled knife, aided by her best plated spoon in illustrating by gesticulations and signs the various turns, twists, dips, and breaks that was often met with in gold- bearing veins, and the difSculty that was attended in following them. Then, as he was concluding, he looked straight at Mr. Meek, saying: "Now, the successful miner is the one who attends strictly to his own business, and is ever guarded as to what kind of men he employs; the more secrecy he observes the better will he succeed. All mining camps, as well as mining districts, where there is any prospect^ of good mines being opened, are full of crafty scoundrels who are lying in wait for the man who strikes it rich that they may pounce upon his ground — get him entangled in lawsuits and compel him to buy them off. They lie about hotels and boarding houses, these vile creatures, with ears, eyes, and mouth open, endeavoring to learn of pending sales of property, and then they will concoct schemes to break the sale, upless 170 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. they are paid for their silence. This, sir, is the reason I observe caution." Browdeane's nostrils dilated and his eyes flashed as he was speaking. He then went on to tell how he himself had once been deceived a,nd swindled by a rascally secretary, and that since then he attended personally to all his private accounts. "And that's where your head is level, general," said the doctor. "Yes, indeed," added Mrs. Cooga, "you've got to mind your own pizness if you want to get along. " "Now, in my own profession," pursued the doctor, "I would be busted up in less than six months if I let it be publicly known just how I run my business." "No doubt of it," said Browdeane, sotto voce. Mr. Meek remarked quietly that he thought more of the Black Eanger and his way of doing things than thieving sneaks of secretaries or mining camp hang- ers-on. After returning to the parlor Browdeane lingered but a little time before looking at his watch, when he suggested to Barney Gray that they must be going. Eegrets were expressed in chorus by the Coogas at so early a depart- ure, while they united in extending an invitation to Mr. Browdeane to visit them often, and at any time, as they would always be proud to make him welcome. "When the next society news appeared in the Sandon papers there were, among other things, a few lines tell- ing that Miss Cooga had entertained a few friends at her home on such an evening, and so on, and that among the ones present were General Browdeane and Mr. Barner Gray. When Miss Kate Flasher read this an- nouncement she was very angry, and the following Sun- day at church she passed dear Alice without even so much as looking at her. Indeed, if report be true, she never forgave Alice for this breach of etiquette. Kate said she ought to have been invited, and perhaps she ought. After Browdeane and Barney Gray left the Coogas, they walked along a pace in silence, each communing with his own thoughts. "ghall we take s^ car?" suggested Barney, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. l^l "No," returned Browdeane, "I prefer walking — unless you wish to ride." Barney said he liked to walk, and so they continued on. He knew that his friend was out of sorts; that he had been bored by the Coogas — and he didn't wonder at it. He felt that he ought to say something in the way of an apology for himself, so he remarked : "I thought we'd just run out and talk to the girl awhile. I had never met the old folks before. I had no idea there was to be a special entertainment, and such display." "They knew we were coming, did they not?" "The girl did," Barney answered. "They all did," said Browdeane, "and yet they lied like pirates trying to make it appear that they were taken by surprise. I didn't know those were the people you intended to call on, or I shouldn't have gone. I remember them now. Dr. Cooga, as he calls himself, is the man that does so much advertising; professing to cure all ills that flesh is heir to. His right name is Mike Ooogan, so my physician, Dr. Widestep, tells me. He says that he hunted up the man's career for years past. He started out as a blacksmith; then he tried shoe- making; then butchering, but he lacked the mental capacity to succeed in any of those callings; so he bought a commission from some institution of learning and set up as a doctor. And now, by decoy advertisements and taking advantage of the unwary, he seems to be growing rapidly wealthy. However, I am glad I went out with you. Earner, my dear boy," pursued Browdeane, as- suming a more kindly tone, "for I wanted to see what kind of company you were keeping. You see, I like you ■ — ^like you very much, and I feel an interest in your welfare; much more, I fancy, than you imagine, So you must not doubt that I intend it for your own good when I tell you that the Coogas are not the kind of people you should choose for your friends. Why! I once heard your father — Oh!" Browdeane stopped suddenly, both in his walk and speech. He grasped his throat with one hand, while with the other he used his handkerchief in covering bis mouth and wiping his eyes, for he was t£»k^n with a, ■violent fit of coughing. I'ja SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "I inhaled a confounded bug or something, and it got in my throat," he said, recovering himself; and he looked up, striking in the air with his hand as though driving away gnats. "I am all right now," and he re- sumed his walk. "Let me see," he mused, "what was I talking about?" "You were about to speak of my father, " Barney Gray prompted. "Oh, yes, 1 remember now!" and Browdeane began again. "I once saw your father in a dream I had, im- ploring you to be ever guarded in your associates, and have a care lest you be caught by the snare or pitfalls of this selfish wicked world. I should imagine. Earner, my boy, that j'our father was a man of a very high sense of honor." Barney said that such was his father's reputation in the community where he lived. "I have the entree, if I choose to accept it," Brow- deane continued, "to the best society of Sandon — that is, the wealthiest; and that constitutes the best, I sup- pose; all society is bad enough to be sure. I am not much of a society man myself, yet I would gladly take you out and introduce you. Now there is an entertain- ment coming off next week at Bollington's, Bollington,. the banker, you know; I can easily get cards for you; so if you like, we will attend?" Barney said he didn't object, so it was agreed upon that they would attend the party. "An introduction at Bollington's is all that is neces- sarj' to put you in the best society here," Browdeane observed. "Mrs. Bollington and her daughters are the recognized leaders of fashion 1" SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 173 CHAPTEE XIV. AN EVENING AT BOLLINGTON S. Y. Z. Bollington's residence stood in the most aris- tocratic quarter of Sandon. The grounds, which occu- pied an entire block, were laid out in lawns and flower gardens, with a labyrinth of paved walks running through the various plots of flowers; in short, the Bol- lington mansion presented every appearance of wealth and luxury, as well it might, for Mr. Bollington was a very wealthy man, and could well afford to provide him- self and family with every thing that money could supply. There were three daughters in this family; the eldest, Victoria, was what is commonly called a "grass widow," although this epithet was never openly applied to the daughter of the Bollingtons. Some years before, the family had spent a season in Europe; and while there, one Count Tumbleton fell madly in love with her; at least, such was the report. At all events, he proposed for the lady's hand in marriage, and this being granted, the two were married with great eclat. Count Tumbleton was heavily encumbered, but this was no barrier to the marriage, for Mr. Bollington had plenty of money, and could easily liquidate the count's debts, and he did. Before two years had passed reports were afloat that the Tumbletons were not living happily together; ugly rumors were circulated of the count's cruelty and abuse. The truth of all this was never made public, but it was true enough that Lady Tumbleton returned to America and to her father's house at Sandon, where she remained as plain Miss Bollington, having dropped her title and name of Lady Tumbleton. She had been iu the matri- l'J'4 SCHOOLEt) BY THE WORLD. monial market, as was well known for several years since her return from Europe, and it was an open secret that she was verj' partial to Lloyd Browdeane. The street in front of the Bollington mansion was already well filled with aristocratic Tehicles, when Brow- deane's carriage drove up and himself and Barney Gray alighted. When admitted to the house, they presented cards bearing their names only; but the page understood his business, and when he ushered them into the spacious drawing room, boldly announced General Browdeane and his friend, Mr. Barner Gray. Two ladies came forward 'to receive them, and greeted Browdeane very graciously. They were Miss Bollington- — the late Lady Tumbleton — ■ and Miss Georgene Bollington, to whom Barney Gray was very formally presented by Browdeane. "And is it you, Mr. Gray, we have to thank for bring- ing the general out?" said Miss Bollington, after the introduction was over. "He makes such a recluse of hmself that it requires some one who has influence over him to get him out into society, and I am very glad you have exerted such influence, Mr. Gray. Georgene, you will introduce Mr. Gray among our friends." So saying the elder sister marched off with Browdeane. Miss Georgene did as directed, and acted her part very nicely, by introducing Barney right and left among the gay assemblage, generally supplementing the introduc- tion with the information that Mr. Gray was General Browdeane 's friend. Barney was slightly diffident and retiring, for he had never before been in the midst of such stupendous splen- dor. The parlors were spacious and richly furnished, besides being handsomely decorated for the occasion with natural flowers ; while the toilettes of the many ladies present were all that rich laces, velvets, silkB,and jewels, could make them, for it was only very, very wealthy families that came together at Bollington's, and all were trying to outdo the others. Eailroad magnates and their families were there; bankers with their wives and daughters; rich merchants, likewise lawyers, doctors, and prominent politicians, providing these latter had an abundance of money, for it \ras money that counted at Bollington's, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 175 The rich brewer, Mr. Swidener, with his wife, two daughters, and one son were there. Mr. Swidener was a fat, broad-faced, large-eyed man with a loud voice and uncouth manners ; but as his wealth was estimated in the millions, his boorishness didn't count against him. Barney Gray was within hearing when Mr. Swidener hailed Lloyd Browdeane. "Well, general," said Swidener, "how do you do? I'm right glad to see you; why don't you come out among us oftener?" Browdeane said that his business kept him very closely confined, and that he was alwai's weary and tired at night, which made it necessary for him to retire early. "What's the use of you wearing your life out at busi- ness, general; doing no good for yourself nor anybody else; you have money enough. Why don't you sell off your mines, get married, and settle down— help us old fellows out by taking one of our girls off our hands — I have two of 'em ; you can have your pick — go to house- keeping, general, have a family, and be happy!" Browdeane seldom smiled, though there was a pleased look in his face while Swidener was speaking. He then gl'aneed about rather cautiously as he drew Swidener aside, and said something to him in an undertone. "I tell you that as a secret, Mr. Swidener," Browdeane was heard to say, in conclusion. "That's all right, general," returned Swidener, "you can trust me — I'll never tell anybody!" Barney Gray was in a quandary. Why should Brow- deane tell a secret to Mr. Swidener? the ver.v man who would be most likely to tell everything he knew in the way of gossip. In the course of the festivities Browdeane danced, first with Miss Bollington, then with Miss Swidener, who was a lady of uncertain years. Barney Gray skipped in a merry whirl with Miss Georgene Bollington, also one with the younger sister. Miss Alma Bollington, con- cluding in a dance with Miss Prim, the daughter of the State's chief executive. A great deal of time was con- sumed at the supper, which was very sumptuous, and it was a late hour when the guests began preparing to return to their homes. 176 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Barney Gray, when he and Browdeane took their de- parture, felt well pleased with himself as well as with the night's entertainment. He knew that he had been well teceived, and that he had been elevated into the best society of Sandon. Still, he was not altogether easy in mind. He was beginning to feel just a little suspicious of his friend Browdeane. He had overheard it remarked by three different persons, before he quitted Bollington's house, that General Browdeane had confided a great se- cret to Mr. Swidener, and the secret was that Browdeane had made the richest strike of bis life in one of his gold mines; that this would make him wealthy beyond his fondest hopes, and that he intended at an early date, if everj'thing turned out as expected, to sell off his mines, build a fine residence, select a wife from among the belles of Sandon, and settle down for life. Yes, Barney Gray was conjecturing, what could Browdeane mean ? He kept silent as he rode along at the side of Browdeane in the latter's splendid carriage. Orders had been given the coachman to drive to Barney's lodgings. "Why so silent, my boy?" Browdeane said finally, "has some fair maiden stolen your heart away?" Barney laughed lightly and said the ladies were not in his thoughts. "Ifou enjoyed yourself?" queried Browdeane. "Oh, yes, I had a splendid time," Barney answered. "Well, I see nothing in your way now. You may as well go in and win. You are fine-looking ; have a good address, and you will receive plenty of invitations to swell entertainments from this on ; so you may as well take advantage of the situation ; keep up a good appear- ance, and you can marry a girl with plenty of money. You can't make your fortune easier." "That is your advice, is it? to make matrimony simply a matter of merchandise?" said Barney curtly. "Well," Browdeane hesitated, thinking, "that is the way it is generally done in the best society." Then he continued. "To marry for love may do in the rural districts; but the young man who aspires to live, and mingle with the active, fashionable world, if he has no money himself, should marry money or not marry at all. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLC. 177 It pains me when I look about and see the care, the privation, the drudgery so many poor people have brought upon themselves by marriage; taking all the consequences of living and supporting large families on the scanty earnings of manual labor." "There is strife, trouble, and sadness enough among the rich, for the matter of that," Barney answered. "Very true, very true," sighed Browdeane; "every- thing connected with our mode of life is sadly out of joint — there is something radically wrong with the fun- damental basis ; long since have I come to believe that the human race can never be civilized to a very high or noble degree by following the line of competition — the individual accumulation of property." There was silence until the vehicle drew up in front of the house where Barney lodged. He quickly alighted, bidding his friend a cheer.y good-night. "Good-night," said Browdeane, "I shall see you soon again," and the carriage drove rapidly off. Barney ascended the steps leading to the door of the house in which he roomed, and was about to insert his night key in the lock when he heard some one calling from the street: "Is that you. Gray?" "Yes," he answered. "Come down here, I want to speak to you." Barney descended to the pavement and found his old friend. Clay Masters. "I saw Browdeane's team coming this way," Clay said, "and knew it could have no business in this part of town at this time of night, unless it was to bring you home, so I waited on the other side of the street until it drove off. Where have you been?" Barney said he had just returned from the party at Bollington's. "Oh, indeed, you are sailing very high; you have your friend Browdeane to thank for all that, of course." Barney admitted that such was the case. "Well, now, see here; I believe I am the instrument through which j'ou became acquainted with that man, and I suppose I have a right to speak plainly if I want to. Do you know anything about him?" m^ Schooled bV the WofetC. Barney replied that he knew nothing other than what was generally known. "And what is generally known is very indefinite," said Clay Masters. "Now, I don't want you to under- stand me as saying anything against the man," Clay went on, "but I tell you, as a friend, there is a good bit of talk about Browdeane. Of course, the more he does for you the better; success go with you, I say; but where does Browdeane's money come from?" Barney laughed as he stigmatized this as a very foolish question, since everybody knew that Browdeane was engaged in mining. "Yes, so he says; but where are his mines? Nobody knows, and Browdeane himself won't tell. I know for a fact that he hasn't got an account with any bank in this city; and as for his title, he is no more a general than I am. I know all about that, and I'll tell you how it was : Some years ago there was a grand reception given here in honor of some great celebrity, I forget now who it was, but anyway, Browdeane was there; and you know he carries himself as though he were lord of creation ; so, when he came up, some one in the crowd said, 'there comes his greatness. General Browdeane; do you know that fellow's strut always reminds me of a general of home guards. ' "Well, one of the flunkies overheard that, and it seemed he didn't know any better, for he took him in and announced him as General Browdeane, and he has been called by that title ever since," and Masters laughed as he recalled the occurrence. Barney Gray laughed also, saying: "That is no news to me, Clay; Browdeane told me before I had known him a week that he had no claim to the title by which he is known. He is not trying to sail under false colors ; he is a gentleman and an honest man, if ever there was one, and I'll stand by him, no matter what anybody says." "Oh, certainly! I was only talking to you as a friend; don't think I am jealous because you are going up in the world. I can always make my living dispensing drugs, toilet soap and tooth powder; I never expect to reach the general. But I thought I would speak to you, be- cause, if such a thing should come to pass — remember, I SCHOOLED 6Y THE WORLD. IW say if it should — that Browdeane is caught up some fine day as a high-toned professional crook, it would make things mighty unpleasant for you; for you would be taken as his accomplice, without doubt." "Oh, fie! Masters, don't talk such nonsense as that! Good-night." And Barney Gray turned away with a feeling of disgust. It may be supposed that Clay Masters, notwithstanding his word to the contrary, felt slightly piqued at the rapid rise his friend was making. Mr. Masters had never liked Browdeane, and now that he was drawing his friend away, could certainly not increase the genial Clay's love for the general, to say the least; but when he said that Browdeane was being talked about — insinuating that he was looked upon with suspicion, Mr. Masters was either drawing upon his own imagination, or repeating idle talk of some bank clerk; for, while it was true that the general kept no running account with any of the banks of Sandon, he paid all his bills with a promptness rarely eq.ualled — was looked upon as an example in probity, and commanded the respect of all with whom he came in contact, and hence nobody ever had given themselves any concern about his bankers, or how he had his wealth invested. 180 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER XV. A CALAMITY. It was the very next day after the Bollington party that our friend, Barney Gray, was overtaken by a great misfortune. Along in the afternoon of this day, the automatic game trap factory was invaded by officers of the law, who inquired for the proprietor. Upon Barney Gray presenting himself and stating that he was the man, one of the men — there were two of them — of legal authority, drew from his pocket some court papers and handed them over to Barney Gray, saying as he did so, that he must not fail to give the matter his attention. On investigation Barney discovered that he had received a summons to appear at court and show cause why he should not be enjoined from infringing on the patent of one Jepson Slickneck, in the manufacturing of game traps. When Barney read these papers, and recalled to mind the man whom he had met at Slower, his feelings can better be imagined than described. He minced no words in expressing his opinion of Slickneck; openly declaring that such a man ought to be killed. He sallied forth upon a tour of inquiry, and made himself acquainted with the fact that Jepson Slickneck had been in Sandon, stopping at the Eover House for more than a week; though he had not presented himself at Gray's factory. Barney called at the Eover three different times; but the word was always the same. Mr. Slickneck was not in. It dawned upon Barney's mind that Mr. Jepson was try- ing to keep out of his way, and this made him still more anxious to overhaul the gentleman ; so he kept a sharp lookout for him. It was not until the shades of night had fallen that ho SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 181 happened to espy his man going along the street, when he immediately took after him. But, before he caught up with him, Jepson turned into a gentlemen's furnish- ing store, and Barney, not wishing to create a disturb- ance in a place of business, passed on and stood in a doorway to wait for Slickneck's return to the street. He soon came out, but instead of continuing his course, he crossed directly over to the other side. Barney then crossed over also, intending to head him o£E. The walk along this side was shaded by trees which grew along the curb, and which ran parallel for the entire length of the block with a high board fence on the inside. No lights burned here, and people seldom passed; and this was the place, unfortunately, where Barney Gray accosted Jepson Slickneck. Their meeting, as may be supposed, was not a friendly one. Barney Gray expostulated; Jepson Slickneck gesticulated, and high words ensued. Finally Barney said : "Do you know what should be done with you, Slickneck? You ought to be hung up by the heels and left to die; hanging by the neck is too good for such a thing as you!" "Oh! you insult me, do you?" exclaimed Jepson excitedly. "What do I care who the original inventor is!" he continued, "if the law gives me the right it's mine — I didn't make the laws of this country! the laws were made for me, and for those who have sense enough to take advantage of them, and if you were not a fool you could see things in their proper light! But you're a second Benjamin Franklin! You want the reward of a grateful people! I'm not a man of that kind — I'm strictlj' business, I am, and I'll attend to your case. I had intended to be lenient with you — I'd have made you my agent; but now, sir, I'll show no mercy, and if you molest me I'll put you " Jepson Slickneck's voice suddenly quieted, for Barney Gray, becoming exasperated beyond endurance, let fly his right hand, striking Jepson on the jaw in the region of the left ear, knocking him almost a somersault, and landing him sprawling in the gutter. Barney then turned and walked to the corner of the block, where he stopped, awaiting consequences. 182 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. When Jepson was knocked in the gutter, some one raised the cry of "fight, a fight!" which brought people hurrying to the spot where the unfortunate man was found lying limp and speechless. One man, who came running up, attempted to assist the fallen one to his feet, but paused while he made a more careful examination. He then called out: "Here! lend a hand, some one ; help carry this man in some- where; he is badly hurt." Jepson Sliokneck was gathered up and carried, with a large crowd of people following, across the street, and into an apothecary's store, where he was laid upon a cot. "Get some brandy," said one, "he has fainted." "Call a doctor," said another. "Fetch a policeman!" cried a third. A physician who happened in just then made a slight examination of Mr. Slickneck, and at once exclaimed: "Why, this man is dead!" After further investigating, the doctor said: "Why, his neck is broken; and the jaw and side of the face are crushed — he has been hit with a club, an ax, or something of the kind. Where's the man who killed him?" "He ran off down the street," a voice answered. "Well, run after him! Call the police and have him arrested!" While all this was going on, Barney Gray remained standing at the corner taking observations. Seeing the crowd constantly increasing, he was about to retrace his steps to see what damage he had done, when a man came running along and stopped to ask what the trouble was up the street. Barney replied that he was just going to inquire. "Somebody drunk, •! suppose," said the man, "but I've got to hurry on, I want to catch a train," and ofE be started, on the run. Barney elbowed his way into the store where Slickneck lay, and just as he entered the door a voice cried out: "Here's the fellow now that killed him!" "Is this some of your work?" said the doctor, speaking to Barney, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 183 "Yes, I hit the fellow a little tap," Barney answered, "but I didn't know that I had killed him." "Evidently you did hit him a little tap," remarked the doctor ironically. "I had no intention of killing him," Barney replied, "though I have no hesitancy in saying that he got what he deserved! This speech brought a chorus of ahs and ohs from the crowd. By this time the police arrived ; two burly fellows, to whom Barney Gray was pointed out. After making themselves acquainted with the state of affairs, one of the policemen turned to Barney, and said: "What did you do with your weapon?" "I didn't have any," was Barney's answer. "What did you murder that man with?" "My hand." At this, knowing smiles, looks, and winks were in- dulged in by those present. "That don't go," said the policeman, "anyway you have got to come along with me and be locked up." This was a fortuitous episode in the life of Barney Gray. He was marched off and placed in a prison-cell, behind iron doors, locks, and bars. It required all his inherited stoicism to keep up his courage and maintain the fortitude of a philosopher. It was a long, dreary night; his first night in jail. To sleep upon a miserable pallet of straw with a many times handled old blanket for covering was out of the question. As the mind is prone, under pressure of adversity and sadness, to go back to the scenes of happier days, so it was with Barney Gray, now that he was in jail charged with murder. He visited in thought the days of his childhood at dear old Goose- town — Goosetown that had never seemed so dear to him as now. He regretted that he had not remained to live his whole life through among the simple-minded, honest people there. How much better it would have been had he fallen among the slain on the field of battle. In going back over his army life he thought of Captain Custy and wondered what had become of him. He called to mind the Boones, and thought how unfortunate for him it was that he had not kept trace of them, for Char- 184 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ley had doubtless returned to Mary long ere this, and there were none who would more cheerfully aid him in his sad need than they. Still, while his thoughts were gloomy, he paced his dreary cell fondly hoping and firmly believing that all would come out right in the end. He had one friend from whom he expected much. Lloyd Browdeane would surely be at the jail early in the morn- ing to offer assistance and give consolation. He could not but compare his present position with his surroundings of the night previous, and he regretted much having attended the ball at Bollington's, fearing that his presence there as Browdeane's particular friend might now cast reflections upon that gentleman deroga- tory to his social standing. After Barney Gray was taken to jail, Jepson Slickneck was carted off to the morgue; and so ended the patent on the automatic game trap. It was after sunrise next morning when the turnkey apprised Barney that a visitor wished to see him. On being taken to a dingy little room called the reception room, Barney, instead of seeing Browdeane, as he ex- pected, beheld Clay Masters, who expressed the pro- foundest sympathy for his friend. ""What can I do for you, my dear boy?" said Clay finally. Barney didn't know of anything that could be done just then ; he supposed a lawyer would have to be em- ployed, and all that; then he mentioned, incidentally, that he expected Browdeane to call. "I shall be very much disappointed if Browdeane does much for you," Clay said, "you must remember your position has changed since you saw him last. If he wanted to see you he would have been here before this time — all the papers have given an account of the affair. Browdeane may be a very good friend in time of prosper- ity, but I'm afraid you will find him wanting in time of need; just like many others. Now, I always liked you, Barney," Masters went on, "and every word you say about this unfortunate affair I believe; so I'm willing to stand by you until the last horn blows. I haven't got much money, but what little I have you are welcome to if you need it." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 185 Barney had money for all immediate expenses, though he was almost overcome by the kindness of his friend, and was at a loss for words to express himself. "I don't believe I could find a better or truer friend anywhere than you. Clay," Barney said, after a long pause, "and I must have some one to look after my interests ; take charge of my accounts, money, and everything, and I should like to turn all over to you." Masters was willing to accept the responsibility, but suggested that everything be done in legal form. *'No, " said Barney, "your word is all I want; if there is no one I can trust in the world, without resorting to forms of law, I have no desire to live in it; so it will not matter." Clay Masters became a regular visitor at the jail so long as Barney remained there; but Browdeane never called. ^ The breakfast provided for the prisoners, consisting of black coffee, bread, and boiled meat, was not inviting to Barney Gray. Indeed, he had no appetite, and he could hardl.v yet realize his position; it all seemed so much like a hideous dream. Along in the forenoon a waiter from a neighboring restaurant called at the jail, carrying a large tray loaded with a sumptuous breakfast for the new prisoner. "Who am I to thank for all this?" inquired Barney Gray. "The boss told me to tell ye, in case ye should ask," said the man, "that it needn't make any difference to you so long as you got it. He said as I was to bring your meals regular every day, and tell ye to make out a list of anything j'ou wanted, and how you wanted it cooked." "Well, your boss is certainly very kind," returned Barney, "but I will not give any special orders at present." In the course of the day a delivery wagon bearing a mattress and complete outfit of bed clothing, drove up to the jail and the driver said he was to deliver the goods to the prisoner Gray. Barney very naturally inquired where they came from, but he received only evasive answers, 186 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. About two weeks had passed, when one day as Clay Masters was making his regular visit, he said to Barney in the course of the conversation: "That fellow Brow- deane is the strangest man I ever saw; I can't understand him at all." "Why, what is wrong with him now?" Barney inquired. "I don't know whether I ought to tell you or not," Clay said, "still, I didn't say I wouldn't, neither did he say I shouldn't; he only said it was not necessary to say anything about it; but I can't see wherein there's any harm in telling you." Barney said there was no danger of any harm arising from any revelation that Clay might make to him. "Well, " Masters resumed, "I will tell you. Browdeane sent for me the other day, wanting to see me on import- ant business, and inviting me to call at his rooms. I went up there and he received me as though I was a brother — treated me royally, and said that he had heard I had charge of your interests, and how glad he was of it; that he knew I was straight, and all that; then he wanted to know if you had funds enough to carry you through, and said if there was any money needed to help you out, I should call on him, that he would supply all that was required. He had a thousand and one ques- tions to ask about you — how you were fixed, how you felt, and so on. He is a funny chap, to say the least; now, he was as friendly with me as could be, and he didn't show a bit of that haughty, overbearing manner, which he is so noted for. "Yet, while he thinks so much of you, and is willing to do anything for you, he would let you lay in this old jail and rot before he would call to see you. I asked him why he didn't come, but he only sort of turned up his nose in disgust, and said he couldn't endure the smell of such vile places." "Browdeane is a peculiar individual, and that's a fact," said Barney. "If he had got in this fix, I should have gone to see him without considering the smell of the place." "Yes, I know that, Barney; but you are different stuff from Browdeane; he is all right in his way, but he SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 187 wouldn't go the length to serve a friend that you would." "Now this gives me a clew," said Barney, musing, "I wonder if it is not Browdeane who is behind the restau- rant man, and who has had all these fine things sent to me." "Possibly. I think he would do anything for you so far as paying out money is concerned; but he doesn't seem to want to do anything else." After the many forms of law had been complied with, followed by the delays in the way of put-overs, incident to such cases, the trial of Barner Gray for murder was begun. The testimony of the witnesses called by the prosecution was very damaging to the prisoner. All went to prove that he had killed Slickneck with malice aforethought, and that the killing had been deliberately planned, as well as deliberately carried out. One wit- ness testified that he had, on the same day that Slickneck was killed, overheard the prisoner say that nothing would suit him better than to engage for the rest of his life in the killing of just such men as Slickneck. "When the evidence was all taken, pro and con, Mr. Boaster, the state's prosecuting attorney, rose to his feet and began his address to the jury. In a very impressive voice, he said: "Gentlemen of the jury, I do not con- sider it absolutely necessary that I should say anything in the way of an argument to convince you of the guilt of the prisoner at the bar. I will simply make a few re- marks in order to impress upon your minds the action of the accused, both before and after he committed his ingeniously planned murder — the most diabolical that ever shocked the senses of a law-abiding community. "You have heard, gentlemen, the evidence adduced in the case. It has been shown that the prisoner dogged the footsteps of his victim along the street. That, on seeing him enter a store, the prisoner before you hid himself in the dark recess of a doorway, waiting until the unsuspecting man again made his appearance. "When he did so, the prisoner like a sleuthhound tracking its prey again followed, watching and waiting his opportu- nity for the right time and place to strike the deadly 188 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. blow that was to send his enemy to eternity. When the unfortunate Mr. Slickneck, little thinking that he was being followed by one intent upon taking his life, directed his course along an unfrequented place, where high fences and overhanging trees shut out the light, making it a spot most desired by those bent upon dark and bloody deeds — it was here, gentlemen of the jury, that this man before you wielded his murderous bludgeon " "Here!" This from the opposing counsel, "I object, your honor," appealing to the judge, "to this man going outside the evidence. We maintain that no weapon of any kind was used, and it has not been proven that there was." "Don't alarm yourself, my friend," returned Mr. Eoaster, "I am willing to let that drop for the present, but will touch upon it later on. "I can at least be permitted to say to you, gentlemen of the jury," said Mr. Eoaster, resuming his discourse, "that the ill-fated Mr. Sliokneok was picked up out of the gutter, with his neck broken, and his face crushed as though he had been struck with a sledge hammer. Now, what did this man Gray do, after he had accomplished his bloody work? He went away (I am afraid his emi- nence on the other side might object if I were to say he ran), and waited at the street corner, looking anxiously this way and that, as though expecting some one; nor was he disappointed. It has been shown that a man came in a hurry and seeming excitement, stopped with the prisoner a moment, then ran ofE again as fast as his legs could carry him. Had this party been followed and overhauled, the weapon, or bludgeon, which the other side dislikes so much to hear about, would undoubtedly have been introduced as evidence in this court. "Then, what does this prisoner do, after his supposed confederate had left him? Why, he deliberately walks back to the scene of death. But does he show any con- trition? No, gentlemen, he does not! He is not that kind of a man! He makes explanation by saying: 'I hit that fellow a little tap,' and immediately follows this up by making the monstrous confession that the poor man richly deserved to be killed ! In all my experience, gen- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 189 tlemen, I never heard anything so utterly heartless and cold-blooded. But, such is the character of the man. He is in the habit of telling how he would like to engage in the wholesale killing of people ; and this is the man who expects you to set him free on the flimsy pretext set up as a defense. That Mr. Slickneck was a weakling, that his bones had been softened from the effect of disease, that had a child slapped him in the face it would have broken his jaw, as this gentleman of profound wis- dom in his argument will endeavor to make you believe, is stuff and nonsense, and not worthy of a moment's con- sideration. "Sou have heard the testimony of our emi- nent Dr. "Widestep setting forth that it would be a physical impossibility to inflict with the naked hand such fatal injuires upon one so robust as Slickneck was. True, he did not have the bull-neck and pugilistic appearance of this man Gray, but he was neither weak nor delicate. "I have said much more than I intended," said Mr. Koaster, in conclusion, moderating his tone, "and I now leave it with you, gentlemen of the jury, to say whether peaceable citizens are to be waylaid in secret places under cover of night, and ruthlessly brained, or whether human life is to be protected and the law vindicated." Mr. Driver, Barney's advocate, then took the floor and made a very eloquent, earnest, and impressive appeal on behalf of his client, calling attention to his pure and upright life, and denouncing in most scathing terms the imputations cast upon his character by Mr. Koaster. "Do not forget, gentlemen," pleaded Mr. Driver, "that this man who mouths so loudly for a conviction in this case, would plead as earnestly for an acquittal, were he paid for doing so!" The judge read his instructions to the jury, after which they retired for deliberation. When they returned to the courtroom, the usual questions were asked : "Have you agreed upon a verdict?" "We have," answered the foreman. "What is your verdict?" "We find the prisoner guilty as charged, and fix the penalty at imprisonment for life." 190 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. As soon as this sentence had been pronounced, and while a death-like stillness yet pervaded the courtroom, a movement was heard among the audience, and all eyes were turned in that direction. There rose from his seat a man of commanding mien. A walking-cloak hung in careless elegance upon his shoulders. In his hand he carried his gloves and his polished hat, while his ebony walking stick was held beneath his arm. His jewels, what few he wore, eonsisted of the rarest gems, and his clothes were of the most expensive make. His step was firm and easy, though he walked with the hauteur of a prince. This striking man upon whom all eyes were con- verged, walked the length of the courtroom and confronted poor Barney Gray, whose hand he took — pressed it warmly, while in a soft and gentle voice, he said: "Keep up your courage, my dear boy ; it is a long road that has no turn." He then passed on, quitting the courtroom through a private exit. "Who is that man?" some stranger cried. "General Browdeane," some one replied. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 191 CHAPTER XVI. LIFB AT THE EEFOEMATOEY. Imprisonment for life meant that Barney Gray was to be consigned to the State's penal institution, a home supported by the commonwealth for the reformation of criminals. He accepted the court's decree with stoical fortitude, and, after certain formalities of the law had been complied with, he was conveyed thither to begin his life's pupilage at this reformatory institution of learning. The discipline at this school — which is the proper name for it — was very strict, especially so far as the keeping of regular hours was concerned, and the guardians always carried both guns and cudgels in order to enforce obedience. The school was well patronized, never having less than a thousand students at any one time, notwithstanding discharges were daily granted to those whose course was completed; but there were always enough new pupils admitted to keep the number at about the same standard. It may be some recommendation for this college to say that some of the smartest men in America graduated there. There were workshops and factories of various kinds connected with the establish- ment, the whole inclosed within solid brick walls eight- een or twenty feet in height. In short, the reformatory was a small city — a world within itself, with all the ^ attending necessities requisite for a habitation in the shape of office buildings, hospital, laundry, dining room, buildings for sleeping apartments, commissary and library buildings, and so on. "When Barney Gray matriculated at this institution of learning it was a little after noon, and after he had donned the regulation suit, he was escorted to the far- 193 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ther end of the grounds, where he was let through a gate into a yard ; this being the playground, so to speak, of the inmates undergoing reform — reform and punishment. It was a grewsome sight that met his gaze. An assem- blage of spiritless, dirty, sparsely clad human beings, lean and hungry looking, loitered about; some lying prone upon the ground, others leaning against posts, while many were sitting sunning themselves, resting their hands upon their knees, and gazing intently on the ground with the steadiness of fishermen watching their dobbers. After looking about him, Barney lined out a beat and began pacing to and fro, while his thoughts — well, his thoughts perhaps can be imagined. He had not been long so engaged when- he was ap- proached by a fellow student, who eyed him narrowly for a moment, then said: "I believe your name is Gray? don't you know me?" "Yes, it seems to me that I do," Barney answered, "if I am not mistaken, your name is Bays, Frank Bays." "The very same." "Why, what in the name of common sense are you doing here?" Barney asked. "I might answer that question by asking you the same," Bays returned, "but will say that I am here for having joined the profesh." Barney Gray remembered Frank Bays from having once sold him game traps; and on one occasion, when passing through the country, he had called at Frank's house, where everything seemed prosperous and com- fortable. "But what has become of your farm? your wife and baby?" Barney inquired. "That is almost too sad to tell — cheese it! — Yes, the officers here are all nice men, especially Warden Fuse and Captain Slide, they treat everybody right, and a fel- low need have no trouble if he behaves himself — see?" The abrupt change in talk and peculiar actions of Frank Bays mystified Barney Gray; so, with a wondering look, he said: "What do you mean?" "Didn't you see that fellow walk along back of me?" Frank asked. "Well, he is one of the pigeons — he ■wanted to hear what we were talking about. If he SCHOOLED SY THE WORLD. 1&3 should hear me tell you anything about my troubles, or say anything against this place, he'd run to the office and tell it. Oh ! this is the school -where you get your wits sharpened,and don't you forget it. You -will find it out, too, before you have been here long. Always be on the lookout for the spies — pigeons we call 'em ; and always speak well of our guardians, no matter how bitterly you may secretly hate them," and Frank Bays looked cau- tiously around. "Come," he said, "let us sit down where we can have a talk and I'll give you some pointers." Selecting a suitable place they seated themselves on the ground with their backs leaning against the wall. It was a great relief to Barney to have some one'to converse with ; it diverted his mind from his own sad and gloomy thoughts. "Tou asked about my farm and family?" began Frank Bays. "Now I will tell you all about myself — how I came to be here, and what I have gone through ; then you may draw your own conclusions. You see that farm didn't belong to me; I only had the owner's consent to settle there. It was this way : I had had a pretty hard time of it, knocking around the world, first at one thing, then another; but I could never make more than just enough to keep body and soul together, and I got mighty tired of it. I always thought if I could only have a little home all to myself somewhere, with a nice wife and a couple of babies to love, I'd be just suited, and the selfish old world might go to the deuce and take care of itself. So while I was working in Sandon — driving delivery wagon for a groceryman — I became acquainted with Sallie Sparkle, the girl I married — you saw her?" "Yes, and a splendid little woman she was, too," in- terjected Barney Gray. "Well," Frank Bays continued, "we seemed to suit one another pretty well, and she was about as tired of her way of living — working around as kitchen girl — as I , was of mine. But we couldn't think of getting married and living in tenements, with no hope of doing any better; we wanted a home of our own, even though it was a poor one, and we both liked the country — we had peen enough of city life. Well, I had been around over 194 sctiooLEb bV fHE World. the country a good deal, and knew where there was plenty of good land nobody was living on, so I rustled around making inquiry to see what I could do. I found that old Grinder owned this land I had my eye on — Grinder, the millionaire, you may have known him? He's dead now; it's a fine thing, too, the world loses nothing when men of his ilk die." Barney nodded his head affirmatively, in recognition of his having known of Grinder. "I hunted up Grinder," resumed Bays, "to see if I could make arrangements with him to buy a piece of ground on easy terms — I had a little money, and Sallie had a couple of hundred dollars saved up — but I found Grinder to be the cleverest man I ever saw. He told me to go ahead and settle on the land; he'd never disturb me — that was what he wanted, he said, j'oung men to make homes for themselves, and he was willing to assist them. If I could ever pay him a little something all right; if not, it made no difference. Well, of course, I went ahead ; Sallie and I got married and we selected that little farm ; put up a house, barn, fences, got some stock, planted things, and were getting along fine " "Yes, I know you were," Barney put in. "Well, then others came," Prank Bays continued, "and settled down on the same terms I did; this made the property more valuable; the price began to go up all around there ; then came the talk of a railroad being put through, and the next thing I was ordered to move ofE the land. I started to the city at once to see Grinder about it; and now what do you suppose that old scoun- drel did?" "Can't imagine," said Barney Gray sententiously. "Why, he stood up and faced me down that he not only never gave me permission to live there, but that he never saw me before in his life! That's what he did! The consequence was that I was fired off bodily by the agents of the law, and broken up entirely. My wife fretted and worried herself until she took sick. Then the baby got sick and died — my wife died a short time after, and that decided things for me. I made a vow that I would never try to earn another dollar by honest SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 195 work so long as I lived, and I intend to keep my word. I converted myself into a sort of a perambulating arsenal and took to the road. That has been my business ever since, and always will be. I was caught, finally, and put in here, but I haven't so much longer to stay but what I can live it out, and then I'll try it again; but the next time I am taken it will be when I'm dead. I shall carry the black flag to the end. I know it's a war against big odds, and I'll get the worst of it at last, but I'll take my chances and sell my life as dearly as possible." "You do seem to have been unfortunate, and were cer- tainly deserving of a better fate; I am very sorry for you, Frank," said Barney. "Oh! don't waste any of your sorrow on me, "re- turned Bays, "keep it for yourself, you'll need it before you get out of here. I see things altogether different now from what I once did," Bays went on. "After a fellow has been victimized and ill-used all on account of a wrong condition of things, is the time when he begins to think and study. Now, I loot at it this way : I am not to blame for being in this world, and if I am willing to till a patch of soil, and do my best to make an honest living by honest labor, 1 have a right to that chance, and this earth belongs to me just as much as it belongs to any other man; I don't care what law says, laws are made by such men as Grinder; and if it is right for Grinder and his class to formulate laws by which they can take possession of the earth, the rain, the sunshine, it is just as right for me to defy such laws and demand what little I need at the muzzle of a shotgun. At all events, my conscience is perfectly easy on that proposi- tion, and when I come to die I can pass off just as grace- fully as any of the rest of 'em, feeling that my chances for a front seat among the angels are quite as good as if I had stolen millions under the protection of the law, as so many others have done." "You are something of a philosopher, Frank, at least," was Barney Gray's laconic reply. "You will be one yourself before long; you will know a great deal more when you leave here than you do now; that is the reason we call these places schools," was Bays' answer. 196 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Do you think I shall ever get out, Frank? I am in for life, you know," said Barney sadly. "Get out?" echoed Bays, "why, certainly you will get out if you play your cards right. Now that shows how little you know of the institutions of your country. Anybody can get out of here that has friends and money ■ — you must understand this is a money-making establish- ment — cheese it! here comes another pigeon." Bays began praising the discipline of the reformatory, contin- uing so to do until the talebearer was out of hearing, when he returned to his former subject. "You are all right," he resumed, "you have got good friends somewhere. Everything was fixed for you before you got here. Do you suppose that if you were a com- mon scrub, who had no friends, you would have been turned in this yard as soon as you came in? No, of course you wouldn't; you would have been locked up in a cell, and to-morrow morning they would have put you to work in one of the shops. The hospital is your billet — you are to be the doctor's clerk; you will be allowed to remain in this yard a day or two until you become initiated, that's all." Barney remarked facetiously that Mr. Bays seemed well informed relative to what was going on. "You bet yer life I am, I know all about this establish- ment; and, before I forget it, " here Bays lowered his voice to a very confidential tone, "I want to give you a pointer on that hospital. Morgan Eoy runs that shop, and he is the worst case you ever saw in your life. Friendship ceased with Eoy long ago; he has no use for anybody ; he'd rob his grandmother and all the rest of his relatives, if he had the chance ; so when you go over there, don't pay any attention to any insulting remarks he may make to you, nor take any notice of anything he may do — just let it pass, it will be the best way ; because if you kick up any fuss with him, he'll down ye — he'll down j'ou sure ! He knows lots more than you do. Ex- cuse me," said Frank, with an apologetic little laugh, "I don't mean to say that you don't know anything, but what I want you to understand is that Koy has been in and out of these schools nearly all his life, and I tell you he's a wonderful man." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 197 "If he is such a hard case I shouldn't think he would be trusted with the responsibility of running the hospi- tal as you say," Barney observed. Frank Bays laughed dryly as he said "'You amuse me, Gray; you see you don't understand. In here a man's character, no matter how bad it is, doesn't tell against him. This is a home for bad people, and the worst ones are of the greatest importance. Now Morgan Eoy is a man of brains ; there is not a better physician or surgeon in the State than he is, and this makes him a useful man in his place; but I'm a telling you to be on the lookout for him — don't get into any trouble with him, for if you do he'll get the best of you; unless you were to kill him outright; and you wouldn't want to do that; and he wouldn't care if you did — for he's like many of us, not in this world because he loves it." Barney said he thought he would be able to get along with Mr. Boy all right. "Tou may think so, but you don't know him. To show you what kind of a fellow he is, I'll tell you what he did here once. He always runs the crook, and is on the steal, no matter where he is. In here he deals in opium, whisky, and that kind of stuff; so our keepers thought to put up a job on him and catch him at it — find out who he dealt with, and all that. They selected two of the trusties — considered the best stool-pigeons there were in the place — and put them to live and sleep in the hospital so as to watch Eoy and report what he did. Well, of course, Roy was on to that game in a minute, so he fairly made love to them pigeons as soon as they made their appearance at the hospital ; he was so glad to have them there, you know, told them what a fine time they would all have together. "Well, sir, the very first night the spotters were in the hospital Boy did them up in fine shape. He fixed up a drink of some kind and got them fellows to taking it, and it made them crazy. All hands started in to make things howl; they broke up the tables, the chairs, every- thing that was breakable; they kicked the stove over, and, finally the hospital was set on fire — Boy did that Jiimself as everybody knew—and such an excitement as 198 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. there was here you neyer saw, they came near burning the whole place up. The fire was put out, though, before much damage was done; then Eoy and the pigeons were fired out of the hospital and locked up in the dungeon. That was what Eoy counted on, but he knew that he could get back again, while the spotters couldn't. It was only a day or two after that a fellow got hurt in one of the shops (green hands are always get- ting caught in the machinery), and the doctor was away, so there was nothing to do but to run for Eoy. He's been in the hospital ever since — does about as he pleases and nobody takes any account of it." "He must be a tough case," said Barney Gray. "You will think so when you come to know him," Frank replied. "How is it, Frank, that you are not at work?" Barney inquired. "That's a little secret," Bays said, "but I don't mind telling you, because you are a man, and have sense enough to attend to your business, I hope. The truth is I work only when I feel like it. When I was a child I had my leg hurt, and it left me with a thick ankle. It never troubles me in the least, but it's a great card for me here. When I don't feel like working I get the rheu- matism so bad I can hardly walk, and get excused by the doctor ; my ankle does it all, you see. A fellow has to study up and learn how to take advantage of all these little tricks, or he can never make out at all in a place like this." "I presume it takes one some time to get the run of things," Barney answered. "Yes, rather; but be careful how you talk and who you talk to. I'll be your friend and give you pointers when you want them ; I'm not quite as bad as Morgan Eoy— not yet; I can still tie to a friend, an' when I find a good man that has been unfortunate and is in trouble he has my sympathy, though it may not be worth much. But I mustn't be talking with you too long at a stretch; the pigeons may give a bad account of us at the oflSce — yonder is Mickey Funk, I'll go and send him over, and you can talk with him awhile. Mickey's all right, he's SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 199 a solid, square man, no sneak nor pigeon about him, he is above that sort of business; so you can talk with him just as you like." So saying, Frank Bays got up, and after making a roundabout course, stopped and held a short conversa- tion with Mr. Punk, who was a big, burly fellow of mid- dle age. Mickey, after Prank Bays left him, made it convenient to walk along where Barney was sitting. He stopped and said "How do you do." He was soon seated at Barney's side, and proved himself a very interesting conversationalist. "Frank Bays tells me you are all right, and that he knew you on the outside," said Mickey. Barnej' admitted that this was true. "This is your first experience in this sort of life, he tells me." "Yes, it's a new departure for me," Barney replied. "How do you like it?" Barney said that he had seen so little of it that he was not prepared to judge, but that the prospects were not very encouraging for liking it. "I remember your case; I read , something of your history; you were trying to deal square with the world. That's all a mistake; no man makes out very well that starts in with the idea of dealing square with the world." Mickey Punk looked in Barney's face to see the effect of his remark. Seeing evidently no change in Barney, he continued: "You will get all that nonsense knocked out of your head by the time you get out of this place. These schools are great institutions for teaching a fellow the ways of the world, and how to think. I couldn't have thought so once, but now I think my line of busi- ness just as honorable as any other." "What is your line of business?" Mr. Punk glanced at Barney Gray for a moment in- quiringly, then said: "I am a thief; you knew that, didn't you? That is the first idea you want to get into your head ; that you are now among thieves. You have been among them all your life, of course, but they worked a little different from what we fellows do. The thieves you have mingled with are constantly plotting and 200 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. scheming how to get the best of their fellow-men, and yet escape the consequences of the law, while those of my class defy the law, take our chances of being caught, and submit to the consequences when we are. Now where is the difference?" Barney said he really couldn't say. "No, not now perhaps," continued Mr. Funk, "but it will be as clear as day, and come to you as natural as life by the time you have been here a year or two. You don't want to judge me, nor men of my kind, by this worthless scum of creation you see around here, and with which all reformatories are mostly filled; many of them are too good-for-nothing to be allowed to live at all — stool pigeons for the keepers when inside, and stool pigeons for detectives when out — while there is another lot of poor, dispirited creatures who have lost their grip. They have no idea of living except by stealing, and yet haven't got nerve enough to tackle anything but an old blacksmith shop, or something of that kind. They should be — as I suppose they would be if man's civilization was worth anything— put in institutions for the treatment of feeble minds. But instead of that, they are held up be- fore the public as the world's hardened criminals. Criminals? the real criminals of this world never see the inside of such institutions as this!" "I suppose you are — that is, you always go for pretty big stakes?" said Barney Gray. "Certainly, that is my line," Mickey returned, "I would have to be very hard up before I would steal pie from a child or pennies from a poor blind woman. You must remember reading about me? I am the fellow who was working on that bank some time ago." Barney said that he had not been in the habit of read- ing criminal news. "You will be more interested in it hereafter. But I am the fellow," Mickey went on, "and I would have got away with a million had I not been nabbed. I was very cautious, too; kept myself out of the way as much as possible, but a stool pigeon spotted me — found out where I roomed, and gave me away to the police; they seta watch on me then, and the jig was up. I got a sentence SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 201 of twenty years, but I'll out that down to about three. My friends are working hard ; they have now a good sack of money together, and will soon get a political pull to working, and that does the business. "Now, by the time you get out of here, you will un- derstand enough of the ways of things to be so embit- tered and disgusted that you will not think of settling down to honest work again, so you can't do better than make up your mind to join our gang. There are nine of us — all good fellows — as true as steel — not a man of them but what would die before he'd squeal on a pard. I had a pard in that bank job, but he got away, and neither the police nor the pigeons knew who he was. I would have been left off with five years if I had peached on my partner, but do you think I'd do anything like that? Not much! So, when you conclude to turn out and join the boys, let me know and we'll take you in." "Well — I will think it over," said Barney Gray, in- wardly amused. "All right," replied Mickey, "we will have plenty of time before I quit here to make all arrangements and have everything understood." Mr. Punk was all seri- ousness, as though he were making a proposition of a most portentous business deal. "These pigeons you spoke of, who are they? what are they? how do they make their living?" inquired Barney. "I thought you knew. Why, they are the riff-raff of large towns and cities, made up of pot-house politicians, tin-horn gamblers, jury fixers, and professional witnesses, pimps, steerers for quack doctors and shyster lawyers — this whole gang of petty thieves stand in with the police and detectives, and try to make themselves useful, so that they will not be disturbed in their own pilferings, and ways of working their wits. They are the filth of crea- tion, and ought, by rights, to be exterminated as fast as they crop up; and yet they are encouraged and sup- ported by what is called the better class." "Do you know this man at the hospital, Morgan Eoy? Frank Bays was telling me about him." "I knew Eoy years ago," Mickey replied. "That is," he continued, "I knew the fellow, but he was going 202 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. under the name of Phillip Green at that time. I believe you are to have a 'posish' in the hospital — which shows you have good friends — but it will be best for you to have as little to do as possible with Boy." "So Bays was telling me." "Boy is smart enough, but he has gone to the ex- tremes in his hatred of the world; he has no use for any- body, except to rob them; he'd steal gingerbread from a blind child, just for the fun of it. But he is not likely to be here much longer; he always gets long sentences, though he is never held a great while." "Must have good friends." "Friends?" echoed Mickey Punk, "the fellow hasn't got a friend in the world ! Everybody is afraid to trust him. He never did anything to me, but I know what he is." "What is his line of — business on the outside?" "Anything at all, where there is a dollar to be stolen. He started out as a safe-burglar, and is said to be one of the finest workmen in that line in the country ; but his pals all dropped him because he was such a double-dyed villain ; he'd rob them, too. I think I'll move — I'll see you again — there is a pigeon that has been eying me for some time." Barney Gray rose also, and went wandering listlessly about the yard. The views expressed by Bays and Funk had confused his mind and turned his thoughts in a different course. He was a stranger in a strange land, and understood not the language spoken by the natives. He would study anthropology ; yes, here was a splendid opportunity for acquainting himself with this scientific subject. At once he began interviewing his fellow pris- oners, and was both pained and amused at the tales that were told. Many proclaimed their innocence of ever having committed any crime whatever ; they were victims of designing men who, by trickery, had brought about their downfall, that they could reap the reward of monej' paid for arrests, convictions, and imprisonments. Poor creatures! Having grown up in a world of crime they seemed unable to discern where crime began, where it left off, or of what it really consisted. Others openly SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 303 boasted, with much gusto, of their numerous escapades; of the many thefts they had committed, and not been caught; of the many times they had been arrested, brought to trial, and defeated conviction; of the long accounts newspapers had given of them; and that now they were only waiting to get free again, when they would be more cautious, and even up matters by stealing much more than they had ever done before. Another class, and this was the most intelligent — to which Frank Bays and Mickey Funk belonged — acknowledged them- selves professional outlaws and desperate men, because of having been cruelly and monstrously wronged by their fellow-men through the instrumentality of law, and that in consequence thereof they would wage war, even though single-handed, against the human race until death should end their career. Barney Gray's idling about the yard was of short du- ration, for the second day after his commitment to the reformatory he was brought in front of Mr. Fuse., the chief guardian, Mr. Slide, the first deputy, and Dr. Peel, the resident physician. He was informed by these keepers that on account of his previous good character, and as he was not a professional criminal, he would be given an easy birth at the hospital, where he should have charge of the doctor's accounts, the dispensary, as well as the entire lower floor of the building. That Morgan Eoy had charge of the wards and the sick, who were kept above stairs ; and that Eoy would attend to the writing of all prescriptions and surgical cases when Dr. Peel should happen to be absent. "And we hope you will get along all rignt and have no trouble with Eoy," said Dr. Peel, as a final caution. 204 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTEE XVII. MORGAN EOT. ,The duties attending the position -whicli was assigned to Barney Gray at the hospital were not at all arduous. Two hours in the morning completed his work for the day, unless something unusual occurred. He was not subjected to any hardships; had a comfortable place to sleep, and his meals were ordinarily good. For the first few days he remained within his prescribed limits, on the lower floor, though he had a growing desire to see Morgan Eoy, and kept constantly hoping that this indi- vidual would come downstairs and show himself; but Morgan seemed to prefer to remain in seclusion. One morning after Dr. Peel had finished with the sick, and Barney's duties were completed for the day, he con- cluded that he would venture above stairs — since there were no restrictions against his doing so — look around, and, if possible, get a glimpse of Mr. Eoy. Going up, he pushed open a door which admitted him to the convalescents' ward, and there in the further corner, beside a stove which had a blazing fire in it — ■ though the weather was not cold — sat Morgan Eoy. An old blanket was drawn over his shoulders, and his feet were incased in well-worn slippers, which were much too large for him. He was holding before his eyes a news- paper, in which he seemed to be much interested. Bar- iTey Gray walked the entire length of the room to where Eoy was sitting, then stood by the stove and rubbed his hands, while he contemplated the man before him. Mor- gan Eoy was pallid and sickly looking. His head was large, though his neck was thin and scrawny, and he had large, yellow, glaring eyes. His hair was nearly white; his frame sadly attenuated. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 205 "And is this the terror of the place?" said Barney- within himself. "Poor fellow! his looks are enough to awaken commiserations within the breast of the most hardened." For the sake of something to say, Barney remarked : "It's a little damp this morning — looks as though we might have rain." Now for the first time Morgan Eoy raised his eyes from his paper, and with voice and look that were cold and clammy, said: "If you are going to make yourself at home in this hospital, I advise you to get a pair of slippers to deaden the fall of those hoofs of yours, and not go stalking over the floor as though you were in a saw mill," he then turned again to his reading. Hearing footsteps enter the floor below, Barney, glad of an excuse to quit this singular, uncongenial man, re- turned below stairs, intending thereafter to let Mr. Koy reign unmolested on the floor above. It was Dr. Peel, accompanied by Dr. Widestep from Sandon, who had entered, and they went up to look at the patients in the sick ward ; and incidentally Dr. Widestep held a short colloquy with Eoy. Weeks passed away without any intercourse between Barney and Morgan, except such words as were necessary. The room where Barney slept was in the corner of the lower floor, where any noise about the front of the build- ing could be easily heard. Quite fre'quently, at the dead of night, he had been disturbed by the sound of low, murmuring voices. What could it mean? Had departed spirits returned and secreted themselves within the walla of the old hospital to talk over their woes? One night he determined to investigate. He rose quietly from his bed, and tiptoed noiselessly to a window, which was near the hospital's main entrance. Placing his ear to the iron bars, Barner Gray, for the first time in his life, indulged in eavesdropping. He soon heard enough to enable him to take in the situation and understand what was going on. Morgan Eoy, had been in the habit of coming stealthily downstairs and holding secret con- verse, at the bars of the iron door with Timothy Goone, the night watchman, who prowled in this part of th© 206 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. grounds. Timothy, as Barney soon detected, was not friendly to the administration, and was very bitter against Mr. Fuse and Slide. He professed to have been despitefully used by them, and was anxious to revenge himself. Mr. Goone, in his present state of mind, was the very man Mr. Boy had long been looking for. He had been coaching Timothy by telling him how, if he would accept his counsel and follow his directions, he could have revenge to his sweet content. "I have seen the newspaper men," said Timothy, "and they will publish your articles fast enough as soon as they feel assured that they are on the right track." "Whist, don't speak so loud," cautioned Morgan Boy, "there is no mistake about the track," he continued, "I have names, figures, days, and dates for everything, be- sides the names of all who can be called as witnesses. That letter I have just given you will convince any one beyond all peradventure that the State is being robbed right and left; and if those men will do as I have directed they can soon convince themselves that I know whereof I speak. I have been at work on this, as I have told you, ever since I have been here, and by keeping on the right side of Jimmy Carrol I have got dates and figures for all transactions between our keepers and the contractors. ' ' "The newspapers are afraid of suits for libel," said Timothy Goone. "They have no occasion to fear that. The point I shall make is that they demand suit for libel in order that an opportunity^be given to prove the truth of the charges, and show up the condition of things as they exist at this institution. It will be the biggest thing on record for the other party," Boy continued, "and they can carry the next election with hands down." "How long before you will be ready to turn your game loose?" inquired Timothy. "Just as soon as Governor Prim recovers from his present illness," replied Boy ; "he is mending now, I hear; pressure must be brought to bear upon him so heavy that he will be obliged to order an investigation." "I'll bet on you, Boy," said Mr. Goone, apparently SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 207 pleased, "I believe you could outgeneral anybody. How do you get on with your new mate here — Gray is his name?" Barney slipped bis hand behind his ear that he might not lose a word of the answer. "Oh! he's a harmless creature," returned Morgan, "quite an innocent child — not very well informed, though he seems to have sense enough to attend to his own busi- ness and not meddle with other people's affairs. I have been holding him at a distance until I could tell what he was made of, but I think I shall begin to be a little more friendly; invite him up and let him take some of my books to read." The hour of night was called, and Timothy Goone hur- ried to another part of the ground where he sounded his call. Morgan Eoy slipped quietly upstairs, and Barney Gray returned to his bed, not to sleep, but to think. The day after this colloquy took place Barney was sitting in his room reading. Hearing a soft step he looked up and beheld Morgan Eoy. "How do you do?" said Morgan. Barney answered that he felt very well. "What are you reading?" "Simply a Sunday-school story — one of the books from the library here." "Must be tiresome." "It is not very interesting." "If you will come with me up to my room," said Mor- gan Eoy, "I have a miscellaneous collection of books there, and you may find something more instructive than what you have." "Thank you, I shall accept that kind invitation." Eoy 's yellow eyes glared a moment. He then said: "It is not necessary for you to thank me at all. The books are as much yours as they are mine; they have been stolen, every one of them." "Yes?" said Barney Gray. "That is," continued Eoy, "the books of this estab- lishment are all donated, and I have it understood with that superannuated old thief, who has charge of the library, that whea books come in I am to see the list 308 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. before it is catalogued, so that I can select any I 'wish and keep them as my individual property." "And he obeys your orders?" "Orders have nothing to do with it," Roy answered; "I simply make a request and he has sense enough to know that, unless he obliges me, if he should fall sick and become an inmate of this hospital he is likely to be car- ried out in a bos." Morgan led the way, Barney following, to his dormi- tory above stairs. This room was partitioned off in one corner of the main apartment, which was the convales- cent ward. Everything in Eoy's sleeping quarters was exquisitely neat and clean ; the floor was covered with a faded carpet; two chairs were in the room, besides a table which contained writing materials, papers, and pam- phlets. His bookcase consisted of a large box, which set upon end against the wall, and in which shelves had been arranged for the holding of books. Over the front of this improvised library hung a curtain of calico, which could be drawn back and forth on a string. Eoy, after he entered his room, drew aside this curtain; displaying a varied assortment of books. There were scientific works, travels, writings of fiction by standard authors, poems, a volume of Shakespeare, the Bible, Lord Ches- terfield's letters, the Junius letters, and a number of medical and surgical works. Barney kept glancing along the shelves, making occa- sional comments, when Morgan, taking down a volume, said: "Here is something I should advise you to read, if you have never done so, 'The Intellectual Develop- ment of Europe, by John Draper.' " Barney said that he had not read the work, and as he believed Eoy was capable to advise what was best to read, he would take the book with him; and he then started to leave, but Morgan requested him not to be in a hurry, and motioned him to a chair. After seating himself, Barney was brought facing Eoy's bed, at the foot of which, hanging against the wall, were two rather odd pictures for one's sleeping apartment. The one was a death's head and crossbones, as repellent and frightful, looking as it was possible to make it ; while the other, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 309 which was larger, and hung beneath the first, represented Death (old Father Time as it is usually called) with his soythe; not, however, as he is generally pictured, stand- ing at easy pose, leaning upon his soythe; but he was actually engaged in mowing down great swaths of men, while off in the distance and all about were hordes of human beings depicted in the greatest terror and agony, endeavoring to flee from the approach of Death. Both pictures were covered with glass and hung in beautifully carved frames. "Some people might say you had peculiar taste in your seleotion of pictures," observed Barney Gray. "Possibly so," said Roy, "but those are my choice. I drew them myself, and made the frames for them. I keep them hanging at the foot of my bed so that my eyes may rest upon them the last thing at night. I see them again the first thing when I open my eyes in the morn- ing. Death is the only friend I have. I love Death. After the strife, dissension, schemes, and trickery of men, all for the purpose of enriching themselves in this world's goods, dear old Death, like an angel of peace, comes along at the end, equalling all things." Barney mused for a moment, not knowing just how to reply, nor what topic of conversation to introduce with this singular man. Presently he bethought himself of something, and spoke thus: "You remember the day Dr. Widestep called here?" Morgan's head gave an affirmative nod. "Well," continued Barney, "he had considerable to say about you after he came downstairs. I heard him talking with Dr. Peel." "Indeed! and what did he have to tell, pray?"' "Why, it seemed he had had some conversation with you, and be was telling Peel that you were one of the most remarkable men he had ever met in his life; that you were so unusually well-informed ; especially in med- icine, surgery, the treatment of rare cases, and all that — • said it was doubtful if in the State a physician could be found as well posted as you; that you could make a good living in any community practicing medicine and sur- gery. It seemed beyond his comprehension that one of SIO SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. your ability should be in the position you are, and lead the life you have lived." "You are at liberty to speak perfectly plain with me," said Morgan Roy, "you mean Widestep couldn't under- stand why I should willingly accept the position of a professional thief V" "Yes, I suppose that is the idea." "Arenot all men thieves to a greater or lesser extent?" "Well — that, perhaps, is a matter of opinion." "Does not the fundamental basis of civilization tend to make liars, thieves, and crafty scoundrels of all mankind? Did you ever know a man to tell the truth when he could make a dollar by telling a lie, thinking he would not be found out? Does not the condition of life, based as it is on competition and self-interest, tend to develop the mean and selfish traits of human nature, instead of kind, merciful, and justice-loving sentiments?" "Well — ^now — that may be the case," said Barney Gray thoughtfully, "but I admit I have not given these questions as much thought and study as you have; though I have been thinking more of late. I myself am a victim of injustice, and am now giving some attention to the study of anthropology." "Oh! indeed," returned Morgan Roy, "so you are studying anthropology? A great many good and wise men are engaged in anthropology, penology, psychology, and I don't know what more; if they would improve their time in inventing a process that would induce man- kind to abide by the principles of justice, their time would be better employed. It is not patent to me that preachers, prelates, so-called statesmen, and Fourth of July spouters are sincere when they boast of the world's great progress, and offer up thanks for the blessings that have been showered upon the human race. Progress! where is the progress? The first step taken by man toward civilization was the individual accumulation of property. Is he not still working on that same step to-day? In consequence of this he has never been able to advance beyond a sort of educated and refined condi- tion of barbarism; nor will he, until he discards the theories and ideas of his barbaric ancestors, which lead SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 211 only along the line of selfishness. We hear a great deal of the progress made by inventions — the labor-saving machines — yet of what good are these inventions to the body politic when no provision is made for the laborer after he has been displaced by the machine? As it is, he is thrown out upon an indifferent, unfeeling world and left to die at his leisure. If this is progression, I should like to have some one tell me what digression is. Wan- dering nomads in days of savagery did as well. They let their aged and decrepit fall by the wayside, to die or live, as best they could; where is the difference? Is it not all one and the same thing?" "From the way you express yourself," said Barney Gray, "I take it that you have not the greatest venera- tion for the Holy Scriptures — the Divine Law — do you pretend to say there is no God?" "God?" echoed Morgan Eoy, "what is God? He is an idea, nothing more." "That is, as I understand it," Barney ventured, "you have an idea of your own?" "No matter," resumed Eoy, "whether it is individual or collective, God is still an idea. I have often thought that all animals, in their superstitious fear, have their idea of a god. The horse, I sometimes think, looks upon man as a god. When I hear a dog in its piteous howls at the dead of night baying at the moon, I cannot but think it is engaged in worship ; supplicating in fear and trembling to a something it cannot understand. Gods, you know, are always shrouded in mystery — held beyond comprehension, for the reason that a god understood is no god at all. "It was perfectly natural, as I understand it, that man, when reason began to dawn on his powers of reflec- tion, should create a god and fall down and worship him. But to civilize the human race to a very high or noble degree upon this idea has proved a decided failure. The whole thing runsto hopocrisy, sham, and deceit; and hypocrisy is the soil in which crime takes root and flour- ishes. It was a wise man who said that he who sub- scribes his belief to those things which he really does not believe, has prepared his mind for the commission of 213 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ~any crime. This constantly growing element of hypoc- risy, coupled as it is, with competition for subsistence, makes it easy for cunning rascals to enrich themselves, while honest simplicity is driven to the dogs. By accepting, as I have, the vocation of a professional thief, I at least show my utter abhorrence and bitter detestation of such a condition of things. "Why should I respect their laws? How can I respect anj'thing which I hold in contempt? "What are their laws for? In great part they are barriers behind which gloating scoundrels concoct their nefarious plots, and shield themselves while rob- bing their fellow-men." Barney was giving close attention to all that was said, while, at the same time, he was contemplating the man before him in a serious train of thought. He embraced the opportunity, as Eoy paused, to make reply. "I agree with you that, for one who tries to live up to hon- est principles, life is a hard road to travel. I remember once bearing a gentleman say — one who had wide experi- ence in mercantile pursuits — that if any man in his line was to be literally honest, he would be sold out by the sheriff in less than six months. Now, this strikes me as a deplorable state of things, but how would you go about making it any better? You seem to have given the ques- tion much thought, and I like to hear you express your views. There is no such thing as making all people equal, for nature has not endowed them all with equal powers of intelligence. It is a very profound question; a hard thing to get at." "In the first place, if I had anything to do with it," Mr. Roy began again, "I should endeavor to so formu- late a government that would recognize its people as citizens, instead of subjects, that every child born should be taught that it has inherited the right to all the com- forts of life and an interest in the land in which it lives. What can be more monstrously, outrageously, and sav- agely unjust than to permit one man to hold thousands of acres of land, purely for speculative purposes, while thousands of his fellow creatures are suffering for the necessaries of life? This does not belong to civilization; it is barbarisni. If civilization ever becomes worth any- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 313 thing, a select few will not be permitted to live in luxury and in idleness, simply by owning properts'. "I would have guaranteed to every citizen, who had adhered to a life of honest industry, care and comfort in advanced years; not as a charity — the true man scorns charity in all its phases — but as his inherited right. Charity is not what the world needs, it is opportunity for willing hands. What is more sad than to see the old and infirm struggling for a bare existence until they fall into the grave? This is not civilization, it is barbarism. When the opportunity is granted to willing hearts and hands, and honest industry receives its just reward, it will then be time enough to talk about penology; and some merciful measure should then be inaugurated for exterminating the worthless, the incorrigible, and the naturally vicious. "Our institutions of learning, which have always been teaching everything except that which man most needs to know, I should change so that nothing should be taught but what is practical and useful. I should not permit the teaching of theories and ideas as though they were demonstrated facts, for this course does not lead to true civilization, as we have abundant proof. True, as you say, people cannot be placed on a footing of equality, but there could be such a thing as justice. If the human race is ever elevated above the semi-barbarism of to-day, it must be brought about by properly educating the young; children must not be lied to and deceived; at school the rising generation will be taught how to be good parents — how to teach their children that they may become good, useful, and true. I should abrogate many of the present foolish, silly laws — especially those called Sunday laws — and substitute for them a law making it a crime to tell lies — especially to children." "Yes," said Barney Gray, "it is very easy to moralize and say what should be and what should not be, but it is a very hard matter to educate a whole community so that it will do and act for what is best." "Nothing would be easier," resumed Boy, "if justice, coupled with the common interest for the good of all, were taken as the guiding star, instead of individual 214 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. greed. Greed has so preyed upon the mind of man that it seems to have driven the world insane. I can't believe that one who has plotted and schemed until he has amassed millions, and keeps on, even in his old age, try- ing to get' a few more dollars, is sane — his mind is diseased." "There is a difference, however, in men, "said Barney. "It is a very sweeping assertion you make by saying all men are dishonest — thieves, as you call them. Now, my father was a man who would wrong no one out of a penny, nor would he tell an untruth, even in an innocent and simple way." "I grant you," assented Mr. Eoy, "there are excep- tions to all rules, and I am sure your father was just such a man as you say ; still when one goes into a bank to get a check cashed, if he happens to be unknown to any one in the house, he is politely reminded that, in the general acceptation of the term, all men are thieves." "Well," replied Barney, "so far as this government is concerned, the trouble would seem to lie with the people. Our forefathers thought to establish a free and independ- ent government by putting the power in the hands of its citizens." "So long as competition, self-interest, and greed remain the motive power, leaving selfishness the basis upon which to work, all declarations of independence and emancipation proclamations are vain. I admit that the proletarian horde is an unthinking class ; still, instead of taking the pains to educate them properly, and teach them what is best for their own interests, the game of their leaders is to cajole, hoodwink, and befool them. I have heard before now, during the excitement of a polit- ical campaign, so-called statesmen take the stump and loudly proclaim the most monumental lies, and yet the proletarians who had assembled to hear them would throw up their hats, hip and hurrah. This unthinking class does not even know that if there were but one polit- ical partyin the country, and it were to be kept contin- uously in power, without a dissenting voice or vote, it would be but a few years until everything under the government in the shape of property would be owned by SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 315 one family. The great mass of people would be allowed to have nothing more than something to eat and some- thing to cover them, for they would all be slaves." Barney had become so much interested, and had been so well entertained, that he could not realize that he was in the presence of a bad man. He had even forgotten the warning given by Prank Bays and Mickey Funk. The bathroom of the hospital was on this floor, and just across in the opposite corner from the room occupied by Morgan Eoy. "Well," said Barney, rising from his chair, "you are certainly a well-informed man, Eoy, and you have given me some new ideas; but I must leave you for this time; I may be wanted downstairs." He glanced at a mirror, which hung against the wall, then looked at his hands, and said: "I believe I'll just step across and take awash before I go down." He took off his coat and dropped it carelessly on Eoy's bed; unbuttoned and turned back his shirt collar; rolled up his sleeves and quitted the room. The door had no more than closed behind him than Morgan Eoy, glancing at the coat, said within himself: "I wonder if that nincompoop has left anything of value in the pockets? He has just about sense enough to do something of that kind." Taking up the coat he exam- ined the pockets ; finding nothing he wanted, he run his fingers along the seams, then felt the padding: "Ah, here is something." Taking from his pocket a surgeon's lancet, which he always carried with him, he quickly cut the stitches and drew forth a ten-dollar gold piece. "Just as I expected." Catching another fold of the gar- ment he examined the padding there; "Something more." The seam was ripped and another ten-dollar gold piece was extracted: "This is a regular bonanza." Turning, he picked up a paper from the table, then passed out and seated himself in a chair at the stove in the main ward. "When Barney returned he took up his coat, saw the rips and discovered that his money was gone. Putting the garment on he went out to where Morgan was sitting. "Eoy," said Barney, "did anyone enter the room after I went out?" 316 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Not that I observed," replied the astute Mr. Eoy indifferently. "Why? anything wrong?" he inquired innocently. "Well — I have been robbed. That is all," Barney answered. "Indeed? Anything of value? You knovr it is against the rules to have money or valuables in your possession." "It was a couple of gold coins," Barney replied, "that a friend of mine, Mr. Masters, slipped in my pocket one time when he was here to see me. I didn't know I had them until after he had gone, and I sewed them up in the padding of my coat for safe-keeping, and now some thief has stolen them." "That is unfortunate," said Mr. Eoy, in apathetic and soothing tone, "though it is very foolish of you to have money in your clothes, and then leave them carelessly laying about, when you know you are in the very midst of thieves." The fellow's coolness was aggravating, and it required an effort on Barney's part to keep from picking him up and shaking him as a dog shakes a rat, and take the money from him by force ; but he hesitated, and thought of the caution given by Bays and Funk; so he turned away, saying "Well, if the thief who has robbed me has any better right to the money than I have, he is welcome to keep it." "A very sensible conclusion to come to, I'm sure," replied the imperturbable Mr. Eoy. When going downstairs Barney Gray passed Jimmy Carrol, who was on his way up to see Morgan Eoy. Bar- ney had never spoken to Carrol, though he had frequently seen him enter and depart from the hospital where he (Carrol) had been holding private converse with Eoy. jimmy had the reputation of being an expert bookkeeper, and was kept as an accountant in the olfice of Mr. Fuse and Slide. He had been committed to the reformatory for a long term, though he was a quiet, unassuming, and apparently a very harmless person. Barney was standing in his own room, gazing out of the window,deeply engrossed in meditation, when a hand was laid lightly upon his shoulder. Turning quickly to gee who it was, he came face to face with Jimmy Carrol, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 317 "I thought I would drop in and have a little talk with you, if you do not object to making friends," said Jimmy, in a voice so low and soft that it was scarcely more than a whisper. "Not at all," Barney answered. Jimmy raised a warning finger: "Not so loud," he cautioned, "you must remember the vers' walls have ears, and a guilty conscience needs no accuser." He then stepped to the door, as lightly as a cat, and glanced cau- tiously out; passing over to the window, he did the same there. "I am always afraid of being followed, and watched," he said, returning to Barney's side. "1 was just up to see Eoy," he pursued, "and he tells me that you were robbed not long since." "He told you that, did he?" said Barney. "Whist! — -not so loud; yes, he told me, and he feels very sorry for you, for he says you are a first-rate fellow — attend to your own business, never carry tales, nor meddle with anybody's affairs. So, as you are that sort of a fellow, I thought if you were hard up and needed any money, I could lend you some until you made another raise; how much would you like to have?" said Jimmy Carrol, at the same time producing a large roll of banknotes and beginning to unfold them. "No, no; thanks, very much, I don't need any money — not now; put that up, some one might come in. Where did you get all that money, Carrol?" "Stole it," was the laconic reply. "What? not in here?" It required no caution now for Barney to speak low ; his voice had fallen to a hoarse •whisper. "Certainly," replied Mr. Carrol innocently, "where else do you suppose?" "Yes — but are you not afraid of getting into very seri- ous trouble?" "Not at all. The' State is rich and can easily stand it." "But I can't see how you manage it." "I sell commissary stores, provisions, and things like that, to the free people, or anybody who has any money, for about half rates — all done on the sly — then fix the books so everything tallies all right." 318 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "But are you not afraid the ofSoers "will catch you at it?" "Oh, they know it, but never let on; you see they are on the steal too, and they know that I know it. The few paltry dollars I pocket are as nothing in comparison to the swag they get away with. So long as I keep the books straight I'm safe. " Here the wily whispering Mr. Carrol paused in his talk long enough to move to the door and glance out. "I thought I heard a noise," he said, returning; "1 have to be very careful; my precep- tors never like to have me talk with any one^ — ^especially suspicious characters such as Eoy. They are dreadfully afraid of Eoy. I have some little matters of business with him — all on the sly — ^and whenever I come in here to see him, I have to frame some plausible excuse. This time my liver was troubling me, and I had to come in and get some medicine." Jimmy then produced a small bottle, which was filled with a colored liquid, and held it up for inspection. "I don't know what it is," he resumed, "but I wouldn't touch my tongue to it for fifty dollars. Eoy fixed it up for our guardians, in case any of them should get suspicious and want to taste it; so I know it must be worse than lightning, for Eoy's a daisy. Now I'll tell you a little secret; no one knows anything about it but Eoy and me. He is going to blow this institution up higher " "What! blow it up?" demanded Barney Gray. "Don't get frightened, I mean he is going to expose it — write it up for the newspapers, and make such a sensa- tion and disturbance that the administration will have to pardon him out in order to hush it up! and he takes me with him ; that is our compact. I give him pointers for his expose, and he makes them pardon both him and me. Eoy is the greatest man in the world. I'd give anything if I had the nerve he's got. You are in luck, having him here with you; you couldn't find a better man to give you pointers and teach you how to play your cards." "Some of the boys don't like Eoy," interposed Barney. "They don't understand him; he's the best fellow — ■ why, he would do anything for me! But I'm staying too long," said Jimmy, changing the subject, "and I SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 219 must be going. Now, if you ever want to borrow any money, call on me; or if you ever want anything for your own personal use out of the commissary — no matter what it is — let me know, and you can have it without costing you a cent." "You are very kind," Barney said. "Don't mention it; great misfortunes make us won- drous kind, you know," so saying, Jimmy Carrol, the forger, with his bottle of medicine in his hand, made his adieu. Barney Graj* took to pacing the floor to and fro, while he reviewed in thought the lessons he had learned. One Sunday, Mr. Dimes, who was the resident chap- lain, was absent from the prison, and the religious serv- ices were held in the chapel under the auspices of a delegation from the Band of Hope, a religious organiza- tion of some prominence. The delegation was led by Sister Fonds and Brother Bonds, who, soon after they arrived upon the grounds, appeared at the hospital in quest of Mr. Eoy. After they had goneEoy came down- stairs. He was clean shaved; had on a white shirt, collar, and white tie. His coat was a short sack of black alpaca. He presented a very clerical appearance, and had a very sanctimonious cast of countenance. As he was passing out he met Barney Gray, to whom he said : "Are you going to attend services to-day?" Barney replied that he had not thought of doing so. "You had better come along," Koy returned. "I intend to take an active part in the meeting. Sister Fonds is very desirous that I should deliver a discourse — thinks that, coming from me, it will have a better effect upon the minds of the depraved." "Oh, well, if that's the case," Barney said, "I'll attend; I should like to hear you preach; but I can't go right now — I'll be there soon, however." "Then I shall not wait for you," Morgan said, as he passed on. It turned out that Mr. Eoy had been in the habit of delivering religious discourses at the solicita- tions of members of the Band of Hope, whenever they chanced to visit the reformatory. When Barney entered the chapel, which was an apart- 230 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ment in conjunction witli the library, and kept specially for religious meetings, exercises had already begun, and the congregation was engaged in singing. Mr. Eoy was upon the platform behind the pulpit, and seated in the large chair which on such occasions was usually occupied by Chaplain Dimes. When the hymn was ended, Mr. Koy rose to his feet, cleared his throat very properly, took a sip of water, and drawing his handkerchief across his mouth, began : "My discourse this morning must necessarily be very impromptu, as I have had no time to make any prepara- tions ; for it is only a few minutes since Sister Ponds and Brother Bonds called upon me to request that I assist them in to-day's devotions. Therefore, lean do nothing more than make a few extemporaneous remarks, and I have chosen for my text the twenty-first verse of the four- teenth chapter of Deuteronomy." He then proceeded by reading the verse he had designated, and stating, paren- thetically, that he had selected this passage of Scripture for the reason that he knew from long experience and association with the criminal classes that many were dis- posed to take exceptions to Divine Law because of the want of a proper understanding of the writings. After making this explanation he went on to tell who and what the strangers and the aliens were, and why the Lord had directed that they should be fed upon that which was unclean or had died of itself. Mr. Eoy's language was flowery and pleasing; his face wore a very sincere and ministerial expression, while his voice had a touching intonation; thus making his remarks very impressive — especially upon the members of the Band of Hope. Mor- gan Eoy seemed to be perfectly at home in the pulpit, and it is doubtful if any teacher of Divinity in all Chris- tendom could have given a better explanation of what the Lord meant — giving .the reasons and the whys and the wherefores for His dictating this passage of Scripture^ — ■ than did this amateur preacher, Mr. Eoy. In his prayer he was exceptionally circumspect; plac- ing his hands in front of him, touching together the tips of his fi.ngers and thumbs, he prayed with such mani- festations of feeling and sincerity as to bring tears to the SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 321 eyes of several of the members of the Band of Hope. He invoked the blessings of the Lord upon Sister Fonds and Brother Bonds for the good work they had done in bring- ing the wa.vward back to the paths of righteousness ; he besought that those who were still going the ways of the ungodly should be leniently dealt with; and prayed that He in His great mercy, would open their eyes that they might find their way back to the fold; to become mem- bers of the chosen ones; to enjoy bountiful feasts with the rich and the good; so that they would no longer be looked upon as strangers and aliens, and be fed upon that which was unclean or had died of itself. If there was anything ironical in Mr. Boy's sermon or prayer, it was managed with such masterly tact that no one could detect that such was the intention. When Mr. Boy had taken his seat Sister Fonds stepped upon the platform and begged the audience to bear with her a moment while she made a few pertinent remarks. She then thanked Morgan Boy from the bot- tom of her heart for his very able address, and compli- mented him upon his ability in explaining in such a lucid manner those passages of the Holy Book which were so little understood by many of the ablest scholars. "But," pursued the good lady, "I was very much pained to see, while Mr. Eoy was speaking, that many of you were indulging in sly winks and grimaces, which indicated that you were not taking to heart the words which he intended for your good. No doubt some of you feel grieved that Mr. Eoy has forsaken your ranks; that he intends when he goes out again to mingle with the great world (which I sincerely hope may be soon), he intends to become an earnest worker in the Lord's vineyard. But let me tell you, one and all, that if you will only become penitent and humbly seek forgiveness, God in his goodness will do as much for you as he has done for our friend Mr. Eoy." Brother Bonds then took the floor and gave a few words of good advice; beseeching those of hardened hearts to follow the example of Mr. Eoy, and receive everlasting life. After the services were dismissed, and Barney Gray 232 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. had returned to the hospital, he was soon joined by Mor- gan Eoy, who inquired: "Well, what did you think of the sermon?" "That sermon was immense," returned Barney, "it interested me more than any religious discourse I ever heard in my life." "And my prayer ? how did yoa like that?" Eoy asked. "The prayer was capital; accorded with the sermon perfectly — but, see here, Eoy, I'd like to ask you one thing?" said Barney Gray. "You are at liberty to ask me anything you wish," re- turned the self-confident Mr. Koy. "Why do you deceive and befool those harmless, inno- cent people in that way? What good does it do you?" "What good?" eohoed Morgan Eoy, with a look of astonishment; "what good does hypocrisy do anybody ? The most successful men of the world succeed by deceiv- ing and befooling people. I may want to use the Band of Hope some day." "Oh, yes, yes, I see, how very stupid I am," said Barney Gray. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 3S3 CHAPTER XVni. AN EXPLOSION. Thbee weeks passed away without anything occurring to disturb the even tenor of those who figure in this history. Then, one day, it was observed that consider- able uneasiness was manifested among the officials of the State prison. Mr. Fuse went bustling about from one place to -another with rapid strides, and seemed much agitated; while Mr. Slide walked with measured time, his head bent forward, and apparently in serious contem- plation. The Flashing Blade, a Sandon newspaper which was run in the last election, was not permitted to be brought inside the walls. This restriction, however, did not pre- vent Mr. Morgan Eoy from coming downstairs with a copy of the Blade in his hand and handing it to Bar- ney Gray, saying, as he did so: "Here is this morning's Blade; it contains quite a sensational article reflecting on the management of our institution. You can read it and then return the paper to me." Barney foolishly, or at least thoughtlesslj', asked Mor- gan how he came to get possession of the Blade, to which Eoy replied that the wind blew it over the wall. The article referred to was over a column in length. It was very artfully written ; making no direct charges against any one, but was more a tissue of suggestions, insinuations, and innuendoes. It wound up, however, by stating very pointedly that if there should be an investi- gation, both dishonesty and incompetency could be easily proved against the prison officials. The next day the Town Gryer, the organ of the incum- bent administration, took the Blade to task for its 334 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. cowardly way of casting imputations upon honest men, and advised that the editor be sued for libel. After this all was quiet for about two weeks; then a veritable bombshell exploded in the camp of the trusted officials connected with the reformatory. In several papers appeared notices relative to the prison, charging mismanagement, inefficiency and dishonesty, on the part of those in charge. The Flashing Blade came out the strongest. In its article, which was a scathing one all through, it concluded by giving the names of Fuse, Slide, and several other officials; stigmatizing them as thieves; supplementing this with a demand for libel in order that an opportunity might be given to prove them thieves. All newspapers throughout the State then took the matter up, and united in demanding an investigation. Those in the interest of the administration wanted an investigation that the falsity of the charges could be shown, while the opposing faction called for an overhaul- ing of things that guilt might be proved. There was great consternation among the chief guardians at the reformatory. They believed themselves in imminent dan- ger, for the reason that statements in the newspapers had been made with so much truth and accurracy that they knew that whoever was at the bottom of the expose, was well-posted and knew that he had them in his power. After holding consultations they concluded that their enemy was some one within their immediate limits, and suspectod that Jimmy Carrol must know something about him. Poor, trembling Jimmy was pounced upon, and im- precations and threats frightened him into making a con- fession. He begged for mercy and pleaded his inno- cence, saying that he had had nothing to do with it, but Eoy was the man who did it all. Mr. Fuse, on hearing this, started on a double-quick for the hospital; and then Mr. Slide, who had taken his hands out of his trousers pockets, was soon seen to follow on a run. He tripped twice, in his hurry, going up the hospital stairs, but he reached Roy's room just in time to grasp the stick whjeb Mr, Fh89 had wsed to strike Poy over the head, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 235 "What would you do?" demanded Slide, wresting the stick from his superior's hand; "let you have rope enough and you'd hang yourself; that is no way to go about settling this affair. Sit down." Mr. Fuse seated himself as commanded, and Mr. Slide reclined on Morgan's bed. Then, turning to Eoy, with a sardonic smile, he said: "How much money did you make, Morgan, by writing up all that news for the papers?" "My services were given gratuitously," replied Eoy, with perfect serenity. "You ought to start a paper of your own; you'd be a success in the news business." "I may think about it after you gentlemen have set me at liberty," returned Morgan. "That's what you are after, is it?" "Certainly, what else do you suppose?" "If I had my way," exclaimed Fuse, "I'd hang you by the neck, before " "Shut up!" commanded Slide, "Morgan and I can talk this thing over without any interference from you. But you ought to know that we have not the power to turn you loose," said Mr. Slide, speaking again to Eoy in his smooth and gentle tone. "And you ought to know better than to speak in that way to me, Mr. Slide; "I know perfectly well what I am doing," answered Mr. Eoy, "and you know what I ex- pect of you. Permit me to explain my position, Mr. Slide," continued Morgan, turning to the chief superin- tendent, "so that we may arrive at a proper understand- ing of the situation. Now, here I am, a poor, unfortunate creature, without friends, with a bad reputation, and committed to this institution for a long term of years. In what other was' could I go about getting rele.ased from here, except by making it to somebody's interest to get me out? Had I gone to you, or to Mr. Slide, or to our board of directors, or the governor, simply making a request to be set at liberty because life here is unpleas- ant and irksome, any one of you would have driven me from your presence with scorn. I sincerely hope you do not look upon me as your enemy, such is not the case. I 226 SCHOOLEt) BY THE WORLD. haTe e7«r spoken of you all in terms of praise; you Lave always treated me exceedingly well — much better than I had any right to expect, and in my consideration for you I have been very guarded in all that I have done. All this newspaper stuff amounts to nothing. "When I am out of the way nothing can be proved, all the evi- dence goes with me. Of course, as you well know, under the circumstances, you are powerless to inflict punish- ment upon me. By so doing you would simply be cut- ting your own throats; for the whole community would cry out against you, while sympathy would be with me; and it is very fortunate that Mr. Slide arrived in time to grasp your stick and prevent your doing me bodily harm." "That ia what I followed him up here for," interjected Mr. Slide. "Carrol has been posting you in a great many things," said Fuse; "how did you manage to work him?" "I don't know that it is necessary to speak of that," Eoy replied. "Yes,it is, fori want to know, "demanded the superin- tendent. "Jimmy has confessed to you, of course; I knew he would after you took him to task," said Eoy, "and, to oblige you, I will say that I led Jimmy to believe that, if he assisted me in working the thing up — gave dates, figures, and names of those cognizant of certain facts — I would demand his pardon also ; but this cuts no figure, for I have no further use for Jimmy now, so he can go to the devil." "But," said Mr. Fuse, "suppose we go to work on the governor and get him to let you out, what guarantee have we got that you will not do us injury after you are let loose?" "Have I not just said," replied Morgan Eoy, "that I am not your enemy? I have no desire to see you re- moved from this position ; I prefer you should have it to any one else I know; all I am after is to make it to your interest to get me out of the way — it is perfectly legiti- mate — simply a matter of business; besides suppose I wanted to stigmatize you after I was at liberty? It SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 2^1 would not be to my interest to do so ; you know very well that you and Mr. Slide, backed as you are by all your political friends, could very easily have detectives and stool-pigeons put up a job, swear crime against me, and bury me so deep within prison walls that I would never have the chance again to save my own life. That sort of thing is often done, you know." "So," said Mr. Fuse, "unless we get you out, you intend to make all the trouble for us you can, do you?" "It would certainly be to my interest to do so, because if you folks don't set me at liberty, your enemies will, see?" explained the astute Mr. Koy. Mr. Fuse did not see just as Morgan desired he should at this time, but he saw very clearly later on. "Well," said Mr. Slide, rising, "there is no use say- ing anything more about it now; we'll see you again, Morgan, and in the meantime just leave off writing for the press." "It will not be necessary to do any of that," replied Eoy, with perfect unconcern. The agitation relative to the management of the State's penal institution was kept up by the newspapers until finally the governor issued a manifesto directing that an investigation be made. For this purpose he appointed a committee of four of the best citizens, two from each political party, allowing these four to select a fifth, mak- ing a committee of five in all. It was then that Morgan Eoy became a subject of much solicitude from State ofiScials; not only those immediately connected with the prison, but members of the legislature and other profes- sional politicians. Not a day passed but he was visited by one or more autocrats of authority, and the noted safe-burglar, house-breaker, and all-around thief seemed suddenly to have risen to a personage of much more than ordinary importance. One day a trusty came to Roy's room, spoke a few words to him, and returned to the main office, whence he had come. Soon after, Morgan, carrying a few per- sonal effects on his arm, came downstairs and went in to see Barney Graj'. "you are at liberty to take possession of everything I 328' SCHOOLED BY THE WORLt)/ have left in my room," Koy said, "I can't take them ■with me, and I advise you to see to the library at once, or some of the books may be stolen." "What!" exclaimed Barney Gray, "you are not going to leave us?" "Yes," replied Morgan, "my pardon has just come." "But upon what grounds are you released, if I may ask?" "I really do not know," Eoy answered, "I have not yet seen the pardon, but I presume it is on account of my dying condition. The State officials are very merci- ful and kind, they don't like to see me die immured in such a bastile as this, so they have returned me to the arms of my friends, who are waiting to receive me and take care of me for the rest of my life. I wish you well, Gray ; if I had never known any worse men than you, my life would have been different. Good-by," and Morgan Eoy extended his hand. Barney caught hold of it, but released it almost in- stantly ; it felt so much like something dead. The departure of Morgan Eoy left additional duty on the hands of Barney Gray, who by this time had obtained considerable knowledge of surgery and medicine. He took possession not only of the books and other effects left by Morgan, but of the room also; it being more desirable than the room be had been previously occupy- ing. The next day but one after Eoy was pardoned, Jimmy Carrol became a patient of the hospital, and under Bar- ney's care. Jimmy had suffered much, both in mind and body, since the expose had been made, and he was now completely prostrated. He had a sad tale of ill-usage to tell; of how he had been closely confined, and not allowed to speak to any one. Language was not sufficient for him to express himself when he spoke of that bloody scoun- drel, as he termed Morgan Eoy, and told of how he had been played upon and deceived by him. The second day after Jimmy Carrol had been taken into the hospital, Barney Gray was sitting at his bedside, and he was talking in his usual way, when footsteps were heard coming upstairs. Immediately upon hearing this, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 229 Jimmy closed his eyes, dropped his lower jaw and assumed a heavj' breathing, as though in deep sleep. The door opened and Fuse and Slide entered. Walking up to where Jimmy lay, they both looked at him with searching interest. "He seems to sleep well," said Mr. Fuse. "Does he ever talk in his sleep?" inquired Mr. Slide. "Not that I have heard," replied Barney. "Well, see that he don't talk to anybody," said the superintendent. After the two had gone out and their footfalls had died away, Jimmy opened his eyes and inquired anxiously : "Are they gone?" "Yes," said Barney, "they have left." "Sure?" "Oh, yes, I heard them go out on the walk." "Do you know what them fellows did?" Jimmy said. "No." "Why, they stole all my money from me. They said I could have kept it had I not given them away to Eoy." There was great activity at the reformatory preceding the investigation. Everything was undergoing a gen- eral renovation and being put in first-class order. An extra stock and better quality of provisions was laid in for the prisoners, while at the superintendent's house preparations were made for feasting and drinking. The officials were getting in readiness to prove their inno- cence of malfeasance, and show the excellent condition of the institution over which they presided ; still, they brought no suit for libel against the Sandon Flashing Blade. S!30 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD: CHAPTEK XIX. THE INVESTIGATION. The committee of investigation was met at the railroad station by the -warden's private carriage, and driven directly to his house. They seemed in no haste about beginning -work, for the first day was spent in dining and wining on the choice viands and liquors which had been procured for their special benefit. On the second day they commenced their arduous task of examining into the condition of the State's penal insti- tution. They were taken in charge by Mr. Fuse and Mr. Slide, who escorted them through the various offices, to let them see how nice and clean they were Then the committee was taken to the workshops and had their attention specially called to the close attention every pris- oner gave to the task at which he was engaged. The stone quarry, the tannery, the laundry, the hospital, the library, ^ll were visited, then came the culinary depart^ ment. Here it was shown how very bright and clean the pots, pans, and kettles were kept, and the investigators were requested to look at the meat, bread, coffee, and beans. They examined the benches and tables in the large dining room; then tramped along the balconies of the cell building, and saw in what good condition the sleeping quarters were; and, while passing through the grounds from place to place, one of the inspectors him- self remarked how scrupulously clean the walks were swept. Everything proved to be in excellent condition, and the committee scratched their heads, rubbed their noses, and looked exceeding wise. On the third day they assembled in executive session, and were prepared to go to the very bottom of things, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 231 for they had employed secretaries, stenographers, door- keepers and dispatch-carriers. Besides, they had sum- moned many persons from all kinds and classes of men, to appear and give testimony and suggest ideas for devising the most speedy and eflScient method of making dishonest people truthful and good. Consequently, there was brought together a large number of eminent scholars, including penologists, psychologists, philanthropists, physiognomists, and many other "ists" too numerous to mention; while there were also many natural philoso- phers of both high and low degree. Among these were judges, lawyers, doctors, merchants, detectives, and policemen ; for this was to be a most thorough investiga- tion, and the committee had reasoned, as it may be sup- posed, that if dishonesty really existed among the prison officials, it was because their dispositions had been ruined by being brought in contact with convicted felons. So they were determined, if possible, to find ways and means of reforming these criminals who cause all the trouble in the world. An expert accountant was also employed to go over the books, and see that all v/as straight in that quarter. The court was called to order and an invitation given for those who had charges to prefer to come forward and present them ; but no one responded, for the reason that there was no one present who knew that any wrong- doing had been committed. Mr. Koy was absent, as was Timothy Goone, the night watchman, who had taken his departure the day after Morgan Eoy was pardoned, and had not been seen about any of his usual haunts since. However, this did not deter the committee from proceeding with the investigation. Warden Fuse was requested to take the witness stand, and was closely questioned. He admitted before his testimonj' was all in, that he had discovered pilfering from the State had been carried on by certain prisoners, whom he had been obliged to give positions of trust in the way of keeping books, receiving goods, and so forth. Mr. Fuse stated very frankly, yet in a modest way, that he was naturally of a very trusting and unsuspicious dis- position, and that he had probably been a little lax in his 333 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. attention to the thieving waj's of the vicious characters under his care; but he promised to be more cautious in this respect in future. He then volunteered the informa- tion that the proper thing to do would be for the State to make an appropriation sufficient to employ free men in all positions of trust, so that superintendents of reforma- tories should not be obliged to depend upon natural born thieves for clerks and assistants. This part of Mr. Fuse's testimony was printed in italics in the commit- tee's official report. When Mr. Slide took the stand he corroborated his superior in every particular, and was even stronger in his supplementary statement relative to the thieving pris- oners. He said: "So long as we are obliged to have convicted thieves for assistants in our offices, slanderous reports are always liable to get abroad reflecting upon our honesty. I myself took two hundred dollars away from one of the trusties which he had stolen from the State." When Mr. Slide made this announcement all within hearing looked perfectly thunderstruck. A special note was made of it, and it also appeared in italics in the official report. Jimmy Carrol said the amount taken from him was seven hundred dollars, but then it is not to be supposed that his account would agree with Mr. Slide's. That the committee was sincere in trying to do some good by investigating the condition of the reformatory, there was no doubt, for they even had circulars struck off containing questions, leaving blanks for the answers, and these were ordered to be distributed among the prison- ers, that they might lend their aid in solving the great problem of reformation. This act showed how much the committee knew about the institution they were called upon to investigate. In the first place, circulars were given to stool-pigeons, and to those who it was known would answer all questions favorably to the institution. In the second place, if there had been a general distribu- tion, none but the feeble-minded would have given them any attention; the more intelligent class of prisoners would have thrown them aside without a thought. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 233 Nevertheless, the investigation dragged its weary viay along, and the newspapers kept the public informed how matters were progressing. When the account published was favorable to the management, the papers were allowed within the walls; when derogatory, they were not permitted inside the gates. The Flashing Blade at the very outset pronounced the whole thing a farce, and advised discharging the committee and saving ex- penses, for the reason that those who were in a position to prove theft and other wrongdoing had, some of them, been spirited out of the way, while others had been coerced into silence; and yet no suit was ever instituted against the Blade for libel. It was six weeks before the investigation was brought to a close, and it was a complete success — that is, for the individual who was instrumental in bringing it about. Many thousands of dollars had been expended, but Mr. Koy didn't care a rap for that; he got his freedom, and that was all he expected. In due course the committee's official report made its appearance. It was very voluminous, and would take too much space if it were given in detail. Suffice it to say that it contained the information that the State's penal institution was a model of perfection in every respect; that the people had good reason to congratulate them- selves on having their interests so well looked after as had proved to be the case in this particular instance. Disparaging comments were made on the congregate and espionage system of conducting reformatories, but this was no fault of the managers of this institution under consideration, as they had been found by the committee to be gentlemen of irreproachable character. Eegret was expressed that criminals were not reformed as quickly as might be desired, but the public had no occasion for complaint on this ground, because much progress was being made in this direction, and the time could not be far distant when crime would be listed among the things of a barbaric past; then all would be good citizens and live in contented bliss without fear of having honest earnings stolen away. The gentleman who exported the books in his report 234 SCHOOLEU BY THE WORLD. made the announcement that the books were the nicest, cleanest, and kept in a condition of such marked exact- ness that he considered them worthy of special com- mendation. He had found but one little discrepancy, a matter of two cents, but as this shortage was in the State's favor, there was no ground for any complaint. No one read the official reports with more earnest atten- tion than did Barney Gray. He even re-read them ; thought and studied over them. They were not supposed to be circulated among the inmates, but Barney had been provided with a copy by -his friend, Frank Bays, who was an inveterate gatherer of general information, and took great interest in keeping Barney posted. Mr. Barney Gray, in consequence of his pleasant and affable manner, had become a sort of confidential adviser and private secretary for many of his fellow prisoners. Many were the questions he was called upon to decide; many were the letters he wrote, and he drew up and cor- rected others to be copied. It afforded him pleasure to befriend those who had no one else to befriend them, and for this the unfortunate creatures were most grateful. They stood ever ready to steal anything they could lay their hands on and pass it over to their friend Gray. Barney, it may be observed, was becoming lenient toward criminals. One morning Mickey Funk called at the hospital under the pretense of wanting medicine for a cough ; but in reality he wanted to have a talk with Barney Gray, whom he called aside, out of hearing from all others, and said : "Well, Gray, how are you making it?" Barney answered that he was getting along as well as could be expected. "Have you made up your mind yet to join us?" Barney replied that he was hardly prepared as yet to decide. "I wish you were," said Mickey, "for I am going out to-morrow, and if you could let me know for sure, I'd tell the boys and we'd all pitch in and get you out of here." "What! have you got your pardon?" inquired Barney. "Yes," returned Mickey, "I got a despatch last night that it was on the way, so it will get here by to-morrow, " SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 235 "What are the grounds upon which your pardon is granted?" "There are no grounds in the case," Mickey said, with a slight look of surprise, "I don't know what reason will be given — ill-health, I suppose, or something like that." "Who got the pardon for you?" "Oh, the boys worked it; Fatty McGuffin, of New York, worked a political pull on some politicians here, and then it took some money ; these fellows had to be pieced for their influence," here Mickey signaled with bis head in the direction of the main office, "and the governor's secretary had to have a piece, and several others; bat it didn't cost more than five hundred dollars all told, and that was dirt cheap. I expected it would cost about twelve hundred, but times are a little hard now, and prices are coming down. I'm sorry," Mickey continued, "that you are not ready to say what you want to do. You are just the kind of a man that would suit us, and as for you, why you couldn't get in a better gang. The only trouble is we are all known to the police all over the country." "What use, then, would I be?" Barney inquired. "Why, don't j'ou see," resumed Mickey, "you are not known, and that's the beauty of it. You'd be a silent partner. It often takes a year or two to work up a good case. Now, you not being known, you could rent a store or an office next door to a bank, or some place where wealth is kept, and get the lay of things; then put us fellows on — we'd do the job through your place^ — rob your safe too — of course, you'd have to have a safe ; so, you see, you wouldn't be taking any big chances, while you'd always get your share of the swag; lean guarantee you that, for the boys are all dead square." "That would be a pretty good scheme," Barney said, "but I can't give you an answer now, Mickey, for the reason that, in case I get out, I have several things in view." "That's all right, everybody wants to do the best he can; but you'll never have a better offer than this I make, I tell you that. But I can't stay much longer, so let's have things understood. If you should ever decide 336 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. to go in with me, you write me a letter — but don't mail it from this place — and direct it to Fatty McGuffin'a saloon, New York, and I'll get it, and I'll find some way to let you hear from me on the Q. T. " "Fatty McGufQn's saloon. New York," repeated Bar- ney Gray, "is that all that is necessary?" "Oh, yes," returned Mickey, "everybody in New York knows Fatty McGuffin, he's a big politician there." "All right, I will remember that." "And may we meet again, my boy, so good-by in case I don't see you in the morning," and Mickey Funk caught Barney's hand in a Tise-like grip, giving it a shake of brotherly affection. Writing letters has ofttimes proved to be an unfortu- nate business, as many people know to their sorrow. In these missives one is prone to give full sway to his feel- ings and express his honest thoughts; and expressing honest thoughts does not always redound to one's best interests. It was about this time that Barney Gray wrote a letter to his friend Clay Masters, in which he commented on the investigation, and made some dispar- aging remarks reflecting discredit upon some of the best men in the State. The quoting of a few sentences will suffice to give the tone of the whole of his letter. "It is impossible for you to conceive. Clay," he wrote, "what a change one undergoes after he has spent a year or two in one of these institutions. He begins to think about and reason upon so many things to which his atten- tion bad never before been called, and he wonders who the criminals of this world really are. I have become convinced that those who pule over religious homilies to school children on Sunday, then engage in schemes and tricks to further their own selfish interests on Monday, are doing more to poison the atmosphere of human life and turn man against his fellow man, than all the bur- glars, highwaymen, pickpockets, and sneak thieves in creation are doing. Justice, and everything in the shape of honesty, seems to be the policy of our best men, all right enough, but not their principle. The investiga- tion of this institution was a farce from beginning to end. So long as it is to the interest of those most interested SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 237 and best informed to conceal instead of divulge the truth investigations are useless things. I have read the com- mittee's report, as well as some of the quarterly reports of those in charge here, and the comparison between these reports and the condition of life as it really exists in this place would be laughable were it not so sad." This letter, as was proved by subsequent events, went no further toward its destination than Mr. Fuse's private oflBce. It was one of the rules of the reformatory that all letters be inspected, and when one was found to con- tain objectionable matter, such as was considered im- proper for a prisoner to write, the offender would be called to account and receive a lecture in ethical culture; but nothing of this kind was done with Barney Gray, despite the fact that his letter was pronounced a most improper one. It was first read by the mail-inspector, who passed it over to the superintendent, who read it once to himself, then over again aloud in the presence of several of his subordinates; and condemnation was unanimous. Barney Gray was unhesitatingly pronounced the most dangerous criminal in the institution ; so his letter was put away securely in Mr. Fuse's private desk. Barney kept on the even tenor of his way. He did not fail to observe that he received frowns whence smiles formerly came; still no indignities were put upon him, and he was even allowed more latitude about the place than ever. It was made a part of his duty to go outside the walls, off to the vegetable garden and dig potatoes and procure vegetables for hospital use, without guards ever molesting him, or seeming to give him anj' attention. And his monotonous life dragged its weary way along. ^38 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTEE XX. THE BLACK EANGEB. It was in the dead of night; a prowler emerged from his lair in the forest. He stood for a moment in the pale moonlight, looking about him as though undecided which course to take. He was dressed in blue jeans, much the worse for wear, and had the appearance of a laboring man, though he carried a shotgun and an old bag which contained a sledge, a hand-ax, and two iron wedges. He started, picking his way cautiously, but with hurried step, through the mountain fastness, while he was alert to every sound, and stopped with listening ear, at any unusual noise. On, on, he went, over rocks, through splashing streams and brush, until he came to a point on the public highway leading through the forest pass. Here he dropped his bag and took from it ax, the sledge, and wedges; these he i)laced at the side of the road and covered them with dry leaves. Then he adjusted over his head a mask, an improvised affair of black cloth with holes cut for the eyes, nose, and mouth. He then secreted himself behind a tree and waited. Looking up at the moon and stars, he muttered some inarticulate words, which must have been uttered to the wind, for it then, as though in answer, sighed most dismally through the trees. Drawing an old-fashioned silver watch from his pocket he held it in a ray of the moon to see the hour of night. "It is time the stage was here, I wonder if anything has happened," he said within himself; and the wind moaned more sadly still. Who is this man, you say? He was a highway robber whose very name for years had been a terror to all who SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 339 were obliged to travel the public highways. The reward offered for his capture, dead or alive, was large, and everything the brain of man could conceive of had been resorted to in hope of running down this bold knight of the road, but not the slightest clew could be ascertained that would lead to his detection and arrest. He appeared at times and places when least expected, as though he had dropped from the clouds; he would rob stages, carry ofE the booty, and disappear as effectually as if the earth had swallowed him. No one could be found who had so much as seen him, except when in disguise, and this in the dead of night. The stage which he waited for wended its way along. The treasure-box was heavily guarded by men who were ready to shoot on the slightest provocation. Eobberies had been so frequent of late that extra precaution was taken, and the guards had doubled. Suddenly, like an apparition, there appeared before them in the road the form of a man, and a determined voice rang out com- manding, "Halt!" then the click of a gun was heard. "The Eanger! look out for your lives!" ejaculated the driver, tugging on the reins to stop his horses. The leading horses were young, and new to the driver, and they were unused to being stopped in this manner by a road agent; they took fright, reared, plunged, and be- came entangled in the harness. This diverted for an instant the attention of the bandit, when one of the guards, seeing this, fired, and the robber fell to the ground. The floundering horses were left to take care of themselves, while all hands rushed to secure the bold outlaw. To guard against strategy, and knowing that they had a coveted prize, they bound and ironed their prisoner before attempting to stop the flow of blood from his wound, which was, as it subsequently proved, a very serious but not a dangerous one. When the frightened horses were in proper shape the wounded robber was placed on board the stage and carried to the nearest town — a mountain hamlet — where there was a jail, and in this the prisoner was locked for safe keeping. A doctor was called to dress his wound ; then, when this was com- pleted, aod be seemed to be resting easilj', he was plied 240 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. with all sorts of questions. The guards and jailers wanted to know who he was, where he was from, and so forth ; but not a word would the robber utter. Apparently the hurt had injured his throat and he had lost the power of speech. The news soon spread that Black Eanger, the bold robber, who for so many years had prowled the highways and defied capture, was at last in the toils. This created considerable sensation and much rejoicing. Many detec- tives and country sheriffs took immediate departure for the little town in the mountains to see the great bandit, identify him, and tell what they knew of him. There were many suggestions and conjectures advanced, but nothing tangible was given, for the reason that all were obliged to admit that they had never seen the man before. Finally there arrived upon the scene two detectives from the city of Sandon, and these were admitted to the jail and the presence of the wounded robber, who lay upon a cot in a seemingly comatose condition. They advanced to the bed and looked at the prisoner; they bent over, looking at him still more closely: "Do you suffer any pain?" one of them asked gently. But no word was returned in reply. The detectives then looked at each other, and their looks spoke volumes. One of them, turning, hurried from the place, and going to where the jailers and some others were standing, talking over the capture, the mystery surrounding it, and so on, the detective said: "Has no one been able to tell who that man is?" "No; that is what we want to find out, who he is and where he is from," replied the jailer. "Well, he is from Sandon, and is known there as Gen- eral Browdeane. " This identification was sent broadcast, and created a sensation — especially in Sandon — that almost beggars description. The daily papers ran off extras, devoting nearly whole columns to headlines alone, in which ap- peared such announcements as "What is the world com- ing to?" "How the mighty have fallen!" "Claud Duval outdone 1" and mckuy other like expressions. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 341 Newboys ■with arms full of papers went running hither and thither, while their voices rose in confusion with their different cries: "Here you are! All about the great scandal ! General Browdeane and Black Eanger!" At the Globe House the street was blocked with people who had wended their way thither to look at the build- ing where he had lived in such royal style. Many would have invaded the apartments he had occupied, and car- ried ofE mementoes, had the halls not been patrolled by sturdy policemen. The news flashed throughout the land, and every newspaper in the United States contained extended notices of the dual life so successfully carried out for so many years by one known as General Lloyd Browdeane. No one who read the news relative to Browdeane's downfall was more completely dumfounded by the in- telligence than the young man in the reformatory, Mr. Earner Gray. After reading the expose and sad plight of his friend, Barney became taciturn and absent-minded. He walked the floor by the hour, to and fro, with lowered head, frequently indulging in low soliloquies: ""Well, well, well; what is the world coming to? I wonder is it really true. It seems there must be some mistake. And yet he was a peculiar man. I can't understand why he took such a fancy to me. He knew the Earners, he said; but he spoke of them only once. That must have been a subterfuge. Now he will be sentenced here; then I shall have a talk with him, and I'll persuade him to tell me all." When the wound of Lloyd Browdeane — or the Black Eanger, as it pleases — was suflBciently healed to admit of his being moved, he was taken to court in the county where he had been caught. His trial, very different from what was expected, was a very simple affair. Brow- deane, after he felt inclined to use his voice, could talk remarkably well upon all things except questions relative to his antecedents; on this subject he was profoundly dumb, and would give no information. At the trial he defended his own case, and argued, not with judge or jury, but with private emissaries from rich corporations that had lost money by his many robberies. With these 242 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. he temporized, and, finally, compromised. Hidden away in secret places in the mountains Browdeane had several thousand dollars. He offered to return this money pro- viding he received a light sentence His terms were ac- cepted, so the court's decree was that he be confined in the State prison for a term of two years. Had he not been able to produce this money, his sentence would have been for life. Men like justice, but they like money more. After the case was disposed of in court, Browdeane, in charge of detectives and sheriffs, was taken by stage and train to the city of Sandon, where he was confined in jail until certain matters were settled and forms complied with. It was known in advance in Sandon the train upon which the distinguished outlaw would arrive, and a great crowd had gathered in the vicinity of the railroad station when the train came in. Traffic was for a time sus- pended, and it required the entire police force to keep back the surging throng until the prisoner could be got into a carriage, in which he was driven to the jail. The Black Eanger had suddenly risen to be a personage of more than ordinary importance, and in the multitude which had collected to receive him could be seen the richly dressed, and the thinly clad; people of all grades, down to the rag, tag, and bobtail. General Browdeane had always been looked upon as a great man, but never so great as now. The question arose, after a day or two, when excite- ment had quieted to a moderate degree : "Who is this man? "Where is he from? What is his history? His lodgings were ransacked; every box, drawer, trunk, and article of clothing was critically examined, while every book, letter, and scrap of paper was seized, in the hope of finding something that would throw some light upon these questions; but nothing could be found that would give any clews to the robber's earlier life. Nothing beyond what was already known could be ascertained; namely, that he had come to Sandon years before ; that he professed to be a mining-man ; that he lived in good style; was refined and gentlemanly in manners, and always moved in the best society. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 243 Barney Gray had become intensely interested m every- thing pertaining to the great robber. Every item of news bearing upon the subject he read with avidity, and got through as quickly as possible with his morning work at the hospital in order to peruse the daily paper, and read the latest developments in the case of Brow- deane. One morning, as was his custom, he sat down to read his newspaper, and the moment he unfolded it this head- line caught his attention: "A Clew at Last." His eye coursed along the lines do\Tn the column, until suddenly he gave a start; the paper fell from his hands, while his face turned as pale as death, and his eyes seemed starting from his head. Just then Dr. Peel, who had forgotten something and returned to the hospital, entered the room where Barney was. He pau-sed and looked at the young man a moment, then said: "Gray, what is the matter with you?" "I don't know, doctor; do I look as if anything were the matter with me?" Barney answered. "You look as if you were going crazy; I have noticed you have not been your usual self for some time; do you feel sick? you had better let me give you some medi- cine, " said Dr. Peel. "No, I'm not sick," Barney said, "but I feel kind of faint and need a little exercise; so, with your permis- sion, I'll go and walk in the yard for an hour or so and get some fresh air, then I'll feel better." Taking down his hat he departed for the yard, where he walked with rapid strides, back and forth, his head down, looking neither to the right nor to the left. Dr. Peel watched him unobserved for a considerable time; then went to the main office and reported to the superintendent that some one ought to keep an eye on Gray: "I shouldn't be surprised if he went insane," said the doctor, "he has been acting rather queer for some time." "It would be no loss if he did," muttered Mr. Fuse. The item of news which the morning paper contained, and which so confused Barney Gray, ran as follows: "It seems to have been left for our worthy detective. 244 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Captain Digdowns, to unearth a clew ■which may lead to the discovery of the antecedents of the noted robber, Black Eanger, who is now so prominently before the - public. The captain, after all others had despaired of meeting with success, proceeded to make a personal in- vestigation. He visited the rooms formerly occupied by the Eanger, and the first thing he laid hands on was an old trunk. This the captain intended breaking to pieces in hope of finding some memento secreted, knowing that criminals of the Banger's class are wont to keep such things. After striking the trunk a few blows with a hammer, the captain glanced inside and observed a bulge in the lining of one corner. This was found to yield un- der pressure, and cutting into it, a finger ring was brought to light. It was an old design, and gave the appearance of having been much worn. The top origi- nally represented two hearts blended into one, but these were almost obliterated from wear. The ring in its time undoubtedly had been an engagement token, since there was engraved in the inside — though the lettering had become dim — the names Charley Boone and Mary J. Partner. "Charles Boone is undoubtedly the bandit's true name, and we may now look for further developments. It is sincerely hoped that the world may learn something of this creature's past life, so that it maj' be understood what kind of training and education it is that makes of one not only such a successful manipulator in duplicity, but a bold highway robber as well." The Ranger was awaited with quite as much curiosity at the reformatory as he had been at Sandon, and when he was brought to the prison necks were craned from all quarters to get a glimpse of him. As he was still suffer- ing from his wound, having his shoulder and arm in bandages, he was taken at once to the hospital where a cot was assigned him in the convalescent ward. He was assisted to bed by those who brought him thither, and they then quitted the apartment and the building. Barney Gray had made it convenient to absent himself and remain out of the way until he could have the first meeting with his old friend when none other was present. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 245 Hearing the trusties depart, Barney entered the room where the -wounded man lay, who, seeing who it was that came in, closed his eyes and covered them with his hand. ,A chair was at the side of the bed, and Barney advanced and seated himself thereon. There was silence for some moments; the elder man seemed to be weeping. Barney was the first to speak: "Come, Charley, my dear old friend, cheer up; there is nothing to conceal now — I know all." The wounded prisoner removed his hand from his eyes, and with a sad and pitiful look, said: "Yes, Ear- ner, my dear dear boy, you know all; and can you ever forgive me?" "Forgive you, Charley?" Barney answered, "what have I to forgive? I never received anything but kind- ness from your hands in my life. You are associated with my happiest recollections — the memories of my childhood." "But I deceived you so," moaned the elder man. "Your deception did me no wrong," Barney replied. There was silence again. It continued so long it was becoming painful, so Barney said: "Do you know any- thing of Mary, Charley?" "No, no," was the answer, and the speaker seemed to be suffering intenselj'. "I have heard nothing of her for years," he went on, "except what you once so unwittingly told me, and you can never know what I suffered after you gave me that piece of information. I began going out on the road more frequently, taking more desperate chances than ever, in the hope of getting some money together — several thousand at least — and then I thought I would go back — hunt up Mary — ^leave the money in some mysterious way — making sure that she got it — and then — and then — I thought I would steal .off somewhere — blow my brains out and put an end to my sad, my miserable life." There wasanother pause. Presently Barney spoke up: "Well, Charley, we are both in rather a sad plight; but to grieve over the past will not mend matters much. Of one thing you may rest assured : though the whole world may turn against you, I shall always be your friend, and do all I can, in 246 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. my feeble way, to assist you ; for I know you better than the world does. Now, the first thing to do is to get you well. I am an excellent nurse, and I'll take the best of care of you; but let me give you a few pointers — pointers are first in order when one enters an institution of this kind, and I have been here long enough to know how to play the cards. Don't you ever get entirely well while you remain here — be a cripple for two years. Then, you see, I can keep you here as an assistant in the hospital, where you will have an easier time, better food, and not be subjected to the indignities the common herd are. And then," Barney continued, "when you feel better, we'll talk over old times and compare notes. I remem- ber you telling me once at the darkest period of my life that it was a long road that had no turn ; so we will live, if for nothing else, just to see what the future brings forth." "While talking in this vein Barney engaged himself in arranging the pillow, the blankets, and so on, that his sad friend might be as comfortable as circum- stances would permit; he then went downstairs to attend to other matters. Barney's plan worked to perfection. His friend, who had become so renowned, and under so many different names, recovered bis strength slowly but surely; though his arm apparently always remained Weak, and he carried it much of the time in a sling. He became, through Barney's earnest solicitation, an assistant at the hospital, so the two friends were constantly together. Many were the talks they had of times past, of people they had both known, and of incidents they both remembered. "Yes," said Barney one day, "it is very unfortunate that we ever left Goosetown. Our lives would have been so different had we always remained there." "I presume so," was the reply, "we could at least have lived and died in ignorance of how cruel, selfish, and wicked the world really is." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. M CHAPTEK XXI. EXPLANATIONS. The account which Charley Boone gave — for this hero miist now appear under his true name, since General Browdeane and Black Ranger are soon to be relegated to things of the past, so far as this history is concerned — the account he gave of his adventures after parting with his wife and children, was told to Barney Gray at divers times and by piecemeal, and when the whole is put together it makes an interesting story. It appears that when he left home, he did so with the very best intentions possible, and went direct to the mining districts of Colorado, in the hope of retrieving his lost fortune. Arriving at Denver he heard of a new district, which had recently been opened, and he decided to go there. When he reached this new camp the ex- citement was running high; several rich mines had already been opened; people were flocking in by the hundreds, and the ground had been staked out in claims for miles around. He traversed the district for three days, and finally became very favorably impressed with a certain claim upon which no work was being prose- cuted. Noting down the owner's names, which were written on the stake, he started out the next day to hunt them up, thinking to get either an interest in the prop- erty, or possession "of the whole of it. After much inquiry, he found two men who professed to be the owners, and with these, after considerable talk and bar- gaining, Boone entered into an agreement to take the property on a bond and lease of one year at twenty thou- sand dollars. The parties haggled for a long while, endeavoring to get part of the money paid cash down, 248 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD' but this Boone flatly refused to do, for the very good rea- son that he was too short in funds. So the other side acceded to his proposition, and the papers were drawn up, then placed in escrow in a bank. Boone then engaged a professioual raining workman to assist him in developing the claim, and they started in in good earnest. First they built a cabin to live in — a. little hut, made of poles covered with earth — did their own cooking and lived in the cheapest way possible; their diet consisting chiefly of bread, bacon, and beans. Charley Boone labored with pick, shovel, drill, and other mining implements for several months without bringing anything to light to lend encouragement to his exertions. He was beginning to feel disheartened, for be was run- ning down to his last dollar, and his provisions were short and poor in quality ; when one day, lo and behold ! he struck it, and his heart leaped for joy. He had come upon the richest vein of gold quartz that had yet been disclosed in the district, and this caused the greatest ex- citement. Everybody was inquiring for Mr. Boone ; all who met him congratulated him ; everybody was willing to trust him; and for a few days Mr. Boone was pointed out as a millionaire. Then came upon the scene two men, apparently strangers, in the camp. They also inquired for Mr. Boone, and when they found him, they demanded to know by what authority he had been working upon their property. An explanation was soon given, but the new- comers pronounced the bond and lease worthless, saying that they were the owners of the property, ^nd that those who leased it were impostors and had no right in the matter. The case was taken to court, and — well, suflSce it to say, that it went against Charley Boone, and this left him poor and distressed enough, but with vengeance still greater within his breast. "The fact of the matter is," said Charley Boone, when telling of his many trials, "the men I got the bond and lease from were the secret partners and agents of the last two. The little scheme which was worked upon me is only one of the many tricks that are played upon tender- feet in mining districts." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 249 Feeling that he had been robbed of what little money- he had left, and of the fruits of his hard labor as well, with no redress, Charley Boone was now driven to straits bordering on despair. He was penniless, while his clothes, what few he had, were sadly worn and faded. Submit to becoming a common day laborer, after receiv- ing such treatment at the hands of his fellow man? No, never! He would die first. At the dead of night he packed together a few personal effects, making them into a bundle. Through this he ran a stick which he slung across his shoulder, and started off on a weary, listless tramp, not knowing where he was going, and caring quite as little. He walked a number of miles by the time it was daylight, and then stopped for rest while he breakfasted on ber- ries which he found growing along the edge of a wood. Eenewing his line of march, which now led through an open country, he kept on until high noon. It was sheer hunger that drove him to a house along the road for something to eat. He did not apply for entrance at the front of the house, but went around to the back and stepped upon the porch; this brought him in view of the dining room where the family were preparing to sit down to dinner. The master of the place, seeing a stranger approach, came to the door. Boone spoke to the man, passing the compliments of the day, and said that he had been trav- eling since the night before, and in that time he had not partaken of a square meal; that he was now very hungry and had taken the liberty to call, thinking he might be accommodated with a dinner. He was told, in no very pleasant voice, to take a seat, and the man, at the same time, motioned toward a bench on the porch. Boone seated himself, as he was bidden, took off his faded old hat and mopped his brow with his badly soiled handkerchief. Presently a slatternly girl, apparently a servant, came out carrying a tin pannikin, which was not clean, containing a few pieces of stale bread and fragments of meat. This she handed to the weary way- farer, who took it as he rose to his feet. He looked at the dish for a moment, then he looked at the girl, who, 250 oCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. by the way she retreated into the house, seemed scared. A couple of dogs in the yard came running up, licking their chops, as if they were very hungry, and Boone flung them his dinner, pannikin and all. He then walked to the door and said to the master of the house, "Your dogs out here seem very hungry; I have just fed them those scraps the girl brought out; I suppose they were intended for them." "Good enough for tramps, "growled the proprietor, in answer. "Perhaps so," returned Boone, "but I want to say a word to you before I depart. This is the first time in my life that I have asked a kindness at the hands of a stranger, and j'ou may rest assured it will be the last." Taking to the road again, he trudged on until he came to an orchard in which the trees were laden with fruit. Scaling the high fence, which was intended to keep out intruders, he was soon helping himself to apples. Charley Boone smiles, in a dry way, when relating this part of his history. "The owner was watching me from the house, " he explained, "when I got into the orchard, and as soon as I began gathering and eating apples, he yelled out: 'Get out of that orchard or I'll shoot you.' 'AH right,' I yelled back, 'shoot away! guns have no terrors for me. ' Then bang! went a gun, and a bullet whizzed past my left ear. 'A little too far to the left!' I said, 'try again.' Bang! went the gun again, and a ball zipped past my right ear. 'Too far to the right that time, try it over!' I called out. Then two shots came in succession, and the bullets went directly over my head. 'Oh, you couldn'thit thesideof ahouse!' I sang out, 'call out some of your women and let them try a hand!' All this time I stood facing the man, and was eating away at an apple ; but he concluded not to shoot any more, so throwing his gun over his shoulder, he came down to where I was. 'You are the hardest one to scare I've tackled yet,' he said. I told him that I had passed the goal of scare ; that I had had nothing to eat for nearly two days, and that I purposed to steal enough of his fruit to fill my stomach or die in the attempt, and if he thought I was a fit subject to shoot he bad my per- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 251 mission to blaze away — for I should stand perfectly still. 'You must have had a hard run of luck,' he said. I told him that I had been a little unfortunate in not striking the path which leads to success, but still had hopes of finding it." Boone's manner seemed to touch a chord of sympathy in the breast of the farmer, and his better nature rose to the surface. He said to the trespasser if his case was so desperate as that, he had better come along to the house and get something to eat. Boone replied that he was not a beggar in any sense, though he had no objection to accepting an invitation to partake of a square meal, so he accompanied the farmer to the house. He was sup- plied very bountifully, and ate very heartily, discoursing the while on various topics with the man who a short while before had been shooting bullets at him to scare him off the premises. When he had finished his meal Boone asked his host if he had any work he wanted done, and if he wished to hire a hand, saying that he had once been a farmer himself, and could do any kind of work required. The man was not in need of help at that time, but told Boone where he could get work; he directed him to follow the road for about a mile further on, and this would bring him to old man Skinner's place. Skin- ner, he knew, wanted to hire a man, for the one he had left him only a few days ago. The farmer apostrophized by telling Boone that he didn't know how he would like the place, but thought he might stand it awhile to bridge over a chasm and get a little monej'. Charley thanked the man for the information and started on his way. Mr. Skinner's abode was reached in the evening, and here employment was applied for. Mr. Skinner needed help, but he was a close-fisted old chap, by no means prepossessing in appearance, and drove a close bargain. However, terms were finally agreed upon, and Charley Boone was engaged as man of all work on Mr. Skinner's farm. When it was time to retire for the night, the employer invited his newly hired man to follow him, and he would show him where he was to sleep. Mr. Skinner then led the way out of doors; going around toward the barn he came to a shed ; he entered 252 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. and struck a match, bo that the hired man could see ■where the bed was. Skinner remarked to his man, as the match flickered out, that he could fix himself in there all right, and then returned to the house. This shelter to •which Boone had been conducted contained nothing but a rough board bunk, upon which some soiled old blankets bad been thrown. However, Charley Boone was not, at this period of his life, fastidious, having been used to roughing it; so, without removing his clothes, he rolled himself in the blankets and was soon sound asleep. It was the following morning at the breakfast table that the hired man's engagement with Mr. Skinner ter- minated. The Skinner family consisted of man, wife, and a little girl of about ten years. When breakfast was ready the hired man was called in, and pointed to his seat at the table, which was at the further end, and a little apart from the Skinner family. His place at the table was provided with a tin dish to eat from, a tin cup for coffee, and an iron knife and fork; while the others had poroelain ware and cutlery with white handles. Mr. Skinner, as head of the house, proceeded to do the honors of the table. He picked up a dish containing six fried eggs; two of these he gave to his wife, one to the little girl, then one to the hired man, and then began to scoop the remaining two on his own plate. But, before he had finished his scooping, he had three eggs in all, for the one he had given to the hired man struck him smack between the eyes ! This was a signal for trouble, and all hands sprang to their feet. "What do you mean?" demanded Skinner, wiping with his hand the streaming egg from his eyes and face. "I mean," said the hired man, rising in his wrath, "to show the contempt which I can no longer conceal, and I want you to know that I have not yet fallen beneath such as you!" "Just what I thought!" shouted farmer Skinner, "you're nothing but a worthless tramp and won't work when it's offered." "No! I want no work at the sacrifice of manhood!" Boone retorted as he walked out of the house. All day he wandered through field and forest, appeas- ing his hunger with fruits which he found growing wild. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 353 There is a time in the life of man, after he has been treated unjustly and suffered from adversity, when he is prepared for the commission of any crime regardless of consequences ; and this was the goal Charles Boone had now reached. Crime, he argued with himself, what- ever the result, was far more respectable than poverty. He concluded to rob the stage which he knew would pass along the public road before twelve in the night, and began making preparations to carry out his design. Procuring a stick, he cut and whittled it down, making it resemble a gun as much as possible. Then from a woodchopper's outfit, which he came across in the woods, he secured a sledge and a couple of iron wedges, and was prepared for business — a change in vocation. When night came on he secreted himself in a thicket at the side of the highway, and anxiously waited the arrival of the stage. It came in course of time, and Boone stepped fearlessly into the road. Bringing his stick to his shoulder, and taking dead aim at the stage-driver, he demanded in the determined voice of a desperate man, a halt, and that the treasure-box be thrown to the ground. His commands were obeyed with alacrity, and he then ordered the driver to move on; and Charles Boone, alias General Lloyd Browdeane, alias Black Ran- ger, had committed his first act in highway robbery. He was not long in breaking open the box, when he found himself in possession of six hundred dollars. Put- ting this money in his pocket he started at once cross country over the mountains, never stopping until he had covered full twenty miles from the scene of the robbery. Coming upon the cabin of a mountaineer who lived alone Boone put up for the day, spending the time in sleeping and eating, paying his host liberally for the accommoda- tions. When night came on he started again on his iourney and by noon the following day he entered a settlement of considerable size through which ran the railroad. He lingered here until train time, then boarded a car and traveled on until he reached the city of Sandon. Arriv- ing there he was driven to a hotel where miners and country people generally put up. Presenting himself at 254 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. the counter as a guest a pen was thrust into his hand and the register whirled toward him. Not wishing, for rea- sons best known to himself, to sign his own name, he wrote on the impulse of the moment the name Lloyd Browdeane, residence New York. To those with whom he became acquainted he gave out that he was a mining man, and as he lived in fine style, and kept his horse and servant, it was taken for granted that he was a mining man of great wealth. "But how did you manage in that way so long with- out being detected?" Barney Gray inquired one day, after Charley Boone had been recounting his adventures. "Simply by attending strictly to my own affairs, hav- ing neither a confidant nor a confederate, and constantly studying the best mode of playing the hypocrite and practicing duplicity, just as thousands of our best men do," was the reply. "Yes, but it seems to me you would have been looked upon with suspicion, after a time, by the people in the country which you were obliged to travel over?" Barney said. "I never played the same role twice, came in contact with as few people as possible, carried my own provi- sions, slept in the woods, and always attended to cover- ing my tracks. Besides, I never failed to have my move- ments planned as to what I would do and where I should go after I had accomplished a robbery. But," Boone inquired, "did you never have any suspicion who I was?" "Not the slightest," Barney replied. "And had it not been for the old ring you never would have been any the wiser." "Would you not have told me, even now?" "I doubt it; I fear I should have lacked the courage to tell the truth, I always felt mean and guilty in your presence." "It seems strange you didn't throw the ring away." "I intended doing so; but I hesitated, and you know the adage, 'He who hesitates is lost.' I looked at the old thing, and it brought back such tender memories of the past. I thought of Mary, thought how pleased she would be, should I ever see her again, to see that I had SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 355 always kept the ring; so I hid it away in the place where it was 'found. The old trunk I bought second-hand soon after I came to Sandon, and I supposed that should the ring some day be found, its owner would be a mat- ter of no concern ; I had never counted on becoming so great, you see," and Boone smiled a sad, dry smile. "You certainly have had an eventful career," re- marked Barney Gray. "And there is no telling how or where it will all end," responded Charley Boone. "You remember the night," he continued, "we called on your friends the Coogans, or Coogas, I believe they called themselves; when I was so edifyingly entertained by having my own exploits and poetry read to me? Well, in committing the robbery which was being read and talked about I took one of the most desperate chances of my life. I had gone to a hotel early in the evening, when the stages were preparing to start out over their different routes — the town which they were leaving being the terminus of the railroad. I ob- served that one of the stages carried an unusually heavy treasure-box, and I made up my mind to take a chance in getting it. I was representing the character of a respectable, well-to-do farmer; so at early candle-light, and soon after the stage had gone, I complained of being tired, and asked to be shown to my room. The clerk took me upstairs to where I was to sleep, and soon as I waa left alone I gave the bed and everything in the room the appearance of my having slept there, and then stole quietly out of the house. I went to a pasture not far off, where I knew there were some horses. Selecting the best one in the lot, I tied a piece of rope to his jaw, mounted him, and ran him with all his might to where I had my gun and disguise hidden — fixed myself all right, then took after the stage which I headed off and robbed — buried my winnings in the mountain, then rode a race for life back to my starting point. I turned the horse in the pasture and got to the hotel and in my room before daylight, without any one about the house knowing I had left the place at all. "When the gong sounded I came down to breakfast; but before the guests got through eating the news was brought in that Black Ranger was pu the road, and tbis caused great excitepient. 256 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "In almost less than no time everybody was up in arms — forming scouting parties. Of course, there was nothing left for me to do but join in with the rest in hunting down the Eanger. I was provided with a horse and gun; so of£ I started, with a party of others, and we rode up hill and down dale — scouring the country for miles around; but it was no use, we couldn't find the Eanger," here Boone paused long enough to indulge in a dry laugh. "The hunters all returned about dark," he said, in conclusion, "very much dispirited, and I pre- sume I was the worst of the lot, for I really was very weary from loss of sleep." "And was the newspaper account of that affair correct? Did the women throw their valuables to you, and so on?" Barney inquired. "It was true enough in the outline," was Boone's reply, "but I was not aware of more than one woman in the stage, and she began appealing to Mr. Eanger to spare her life, but to take all she had, and then threw out her hand bag; I picked it up and tossed it back to her as the stage was moving off." "I should have thought, Charley," suggested Barney Gray, "that after you had made a haul or two, and got some money ahead, you would have quit going out on the road and settled down to some legitimate business, or taken a salaried position — you being an able man, capable of filling any position?" "1 thought of all that," answered Charley Boone rather sadly, "and even went so far as to look around, inquire and investigate ; but it is hard to tell nowadays what legitimate business really is. That which is called business is a struggle — a kind of war among men, and they are constantly driving each other closer to the wall. One manufacturer adulterates his goods, and undersells his neighbor; the neighbor, in order to compete with his rival is obliged to adulterate also; in this way all manufacturers become rascals. With merchants the same influence is at work. Among those who live upon salaried positions, the condition is no better — all are at war with one another. The clerk who is shrewd, reads character quickly, and overcharges the verdant, if he turns SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 357 the ill-gotten gain over to his employer, he is pronounced a ■valuable man, and may have his salary raised; but if he is caught putting the surplus into his own pocket he is called a thief, turned over to the police, and sent to jail ; so it is a little hard to tell who the criminals of this world really are. With office-holders the state of things is still worse. They, instead of devoting their attention to the public's good, study how they can best fill their own pockets and not get caught. They sell their influence to the highest bidder, and sweep down upon the public treasury like a pack of predatory wolves upon a sheep-fold. For the life of me" — Boone was in a very contemplative mood — "I couldn't see but what demanding money at the muzzle of a shotgun on the highway was quite as honorable as any other line of busi- ness so long as one could keep from getting caught." "Yes, I understand you," answered Barney Gray, "my thoughts have been running very much in the same channel, since I have been incarcerated in this institu- tion. These penal and reform institutions are great places to set one to thinking. I have come to the conclu- sion that we are not any more than half-civilized, and I can't see how we are ever to become any better unless the government can be formed and conducted something after the principles of the individual family." "All very true," Boone replied, "but that is a very momentous problem. However," he continued, "I am not responsible for the government; I didn't make its laws; I can't help what people do, nor change their modes of life ; I am here, and the right and proper thing for me to do is to conform to the condition of things as I find them. I acted very unwisely, I admit, very fool- ishly, and I shall never do so again. I am most thor- oughly and efEectually reformed. I have but a little while to stay in this place, and when I am given my free- dom, I shall engage in legitimate business, and I have confidence in myself that I can cope with my fellow man at any game he wishes to play. I may dislike to come down to it, but I shall strive to overcome my prejudices. It is my desire to return to my family if they are still living, and I believe I can yet place them in the position 258 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. I have longed to see them occupy. I had been wronged, consequently became embittered, and I thought to have revenge — I should have placated instead." "Well, I am glad to hear you talk that way, Charley, old boy," said Barney Gray, brightening up, "and I hope you may be successful; so there is no telling what happy days the future may have in store for you and Mary." As may be supposed, the finding of the ring in the old trunk gave fresh impetus to the newspaper activity, and the name, which was accepted as the noted highway- man's true one, was sent broadcast all over the country. As a result of this, there came to the reformatory one day a letter for Mr. Charles Boone. The moment he saw the superscription his face paled, for he recognized the writing. The letter was from Mary. He waited until he could be all alone before he trusted himself to open it and read it. "My dear, dear husband Charley," the letter began, "the newspapers have told me all, but oh! Charley dear, how glad I am to know that you are still living! I am sure you cannot doubt me when I say that I bow love you more than ever — if such be possible — for I know what you must have suffered, and how you have been wronged to drive you to such desperation, and embitter you so against the world. It is nothing to me what those who write and talk about you tell — I know you far better than they. But we will let the past go and think of it as dead. Two years will soon pass away; then you can come back to me again and we will let the wicked world go its own way, while we can be contented and happy just by our two selves. "Of course, my dear, you have heard nothing of us in all these years, so I know it will please you to have me tell that we are living very nicely, and have everything we need. I sold my house in Dressington and the money was lost in an unfortunate speculation, and then, through the assistance of our dear friends, the Snyders, whose memory I shall ever revere, I engaged in the millinery business and did quite well. After Maggie was grown I Bold out in Dressington and came here to Hammers, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 359 because it was a new and growing town, and offered an excellent opening in my line of business. Maggie is now married — was married three years ago, and has a little boy, whom she named after you, Charley dear. Her husband is a young man by the name of Wester, and he keeps the boot and shoe store of our town — we all like him very much. "But it is of Lillian, your pet, I know you are most anxious to hear. "Well, she is still with me, and oh ! Gharlej', how I do wish you could see her! she has grown so beautiful. She is quite tall, and her form is superb. Her skin is as fair as the lily, and her hair the loveliest auburn you can imagine. Her eyes and perfect teeth are yours — indeed, she is a typical Boone in every respect; has even inherited your high and independent spirit, and carries herself with such queenly grace. She is well educated — educated herself principally and is even well versed in the classics. I can assure you, Charley, my love, that if you have nothing else in this world to be proud of, you have every reason to be proud of our daughter Lillian. I think she is really superior to what she would have been had all the money been lavished upon her as you so fondly intended, for she knows so much more than girls who have had all the advantages money could give them. The dear girl has taken entire charge of the business, and extended it far beyond what I could ever have hoped to do, for I do not profess to be her equal in managing affairs. It was our Lillian, dear Charley, that first became acquainted with your unhappy life and present situation; but she kept it all concealed from me until she prepared me, with such masterly tact, to hear of it ; so that when she told me there seemed to be no shock or surprise in the information. Lillian says she knows that her papa could never have done any- thing wrong without his first being wronged. So, you see, we are nicely settled and prepared to receive yoa with us, and shall patiently await your return. Yes, come home and be again the kind, true, loving Charley as of old, and I shall do my best to be your patient, faithful, loving wife." Charley Boone had this letter in his possession several 260 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLI). days, and read it over many times before he read it aloud to Barney Gray. There was then an understanding be- tween them that Mary was never to be informed of Bar- ney's misfortune and sad condition. "Of course you will join them as soon as you are re- leased?" suggested Barney Gray. Then Charley Boone, with a peculiar gleam in his eyes, and a determined tone in his voice, replied : "I shall never return to my family empty handed." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 261 CHAPTEE XXII. BAENEY GEAY ESCAPES. Man imprisoned, like a wild beast in a cage, chafes at first under the restraints of confinement. Passing this point be becomes morose and broken in spirit, like monkeys that crouch in corners of their narrow pens, gaze, blink, and while away the time by nibbling the ends of their tails. Barney Gray was undergoing the first stage ; he was nervous and restless. He was begin- ning to believe that in the light of justice he deserved to be liberated ; for he knew of many professional criminals, including Eoy and Funk, who had been guilty of every crime known to the code ; had served repeated "terms of imprisonment, and yet had received their freedom through the intercession of executive clemency; it was nothing more than natural that Barney should reason that he had as good a right to be released as they. Clay Masters, who had ever stood his stanch friend, interested himself in agitating the question of Barney's pardon. Through the assistance of Judge Wiseman, peti- tions were drawn up setting forth the extenuating cir- cumstances of the case, and these were readily signed by the best citizens of Sandon, praying that Earner Gray's liberty be granted him. The affidavit of Mark Earner carried great influence, and induced many to sign the petition who would otherwise have declined. Mark Eamer was the man who had spoken to Barnej' on the street corner shortly after Slickneck was killed. He could not be found to give testimony at the trial, but was brought to light after the unfortunate Barney had spent all of a year in the reformatory. Eamer's affidavit was to the effect that he remembered the circiiwstaBces; that 363 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. he had spoken to Gray — gave the substance of the con- versation ; that he had received no ■weapon from him, nor ■was there such a thing thought of, and that his manner vyas just the opposite from ■what would be supposed of one who had committed a willful and malicious murder. Mr. Masters counted upon carrying the case to a suc- cessful issue on its merits alone; no politicians having "a pull" were employed, nor was any money used in purchasing the influence of State officials. Armed with the petitions in favor of his friend. Clay Masters, after having been coached by Judge "Wiseman how to proceed in the matter, journeyed to the State capital and pre- sented the case before Governor Prim. This functionary looked profoundly wise, asked a few frivolous questions, read Mr. Earner's affidavit, ran his eye over the long list of names attached to the petition, then, as though a thought had suddenly struck him, he exclaimed: "Why, young man, you have not all the names of the jury before whom this man was tried ! I can't even take such a case as this under consideration without a unanimous request from the jurymen." "Pardon me, sir," said Masters, "I am new at this kind of business, I admit; but I didn't know it was ab- solutely necessary to have all the jury — there are but two lacking, and they are at present out of the city." "Well, it is absolutely necessarj-," returned Mr. Prim, ■waving the whole thing aside with a magnificent air. "Well, then," said the young man, rather crestfallen, "I shall do what I can to procure the names of those two; and, if I succeed, I will call and see you again," he then quitted the governor's presence. Getting the names of the two jurymen, so much de- sired, caused a delay in the proceedings of about three weeks, but finally they were found and their signatures added to the petition ; when Clay Masters, much elated, again traveled to the capital and into the presence of the chief executive, whom he informed that he had at last got what was so necessary, and that now there was no obstacle in the way to prevent Earner's release. Mr. Prim received his appellant with much austerity of manner; looked over the petitioon, much as he bad done SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 263 before, scratched his ear, then his nose, moving uneasily in his chair the while; until, with a look of amazement ' depicted in his face, he turned upon Clay Masters, and demanded: "'Where is Judge Faber's name on this peti- tion? Can you show it to me?'' Mr. Masters explained, in a -very gentle and concilia- tory manner, that Judge Faber had; for a long while, been traveling for the benefit of h'is health; that the absence of his name was not an oversight, for it had indeed been one of the first things spoken of when the petition was ready for circulation; but that Judge Wise- man had said Judge Faber's name was not really neces- sary, since the mitigating circumstances surrounding the case were strongly in the prisoner's favor, and that Mark Kamer's affidavit was worth more than the names of both judge and jury put together. "Old Wiseman is always poking his nose into other people's affairs," muttered Mr. Prim. "How in the name of common sense, can you, old Wiseman, or any- bod3' else, expect me to interfere in a matter of this kind without the consent of the judge before whom the case was tried? It's preposterous! You can carry your papers away, young man, it will do you no good to appeal to me until you have the name of Judge Faber." "And in case Judge Faber dies," Masters said, "I suppose my friend, whether innocent or guilty, will have to remain in prison until death intervenes." "I want no insolence, young man," cautioned Mr. Prim. "No insolence is intended, sir," Masters replied, "I am asking for information. When I was here before it was the jury, now it is the judge; in case I get the judge's name are you sure you will not fall back on something else? Going back and forth in this matter costs time and money; so if you will just be kind enough to let me know what it is you want in this case, I shall try and attend to it. Now, just take pen and paper and note down what is required — this is not asking much — ■ then I shall know how to go to work." Mr. Prim, being more of a weakling than a courageous man, proceeded to do as he was requested ; so, taking up 364 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. pen, he first wrote down the name of Judge Faber, then the name of the pastor of his church, followed by the names of several other ministers of the gospel; to these were added the names of newspaper editors, the names of the officers of the society for the prevention of crime, as well as those of the society for the prevention of cruelty to children. "'There," said Governor Prim, handing over his list, "young man, when you get the names of all those gentlemen on your petition, I shall be glad to have you call and see me." Masters then thanked the governor and departed. It was proved by subsequent events that Mr. Prim had conversed with several of the gentlemen, whose names he had written relative to the release of Barney Gray, and they had shown themselves to be greatly prej- udiced against the prisoner; but men will often, upon more mature and sober reflection, change their minds, and so it was in this case. Judge Faber returned home quite unexpectedly, and a few days after. Clay Masters called upon him in company with Judge Wiseman, in the interest of Barney Gray. Mr. Faber, after talking over the case and reading the affidavit, not only signed the petition, but wrote a personal letter which he gave to Masters to present to the governor the next time he called upon him. In this letter he wrote, among other things, that as he understood it, the pardoning power was vested in the governor of the State to be exercised in just such cases as this of Earner Gray, and recommended that the prisoner be granted his liberty at once. After this the energetic Clay Masters had plain sailing. He called with his papers, including Mr Faber's letter, upon every one of those whose names Mr. Prim had listed,and without one exception they signed the petition praying for the pardon of Barney Gray. Feeling now sure of success,he again repaired to State headquarters and to the executive chambers of the governor. He was obliged to wait, after sending in his name, more than an hour in the anteroom before being ushered into the dignitary's presence. When he did enter, the governor looked up, saying, "Well, young man, I see you are back here again." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 265 ■'Yes, governor," returned Masters, in his politest manner, "and I am happy to say this is for the last time. Everything is now just as you wished it, and nothing remains to be done except for you to give the final coup de grace, and that will not take long." , "What! do — do — you mean to tell me that you have all those names I gave you added to your petition?" inquired Mr. Prim. ""Yes, and I got them without the least trouble at all. Judge Faber has returned, as I presume you know, and he wrote a very strong letter bearing on the case, which I let the others read, and they then signed the petition without any hesitation. The judge's letter is addressed to you, and he requested me to call your attention to it — here it is," Masters said, handing the letter over. Governor Prim paled considerably, and his expression was almost ghastly as he unfolded the letter and began reading. Having read the letter he tossed it carelessly upon the table, then rose from his chair. He heaved a long breath, like a sigh, and began pacing the floor back and forth. Presently he paused, and turning toward Clay Mas- ters, said : "Young man, you are very energetic, you ought to do well in this world — you have succeeded in this matter much better than I had — I mean much better than many could have done, and I am compelled to say that I am sorry for you; for there is something yet that you have not got in your petition." "And what may that be, pray?" inquired Masters, with a look of wonder. "That, young man," Governor Prim here assumed his most profound demeanor, "is the consent of my con- science. These people who sign petitions in matters of this kind so readily know nothing of the responsibility which rests upon the shoulders of the governor of a great State. They seem to think that all he has to do is to go ahead in everything and anything, utterly regardless of his own feelings. But let me tell you, young man, that one who stands in m.v position, if he is an honorable man, never moves in affairs of state, however trivial, ex- cept when he is actuated by the dictates of his own con- 266 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. science. Therefore, I canEot release your friend; my conscience stays my hand, and without the consent of my conscience in matlers of this kind I cannot move." "Weil," Masters began, with a determined look and tone, "you are the most singular man I ever saw in my life. If you would just call up your conscience and have it prompt you a little in telling the truth I think it would " "I want none of your insolence, sir!" interposed Governor Prim. "Insolence be hanged!" shouted Masters, "do you suppose I have any respect for such a thing as you? And I purpose to tell you right now what I think of you!" But Governor Prim was not anxious to hear Mr. Mas- ters' opinion of him, so he walked rather hurriedly to a door leading into an adjoining room, passed through and locked the door after him. So ended the interview, like- wise Barney Gray's application for pardon. Full of wrath Clay Masters returned to Sandon, and the nest day he made a trip to the reformatory to report to Barney Gray how matters had terminated. Barney received the news with perfect equanimity, though at the same time the devil was aroused within him, and he was fast developing into a desperate and dangerous man. "You will stand by me as my friend to the last, will you not. Clay?" Barney said. "Have you any reason to doubt me?" Masters returned. "Oh, no, not at all," Barney answered, with perfect composure, "but there is no telling what I may be driven to, or what I may become; all I ask of you is that in case I should turn out, to be a desperate and wicked man you are to remember it all came upon me after I entered this institution." "What do you mean, Barney, dear old boy? Tou are not thinking of doing anything rash or desperate, I hope?" inquired Clay Masters anxiously. "We can never tell ; we are all victims of circumstances ; the most docile animal becomes vicious when caged and tortured, and injustice to man acts like physical pain to the beast," replied Barney, with a dry smile. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 267 Masters did all he could to dissuade his friend from feeling embittered, and spoke as encouragingly as he knew how; saying that old Prim would be out of office before long, and that his successor would recognize the petition without doubt. This interview was held in what was called the recep- tion room on the outside of the walls, where pupils received their friends on visiting days. As soon as Clay Masters had taken his departure, Bar- ney returned to the hospital and sought council with Charley Boone, who, after hearing the latest account relative to Barney's pardon, remarked: "And so the governor's conscience is all that stands in the way?" "Yes," replied Barney bitterly, "his conscience, that is all, and his conscience is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Although I am not guilty of the crime with which I was charged and convicted, I have sub- mitted to everything that has been imposed upon me without complaint; but to be made to suffer for Mr. Prim's conscience is carrying things a little too far, and I now call a halt. I'll tell you what I am going to do, Charley," they were talking in a very low tone, "I am going to lay my plans for escaping from here, and this I will do or die in the attempt. It is a satisfaction to know that I can die the same as any one, but I admit that I can't live the same as any one." "I am sure I can't blame j'ou for coming to such a resolution," Charley said, "under the circumstances it is just what I should expect of the son of my dear old friend, Jonathan Gray Still, I dislike to see you jeop- ardize your life; don't you think you had better rest awhile until Prim goes out of office?" "No, I have rested long enough; I shall prepare for action now," was Barney's determined reply. "But you are a young man yet, and have the world all before you," suggested Charley Boone. 'I should prefer to have it all behind me, instead of before me in the light in which it is." Barney Gray, usually so gentle and kind, could be as impetuous and headstrong as the nest one when smarting under the stings of injustice, and nothing could turn him now from the course he had decided upon taking. 268 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Well." said Charley Boone, "if you are determined in the matter, of course I have nothing more to say, ex- cept that if I can be of any assistance to you, you may depend upon me." "I know that, Charley, you dear old boy, you are a true friend, and as good as you can be; but I shall allow you to take no chances on my account — you have but a little while to sta.y here, and will not be obliged to humiliate yourself by asking anything from such a man as Prim. I have not yet decided how I shall work it to get away," Barney went on, "Imust see Frank Bays and hear what he has to say. Frank's time expires in about two weeks ; he is one of the truest fellows in the world, and as brave as a lion, and I think he would take delight in extending me a helping hand. " Barney Gray was never known to lag in anything that he had once undertaken, so he set out at once to the prison yard in search of Frank Bays. Frank, whose rheumatism kept him from doing much work, was among the loungers in the corral, and Barney was soon in con- fidential communication with him. He gave the closest attention to all that was said, uttering not a word until Barney had told all about how he had been served by Governor Prim, and that now he intended to take French leave, and then paused for Frank's reply. A smile lighted up Frank's features, and he winked knowingly with one eye, saying: "You have come to it just as naturally as a child comes to its mother, eh, Bar- ney ? I knew you would, and you'll make a daisy crook; you've got the ability and the nerve to back it. And now T'm just .vour man — nothing suits me so well as to give a good man a lift, and I'll take big chances in doing it, too. Now, let me see," and Bays became reflective, "I go out of here in eight days from to-day. You have the privilege of going outside to the gardens — you will need a suit of clothes, and a complete disguise, and a brace of revolvers — for there's no use going into this thing unless you do it to win or die." "That's right," interjected Barney. "Well, I'll tell you what I think would be the best thing to do," Frank continued, "we'll have everything SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 269 understood, and when I go out I'll get all the things you need — steal a horse somewhere — ride here in the night and plant them in the garden where you can get them next day; under the floor of the tool-shed would be a good place — you can dress yourself there and walk off when you feel like it — no trick at all," and Frank Bays seemed to think everything was as good as done. "But there are guards prowling around outside all night," suggested Barney. "What of that?" returned Frank, "I can shoot as quick and as straight as any guard on this place, and they'll be far more afraid of me than I will be of them, you can bet your life on that. Don't have any fear of me, I'll take care of myself; besides I'll be on the look- out for you after you get away — help you off — make arrangements with some sea captain to carry you out of the country, if you like, and then you can snap your fingers at old Prim, and all the rest of them." "You have got a clear head, Frank," Barney said, "and I am inclined to believe that your plan is about the right one to follow all the way through." "I'll stand by you through thick and thin, you can bet your life on that," Frank returned; Barney Gray and his friend Bays had several quiet, confidential talks on this subject before the day of Frank's release from the prison. Their plana were all laid and everything understood, even to the minutest detail. The third night after Frank left he would ride to the prison with Barney's clothes, disguise, and so forth, place them beneath the floor of the tool-house in the garden; then, the day following, Barney was to dress himself and walk to the railroad station and take the train for Sandon, the same as any ordinary passen- ger. Here Frank would meet him, direct him to a lodg- ing room and keep him in seclusion until he could be shipped out of the country. Before Frank took his departure, Barney told him where he would find hidden on the outside of the walls an order on Clay Masters directing him to pay to bearer the sum of two hundred dollars. "And you use what 70U need of that money, Frank," Barney said, "to get 270 SCHOOLEt) SV THE WORLD. yourself a good suit of clothes, pay room rent and other expenses, besides paying for the things I require." "Well, now, I hate like sin, Barney," Prank replied, "to pay out any of your money; I'd much rather steal some from somebody else — say, don't you think it ■would be a good idea to stand old Prim up, or rob his house?" But Barney thought it would be better not to take any unnecessary chances in the present case, so Frank's sug- gestion to this part of the plan was dropped. Now it so happened that on the third day after Frank Bays was released. Governor Prim came to the prison to visit his friend, Mr. Fuse. This was Barney's opportu- nity; he had long desired to have an interview with the governor and hear from his own lips what he had to say regarding the petition. But Mr. Fuse had taken the governor in charge, and seemed to be guarding him very closely. He escorted him through the various depart- ments of the prison, save alone the hospital, and Barney was beginning to think he would yet lose the chance of paying his farewell adieu to Mr. Prim. It was late in the afternoon when he saw, from a window of the hospi- tal, the superintendent enter his private office in com- pany with the governor, and this he knew was the accepted time. Eepairing to the chief's office, he adressed himself to Mr Prim thus: "This is His Excellency, Governor Prim, I believe?" The governor nodded assent. "I have been given to understand, governor, that you have refused to take any action in the case of Earner Gray, who appealed to you for executive clemency. Will you oblige me by stating your reason for such refusal?" "Hem — a — are you the°'man?" "Yes, sir, my name is Barner Gray." "Well — you see — mis-ter — a — Gray — there has been so very, very much influence brought to bear in j'our case — much more than any that ever came to my notice before — and — a — it gives it a very bad look — and — a — realls', it causes me to hesitate — and — a — the fact of the matter is my conscience will not permit me to intercede in your behalf." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 271 "Did your conscience reproach you and cause you to BuSer pangs of remorse when you released from here pro- fessional criminals with whose lives and crimes lam per- fectly familiar?" "See here," interposed Mr. Fuse, coming to the governor's assistance, "this is no way for you to be talk- ing to the governor of the State." "Just hold your peace, if you please," said Earner, with a wave of the hand, turning to Fuse, "I am speak- ing to your superior, and he can take care of himself without any interference from you." The governor sat with pale face, his eyes cast down, making no attempt to answer. After a prolonged pause Barney said: "Since you can- not answer me that question, will you please tell me this : Am I to understand you by the words I have heard you speak, or draw my conclusion from the way in which you act and look?" "Gome, governor, hurry up! Tou'll be left; it's train time now!" exclaimed Mr. Fuse, at this juncture. "You are mistaken," replied Barney, with perfect composure, "the train will not leave the depot for two hours yet. However, I have no wish to longer detain either of you. It will take but a moment to say all I want to say, and that will end it for all time. Let me tell you, Mr. Prim, that I have completed my education. "When men in high position erect their conscience as a barrier behind which to skulk, it is time for me to take a step in advance. I shall no longer respect law, but will strive to take advantage of it. Under the circumstances I feel that I am perfectly justified in committing any crime." Thus concluding, Barney Gray quitted the office, and Prim and Fuse looked at each other and breathed more easily. The warden, who had been nervously pacing the floor, stopping occasionally to gaze out the window, now seated himself at the governor's side, as though to offer consolation. "I wish that fellow were in hell," he said. "Can't you find some way tP send biffi there?" responded Mr, Prim, 272 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "What can I do?" pleaded Fuse, "you know very well he has the sympathy of the community, since the true state of things in his case has been shown up. I have done all I could to put up a job on him — had one of the best pigeons in the prison try to work him for opium and whisky out of the hosiptal ; but it was no go. He tumbled to the racket in a minute, and sent the pigeon back to me with the most insulting remarks you ever heard. You see, he is as sharp as tacks in some ways, while he is the biggest fool that ever lived in others. He is one of these fellows that has been brought up by women, I think. He don't seem to have any conception of things. Now, for instance, he has no more idea of what our advanced civilization really is than a child. He thinks — it is strange but true — he thinks our public institutions ought to be run on the dead square; he don't understand that we public men have to present a clean front to please the rabble, while, at the same time, we are obliged to play our underhanded game to serve our own interests. Now, there was Eoy. A fellow like him I can handle easily enough, for he has common sense; all there is to do is to turn him out and that settles it; he harbors no ill-will, for the reason that he knows we are just as good as our political opponents; but an idiot like this fellow Gray — excuse me, I want nothing to do with him." "Don't you think we had better turn him out anyway, and take our chances? You see, the holding of him here tends to injure me in the eyes of the public ; besides, I don't like the way the fellow talks — a simpleton, such as he is, is liable to do something rash," remarked Prim, rather despondently. "Don't think of that for a minute, my dear governor," Fuse returned, "for it is just as I tell you — our political enemies will get hold of him and he will express himself with the innocence of a prattling child, just as he did in that letter I gave you, which he had written for his friend Masters to read. If he was an old-timer and a professional thief like Eoy, the case would be different; we could show up his character and that would settle it; but this fellow has a great reputation for truth and hon- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 373 esty, and the rabble would belieTe every word he said. Supposing you were to let him out of here, and news- paper men were to get hold of him, and he were to ex- press himself to them as he did in that letter — which he would — ^don't you see it would frustrate our plans in get- ting you the nomination for President of these United States? It is the fellow's very innocence that makes him so dangerous. "Now you remember what he said in that letter about men addressing children on Sundaj', then electioneering in another way on Monday, and all that? Well, that was a thrust at you, governor, a terrible thrust; and that is what I say — ^the fellow has no conception of things. He thinks you ought to conduct yourself at political meetings the same as you do when you are at church; that you ought to talk to your political friends the same as if they were Sunday-school children, and that you should mount the stump with a bible in one hand, a prayer-book in the other, and your pockets filled with religious tracts. You see, the fellow hasn't got common sense; if he had it would be an easy matter to handle him." Mr. Fuse was very earnest, while Mr. Prim was in a more serious and thoughtful frame of mind. "But the fellow is bound to get out some time," Prim said, "and suppose our opponents put in their man for governor at the next election, and he lets him out, what then?" "I've got all that planned," replied Fuse, "if such should be the case, and Gray were to make public anj'- thing against us, or our administration, we could turn the tables by raising the cry that he was released pur- posely and with the understanding that he was to tell lies, see? This is a hard case to manage," continued Mr. Fuse, "because the fellow is not malicious — he has nothing against me — I have always treated him well, and I know he appreciates it, but he is so much of a child — child and fool combined — and it's fools and children that are always raising the mischief by telling the truth, you know." "It would be a fine thing if he were to run away," re- marked the governor. 274 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Haven't I given him all the chance I could without laying myself liable?" answered the superintendent, "he goes outside and stays as long as he likes; but I think I'll begin to tighten the lines on him now, for if he were to escape at this time our political opponents would make capital out of it, and try to have it appear that we are lax in our duty — I must see Slide about it." "Yes," observed the governor, "I- think it would be best to keep a pretty close watch on him from, this out ; he may take a notion to do something desperate; I don't like the way he expressed himself — it ■N^orries me." "Oh, that's all bosh, governor," said Fuse consol- ingly, "I have made a study of penology and under- stand these men. "Why, you couldn't get that fellow Gray to do anything that he thought was really wrong if you were to try. He has been brought up under the teachings of the old school- — had it instilled into him that it is better to do right than be rich, and all such fol-de- rol; so don't worry yourself over his talk, my dear governor. " Mr. Prim was disposed to let his mind rest as easy as possible, and began making preparations for his de- parture. Barney Gray, as soon as he closed bis interview with the governor, returned to his quarters at the hospital, and as a matter of course confided to Charley Boone all that had taken place. These two had had many quiet talks of late, speculating on the important event which was to take place. "It must end in success or death, one or the other," said Barney, on his last day in prison. "I have no fear so far as you are concerned," Charley Boone said, "you are cool, deliberate, and thoroughly master of yourself, so there is nothing to prevent you from succeeding; but I am just a little nervous about Bays. He will shoot on the slightest pretext, and if he were to kill one of the guards it would be a bad business." "I shall never rest until I escape or die, anyway," was Barney's answer. When night came on he retired to bed, but not to sleep; his mind was too full, thinking of coming events. It SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. StS was midnight. He got up and went to the window, which opened out in the direction of the gardens. He stood peering out into night, when presently he heard a shot; a moment later he heard another, and he knew that whatever had taken place, Frank Bays at least had been true to his word, and he felt easier. He remained at the window for some time longer, listening for any disturb- ance that might take place; but all was still, so he returned to bed and fell into a, fitful sleep. The next day about noon Barney Gray prepared to go to the garden for vegetables, as was his custom. He spoke to Charley Boone before leaving the hospitaL "Good-by, dear old boy," he said, "if we both live to be old men we may meet again sometime." "I most sincerely hope so," replied Boone. Barney walked out past the offices and through the gates, which were always opened for him on his approach. Charley Boone went above stairs in the hospital and stood at a window from which he could see over the walls and out into the vegetable garden ; he saw Barney enter the little house where the garden tools were kept, and his heart beat with anxiety. Presently he saw a party of men and women, who had been visiting the prison, going down the foot-path in the direction of the railroad station. As they passed along the margin of the garden, and by the tool-house, he saw emerge therefrom what appeared to be an old man with halting step, carrying a stafE and having a white, flowing beard. The old man joined in with the men and women and walked with them toward the station. Charley Boone watched the party until they turned a curve leading round a hill which shut them out from his view. "It is all over," said Charley Boone within himself, and with a sigh of relief, "he will never be taken alive now." Barney Gray, who was representing the character of an old gentleman with weak eyes — having on large spec- tacles of blue glass — walked to the station and took a seat in a passenger car and was carried to Sandon. "When he arrived there he started walking up one of the principal streets, but before he had proceeded two blocks he was 276 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. overtaken by one who brushed against him. Baying: "Hello, Eip Van Winkle, where are you going?" This was Frank Bays, who had been keeping a lookout for his friend, and saw him the moment he alighted from the car at the depot, but thought it best not to approach him until he had gone some distance from the station. "Well, Frank, we're here," Barney said. "That's what we are, and I tell you you are a jewel; it would take the whole Sandon police force to capture us now, and if they did get us they would only have to cart us to the bone yard," replied Frank Bays, very assuringly. Frank then went on to tell of the arrange- ments he had made and to direct Barney how to proceed. He told him to go to No. 31 Eose Street, room three, where he would find clothes and everything he had ordered; that the grate was all ready in which to start a fire to burn the disguise and such things as he wished to dispense with, and that he was then to come to 119 Jefferson Court, room two, where Frank would be in waiting for him. "Here is the key to the room on Eose Street," said Frank at parting, slipping the key into Barney's hand. When Earner Gray entered room two of the house in Jefferson Court, he looked again like his old-time self; dressed in a fashionable suit of clothes he made a fine appearance, and his face was wreathed in smiles. "Well, Frankey, my darling boy," he said, "what is next on the programme?" Frank Bays soon explained that he had everything arranged to his perfect satisfaction ; that he had made an agreement with a sea captain to take a private pas- senger on board his vessel ; that the ship put out to sea that night, and a small boat would be run ashore for Barney's reception, between the hours of twelve and one, at the point down below the graveyard. "The skipper tumbled to the racket that there was something crooked about it," Bays explained, "and so he put his price pretty high — two hundred dollars is what he charges." "That is all right!" replied Barney joyously, "money is no object to me now, since I have turned out and con« SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 277 eluded to become a professional thief; neither does it matter to what port the skipper is bound, so long as he carries me from my native land. But, say, Frank," and Barney began speaking in a more confidential tone, "you had better come and go along with me; we'd make a pretty good pair of pals." "I'd like to the best in the world, old boy," said Frank, ' ' but it wouldn 't do — I'm not suited for your line ; you will make a swell, high-toned crook, and I should only be in your way." Barney insisted that his friend placed too little value on his own merits, but Frank could not be moved from the position he had taken, so the matter was dropped. "How did you make out last night? I think I must have heard you," said Barney. "I was wondering at the time if you did," answered Frank, with a laugh. "I hitched my horse below the road, under the trees, then made a circuit around to get down and plant your things. When I was going back a guard came over the hill and followed me ; after a bit he was joined by another, and they both kept coming after me ; so I turned and let off two shots, and you ought to have seen them getting back." "Where did you get your horse?" "I stole him out of a stable at Tippy — I went to Tippy on the train." "Did you return the horse?" "Yes, I rode back to Tippy and turned him loose in the street; then took the early train and came here to meet you." "You're a good one, Frank; you ought to be a general in the army." "That's all right; but, to change the subject, if you've got any arrangement to make before you start on your sea voyage, we had better be attending to it." "You're right about that, and we'll set to work at once ; I'll have to trouble you to carry a note to my friend Masters. Have you got such a thing as paper and pencil?" "Yes, and envelopes, and postage stamps, too; I thought you might want to write some letters." 278 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Why, you are the most thoughtful fellow I ever saw. " Barney wrote off a line or two to be delivered to Clay Masters, directing that gentleman to draw all the money he (Barney) had in the bank, and pay over the same to the bearer. "Now, he may be alarmed when you give him this," Barney said, "and if he insists on knowing any particu- lars, you are at liberty to whisper in his ear that I have escaped, and ship from the country to-night — am now here — must have my money, and if he prefers to bring it to me himself he can do so." "Karect," said Prank, pocketing the note as he quitted the room to fulfill his errand. Left alone, Barney passed the time in pacing to and fro, while he whistled or hummed little strains of song. He had thrown care to the winds; his life had been a failure; he would bury the past, and what the future might be did not concern him in the least. The worst of it was, he felt himself prepared for the commission of any crime, for the reason that his life had been blasted, but by no fault of his. Frank Bays had taken the shortest cut through the alleys and byways, so he returned much sooner than he was expected. "That friend of yours was mighty leery," he said, when he entered the room. "I had to tell him the whole thing, and he turned as white as a sheet; but he said he would get the money and fetch it to you himself." "Poor Clay," said Barney with a laugh, "no doubt he is badly broken up; he wouldn't be if he had been educated as we have been, eh, Prank?" "Well, hardly," Bays answered. "I hope he will not be long in getting around here and out again," Frank continued, "for I left an order at a restaurant down the street to send a late dinner here for two ; it is just as well for you not to show yourself on the street. And when the man comes with our dinner you can step inside the closet there and close the door; it is just as well that no one should see you." "All right. Prank, we'll attend to it." Presently there was a light knock on the door, and SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 279 Barney stepped into the closet; while Frank admitted Clay Masters. Hearing the voice of his friend Barney came out again, -when Clay, who was in a fever of agita- tion, said in a husky voice: "My dear fellow, what does all this mean?" "It means. Clay, old boy," returned Barney cheerily, "that I have left my Alma Mater; my education is com- pleted, and I now begin a new course in life." "Oh! but this is too bad," lamented Masters, with a sigh. "¥ou have ruined all your prospects; you will be a fugitive and an outcast all your life, to go through the world " "No more of that! no more of that!" interposed Barney, "you can no more understand me now. Clay, than an infant can understand the law of gravitation ; if I am an outcast, who is to blame for it? Men know but little of those phases of life in which they have had no experience — what difference does it make whether I am an outcast or what I am, when all the finer feelings of my nature have been poisoned, and left nothing but bitter- ness to rankle in my heart? Tou may rest assured I shall never allow myself to suffer for the goods of this world; I can now rob, plunder, and steal without com- punction ; I am no longer the same man you knew in the days gone by; death is my only refuge, and I care not how soon he crosses my path. So you see it is not necessary to deplore or moralize with me." Poor Clay. He stood in the middle of the room with his handkerchief in his hand and kept mopping his eyes, face, and forehead. "I — I — always stood up for you, Barney," he stammered, "there are a great many people who think you were always a — secret partner of the fel- low Browdeane — or whatever his name is, and now they'll be sure of it and make fun of me." "Pardon me, dear Clay, if I have been too harsh, and hurt your feelings," said Barney, changing his tone at once; and going up, he put his arm around his friend's neck, "you know I would not wrong you for the world; for if every one were as good and true as you, I never would have been what I am, nor what I am likely to be- come ; but we can be friends no more — we must part for- 280 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ever, our lives now lead in different directions, and I must ever be a suspioious, suspecting man, believing ill of every one, excepting those whom I have tried and found true. As for Browdeane," Barney continued, "I can at least relieve your mind on that score. His right name is Charles Boone; he nursed, petted, and loved me when I was a baby; my father's house was to him as a home; he married an adopted daughter of my parents; I had not seen him since I was a little boy, and when we met here in Sandon he knew me, but I didn't know him ; and I was as innocent, dear Clay, of what he was doing as you were, so that is the whole story." "I believe every word you say, Barney, but others will not," Clay replied. "So far as I am personally concerned, the opinion of the world is nothing to me," Barney answered. "Don't think I am weary of your presence, dear Clay," Barney went on, "but it is better that you leave me as soon as possible, for you know the consequences if you were to be caught in my company — you would be charged with being an accessory to my escape. With my friend here it is different," here Barney motioned toward Frank Bays, "he and I are both well armed and have no inten- tion of being taken alive." "You are right," said Clay sadly, "so I'll be off — here is your money," and he handed Barney a small sack con- taining gold coins. "You will find receipts and every- thing accounting for money I have paid out for you there also." "That is of no consequence; here. Clay," said Barney, beginning to open the bag, "you had better take a few pieces of this to pay you for all the trouble I have put you to." "Don't insult me at the last moment, Barney; do you suppose I would take anything from you? Besides, it is not much you have left, and you'll need all you've got." "It is quite enough; the world is full of money and I shall manage to get all that I require — have no fear of that," was Barney's answer. Clay Masters, with moist eyes, bade a sad farewell to SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 381 his friend. "I don't suppose I shall ever see you again," he said ; then ^he door closed after him and he was gone, and forever, so far as this history is concerned. "Well," said Frank Bays, taking a long breath, "I'm glad that job is over; that fellow is too tender to cook." "One of the best fellows in the world — I feel sorry to have to part with such as he," Barney answered. "By the way, Frank, you had better take some of this money. You have earned it." "Not much I don't, but that reminds me, I have some of your money here now, and I want to give it back to you; I didn't use the half of that I got from the fellow — Masters," and Frank took several gold coins out of his pocket. "Well, you will keep it then, or you and I'll have a shooting scrape right here. How did you get that nobby suit you've got on if you didn't spend the money?" "How do you suppose? Do you think I've been idle? I stood an old bloke up the first night I came out, and he had over a hundred dollars on him ; he never even made any report of it, for I've seen nor heard nothing about it." "He had robbed somebody else, I suppose, so thought it was an even game," was Barney's answer. "I wish our dinner would come, I'm getting hungry," Frank said. "Yes, so am I," was Barney's reply. A few jnoments later the dinner was at the door, and a bountiful supply there was. When all was arranged, and the waiter had departed, the two sat down to the well- spread table. They ate heartily, though they lingered long over their repast, while they talked, laughed, and joked, and were apparently in the happiest mood — these two desperadoes of the world's own making. When they quitted the house in Jefierson Court the clocks were striking eleven. They passed through the bywaj's, and along unfrequented streets until they reached the suburbs, and then came to the cemetery of which Frank had spoken, where they halted for rest and consultation. The moon was high and shining bright, casting its pale light over grave and tomb, adding still greater solemnity to the city of the dead. 282 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "We will scale the fence here," Frank said, "and cut down through the graveyard — it is nearer; besides, we will be perfectly safe, for nothing ever visits graveyards at night but ghosts, and we're not afraid of them." "No, nor anything else," Barney added. "You remember Morgan Eoy?" asked Frank, chang- ing the subject suddenly. "Well, yes, I rather think I do," Barney replied. "Did you know he is dead?" " No ! Morgan Eoy dead ? " "Yes, I saw a fellow the first day I came out that used ^o be in the pen with us, and he told me all about it," Frank went on to explain. "Eoy got so low he couldn't leave his bed, and when he found he was going to die he gave directions for his burial — he had some money — and he even wrote his own epitaph, which he said he wanted on his tombstone; but, as I was going to say, he is buried in here. Iran acoss his grave when I was getting the la.v of the land for this expedition we are on to-night —I knew it by the epitaph. We'll go round that way so you can read it." So saying Frank clambered over the fence, Barney fol- lowing. They wended their way along the narrow walks among the tombs until Frank, stopping and pointing to a small headstone, said: "Here is Eoy's grave." By the light of the moon Barney read aloud this sina- gular inscription : "A Life Prisoner Set Free. " That ws all. No dates ; no name. "I think I should have known that was Eoy's grave without being told," Barney said. He stood gazing steadily at the tomb, engrossed in meditation, until Frank, touching bis arm, said: "Come, Barney, let us be going." Beaching the lower side of the cemetery the fence was scaled, and they went clambering down over the rooks to the water's edge, where a man in a small rowboat was already in waiting. Good-bys, regrets, and good wishes were exchanged with quite as much feeling and affection as though the words had not been spoken by outlaws. Barney Gray glided away in the boat, and Frank Bays seated himself on a rock. They kept waving SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 283 parting adieus so long as their actions were discernible, and so ended the scene. There was a commotion at the reformatory when the time came to lock the prisoners up, and it was discovered that Earner Gray was missing. No one could account for his disappearance, though there were many surmises and conjectures; however, a full explanation of the mystery was furnished the press, and the next day it ap- peared in the columns of the leading papers. The sum and substance of this account was that the prisoner Gray had been for some time slightly demented; that, in conse- quence of his quiet and peaceable disposition, coupled with the mitigating circumstances connected with his case, and as he did not belong to the hardened class, he w^ allowed many privileges. It was believed that Gray had wandered off, in a fit of despondency, and had thrown himself in the lake adjoining the prison grounds. This sad ending of the unfortunate young man was much deplored by those who knew him, for a strong effort was being made to have him released by executive interces- sion, and Governor Prim had made a special visit to the prison on the preceding day for the express purpose of interviewing the prisoner and satisfying himself of his true character that he might know whether he was a fit subject to be set at liberty. The governor concluded that the ends of justice would be fully subserved if Gray were pardoned, and intended having the papers made out immediately upon his return to the capital. About a week later another notice appeared in the newspapers in which the name of Barney Gray again figured. This account was to the effect that a dead body had been found floating in the lake near the State prison; that it was disfigured beyond recognition, but was taken for the prisoner Gray who disappeared so mysteriously not long since. a84 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. THE SEQUEL. Ten Yeaks Later. CHAPTEE XXIII. ME. HENKY CAEPBNTEB. A MAN no longer young was Mr. Henry Carpenter, 'though he was remarkably well preserved. He was tall, well-proportioned, erect, and agile. His hair was white and long, and he wore it combed straight back, allowing it to fall in careless elegance at the back of his head. His eye was full, bright, and piercing; his jewels, diamonds; his linen, immaculate — in short, a pink of perfection in dress was Henry Carpenter, while in manners he was a gentleman of highest polish. He was a habitue of Monte Carlo; when tiring of this luxurious resort he drifted to more retired fields. It is at Monte Carlo we find him. As he passed through the gilded saloon he seemed to be looking for some one. Presently he espied ■ a man much younger than himself, but expensively and flashily attired. This man Henry Carpenter approached and said : "Pardon me, you are a new arrival?" The younger man replied that he had come in that day. "¥ou have been here before?" "Not for some years," was the answer. "An expert?" and Henry Carpenter made apantomime movement with his hands and fingers as though handling cards. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 385 To this the younger man answered that he was fairly proficient, but anything he did not know he was perfectly willing to learn. "I was expecting to meet a friend here," said Henry Carpenter, "but for some reason he has disappointed me, and I see a couple of young English bloods on the ground • — I dislike to see them escape ; they would be easy birds to pick — what say you? "Would you like to join me in picking them?" The other replied that nothing would suit him better. "Then let us retire to a private room until we arrange our game and understand each other." So saying, Henry Carpenter led the way to a small anteroom, where he motioned his new-found friend to a seat, then took a chair himself and ordered wine. During the intervals of sipping wine, Mr. Carpenter was manipulating a deck of cards, at which he was an expert, and showed his friend several tricks that he had never before seen. After a perfect understanding was reached, and they believed they could read each other's signs and move- ments well enough to fleece the young Englishmen, Henry Carpenter drew a card from his gold case, and presented it to his partner, saying: "There is no harm in our knowing each other, though in the presence of our prey we must always appear as strangers." In return Mr. Carpenter received a card bearing the name of Ebon Duane, M.D. "I am very glad to know you, doctor; not a regular practitioner, I should judge?" said Henry Carpenter. "Oh, no, that is too tame for me — not enough money in it; it is the star doctors who make the money now — just as the star preachers draw the biggest crowds," answered Dr. Duane, with a laugh. Mr. Carpenter simply gave a smile as an answer to this sally, though it was not a smile of approval. They soon separated, these two who lived by their wits ; Henry Carpenter to go in search of his victims, the two Englishmen; while Dr. Duane was to keep himself within easy reach, so that he could be picked up as if by chance. The plan worked like a charm. The victims were 286 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD.' decoyed into a game and systematically fleeced by the two sharpers, who, after dividing the spoils, remained together until long into the night. Henry Carpenter was a crafty rascal, but his suavity of manner and gen- eral bearing inspired confidence, even among his own class; and Dr. Duane, pleased with his success, and being in unusually good spirits, became very communi- cative and narrated much of his past life; telling that he had been a soldier in the Civil War in America, and re- lated many of his exploits while there. His auditor seemed much interested in the recital, and put a question here and there, encouraging the doctor to tell still more. But Duane, noticing the keen, penetrating gaze of Car- penter's eye, seemed to think he had said quite enough about himself, and made an attempt to change the sub- ject by saying he thought it was about time to retire. "I would like to hear you tell your whole history, doctor," said Henry Carpenter. "For what reason?" "I think it would be so very interesting." Duane said that he had told^^the most interesting part of his life, for it was only the days of his youth that he ever cared to speak of. "I believe that to be true enough," replied Carpenter, "for most people — especially we worldlings — keep skele- tons covered that we never look at except when we are alone." Dr. Duane felt uncomfortable. He regretted that he had said so much, and would have recalled it if he could. It dawned upon him that he was in the presence of no ordinary man, and one who was a stranger to him, and his manner of expressing himself grated on Duane's nerves. Dr. Duane was becoming suspicious of Henry Carpenter. "Have you ever been to Yokers, doctor?" Henry Car- penter asked. No, Dr. Duane had never been to Yokers. "There is a great deal of wealth and fashion there — people who have retired from active life and live upon their money — people from all parts of the world, too, and a great many of them from America. I make Yokers my SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 28'? home — at xeast that is where I live when I have money enough to indulge in luxurious idleness. I should like to have you go along with me to lookers — I could intro- duce you into the best society there." Dr. Duane explained that he was not a society man ; cared nothing for it; and that Yokers was not the kind of a place suitable to his line of business. "But," pursued Carpenter, "if you could be called back to your natural self, and be induced to quit this course of life, which I know is disagreeable to you, you could marry well and settle down ; for you are still young, handsome, and winning." "I am much obliged to you for your good opinion," said Dr. Duane with a show of dignity, "but I have no wish to change my course in life, and as for marrying, that is out of the question." "Men seldom follow those walks in life in which they should prefer to travel, but take to those into which they are driven," replied Henry Carpenter. "Well, I am done with regrets and was through with moralizing long ago; so we may as well change the sub- ject — especially as I want to go to bed," said Dr. Duane rising to take his leave. "One moment more, doctor," said Henry Carpenter, in his easy way, "you know we cannot always account for our likes and dislikes; now, I really like you — ^have taken a fancy to j'ou — I have no wish to pry into your secrets, nor shall I ever ask you to divulge anything you do not wish to tell ; but will you not allow me to be your friend — a true, sincere, earnest friend I mean? Corre- spond with me — I should like to keep track of you. Let- ters will always find me if sent to "Yokers. " Duane hesitatingly gave an afSrmative answer. "Of course I know you don't mean it, we all become so cautious and suspicious of one another; but will you now promise me this: If you are ever down in luck, sad, and distressed (you know we get that way sometimes), will you not write to me as a confidential friend?" Dr. Duane firmly promised that he would, and the compact was sealed with a shake of the hand. "Now, I know you mean that!" said Henry Carpenter, 288 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "and don't forget; if I am alive a letter sent to Tokers will always find me." They parted for the night, and as the door closed and Dr. Duane passed out, Henry Carpenter mused for a aioment, and smiled' while musing, as he said within liimself, "Well, and so here he is! The young man of itreproachable character! I wonder what could have driven himtothis? His history would be worth knowing. .Dr. Ebon Duane. That is very good." Early in the morning Dr. Duane quitted Monte Carlo. He preferred to avoid Henry Carpenter. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLDi 289 CHAPTER XXIV. STEANGE DEVELOPMENTS. A YEAR and more had passed since Mr. Henry Carpen- ter and Dr. Ebon Duane met at Monte Carlo, and the doctor was now in London, living in cheap lodgings. He no longer wore expensive jewelry, and his clothes were faded and frayed. The days he spent in wandering listlessly about the streets; taking his meals where they could be had for a few pennies, for the doctor was poor and broken in spirit. He had a few shillings left and this was his all. What should he do? Seek a position and go to work for a bare living? No, he had passed beyond that, he had seen too much of the world, and life was not worth it. Such were the drift of his thoughts. In the world ! no money, no friends. Who can conceive a sadder plight? Dr. Duane kept putting off from day to day the fatal moment. Life was not worth the living, upon this he had decided. There was a hook in the ceil- ing of the miserable little garret where he slept; he had tested its strength and found it would bear his weight. He could tear enough of the bedding into strips from which he could twist a rope, fasten the end to the hook, then make a noose, and standing upon a chair, slip the noose over his head^ — ^kick the chair from under, and all would be at an end. Yes, Ebon Duane had it all planned, but he hesitated. The world never looked so bright, life never so sweet, as when one is contemplating ending it by his own hand; and many thousands have continued to live on because they hesitated. The promise given to Henry Carpenter had occurred to Dr. Duane several times, but it was nothing more than a passing thought ; for his confidence in man was gone, 290 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. and he did not suppose that Carpenter any longer remem- bered the circumstance. He concluded, however, that if he fulfilled the promise he could die with better grace, so one day he stopped at a news stand and carelessly dashed off the following. "Me. Henry Cakpentee: "Deae Sik: In fulfillment of the promise I gave you, I now write you this to say that I am in despair. I keep on living from day to day, for the reason, I suppose, that I still have a few shillings and have no debts. If you still remember me and care to answer, you may address, , London. Yours, "EbonDuane." This was forwarded to Yokers, and an answer came much sooner than was expected in the shape of a dis- patch, which stated: "Deae Boy, money will follow this at once — come to Yokers without delay. Yours, "Henby Cabpentek. " As much as Dr. Duane disliked to go to Yokers and present himself to Henry Carpenter in his sad and seedy plight, he felt that he was now in duty bound to do so. Besides, what did it matter? He could end his existence in Yokers as well as elsewhere; so, when Carpenter's remittance arrived. Dr. Duane took passage and joined his mysterious friend. In due course of time the doctor was landed at the city of wealth and fashion, where he was met by his quandam friend, who escorted him to his elegant apartments and treated him very graciously. Being no longer in gorgeous attire. Dr. Duane felt very ill at ease after he was seated in Mr. Carpenter's par- lor, and as he glanced around disconsolately, he said : "I feel ashamed in presenting myself here in this plight. Car- penter, and I should not have come had you not sent me the money for the journey; and now that lam here what am I to do?" "Do?" said Henry Carpenter,' "we will bridge over SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 291 the chasm, my dear fellow; polish you up, get you some new clothes, then we will take a trip to fashionable resorts; rope in the unwary, and set you upon your feet again. It is easily done, for you have ability enough." "No, Carpenter," said Duane sadly, "I can't do that any more. I have quit gaming^ — ^have quit the star doc- toring business; I can't impose upon the credulity of unfortunate creatures anymore, I have lost all my nerve." "Y-e-s," replied Henry Carpenter, musingly, "con- science-stricken, eh? suffering from remorse? Well^ — -I am not surprised at it; thought it likely something of the kind might be the matter. Then we must think of some- thing else. In the first place, I must make you acquainted with Mrs. Barnes." "And who is Mrs. Barnes?" "Mrs. Barnes," answered Henry Carpenter, "is the wealthiest woman of Tokers, and the leader of fashion here. If it is known that Mrs. Barnes has a headache, all Tokers complains of headache. If Mrs. Barnes were to say it is not good form to carry an umbrella, every- body would take a ducking rather than be seen with an umbrella. And, as good luck has it, this is the lady's evening at home, and we must get ourselves in shape to call upon her." "What?" demanded Dr. Duane, "call upon a lady? Why, I am not fit to appear in a respectable barroom. The best clothes I own I've got on." "Pooh! that is a small matter," returned Henry Car- penter, "I'll call in a haberdasher who keeps clothes to let, and have you dressed up fit to enter the palace of a prince, in very short order. I said to the lady the last time I saw her that I was expecting a friend, and she invited me to fetch him up ; so you see the way is pre- pared for 3'ou." "But of what good is it, after all, introducing me to Mrs. Barnes?" asked Dr. Duane wearily. "Of what good is it?" echoed Henry Carpenter, "it will tend to cheer you up and prepare you for a different sphere in life, to begin with. I don't profess to be much of a saint, " he pursued, "though far be it from me to want to encourage you in continuing the life you have 392 SCHOOLEt) BY THE WORLD. been leading, if you feel disposed to change for a better. You are by nature too good a man to be left to go to the devil and throw yourself over the precipice of despair, as I see .you will do if left to yourself. My own life is bad enough, and sad enough, I admit; though I can stand it, for it is in keeping with the world in which I live. It is hard to keep from becoming cynical and embittered when one is surrounded by nothing but deceit, hypocrisy, and fraud, all growing out of the great struggle of greed. But how you, you, have been driven so far beyond your natural inclinations and departed from the teachings of your earliest years, I must say mystifies me, as well as interests me. "You may see fit to tell me your history some day, and I am sure it will be worth hearing." Here Henrj' Carpenter paused, and Dr. Duane looked at him with a searching, inquiring gaze, but he asked no questions. "Should Mrs. Barnes feel so inclined — and I think it likely she may if she believes you are worthy, " Henry Carpenter went on, "she could very easily establish you in a reputable practice here in Tokers, and it wouldn't cost her a cent to do so either. You have your commis- sion as a physician, I take it?" Duane nodded assent. "Then that is all that is necessary ; if Dr. Duane opens an office in Yokers and Mrs. Barnes employs him, every- body else will, and he is established in business at once; so I want you to pull yourself together, spruce up, throw off that melancholy cast of countenance, and we will pre- sent ourselves at the lady's mansion this evening." Under Mr. Carpenter's direction the doctor was fitted out in attire suitable for the occasion; though he was not in his element, nor did he take much interest in the proceedings, and went through his part of the prepara- tions mechanically. He felt that he must necessarily be subject to Henry Carpenter's directions, and had really no right to object. Soon after nightfall Carpenter's gig was brought to his door, and they started to drive to the home of Mrs. Barnes. They sped along in silence, for Dr. Duane was not in a talkative mood. He was filled with misgivings, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 393 and was secretly upbraiding himself for having come to Tokers to be the means of putting his friend to so much unnecessary expense. Coming to a gate, which was opened by the lodge- keeper, they entered the grounds of a large estate, when Dr. Duane inquired indifferently : "Is this our destina- tion?" ♦ "Yes," replied Henry Carpenter, "we are now in the grounds; that mansion just above, where you see those domes, is Tower Place, where Mrs. Barnes lives." In going along the graveled driveway, statuary was discernible in the dim light, and all around were indica- tions of wealth and luxury. Dr. Duane spoke again : "This woman must be very rich?" "As I have said," returned Henry Carpenter, "she is the wealthiest lady in all Yokers." They were nearing the mansion, driving slowly along, and had entered a polystyle when Dr. Duane again broke the silence by saying: "And Mr. Barnes, does he live here also?" "Mr. Barnes is dead," replied Henry Carpenter with a quiet laugh, "this lady'is a widow; but don't let your hopes rise within you on that account, for she could marry anj' time and have her pick for a husband ; but report says she will never marry again so long as her father lives." "And so her father lives here?" "Yes, and her mother also." "Who is her father — ^what is his name?" "Boone, Charles Boone." "Charles Boone!" exclaimed Dr. Duane, with a start. "Yes, why? What is the matter? Do you know him?" "N-o-o — not this Charles Boone," replied Dr. Duane, subsiding into his thoughtful mood. "Well, here we are, " said Henry Carpenter, drawing rein, stepping down and turning over his horse to the care of an attendant. They had alighted in front of the main entrance, and were immediately taken in charge by a page who con- ducted them through a vestibule, then along a spacious 29i SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. hallway to a brilliantly lighted apartment, where they were announced. A lady came to welcome them. She was arrayed in orgeous raiment, like the queen of olden times. She ?as gowned in purple velvet, with trimmings of the rar- st laces. A necklace of diamonds with ruby pendant encircled her neck, and upon her arms, her hands, as well as in the folds and festoonings of her gown, sparkled precious gems. Her hair was dressed high upon her head, and held in place by a coronal of blazing brilliants. She was tall, fair, and moved with an easy grace, like one born to command. This was Mrs. Barnes. She spoke to Henry Carpenter, and he then introduced Dr. Duane. "I have heard Mr. Carpenter speak of you, doctor, and I am very glad to meet you; when did you arrive at our city?" said Mrs. Barnes. Dr. Duane replied that he had just come in that day. "How very kind of you to come so soon to Tower Place," returned the lady, with a most charming manner and voice. "Is this your first visit to Yokers?" she asked. The doctor replied that it was. "Then you must allow me to introduce you; we always like our friends to feel at home when they come to Tower Place." Mrs. Barnes then proceeded to make the doctor ac- quainted among her guests. She introduced him to Lord Mufty, to Lady Gufty, to Count Nufty, and to several other notables; when quite suddenly she said: "Oh, doctor, come with me, I want to make you ac- quainted with papa; I have just caught a glimpse of both him and mamma; they are in the next room." Passing into an adjoining apartment. Dr. Duatie saw an old gentleman who was apparently in delicate health. His hair was nearly white, and his form considerably stooped. "Is your father not well?" said Dr. Duane. "Poor papa," returned Mrs. Barnes, "has been ailing for a long while; we are very much concerned about him." The old gentleman, by the side of whom stood a lady SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 293 of matronly appearance, was conversing with a bevy of guests when Mrs. Barnes called his attention, saying: "Papa dear, this is Dr. Duane, Mr. Carpenter's " A woman's scream, followed by the cry : "My hus- band's dying!" put an end to further ceremony in the way of introductions. The guests came running from every direction ; with anxious faces and hurried inquiries they sought to know what had happened. Mrs. Barnes had caught her father and was supporting him in her arms, while Dr. Duane was in the act of taking him up to carry him to a place where he could be laid down. At this moment life seemed to be returning, and the old gentleman begafa disengaging himself, and looking wildly about, said: "What is it, my daughter? Mary, my dear, what has alarmed you so?" "You turned so white, papa, you would have fallen had I not caught you." "Oh, yes, yes; those spells; those peculiar pains in my head, they seem to be getting worse," said Mr. Boone. "But this?" here he looked appealingly at Dr. Duane, "who did you say this is?" "Dr. Duane, papa," replied Mrs. Barnes, "he is Mr. Carpenter's friend, I had just brought him to introduce him to you." "Yes, I — oh, yes, I am very glad to' see the doctor," stammered Mr. Boone, quite dazed, "but as I am not feeling well, I think I had better go to my room." "Yes, papa, let me assist you to your room ; the doctor and all of us will excuse you for to-night," said Mrs. Barnes. "Yes, Charles, you had better go and lie down; I will go and remain with you," joined in Mrs. Boone. "Oh, no, no, I can go — I prefer to go— but I want the doctor to go with me; I want to speak with him, and tell him about this trouble in my head," replied the old gen- tleman. Dr. Duane extended his arm, which Mr. Boone eagerly accepted, and they quitted the apartment together, fol- lowed by the anxious and inquiring looks of the company. Not a word was spoken until Charles Boone had con- ducted the doctor to a private room which they entered 296 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, and closed the door. It was here the elder man gave vpay to his feelings. "Oh! my dear, dear child!" he sobbed, "I cannot be mistaken, you are my long-lost Barney Gray!" Dr. Duane, whose eyes were also moistening, admitted that this was true. "Oh! why did you come upon me so abruptly? It was such a shook; you see I am a broken old man now, and can no longer endure a sudden strain upon my nerves as I once could. You should have let me know — should have come to me in some other way." Dr. Duane, or Barney Gray — since they are one and the same — told that his being there was simply a coinci- dence; that he was as much surprised as any one, and explained, in as few words as possible, how it all came about. "How strange! and yet how fortunate," sighed Charles Boone. "To me it was like seeing one rise from a tomb, for to all who knew you in the past you are dead and buried long ago," and Charles Boone went on to tell of the last reports that were circulated of Barney Gray at Sandon. "I never believed that it was you who was buried in your name," he said, "still, I had no proof that it was not." Dr. Duane really laughed outright in the midst of all his surprises and confusion of mind. "Well," he said, "if the Earner Gray of the past is dead and buried, so much the better." "Yes," admitted Charles Boone, "it is all the better; we will let your past remain buried, and you must now begin life anew — I cannot permit you to leave me again — your home shall always be here and with me; but you must drop this name you have and take again the name of your father — we will pass this off as a hoax ; let it appear that you came here under a different name that the surprise might be the greater and the more agreeable. Oh! how surprised and overjoyed Mary will be when she comes to know who you are! You saw Mary, does she look like herself? Would you have known her?" Barney replied that there was so much confusion that he had not taken particular notice, though he was sure SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 397 he would not have kno-wn her ; but from what he had seen, he thought he could discern the eyes and features of Mary Parmer — as he remembered her. "And my daughter, my Lillian, you saw her, too; is she not beautiful? Did you ever see her superior in woman?" Barney said he had never beheld a more magnificent lady than Mrs. Barnes. "The greatest nabobs of the world bow down and fawn in the presence of my daughter," and Charles Boone ele- vated his chin and threw back his shoulders, showing something like the dignity of former times. He then asked confidentially how Barney was situated financially, and what he was doing. To this Barnej- very frankly answered that he had not been doing anything for a long while, and was now vir- tually a pauper, that even the clothes he had on did not belong to him. "So much the better — pardon me — but so much the better," said Charles Boone, "it gives me the greater claim upon you, and I can now fulfill the promise I gave your father regarding you, in the long ago." "I don't want to be looked upon as a subject for charity." "Don't speak that way to me, I won't have it, it's un- kind," said Charles Boone, with some severity, "your father would never allow me to fulfill my obligations to him, and I think it would be very unkind of you if you would refuse my friendship. I need a companion, one in whom I can confide — ^one who can cheer and console me in my declining years, and you, of all others, I choose to have fill this position ; and, as you are out of employment, there is nothing to prevent you from ac- cepting the situation." "I should think you had quite enough to console and cheer you, to look at your surroundings, and the way you are living — what a wonderful success you have made of it, Charley, old boy; I remember your once telling me that you would yet place your family in a position of independence, and how well you have kept your word!" said Barney Gray, with a quiet laugh. 398 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Oh, don't mention that; don't speak of it," groaned the old man, as though in the agony of despair. He was sitting close by the side of Earner Gray ; he clutched his arm and reducing his voice to a hoarse whisper, hissed in his ear: "Stolen. The fruits of robbery, every dollar of it." After a moment's silence, Barney remarked: "Well, you made a big haul; that!s one thing certain." "Hush, don't speak of it," continued Charles Boone, "I don't tell any one but you — they don't know it," and he pointed in the direction of the room whence they had come, "Mary doesn't know it; Lillian doesn't know it. Oh ! the agony of remorse I have suffered ! See what it has made of me," and he held out his thin hands, "a broken, withered old man before my time. You will never leave me again, Barner, will you?" and he caught hold of Barney's arm again, "I can confide in you — can tell you all; but not to-night. Some other time. It will be such a comfort to have one with me from whom I am obliged to keep no secrets." "We might have an interesting time comparing notes, at all events," Barney replied, "I have not been a saint, nor have I been idle all the time since I last saw you." "How verj' sad. We would have been better men, wouldn't we, Barner, if the wicked world had not ruined us and driven us mad? What would your father say if he knew what we have become?" "Please don't mention his name, Charley, in connec- tion with our doings; have consideration for my feel- ings," said Barney Gray sadly. "Pardon me, I shall not do it again; but you will not go away — not even for to-night — make this your home right now — I dislike to have you leave me for a moment — something might happen, and you might not come back," pleaded Charley Boone. Barney explained that it would be necessary for him to return with Henry Carpenter, for if he was to accept the position Mr. Boone tendered him, he must first make some arrangements for doing so. Understanding the nature of the situation in which hia friend was placed, Charles Boone then said: "Well, then. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 299 I will send a carriage for you to Mr. Carpenter's lodg- ings to-morrow, and you will not disappoint me?" Barney promised faithfully to be on hand. "And now," said the old gentleman rising, "I suppose we had better return to the folks; they will be getting anxious, and wonder what is keeping us so long — but stay," here he paused for a moment, "I think we will let it go for some other time before telling Mary who you are; we have had revelations enough for one night, and I'll prepare both Mary and Lillian for the surprise I have in store for them by the time you return." This was mutually agreed upon, and they then returned to the halls where the company had assembled. The rooms were all deserted, the guests having departed early on account of Mr. Boone's supposed sudden illness. Mrs. Boone, Mrs. Barnes, and Mr. Carpenter had retired to the family sitting room, where they were conversing, and where Charles Boone and Barney Gray joined them. "Do you feel better, m.v dear? I am sure you look bet- ter," said Mrs. Boone, as her husband entered. "Why, yes," joined in Mrs. Barnes, "I have not seen papa's face look so happy for years ; really. Dr. Duane, you must be a marvelous physician to bring about such a change for the better so quickly." "The doctor certainly understands his business," said Charles Boone, "for he has made a more correct diagnosis of my affliction than any one who has heretofore examined me. He has a new method of treatment, too, for such cases as mine, and I believe that under his care I shall completely recover." "Then we must certainly engage you, doctor, to take up your abode at Tower Place, and give papa your in- dividual attention," said Mrs. Barnes. "I fear Mr. Boone overestimates my ability, " sug- gested the doctor modestly. "It is all settled, my dears," answered Charles. "I have made arrangements with the doctor to take up his residence with us, so he will return to-morrow and re- main here as long as we wish. His terms are pretty high, but we must have him." "His fees are no object so long as we are able to pay 300 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. them, and he benefits you," interjected Mrs. Boone, who ■was a beautiful woman even yet, in her black satin and laces. "Allow me to congratulate you, my friend," said Henry Carpenter, rising and shaking the doctor's hand, "I can assure you if you succeed in restoring Mr. Boone to good health your fortune is made." "Oh, fie, Mr. Carpenter, what a flatterer you are," returned Mrs. Boone. "But I generally know what I am talking about," replied the gallant Henry, "and I will say, too, that I think my friend. Dr. Duane, will prove himself worthy and equal to the occasion; and now, doctor, let us be going." The adieua were said and Carpenter and Duane quitted Tower Place. After entering the gig, they had driven but a short distance when Henry Carpenter said: "Well, my good fellow, you have made a good beginning toward success; do you feel any better now?" "Don't disturb me. Carpenter; let me commune with my own thoughts for awhile. Let the mare have her head and speed on down to your lodgings; when we get there, where there is no chance of being interrupted, I'll tell you a singular story," said the doctor. When they reached Carpenter's rooms, and Dr. Duane was comfortably seated in an easy-chair, and Henry Car- penter was reclining upon a lounge, smoking a cigar. Dr. Duane told of the early history of Charles Boone and hia wife; that they were married at his father's house, and so on ; but he said nothing of the aliases under which Boone had figured, nor of his criminal career. "Quite a romance," said Carpenter, when Duane had concluded; "but," he continued, "the family have a history with which you may not be acquainted." Henry Carpenter then related that about two years before, one of the nobility. Lord Smartington, took it into his head to marry the widow Barnes. He boasted of his conquest, and spoke of the marriage as a settled matter; but when he proposed for the lady's hacd, she rejected him flatly and irrevocably, saying some very SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 301 cutting things, ■which wounded Lord Smartington's van- ity very much. He then, to be avenged, went to great expense in hunting up the family's past record, and it ■was brought to light that Mrs. Barnes' father was once an outlaw — a professional highwayman, and a criminal of the most pronounced type; that he had been guilty of every crime known to the decalogue; that he had served a term in prison, and had he been brought before the bar of justice for all the crimes he had committed, he would have been hanged higher than Haiman long ago. "But it is hard to get ahead of a brainy woman," Car- penter said, "especially when there is plenty of money back of her." Then, continuing his narrative, he said that the press of "Eokers had been bought up by the gay widow, and it would not publish Smartington's expose so he had it published in papers elsewhere, and these were shipped to Yokers and thrown broadcast throughout the city, causing a great sensation. The papers of Yokers then took up the case for Mrs. Barnes and de- nounced Smartington. The energetic widow also either directly or indirectly, so the story went, bought up the preachers of the various churches, and they preached sermons on the matter, declaring that Smartington was an agent of the evil one; since none but a bad, designing man would attempt to besmirch the character of so great, • so good, and so honorable a man as Charles Boone. That even admitting he had departed from the path of recti- tude, now, since he had reformed and returned to the ways of righteousness, had accumulated by honest effort a great fortune, was charitable, contributed liberally to the church and other religious institutions, it was most reprehensible to seek to bring odium upon him, and that one who would attempt it deserved to be ostracised by all good people. It was while this sensation was at its height, so Henry Carpenter related, that a party of tourists, of world-wide renown, visited Yokers. Mrs. Barnes, seeing her op- portunity, and smart enough to take advantage of it, gave them a reception, the like of which Yokers had never before seen. The decorations alone in the halls of Tower Place cost thousands of dollars. She sent out in- 303 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. vitiations to all the elite; the banquet was an unprece- dented success, and all Tokers felt elated and honored. The result was that Lord Smartington was completely van- quished, and were he to show himself in Yokers to-day he would be hooted at by street-gamins, while Mrs. Barnes' social reign was more firmly established than ever. "So now you have another page to your history," said Henry Carpenter, as he concluded. "Yes; quite sensational and interesting, too," replied Duane, "but I think I can equal it." He then told of his experience with Charles Boone at Sandon; how he met him there under the name of Browdeane; of his be- ing taken on the highway and sent to prison, and how the discovery was made that he was the same Charley Boone of former times. Still Duane did not implicate himself. He said nothing of the name of Earner Gray, or of his having kept Boone company in prison. "Well, it would seem as if the man's life would make a good foundation for a novel," said Henry Carpenter, "but truth is more strange than fiction, it is said, and I believe it to be true enough; for I know of several cases in point that would equal anything that ever emanated from the most imaginative brain." Then, as if not to be outdone in disclosing surprising revelations, Henry Carpenter went on to tell of a boy who had been born and brought up under the tenderest care, in a little inland village ; that he enlisted for a soldier; went to the war, and so on and so forth; and as he began describing the boy's career so very minutely. Dr. Duane's face blanched, while he eyed Carpenter with an anxious, inquiring gaze. Presently he said: "Just excuse me a moment. Car- penter. "What was the name of this boy you are telling about?" "Gray, Barner Gray; usually called Barney," Car- penter answered indifferently, dropping the ashes from his cigar into a cuspidor. There was a dead silence for a full minute, which was broken by Duane heaving a heavy sigh. He then said : "Carpenter, I have had a suspicion of you from the first SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 303 time I ever saw you. I think it is time now for you to reveal yourself — tell me who you are, and how you came to be so well-informed regarding me?" "AVhy, what is the matter with you?" inquired Car- penter, with an assumed look of wonder. "It is not neoessary to go into any stage play over it," said Duane, rather bitterly. "I am convinced that you know who I am, and I see also that you are well informed relative to my early life; and yet, to the best of my knowledge, I never saw you until I met you at Monte Carlo; nor did I ever hear of you." Henry Carpenter broke into a hearty laugh, and said : "My dear Barney, I have no secrets to conceal; I was perfectly willing to be frank and confidential with you, whenever you saw fit to unbosom yourself to me. True, I never saw you in my life until I met you at Monte Carlo, but I have known of you for many j'ears, and you never passed entirely out of my mind. After we fleeced the young Englishmen, and started them for home on borrowed money, you, very foolishly, as I thought, under the circumstances, inadvertently told me all about your- self, or at least enough to let me know who you were. Of course I knew you were sailing under false colors, but I had respect enough for your feelings not to disturb your skeleton so long as you showed a disposition to keep it hidden from me. To-night, however, after all that has come to light, I thought I would probe you a little. But you need have no fear; your secret, what- ever it may be, is perfectly safe with me." "All very good, so far as you have gone," prompted Barney Gray, as Carpenter paused, "but you have not answered my questions. I have an impression that you, like myself, are under an assumed name?" "Oh, no, my name is Henry Carpenter, all right; but my name is long drawn out. I was known b.v another part of it in earlier life, and under that, I became too well and widely known for my own benefit — it interfered with my business; so I dropped that and took up the other half. I was my parents' first born, and thinking, I suppose, that I would be their only offspring, they tried to thrust all the family honors, as well as all the family 304 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. name upon me. My maternal grandfather's name was Henry Carpenter, ■while my grandfather on my father's side was named William; so my name, when all written out, reads : William Henry Carpenter Gusty, and I used to be called Bill Gusty; did you ever hear of me?" "Well, if you can't knock me down with a feather!" exclaimed Barney Gray, "this is too much for one night; I must get to bed or I'll have brain fever. And so you are Captain Cuaty's brother? 'My brother Bill, 'as he always called you." "The very same," was Carpenter's answer. "Well, I can't rest now, I must know something of the captain. What has become of him ? I never heard a word of him after the close of the war, and yet he prom- ised so faithfully to write to me, and insisted that I must come to see him after his marriage." Without giving any direct answer to Barney's queries. Carpenter proceeded by saying: "Al was not such a bad fellow, if one knew how to take him; very strong in his prejudice — if he took a dislike to one he couldn't hate him bad enough; but those he took a fancy to he couldn't think enough of nor do enough for. He was a bad subject to fall into the hands of a heartless, design- ing woman ; yet such was his misfortune, which was the cause of his sad ending." "lam very, very sorry to hear that," said Barney Gray. "I made an attempt to save him," Carpenter contin- ued, "but it was no use. Love, it always seems to me, is very closely allied to insanity. If a man becomes infatuated with a woman it is impossible to bring him to know anything about her, except what she herself tells him. And this species of insanity is, I think, still more prevalent among women than men. After I had seen Al and his charmer together, it was not five minutes before I discovered that the love was all on his side, and that she cared nothing for him excepting so far as it pleased her vanity to have admirers; besides she could get money from him whenever he had any to give. Of course, they were engaged and were to be married as soon as he came SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. g05 home from the -war — at least that is what he had been led to believe. "But when Al returned and claimed the dear girl as his own, the poor thing gave way to tears and had a piti- ful tale to tell. Pa and ma opposed the match ; and pa and ma were obdurate; and she couldn't go against the wishes of pa and ma. Of course this was a subterfuge. But there was no way of convincing Al of that. The truth of the matter was she had another fellow on the string that she wanted to marry, and who, according to her idea, was killingly handsome. Had she told Al this, and dismissed him, it would have been all right; but instead of doing so, she led him to believe that she was being forced into a marriage which was odious to her, while at the same time she was dying with love for him. Her vanity, coupled with jealousy and envy of another girl with whom Al was acquainted, kept her from releas- ing her hold upon her slave. So, in addition to loving the vixen with blind devotion, the poor fellow was made to pity her also, with all the tenderness of his heart. "Well, she married the man of her choice and was happy, I presume for a time. But hubby proved to be a worthless lout, and it was not long until he strayed off and was married again to another girl ; so he was put in jail for bigamy, and was in a fair way to go to the peni- tentiary. And now here is the strangest part of the whole thing. The grass widow, Al's darling, sent for him. She wept upon his shoulder, and she kissed him (I have his own words for it that this was the first and only time she ever did so), beseeching him, for the love she bore him, to give her money that she might buy off the case and get hubby out of jail in order to spare her- self and family from further dishonor and disgrace, and — well, it is enough to say that she got the money." "Is that really true? Did she get money from him for such a purpose as that?" inquired Barney Gray anxiously. "It is just as true as I am a living man," declared Car- penter, "and that shows what a woman can do with a man who is infatuated with her." "And — hubby was got out of jail all right, was he?" 306 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLl). "Oh, yes, hubby was brought home and happiness restored- — aa may be supposed. But to go on with my story. Al gave way to brooding finally over the sad fate of his darling, all on account of cruel pa and ma. He became very dissipated, was thrown out of employment, and was little better than a common loafer. It was then that the woman discarded him ; ceased to recognize him, and forbade him visiting her house, and this was the straw, as the saying is, that broke the camel's back. Al fell to the gutters, and was soon taken down with typhoid fever — lingered a few days, then died. So now you know the reason. Lieutenant Earner Gray, why you never heard from your captain." "A sad story, indeed, and it pains me to think of it," said Barney Gray. "I believe if I had been with him I could have broken the charm that woman held over him." "¥ou could have done nothing of the kind," replied Carpenter emphaticallj'; "the man was insane, and that is all there is about it. If the woman had married him, the chances are that his ending would have been no bet- ter, because she cared nothing for him ; consequently, their interests could not have been mutual. Thousands of lives are ruined, and many bright prospects blasted by these marriages which are entered into for the sake of convenience by one side or the other. One of the best and brightest young men I ever knew had his whole life embittered, his disposition perverted, and his hopes de- stroyed, all through an unfortunate marriage. He was self-made; had educated himself for a surgeon, and was aa able a man in his line as could be found. He had no social advantage; his time had been devoted to improv- ing his mind and preparing himself for the profession he had chosen to follow. After he had graduated and was commissioned to practice, he naturally thought the next thing to do was to get married, for he was retiring and modest; so he fell in with a dressmaker, a woman much older than himself, and she being shrewd enough to un- derstand the young doctor, saw there was a chance for her to marry him, so she started in playing her cards to win. That part of it, of course, was all right, had she been in love with him, but she wasn't. However, they SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 307 were married and went to housekeeping. But she, in- stead of being his helpjoaeet or even trying to be so, took up with people of shady reputations, invited them to her house and joined them in drinking beer, and making merry generally. This annoyed and exasperated the young doctor, who, with the view of retaliating, strayed from the path of rectitude and purposely neglected his wife. It was then that trouble began. The wife left the husband and brought suit for divorce and alimony. He was very glad to get rid of her, and was willing to let her have the divorce by default, and offered to give her five thousand dollars besides if she would only go her way in peace and never trouble him more — ^for he was successful in his profession and made money rapidly. But this didn't suit the madam — she wanted ten thousand and more if she could get it. So the case was carried to court where she got her divorce, and was allowed four thou- sand dollars as alimony, though she really deserved nothing. Whether or not it all ended here, I never heard." "And such is the way of life," was Barney Gray's comment. "Yes, I often think of it," said Henry Carpenter, "the absurdity and the inconsistency of things. Here we have institutions of learning teaching us how to be law- yers, doctors, preachers, dentists, druggists, and what- not, and if barbering and doctoring corns were callings such as wealthy men wanted to have their sons engage in, no one would be allowed to cut hair — no one would be allowed to trim a toe-nail, without first having passed through a college where the proper performances of these things were taught; and yet here is the institution of marriage, the most important of all important things, no qualifications are necessary to engage in that. Anybody and everybody is supposed to be fit to become parents, to be heads of families, to bring up children and fit them for a proper and useful course in life, though it is plainly evident to every thinking mind that if the human race is ever to become really civilized, there must first be some uniformity in the proper regulation of families. I have Bometimes thought it very deplorable that the bonds of 308 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. wedlock did not include the right for those engaging in , them, to be supported at public expense in luxurious idleness, for then only a select few could marry, and the land would be filled with schools teaching men and women how to be good husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, as well as everything else in connection with family affairs. Under the present condition of things it is little wonder that the best natures often become per- verted; tbatboth men and women drift indifferentlj- into ways of vice and crime, just as — your friend Boone and myself did, for instance. But it is all of little import- ance to me now, "said Henry Carpenter, rather gloomily, "I have grown old and ugly, and my sands of life are nearly run down." "As to that," answered Barney Gray, "I can say there is a difference in opinion; for I think you are one of the handsomest men I ever saw. No matter how old one may grow, he can never grow ugly so long as he retains a gay and happy disposition, and this you have done." Since Carpenter had told so much in a friendly and confidential way, Barney started in and related the whole history of his life. Henry gave the closest attention from the beginning to the end, and at the conclusion he remarked: "An eventful career, indeed, but nothing more than I should expect. Al thought the world of you, and after he told me so much of your character I was satisfied your life would be one of bitter experience, fraught with trials and misfortunes; incase you went into the world to cope with strangers — as you were likely to do after passing through the exciting scenes of war — and this is the reason I suppose that I always kept you in mind." "And now, here I am," said Barney Gray. "Through you I find my old friend Charley Boone, living in a castle — worth his millions, and he insists upon having me for his constant companion and physician." "And marry his daughter in the end, and become master of the castle yourself," said Carpenter, in har- mony. "Keally, Gray, you are a lucky dog after all." "That is not included in the bargain, " Barney an- swered. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 309 "I presume not," Carpenter replied, "but under the circumstanees, it is easy to presage coming events." ""Well!" said Barney, springing up, "I want to get to bed and to sleep. And after this night's experience if ghosts, both sad and gay, don't visit me in my dreams, I shall know there is no such a thing as a ghost." 310 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTEE XXV. EETROSPECTION. It -was yet early in the morning, before Barney Gray was out of bed, that a private messenger called with a sealed package addressed to Dr. Duane. On breaking the seal Barney found himself in possession of a roll of banknotes, accompanied by the following note in writing : "Will Dr. Duane please return by bearer a receipt for the inclosed amount paid in advance on his salary as resident physician at Tower Place. A coach will arrive later in the day to wait the doctor's pleasure for his con- veyance here." After the messenger had gone Barney at once sought council with Henry Carpenter. "How is this?" he in- quired, "that this comes from Mrs. Barnes?" "She seems to own everything," Carpenter replied, "although she insists that she acts only as her father's agent." "How did Boone make his money? do you know?" "By a lucky strike in the mines," Carpenter said, turning over in bed for another nap. Even after returning Carpenter the money which he had sent to London to pay his passage to Yokers, Barney had still a great deal more left than was required for his immediate needs. He at once set about fitting himself out with proper clothing, and such things as were neces- sary for making a respectable appearance in the position in which he was on the eve of establishing himself. Later in the day when the carriage arrived to convey him to Tower Place, he was all ready to be driven thither. The day was delightful. The sun shone pleasantly and all nature seemed at peace. While speeding along be- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 311 hind the span of spirited blacks, with their gay trap- pings, driven by a coachman in livery, thoughts crowded themselves in confusion upon the mind of Earner Gray.. When the carriage whirled through the gateway leading to Tower Place, and followed along the gravelled drive- way, the trees, the shrubbery, the fountains, the statuary, and the singing birds, and the fall of the horses' hoofs — ■ all objects of vision and sounds to the ear seemed to unite in telling to Barney Gray a tale of wild fancy's make. He shifted his position on the velvet cushions; he glanced to the right and to the left, and while think- ing of scenes in days gone by, the past rose before him like a dream. His mind then took a soliloquizing turn : "What does all this mean? How did Charley become so rich ? Car- penter says by a lucky strike in the mines ! But Charley said all he had was stolen. Truly a strange story it must be he has to tell." When the driver brought the vehicle to a stand, and Barney had alighted, he was received by an attendant who, in accordance with instructions previously given, conducted him at once to the library, where Charley Boone was in anxious waiting. After the first fond greetings were over, and they were seated side by side, the old gentleman said : "I have said nothing to Mary about you, other than that you are an old friend, whom I knew years ago, and to whose family I feel under great obligations. She and Lillian have gone for a drive, so we will have a good time by ourselves until their return. I can't tell you, my dear Barner, language will not express it, how overjoyed I am that you have returned to me, and that I am now to have you with me always, to sympathize, to console, and cheer me in my declining years ; for my burden is so hard to bear, and I have been so very, very miserable — ■ really, I have thought at times my suffering would drive me insane." "Why, see here, Charley, old boy," said Barney Gray, with cheerful animation, "what is it that causes you such distress? So far as I can see you have everything to make life enjoyable — here you are, living in a palace 312 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. — servants at your beck and call, and surrounded with everything that money can furnish ; this is what is called success in life. What more can you want? Come, tell me your trouble, and then if I am to be your adviser and physician, I will know how to treat your case. "We have a good opportunity now ; we are all alone, and no one to disturb us." "Earner," said Charles Boone, laying his hand on his friend's arm and looking him in the face, "if I tell you the great secret of my life, you — you will not despise me, you will not cast me off?" "Don't speak to me that way, Charley, it is not neces- sary. We have known each other too long and too well; it is nothing to me what plan j'ou may have adopted, or to what level you may have descended in order to cope with your fellowman; I understand your true nature and your noble instincts, and that is enough for me. I, like yourself, have been schooled and experienced by the world, as you well know, and look beneath the surface of things before forming an opinion." "I should never have allowed myself to fall so low," Boone replied, "had it not been for my wife and daugh- ters ; I sacrificed myself for them. Had I been alone in the world, rather would I have gone to the woods, lived in a hut with a dog for a companion, than to have en- gaged in such despicable business. But I was deter- mined; I had made up my mind to carry some scheme to a successful issue or die in the attempt. I will tell you. Earner, what I did, and you will be the only one who will ever know." "¥ou needn't hesitate in telling me anything, Char- ley," Barney said, "for if it comforts you any, I will say right now that I consider myself to have been as con- temptible a thief as there is in all Christendom ; so there can't be any difference between us, except that I was not as successful as you were." "You may remember my telling you, when we were in that old prison," Boone resumed, "that Iwas completely reformed, but wanted one more chance to go into business and try to make money enough to place my family in a position eq.ual to the greatest?" SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 313 "And you have certainly succeeded in doing so," Bar- ney interjected. "Let me finish my story," Boone said. "So as soon as I was released from that institution, I took what money I had and directed my steps toward the mining districts. A new field had been opened, shortly before, and reports of rich strikes were widely circulated. This was the place for me, and I lost no time in getting there. ' But when I arrived in the camp everything was booming; thousands of people were ahead of me, and all the avail- able ground was taken up and staked out in claims. I was a very different man at this time, as you certainly know, to what I was years before when I entered upon my first mining venture. I was not laying myself liable to be taken advantage of and robbed ; I had an eye to that kind of business myself, and was on the lookout for victims. So, while canvassing the district and taking the lay of the ground, I made it a point to cultivate the acquaintance of the miners and insinuate myself into their good graces. "Finally I came across a young man by the name of Harry Lee — oh! that name! it rings in my ears day and night — who, I was satisfied had the best prospect in the whole district. I then, with as much stealth as a wild beast stealing upon his prey, pretended to take a great fatherlj' interest in this young man. I had considerable knowledge of mining laws; so I began hunting up and locating vacant fractions of ground joining Harry Lee's claim. I told him I was doing this for the purpose of protecting his interests, and he believed me, for he was young, inexperienced, and unsuspecting; having evi- dently been brought up by honest parents. He had not the slightest suspicion that I was planning to rob him of all which I believed he would some day possess. He was poor, but he had a man working with him on a con- tingency, so favorable was his prospects. So thoroughly did I worm myself into his confidence, that he would be guided by my advice in everything, and taking advan- tage of this, I purposely led him astray in order that he should invalidate his legal right to the property, which he held only by right of location — it was not patented. 314 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. At my suggestion he even abandoned his original dig- gings; came over on my ground and tunneled through where, as I pointed out, he could strike the ledge much sooner and with less labor and expense. This move made my taking his property more easy of accomplishment, for he virtually abandoned his claim, and of this I took ad- vantage. "The young man became so very fond of me, that my presence seemed necessary to his happiness. He would insist on having me go with him to his cabin ; where we would talk until long after night, and he would tell me of all his plans. His mother was a widow in straitened circumstances, and he used to tell me how, after he made the strike in his mine, he was going home to^ surprise her. He said he would wear old clothes and not let her know at first that he was rich. He would find out all the nice things she would like to have ; the kind of home she wanted; then would give her a happy surprise by buying for her everything she most desired. He told me of rela- tives who had been kind to him, and of the way he hoped to surprise them, too, by paying off mortgages on little homes; and of his lady-love, he told me all about her, while his eyes^ — he had such bright, laughing eyes — would sparkle and dance with delight in his happy antic- ipation. I would sit and hearken to all this, giving words of, sympathy, encouragement, and hope, while at the same time I was waiting — watching to — to murder this poor, trusting young man. Oh, dear!" wailed the sorrowing old man, bowing his head and covering his pale face with his thin hands, "his image is ever before me, and his voice rings constantly in my ears! Could I but banish this act of my life from my memory, I could be free and happy still." Barney Gray winced perceptibly and turned a little pale. Being a pupil of the world's own training, he was not easily horrified ; but he had not prepared himself to hear, from his lifelong friend, an account quite so ghastly. However, he could not forsake, in his hour of trial, one whom he knew so well. After a moment's re- flection, in a voice full of sympathy, he said : "Well, there is no use crying over spilled milk, as the saying is; SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 315 nothing is to be gained by borrowing trouble, either from the past or the future. One generally has his hands full if he attends to the present." "But I have more to tell," said Charles Boone, raising his head. "One day Harry struck the ledge, and he came to me with specimens. They were chunks of almost 'solid gold, and he was the happiest boy I ever saw in my life. I congratulated him over and over again, but advised him to keep his good fortune a secret, for a few days at least. This gave me time to perfect my nefarious scheme. I had already filed upon the prop- erty, and had it recorded in my name, and now I put it in litigation and enjoined him from doing further work. I then left the camp, of course, for I felt mean, low, and cowardly, and was afraid the boy might kill me, as he had a perfect right to do. Well, the case came up for trial— I want to end this as soon as possible, so I will not enter into details — and the court decreed that I was the legal owner of the mine. But, now, Barner, I was still not as vile as some people I have known, I didn't want the earth, and would have given Harry Lee enough to have made him independent — for the mine turned out to be worth millions — but he didn't give me time. In less than an hour after the court's decision, and while smarting under the disappointment and the wrong I had done him, the poor boy blew his brains out." Here Charles Boone again covered his face with his hands and gave way to groaning, while tears came trickling through his fingers. "Oh, is that the way of it?" exclaimed Barney Gray, throwing his arm around his old friend, "then it is not half so bad as I supposed. You tell it in such a sad, peculiar way that it almost makes one's blood run cold. Why, you have no occasion to grieve and fret your life away. The boy's killing himself is sad, to be sure, but you couldn't help that. "You were engaged only in a business transaction, such as are practiced every day and all the time, and that, too, by our greatest and wealthi- est men. Come, Charley, old boy, cheer up and be your- self again; you are laboring under a delusion." "Tes, it was a business transaction, I suppose," 316 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Boone replied sadly, "and yet to me it is the crime of my life, and the only act I ever committed which caused me to suffer one pang of remorse." "But you must get over that," urged Barney Gray. "No man ever made a million dollars by honest industry. You must remember that all very rich men have made their wealth by scheming, betraying trust, and taking advantage of the innocent and unsuspecting. Look at the bankers, for instance, and the great monopolies of various kinds. Think of the thousands they drive to suicide. But do they vcorry and fret over it? Why should they? They are simply living in conformity with the principle upon which life is based. Accumulate! get rich ! that is the only inducement which is held out to live. Make money, no matter who or how many are driven to suicide; we were driven to the very verge of suicide ourselves, I take notice. No, Charley, I cannot permit j-ou to grieve your life away in this manner, since you have done nothing except to prove yourself a great man. The public never cast any stigma upon you for having taken Harry Lee's property, I'll venture to say; and ever since, I'll warrant, your name . has never appeared in newspapers without the prefix of Honorable. " "Yes, yes, Barner," replied Boone, in return, "I understand all that; I have argued with myself from every point of view ; but you must understand that I have been through it all, I have achieved what the world calls success, and I now know why it is that so many suc- cessful men droop and become sad in their latter days. It is because they are miserable and unhappy, for happiness does not lie in selfishness — in struggling for wealth. I know, too, why it is that so many very rich men, after having spent a long lifetime in scheming, plotting, and planning how to enrich themselves regardless of the privation and suffering they cause their fellow creatures — I know why it is, I say, that when the infirmities of life set in and they are nearing death's portal, they be- come suddenly generous and donate large sums to churches, orphan asylums, and other charitable institu- tions; they think that by so doing they are making some restitution and appeasing the wrath of an outraged God. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 317 Oh, no. Earner, it ia not necessary to tell me that these men are happy, for happiness comes only from doing good — doing something for the happiness of others; nor does any other course prepare one for a peaceful and fearless voyage down life's decline to the day of doom." "Of course, we understand that side of the question too," Barney answered, "but, then, we didn't make the ■world, and you have no reason to reproach yourself for having conformed to the condition of things — drifted with the tide and made of yourself a man among men." "Well, I can say at least that I already feel better for having made a confession, " Charles Boone pursued; "a great weight seems to have been lifted from my shoulders; and yoy are the only one in all the world, Barner, to whom I could have told of the deception I practiced upon poor Harry Lee. But I am through with all such work as that. I want nothing more to do with anything which partakes of the nature of business; and, though it may surprise you, I tell you candidly that, at the present time, I am virtuall.v a pauper. All I have is simply my living, with the right to live here; everything belongs to Lillian, and she manages the whole estate. To bargain and to traffic comes perfectly natural to her; it was not only her earliest education, but she took to it intuitively. By judicious investment and speculation she has added greatly to that which I gave her; but what her wealth now amounts to I don't know, as we never speak of it, for she knows that I prefer not to hear the matter mentioned. My Lillian, Barner, is a very re- markable woman — a very remarkable woman." "I have not the least doubt of that," was Barney's answer. "I don't thinklshould have felt so distressed, "Boone continued, "if, after Harry's suicide, and when it be- came known that I won the suit in court, I had been denounced as a robber and murderer, instead of being congratulated on my good fortune, and complimented for my shrewdness, while the unfortunate boy, after killing himself, received but little more attention than if he had been a dog shot in the street. A few lines appeared in the newspapers stating, in effect, that a young miner had 318 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. committed suicide by shooting himself through the head, because his suit in court had been decided against him." "But that is the way things go in this world of ours, and we can't help it, that I see; we didn't make it. I have so often thought of my old enemy, Slickneck," Barney pursued, "and of what he said to me just before I pasted him in the jaw. He said that he didn't make the laws of the country ; that the laws were made for him, and for those who had sense enough to take advan- tage of them. I have lived to see the wisdom of his re- mark, and to see what a simpleton and a fool I was in my earlier years. It is a self-evident fact that legislative acts will never make people good, and the sooner this great truth is demonstrated the better. But, to change the subject, you haven't told me alDOut your return home and how you found Mary, and all that." "Well, then, I will complete my story," Boone said. "Mary knew nothing of me, from the time of my release until I got possession of the mine and felt myself inde- pendently rich. After I got the returns from the first shipment of ore, I packed a satchel, one that I could conveniently carry, full of gold coins, and with this in hand I started to find Mary. I traveled direct to Ham- mers which was the place where she was living when I last heard from her, and when I arrived there I inquired for Mrs. Boone. She seemed to be well known in the place, so I had but little difficulty in finding her house, though I was a little surprised at first to see in what good shape she was living, and thought I must be mistaken ; but I saw that the street and number was all right, so I knew I had the house to which I had been directed, and I entered the yard and went up to the front door and rang the bell. "The door was opened by Mary herself, and she knew me instantly. She at once threw her arms about me; kissing me and becoming really hysterical from overjoy. After our first greetings were over, though she was still clinging to me, I opened the satchel and emptied the contents on the floor; telling her that it was all hers, and that she could have as much more as she wanted, as there was plenty to be had where that came from. She then SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 319 indignantly pushed me from her, and throwing herself upon the lounge, cried as though her heart would break ; while she upbraided me for returning in that manner, and accused me of insulting her womanhood. Never in her life before. Earner, had Mary used such language to me as she did on this occasion, and she little knew how her words cut and humiliated me. To me, her re- proaches weie the execrations of Harry Lee, and if I'd had a weapon in my possession I think I should have destroyed myself there and then. "But at this moment Lillian, who had been out in the town happened in. I embraced her as my daughter, telling her who I was ; then, pointing to the gold on the floor, I told her that if she wanted it, it was hers, but to take it out of my sight immediately or I should pitch it into the street. She took in the situation at a glance, and set about putting things tp rights. She had been widowed but a short while before, and was much de- pressed with care and sorrow, but she was equal to the emergency and took entire charge of affairs. Without any unnecessary delay I deeded over to her all my min- ing property, as well as all else I had in the world, thereby voluntarily pauperizing myself. Lillian went in person to the mines and herself superintended the putting of everything in proper shape, for the further carrying on of the work; and I am free to say that she has been far more successful than I could ever have hoped to be. It was not long until she had more money than she really knew what to do with ; so, after reading of Yokers, and that this place was for sale, she made a journey here to see it and thought it was about the right spot for her papa and mamma to spend their latter days. So she bought it, and shortly after we all moved here and have been living here ever since. So now, Barney, you have the whole story, barring particulars, which are of no import- ance. " "Did Mary ever express any regrets for having been the cause of your throwing up everything and signing it over?" Barney asked. "The circumstance has never been mentioned by any fif us, nor has my past life ever been spoken of ; every- 330 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. thing has gone on as though I had never been away from them." "Did they ever hear anything of this affair with Harry Lee?" "Not that I know; but if they did it could )ia.ve been nothing more than that I had a lawsuit over one of the mines, and a young man committed suicide because the case was decided against him." "Your daughter Lillian could not have had a very long term of married life." "Just five months. Mr. Barnes was a railroad man, a conductor, and was killed in an accident on the road." "What has become of your other daughter, Maggie, the one who was named for my mother?" "When we moved here she and her family came with us. It was Lillian's intention that we should all live together; but Maggie's husband soon became dissatis- fied. He had become so thoroughly inured to business that it was a second nature with him, and he longed to return to it. So Lillian gave him money to establish himself in the boot and shoe business in such a way as he desired; she gave Maggie money with which to buy her- self a home, and they returned to Hammers, where they are living to-day, and, so far as I know, very well satis- fied with themselves. He is a very pleasant man, and a very good man, though he was no agreeable companion for me, for our schooling and experiences had been so vastly different ; and his general understanding of things was not very clear. I felt that he always looked upon me with suspicion." "Well, Charley, you are all right now anyway," said Barney, "but you must throw off this lethargy into which you have fallen; you have simply evened matters — re- member the wrong that was inflicted upon you in the beginning." "Now, before I forget it, Barney," said Charley Boone, changing the subject, "how about your title of doctor? We must make some explanation to Mary; are you a regular physician?" "I am a magic healer," Barney replied, with a laugh, "though I am pretty well posted in physic and have a SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 321 diploma; but it is in the name of Ebon Duane, and was stolen. I'll tell you all about it some day ; it is too long a story to begin now. " "Well, then we will say that you have practiced the art of healing, but will drop the doctor entirely, and let the Duane part of it pass as a hoax, eh?" "That will be all right," was Barney's answer. "And now let us move about a little," said Boone, rising, "we have had enough of sad remembrances for one day. Come with me and I'll show you over the place." Following as requested, Barney was taken through the various apartments of the great mansion ; the halls where grand balls were held ; the parlors with their rich car- pets, furniture, and paintings ; through the conservatories filled with exotics and choice flowers of many kinds; tra- versed the terraces and ascended to the domes, going on to the observatory from which views that were really sublime presented themselves. Then, walks were taken through the grounds and to the flower gardens ; from there to the buildings where the horses were kept — there were the saddle horses, the carriage horses, and single driving horses — all giving evidence by their sleek coats, their crimped manes and tails of the care which was taken in their grooming. The cattle-yards were visited ; the poultry yards, and the pens where the pigs were fed. "Lillian oversees all of this, "said Charley Boone, with a sweep of his hand as he looked around, "I give the place no attention at all. She keeps her tenants all liv- ing here close at hand, and is as much at home with them as she is with the nabobs who are constantly danc- ing attendance upon her." "She has inherited her father's executive ability evi- dently," Barney replied. Charley Boone suggested returning to the bouse, as he thought the ladies would be back from their drive by the time they got there. "I fancy Mary will have a suspicion this is not the first time you and I have seen each other since we left Goose- town, when she comes to know who I am, " remarked Barney Gray. 323, SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "She may do some thinking on her own account, but you need have no fear of her asking unpleasant ques- tions," Boone returned. "If you have made any confes- sions to Carpenter," he continued, "Lillian is sure to hear of it, for I think he tells her about everything he knows." A pang of regret shot through Barney's frame at this announcement, and he said: "I shouldn't think Carpen- ter would betray the confidence of a friend." "Not to the friend's detriment, no; if he reports any- thing you may have said, you may rest assured he thinks it for your own good; so give yourself no concern- — no harm will be done ; indeed, I think it would be better if Lillian knew all. Carpenter deals very honorably with his personal friends, and that is all one has any right to expect of any man nowadays." When they arrived at the house Mrs. Boone and her daughter had returned aud were in the family sitting room. They both greeted Barney very cordially, ad- dressing him as Dr. Duane. "I have always beeu telling Mr. Boone, " Mary said, "that he keeps himself too closely confined to the house; if be would go out more, and seek the society of agree- able companions I'm sure it would be much better for him." "But he cares so little for the society of any one except Mr. Carpenter," added Mrs. Barnes. "I must try and cultivate a winning disposition, and make myself companionable," Barney replied with a laugh. "lam sure the doctor has been very successful so far," put in Charley Boone, "for I already feel better than I have felt for many a day. I like his method of treat- ment much better than that of the regular practitioner; his magnetic power is something wonderful; and, the fact is, I hav3 come to the conclusion that Dr. Duane is rather a wonderful man. Don't you think, Mary, that he bears a very strong resemblance to some one you have known in the past?" "Why— really, I can't say," replied Mrs. Boone, with an inquiring look. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 323 "Would you not be surprised if this — Dr. Duane, as he calls himself — were an old friend who came here under an assumed name, for the purpose of playing a joke upon us?" "Please, Charley, don't speak in riddles," said Mrs. Boone nervously, "if 1 have ever known the gentleman before, do tell me quickly who he is, for I hate to be kept in suspense." "Does he look anything like little Earner Gray?" "Oh! can it be true? is this our Earner?" cried Mrs. Boone springing from her chair. ""£es, sister Mary," said Barney, rising and putting his arms around the good lady, "I am your boy — I have grown big and ugly since you last saw me, but I couldn't help that." "Oh! you bad, bad boy!" she went on, kissing him fervently, "whj' have you kept away from us all these years?" and from her paroxysm of joy she broke into a fit of hysterical weeping. "Why, mamma, I am surprised at you," said Mrs. Barnes. "But don't you know, my dear child," returned Mrs. Boone, between her sobs, "this is our brother — your father's and mine — you have often heard me speak of the Grays — the happy life I had there — this is their son." "Then you must allow me to welcome you again, and doubly welcome you, Mr. Gray, to our home," said Mrs. Barnes, shaking hands with Barney; "what a romance it all is, and how you must have enjoyed yout incognito. And so this is the little boy, is it, mamma?" continued the fair Lillian, "that you have the picture of in that old- fashioned daguerreotype? You must get that and let Mr. Gray see how he once looked; with such a huge curl on top of his head; and he is standing as stifE and straight as if he had stood up to be shot at." "I'll warrant the picture looks innocent enough," Barney interjected. "It certainly does," Mrs. Barnes replied; "I remem- ber laughing at it when I was a little girl ; it reminded me so much of William Toll's son, standing up to have the apple shot from his head." 334 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. After Mrs. Boone became composed she had many questions to ask about the old home. Although many- years had passed since Barney left there, she looked upon him as though he had come direct from Goosetown to Tower Place. She wanted to know how everything in the old village looked when he last saw it; whether the old meeting-house had ever been repaired, and if the oak trees still stood in front of it, and the big chestnut at the back; did the weeping willow still grow by the gate leading to the old graveyard, and how had he left every- thing about the house where they used to live; could he tell if the rose bushes still grew and bloomed which she had planted in the front yard, and did he know if the honeysuckle twined as in days of old over the lattice work around the porch ? All these and many other like questions did Mary ask, and it really seemed strange that, after so many years, she should remember so many thingsof apparently so little consequence. When Barney told her that he had sold the home to Ephraim Deek, she was at once tranported with joy. "Oh! how nice it will be!" she exclaimed, "for us all to go there some time and visit the Deeks! It would be worth years of my life to sit once again on the front porch and hear the whip-poor-wills sing. We are count- ing on making a tour of the world and spending a couple of years in travel — we think it would benefit Charles — and you must go with us, Barner, and then we will visit Goosetown, too." "It would be too bad if one made a tour of the world and missed seeing Goosetown," said Charley ironically. "Isn't it too bad, Barner," Mary said, "Charles never gives me any encouragement when I speak of dear old Goosetown? I really believe he has grown to be ashamed of the name." "Why, my dear," Charles returned, rather impatiently, "you never stop to think. Goosetown is not to-day what it was when we were there; if you should see it you'd want to get away again as quick as possible, and you'd wonder how you had ever managed to live there at all; the houses would look like old rookeries; the people we used to know are nearly all dead and gone, and those that SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 325 might be still living would stand and gape at you as though you were a curiosity. Go to Goosetown ? "Why, if I were in that place I should expect to see ghosts spring up at every turn and dance about me with hide- ous, mocking chants." "I shouldn't care if they did," returned Mary; "I should not be the least afraid ; it would seem so very proper, after all these years, we should see ghosts in Goosetown. Why should I not love to see the dear old place? I never knew what happiness was until I went there — such good, kind people, I never knew any like them, except the Snyders in Dressington. It was at Goosetown I met and married you, Charles; and I'm sure I know of one, if she is still living, who would not stand and gape long without saying something, and that is Mrs. Deck." "Yes, you are right on that point," said Barney, throwing his head back and giving a heartj' laugh. "All right, my dear," Charles replied, "you and Ear- ner can visit Goosetown and remain as long as you like, but I don't think I'll go." "Very well. Earner," said Mrs. Boone, "we will re- member that, and when we take our trip around the world we will not fail to see Goosetown. ' ' 336 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER XXVI. BAENET GRAY TELLS HIS EXPERIENCE. As time moved on Barney Gray came to be regarded as one of the family at Tower Place. He and' Charles Boone diversified the time in their rounds of pleasure. One day they ■would be out riding, on another ofE boat- ing or rambling through the forests. Frequently there ■would be three in the party — Henry Carpenter making the third, for there ■was a close bond of friendship exist- ing bet^ween these three men of the world, and they had a high regard for each other. Color had returned again to Charley Boone's cheek, and he-gre'W strong and ■walked more erect; not ■with the haughty, princely air with ■which he carried himself -when he figured as General Bro^wdeane, but with an easy grace becoming to a man of his years. He could talk and laugh again in a free, pleasant way, as was his wont in his earlier years before be had become embittered against the world, and began waging war against it single-handed and on his own account. Barney Gray's services, of course, were indispensable at Tower Place, and he received great credit from all who observed Mr. Boone's improvement, for his miraculous powers in the art of restoring vigor to broken-down con- stitutions. It is true that he did wonders in improving the old gentleman's condition, and getting him into a more happy frame of mind than he had been for some years, for Barney exerted himself to be gay and cheerful, and talked with his old friend only upon agreeable and happy themes, .thereby diverting his mind from "the crime of his life," as he was disposed to regard his transaction with Harry Lee. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. SS? One day, after taking a stroll through the woods, they seated themselves on a log in a cosy nook; and, as con- versation was lagging for the want of something new to talk about, Charley Boone said: "I have long been wait- ing. Earner, for you to tell me of your career after your escape from prision. You certainly know that I should like to hear it." "I have been putting it off, Charley," Barney replied, "until you were in a condition of mind to hear unpleas- ant things; for I assure you, there are many episodes connected with my past that are not agreeable even for myself to think about, and of which I have repented. I am willing that you should know all about me, and will make a full and free confession; but after that I prefer that it should never be referred to. You see I have had a change of heart," here Barney laughed in a good-natured way, "and I changed my evil course nearly a year ago." "Did you make no money while you were at it?" Charley asked. "Oh, I made plenty of money, but took no care of it — I had no responsibility — was under no obligations to anyone — all I had held most dear had been torn asunder; I was revengeful, embittered, and demoralized — cared nothing for life, and you know when one gets in such a condition he is not likely to store up money, even though he makes plenty of it." "Very true, very true," Boone answered; "it is often that the best and most gifted give way to recklessness and dissipation simply because of discouragement and disgust at the deceit and hypocrisy of their fellow men." "While other are driven mad by injustice," Barney added. "Certainly, that is understood; but, as I was going to say," Boone continued, "you do not look as if you had ever dissipated — over-indulged in strong drinker riotous living?" "And I never did," was Barney's answer "for the rea- son, I suppose, that in some respects I am such a great coward; I have such a dread of physical suffering — I have never been sick in my life, nor do I want to be. I care nothing for death — that is something which all that 328 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. lives muat submit to; but I do have a horror of aches and pains, so I have always lived in accordance with hygienic laws. I never eat or drink anything that disagrees with me, nor do I ever try to acquire a liking for anything which my taste rejects. I took a drink of whisky once, but I didn't like it, so I never took another; I tasted a chew of tobacco, it was horrible, so I never tried that again; I thought a cigar must be enjoyable, and I tried one, the smoke was sickening to me, and I threw the cigar away — it was my first and last. That is the way monkeys do ; they try to imitate man — they will attempt to eat anything they see man eating ; but if it tastes bad the monkey will never make the second attempt. So it is with me; and, I suppose this proves that I am more closely allied to the monkey tribe than the great majority of mankind." "I think we are very much alike in that respect; and it is because of your having lived somewhat in accord- ance with your own instincts regarding your habits of diet that makes you look so robust and so much younger than you really are, I should say," Boone replied. "Well, but we are wandering from our subject," Bar- ney said ; "I was about to tell you of my career from the time of my escape up to the day I came by chance to Tower Place." He began by giving an account of the day spent at Sandon, and how, through the kindness of Frank Bays, he had been taken on board a sailing vessel that night and carried to sea. "I landed at Sydney, Australia," he said, going on with his narrative, "and I was in that city about a month, trying to make up my mind what line of thieving I had best engage in. If I had had no money, I should not Lave been long in deciding, for I was ready for anything from robbing- a bank to standing up pedestrians on the street, and was prepared to take my life in my own hands — having but little concern how soon it ended. There is no telling what I would have done— for I had no inten- tion of engaging in any honest pursuit after the way I had been treated — had it not been for a peculiar circum- stance; we are all victims of circumstances, you know, and this came about in rather a singular way. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 339 "I came out of an eating-house one evening, and was ■walking leisurely along the street, in rather serious meditation, when a very gentleman-like man approached me and asked if I could let him have money enough to get something to eat ; saying he had not had anything since the day before. His appearance and manner arrested attention — and misery loves company — I was not in a happy frame of mind myself^ — ^so I told him that if he was really very hungry I would go with him to an eating-house and pay for his meal. My offer was thank- fully accepted, and we walked on together. He was about my own age and size, and before I had conversed with him long, I found that he was a man of no ordinary attainments. He was an American, as I soon detected, and he told me that he was a physician and surgeon ; that he had but shortly before come to Sydney and opened an oiBce for the practice of his profession. The more I knew of him the more I became interested in him, for I discovered that, while he was a man of marked ability, he had no business qualifications whatever — in other words, he was an innocent, such as I myself once was. Of course I was on the alert, my wits were now active, and I thought that perhaps I had found a poor devil that I could make use of. So, after he had had his supper, I walked with him to his office' — a, little room on a side street — and conversed with him for an hour and more. Before I left I had his whole historj'. He was poor and helpless, like so many young men who have spent years in qualifying themselves for a vocation, and expect to succeed in the world simply because they are honest and sincere. He had neither money, business, nor credit; his rent was over due, and he was among strangers in a strange land. A sad plight to be in ! This man was Dr. Ebon Duane. Before I left him for the night I made a friend of him, and said that I should call for him in the morning and take him to breakfast with me. He thanked me in a very feeling and modest way, saying that he feared he would never be able to pay me for my kindness. All this suited me — it was the very way I wanted to hear him express himself, and I was mean enough to feel glad that he was in want. 330 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Nearly all night I lay awake thinking of Dr. Duane, and planning for my future operations. According to agreement I met him next morning and took him with me to breakfast, and luncheon and dinner as well, for I spent the entire day with him. During this time I un- folded to him a scheme by which we could both make all the money we wanted. I proposed going into the doc- toring business on the advertising plan — to profess to cure all ailments that flesh is heir to — to doctor the well as well as the sick, and resort to every trick for making money off the public that our wits could concoct. The doctor scouted this and said that he could never allow himself to fall so low as that, nor would he ever bring such disgrace upon his profession, or the college from which he had graduated. "Having made my estimate of the man, I expected my proposal to be met at first in just this way ; so I was pre- pared to temporize, to argue, and to reason ; and, as you know, I had been well schooled for convincing such men as Duane of the error of their viewa. I asked him how much he thought his college, his profession, or the com- munity cared about his privation, his sufiEering; or how soon he committed suicide — for this he declared he would do rather than do as I suggested. I said that I was once like him; had entertained similar views, but had seen enough of the world to become convinced of my error and my stupidity. I told him that I would take all re- sponsibility; that he could remain in the background — treat the sick, and be only a secret partner; that I would exchange names with him if it would suit him better — I was going by the name of Herbert "Watson — but even this wouldn't answer, and it took me nearly two days before I could get him to consent to let me go into busi- ness with him; and he wouldn't have done it then had not starvation stared him in the face. He agreed, finally, to enter into it for a short time in the hope of making a little money, the firm name to be The Duane Brothers, though I was supposed to be nothing more than an agent and general business man, he being the doctor. "As I had all the money my word was law, so I con- ducted the business to suit myself. I rented fine offices SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD, 331 in a good locality, advertised in regular spread-eagle style; guaranteeing to cure all complaints of whatever kind, and offering to treat tbe poor free, of course, on certain days. Every successful swindler, you know, always makes a pretense of being very charitable." "Oh, certainly! all rascality is carried on in that way," said Charley Boone, in approval. "Well," Barney continued, "we soon had all the busi- ness we could attend to, and our ofiSces were filled with a motley crowd from morning till night. Many were really ailing, and required medical treatment; these I would agree to cure for stipulated sums — payments cash — then turn them over to Dr. Duane, who, I impressed upon them, was the greatest doctor on the face of the earth. The incurables I attended to myself — getting their money was always the first thing— and I would guarantee to restore them to perfect health after certain periods of time, providing they complied with all my directions and submitted to the course of treatment. This would be made so very rigid that many would become discouraged and quit, while others gave up be- cause they couldn't endure tbe severe manipulations to which I subjected them; but I generally succeeded in convincing all that I could efiect a cure in their case if they would only give me time enough. A great many who were in perfect physical health came to us to find out what their ailment was. I took charge of this class of patients also. With them the first thing I did was to make a diagnosis; then tell them the nature of the terri- ble disease which was lurking in their system, and that it was liable to take them off any day — in other words, I would scare tbe life as near out of them as it was possi- ble to do, before saying how much I would charge to cure them. Of course, there was nothing the matter except a diseased imagination; but these people were our most profitable customers, for it was easy to work upon their credulity and get their money away from them. "A woman came to me once with stomach trouble. She had been to all the doctors in the city, pretty much, but could get no relief. She labored under the delusion of having a living reptile in her stomach. I encouraged 333 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. her to talk, and before she knew it I had her whole story. It appeared that she had once taken a drink of water in the dark, and ever after her stomach had trou- bled her; and she knew, so she said, that she had swal- lowed a lizard, a snake, or something of that sort. I told her that I was sure she was right, as I had successfully- treated many such cases, and agreed to cure her for one hundred dollars, or refund the money. The poor woman had a hard time getting the money together, I know, but she came to me one day feeling quite happy and said that she had at last raised the whole amount. I took the money and gave the patient a bottle of medicine, with directions for taking; it was simply a harmless liquid; then made an appointment for her to return when I would expel the reptile from her system. After she had gone I went off and procured a small water-lizard — an ugly, reddish-looking thing it was, and kept this for the next time my patient should call. On the appointed day she was promptl.v on hand. I then took my lizard and placed it in a cuspidor with a funnel-shaped cover to it; this I kept close at hand for the woman to vomit in. After giving her a powerful emetic, I set to work rubbing her throat and stomach most vigorously, and soon she began throwing up at a terrible rate. By the time I got through with her she was nearly dead, of course, but I had to put her in that condition, otherwise she would have thought she had not got the worth of her money. As soon as the patient had recovered sufficiently, we ex- amined the contents of the cuspidor, and there, sure enough, was the nasty reptile which had caused all the trouble. Well, sir, a happier woman I never saw; she showered her blessings upon me, and couldn't say enough in my praise ; she went home, her stomach was all right, and she grew fat and hearty. I received a letter from her after I left Sydney ; she wanted my photograph from which to have a picture enlarged and framed to hang in her parlor, that she could always look upon my face and thank me. But that is onlj' one case out of hundreds. Many people gave me their blessings and thanks for saving their lives, when I did nothing more than deceive them and rob them of their money." SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 333 "But this lizard you were telling about, what became of that?" Charley Boone asked. "Oh, the lizard?" Barney began explaining with a knowing smile, "why, the woman wanted to take that with her the worst kind of a way to show to her friends and doctors who had treated her, but I wanted it too ; I always kept such things to exhibit as evidence of my skill — so I gave the lady five dollars for it. But, then, when she had gone, the confounded cat got the thing and ate it. I was very sorry for this, because only a day or two later, the lady came back in company with a couple of doctors who wanted to see the lizard." "It is a wonder they didn't cut the cat open to get it," Boone said, with a dry laugh. "One fellow did suggest doing so, but I silenced him with a show of superior dignity, "Barney replied. "But I must get on with my story. The kind of business the Duane Brothers was conducting could flourish but for a short while in one place, so we had to keep changing. We took all the large cities and towns; our expenses were very heavy, to be sure, but we made money even at that. My friend, the doctor — my brother, as he was called — made it very uncomfortable for me at times. He didn't like the business and insisted upon quitting; but I held him to it by threatening to expose him if he left me, and I know the poor fellow brooded over it no little. He told me one day that I was an enigma to him ; that he never knew before that a man so good as I really was could be such an unmitigated scoundrel; and he was horrified when I laughed and said that if he had talked for hours he couldn't have paid me a higher compliment, since to be a successful rascal was the ambition of my life. "By the time we had been together about a year, the doctor's health began to fail; brought on by overwork and worry, as may be supposed; and he kept gradually declining until finally he was taken down sick and died. I was the only one with him at the time. I had been his constant attendant and nurse, and as soon as he breathed his last I took his keys and went through his trunk, boxes and all his private effects. He was a frugal, pains- 334 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. taking man, and had stored away in a box along with his diploma and private papers, considerable money which he had saved. He had left a paper giving the names and addresses of all his people, with directions for the dis- posal he wished made of all his effects in case of his death. This I disregarded, and appropriated to myself his money, his diploma, as well as everything else of value in the shape of portable property, while other papers, accounts, and books and so on, I destroyed. I stole his name also keeping for myself the name of Ebon Duane, while I had him buried under the name of Her- bert, which was the one I had been known by. "After this I felt rich enough to retire from business, so I gave up doctoring, except on special occasions, when I would give exhibitions of my skill on the streets and sell medicines, when I needed a few dollars, and to keep my hand in. The world was my home, and it mattered nothing to me where I lived; so I drifted wher- ever the tide chanced to carry me. I got in with the professional gamblers, and became something of an ex- pert at cards; and many is the unwary individual I have incidentally picked up and robbed by a system of artful trickery. "But I could never get over my grievance against my native land, so'I returned there and entered into schemes of humbuggery and swindling on a large scale. Amer- ica, as you know, is the Eldorado of humbugs and thieves, anyway ; besides, it afforded me greater pleasure to despoil the people of that country than any other. I advertised myself as the world-renowned Dr. Duane, the magic healer. I rented the largest halls and gave free exhibitions; bought a fancy wagon, had it drawn through the streets by six fine horses; kept a band of musicians — everything rigged up in the most fantastic style. I procured the most expensive apartments for private offices — all this sort of display I would make when I first entered a city or town, in order to create a sensation and get people to talking about me, so that I could stand them up and get their money the more easily when I began my wonderful operations of healing the blind, the deaf, the crippled, the dumb — especially the SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 335 dumb," here Barney interrupted himself by breaking into a laugh. "But you couldn't yourself attend to all the business you would drum up in this way?" Charley Boone ob- served. "Oh, no, certainly not," Barney answered; "I always had a corps of assistants; able men, too. There are always plenty of doctors who are hanging on to the ragged edge of despair, and are very glad of the chance to hire out to a humbug such as I was." "No doubt of it; there are so many colleges turning them out, regardless of the demand, or even considering the fitness of the individual for the calling in which he purposes to engage." "Well, how could you expect it to be otherwise? Medical colleges, like other institutions, are conducted for the purpose of making money. Why shouldn't they take in and turn out everything that comes along?" "Very true," was Boone's laconic reply. "But let me continue my story. I was the principal man, superintended everything and performed at the exhibitions," Barney went on, "and it is really wonder- ful what one can do with people if he goes about it in the right way. I always made sure of having crowded houses; then, with my band of musicians on the stage with me, I was all right and felt almost equal to bringing the dead to life. Persons have been carried into my exhibitions on stretchers— many of them had not stood upon their feet for years ; and yet, after I would manip- ulate them, go through a lot of antics in pretense of driving out the evil spirit; rub them and act the fool generally — concluding the whole by crying out in a sten- torian voice: 'Arise and walk!' nearly every one would manage to get up and hobble off; and then you ought to have heard the house hurrah! When the blind were brought up I would proceed to treat them in about the same manner ; rub and fuss over them until I got their imagination worked up to the highest pitch; then the closing act was to hold my hands over the patient's eyea and to keep rubbing them gently, while I poured into their delighted ears an account of the beautiful thinga 336 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. they would behold when I removed my hands. In this way I would describe the house — outlining the most conspicuous objects; conveying an idea of what was to be seen immediately in front as soon as I removed my hands. Then, suddenly removing my hands, in a loud voice I would command the patient to open his eyes and tell the audience what he could see. Very naturally he would mention the objects he heard me speak of, and while the house cheered and the band played the subject would be got out of the way." "But these people all lied?" suggested Charles Boone. "No, they didn't," Barney contradicted, "at least not intentionally, and that is where the singular part of it comes in. It shows what can be done with people by exerting an influence over their imagination. Their hope and desire was so great, they had been so wrought up by the excitement and surroundings of the occasion, and I had made such an impression upon their minds, that when I said their sight was restored and com- manded them to tell what they could see, they really thought they could see those things which I said would appear before them." "I shouldn't think you could make much money, even with all the business you did, when your expenses were so heavy," Charley Boone said, "I didn't; that is, I wasn't getting rich," Barney returned, "although I handled plenty of money, for high charges wore made for treatments at my office, and I sold great quantities of medicine besides. But I didn't care for that, I felt compensated by the thought that I was having revenge on my fellow countrymen. I had no object in living except to get my life put in ; so when I would get tired of one thing I'd sell out, and keep drift- ing back and forth between America and Europe; but my spite was against America. I felt that she owed me something, and I wanted to get even; I was anxious to have a patent right on something, and so I invented a process for the preservation of eggs. I procured various kind of chemicals and powders — principally sulphur — £aise4 them together and made 9, oojrtbin»tion of stulC SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 337 ■which I called the Everlasting Egg Preserver. By mis- representation and trickery — the particulars of which are too numerous to mention — I obtained a patent, and that, too, under a different name from the one by which I was known ; so when I started out to sell State and county rights for preserving eggs, I professed to be nothing more than the purchaser of the process, not the inventor. Of course, there had to be ocular demonstration that eggs could be kept in good order for any length of time, and in order to give this, I had a lot of tin boxes made, all precisely alike, and large enough to hold two eggs. When I would find a proper subject for a victim, I in- sisted on doing the square thing. In his presence and in the presence of as many witnesses as he chose to call, I would place two eggs in a box, packed in the preserving powder. The box would then be closed and sealed with my private seal, with the agreement that the eggs were not to be molested for a certain length of time, when I should return and allow the box to be opened in my pres- ence as well as in the presence of all others. You see it was a sort of a sleight-of-hand game — I always counted on changing the boxes, and this I generally succeeded in doing; if I couldn't, I'd break the agreement — refuse to sell and carry the original box away with me. At the appointed time I would appear with a box containing two fresh eggs, and this I would manage to exchange for the one the victim had had in keeping. The eggs would be examined, cooked, and eaten ; and the sale would go through without further questioning. "I was hunted up and arrested on three different occa- sions, and put in jail, charged with being a professional swindler; but the case would never hold in court. I showed that I was simply the purchaser of the invention ; that it had proved a success in my hands, so I declared ; that it had not been my fault if others had failed; besides, I had sold nothing but what the government had authorized to be sold, and this put an end to further proceedings. But I soon grew tired of the egg business; it was attended with too much trouble and risk. So I hunted up an unsuspecting individual who had money and sold him the exclusive right of the patent. 338 SCttOOLEt) BY THE WORLD. "I then gave my undivided attention to the doctoring business. There is nothing like the doctoring business for a professional humbug and swindler to make money in. I started a sort of a medicine factory; advertising vponderful discoveries and great remedies. I advertised myself, too, very widely, as a philanthropist; as one who, having suffered from the indiscretions of youth, would ^ sendj without charge, to all who suffered in like manner, a remedy which was a sure cure. Tfou would be sur- prised at the amount of money one can make in that way; for, of course, there is always a trick — a catch — whereby money has to be paid, and. the poor dupes who apply, fearing exposure, will generally pay and say nothing." "How very sad that the human race cannot be prop- erly educated. Earner!" Charley Boone remarked. "Properly educated!" echoed Barney, "a proper sys- tem of education is the very thing leaders of communi- ties don't want. How would all the humbugs, rascals, and lazy loafers make out to live if the people were prop- erly educated ? However, I became tired of this kind of business also ; it was too tame. I craved constant change and excitement, so I purposed to sell out to a practicing phyician; and, after having me tell him how I conducted the business, and let him see how much I was doing, he took me up and paid me a fair price. I then traveled about for the sake of killing time, and fin- ally brought up at Monte Carlo, where I met Henry Car- penter. I thought his manner peculiar; he acted as though he knew more of me than I cared to have him know— this made me suspicious, and I left Monte Carlo at the first opportunity. Soon after this I was back again in America, and I concluded to organize another company and start out on the magic art. I spent nearly all the money I had in getting up the outfit, but I tell you everything was in royal style ; very proper that it should be, perhaps, for this undertaking was the culmi nation of my gigantic schemes." Barney paused here as though in doubt whether or not he should proceed further. "Why, what happened?" Charley Boone asked. "Well, it was a strange outcome," Barney said. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 339 "The first town I went to, my advance agent, who was the most energetic fellow I ever saw, had mj' coming advertised in fine shape, and the people were worked up to the highest pitch of wonder and expectation. The opera house had been secured for my performances, and as soon as I arrived in the town I took in the situation. I saw that there was no necessity for giving a free ex- hibition, so I put the price of admission at fifty cents, and made arrangements for having medicine sold at the doors and among the audience. When I made my ap- pearance upon the stage the house was packed, and I was greeted with rounds of applause. I made my acknowl- edgments very respectfully, and followed this with a little speech ; then called for the sorely afflicted to be brought forward." "It seems to me you must have cultivated yourself up to having a monumental nerve," said Boone. "Nerve? you know very well, Charley, that indiffer- ence is often taken for nerve. Well, my first case that night was carried up to me on a stretcher; it was a man who had been confined to bed for years, and was suffering from all the ailments that could be imagined. I made an examination of the man's condition, and soon discovered that I had struck a bonanza; for it was a case where the mind alone was the trouble. I then made a short address to the audience, stating that I had before me the most critical case I had ever been called upon to treat — that the patient was really in a dying condition, and that it was singular the bringing of him there had not killed him. The people were ripe for miracles; an epidemic had been among them, causing much sickness and many deaths. I was aware of this and had prepared myself accordingly. My gaudy attire and flashy jewelry had been cast aside for a more subdued and clerical costume. "When I closed my address I gave the signal for the band to play, and then started in electrifying my dying patient. His eyes soon began to light up and I saw that victory was mine. I kept on and occasionally would shout in his ear that the devil was departing. Presently I commanded him to raise his arm — full length, and then he stretched it up in plain view. This was followed by 340 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. such yells and hurrahs from the audience as one seldom hears. After a short pause I commanded the patient to rise and walk, and the man deliberately got up and walked back and forth across the stage, and then danced a little jig. As soon as the house quieted down, so that he could be heard, he made a speech and told of the number of years he had been confined to bed, unable to move either hand or foot — of the eminent physicians under whose treatment he had been, and wound up by pronouncing me more than human. He declared that I was the Messiah returned to earth. All this suited me and inspired me to greater exertions. I did that night some of the greatest feats of my life, and I kept the show running until nearly midnight ; for I was in need of money and was preparing to make a big clean-up in that town. "After closing the performance and returning to my hotel, I felt worn out and was anxious to get to bed ; but just as I was about to retire to my room, a woman, carrying a child in her arms, came to the hotel and anxiously inquired for me. I went to a side room where she was told to wait, to see what was wanted, and I found the poor woman in great distress — shedding tears. Her child was very sick, and she besought me to cure it; say- ing that she had heard of my wonderful doings and would gladly give me all the money she had in the world if I would only save the little one's life. I looked at the child and saw that it was really dying then. I asked the woman how much money she had, and she told me, mournfully, that twenty-five dollars was her all ; that she knew it was very little to offer one so great and good as I, but she could do no better, for it was all she had; and she began to untie a soiled hankerchief in which her money was carried. Her clothes were faded and thin ; her face bore the marks of privation and care; her hands made me think of pine-knots, so coarse and deformed were they from hard, but honest toil. I was touched with pity for a moment, and was on the point of acting honestly with the poor creature ; but then I remembered that to do so was to take the wrong road to success. So I banished my tender feelings and said that I would treat the child and restore it to health ; but could do this only SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 341 in a dark room with no one present but her. This was a ruse to shut out some curious lookers-on who had gathered around to see what was taking place. I took the woman's money and put it in my pocket, and we were shown into an adjoining room, and I closed the door. I made a pretense of doing something for the child; and then, taking the mother by the arm, I led her to a side door and pushed her out into the darkness, tell- ing her to hurry home and put the child to bed, that it would be well in the morning. And this was the lowest, the meanest, as well as the last robbery I ever com- mitted." Barney paused here, and was apparently in sad meditation. "Go on, go on," urged Charley Boone, "I am anxious to hear the sequel." ""Well," Barney resumed, "as soon as I got the woman out of the way, I went to bed at once. I was fatigued; my nervous s.vstem had been over-strained, and I was out of sorts generally ; but I soon fell asleep, and the most hideous, the most horrible, the most frightful dream that anybody ever heard tell of I had that night. It was a kind of a nightmare, I suppose. I dreamed that I had been placed in a dark and noisome dungeon, and was lashed hand and foot to an iron frame — a sort of bedstead. I thought I had been doomed to die, and was placed there to wait until the time set for my execution. "While being held there in agony too terrible to describe, I thought I saw a bright light, as though some one had entered the dungeon with a lantern. Looking in the direction of the light, I saw my father — saw him just as plain and as distinct it seemed as I had ever seen him in his lifetime. He looked haggard, careworn, and so very, very sad. He seemed to move in a shining light, all else was dark. I thought he carried in his hand a knife, with a long, slim blade like a stiletto. After standing and looking about for a time, he came and stood at my side with his head bowed down with grief; then tears began coursing their way down his wan cheeks. This affected me very much, for you know my father was never known to weep; he looked upon the shedding of tears as weak and foolish. 343 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "He stood there for a few moments looking down at me, and then, in my dream, I heard him speak — and his words seem never to have died away, I can hear them even yet, saying: 'Oh! my son! my son! why hast thou descended to this? How couldst thou so far depart from the teachings of thy youth, and become so ungrate- ful and so wicked! Thy conduct has caused thy father and thy mother humiliation and suffering too great to be told. Oh ! that I should be the father of one who robs the poor in their distress! robs even the widow and the orphan, and squanders their little all in riotous living. My son, thou hast become too vile to live. I shall now strike the blow I should have struck when thou first saw the light of day, had I known the course thou wouldst pursue in after years.' "I thought my father then began to examine his dag- ger, touching the point with his finger to assure himself that it was keen and sharp. I saw him, it seemed, just as plain as I see anything this minute, raise the gleaming blade on high and aim to strike me through the heart. I cried out, and making a desperate effort to free myself, succeeded in breaking the chains that bound me. This disconcerted my father's aim, and instead of cutting me through the heart, the dagger crashed through my skull and into my brain, and all was over. I knew nothing more. "When I awoke, or as I should say, when my senses returned, I was lying in bed with my head bandaged and my night-robe as well as the bedclothes were all stained with blood. The gas was burning, and I detected a strong odor of restoratives. The room was filled with people, among them a doctor and two policemen. I soon recovered sufficiently to call for an explanation, and was then told the cause of the disturbance. It appeared that people in the hotel had been startled by agonizing yells coming from my room, followed by a heavy thud. Thinking that I was being murdered they hurried to my room and broke in the door, and found me lying sense- less on the fioor with a great gash in my head from which the blood was spurting. "Do you see that scar on the side of my head there?" SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 343 and Earner Gray leaned forward, brushing back his hair that the scar could be more distinctly seen. "Yes, I noticed it before and wondered what had caused it," Charley Boone replied. "It's a memento of that memorable night. It seems that when, in my dream, I made such desperate effort to escape my father's vengeance, I threw myself out of bed and struck my head against the sharp corner of a heavy piece of furniture, injuring the bone and tearing the iiesh clear back to my ear, and had I not received immediate attention I would have died right there — and many are the times I have been sorry that I didn't." "And so that was the closing scene of your career as a doctor?" " Yes," Barney replied; "when I got so that I could be about again I was in rather sad straights. Everything I had was attached, and I had to make settlements as best I could. This would have cut no figure, for I could soon have started again; what broke me up was that I had lost my nerve, my assurance, my gall, my indifference, or whatever it may be called. I never could feel again that I could succeed in business such as I had been con- ducting. Whenever I so much as thought of going back to it the frightful scene of my dream rose before me, and I knew that if I ever appeared before an audience I should break down and be hissed and hooted and run out of the place. I couldn't even do anything at cards. With the very courage of despair, I tried to make some money that way, but everything went against me, and I could never win a cent. It seemed that whenever I tried to play any of my old tricks and swindling games my father was ever beside me, watching me, armed with bis knife." Barney went on telling of his weary wanderings; of his returning to Europe, where he brought up in Lon- don, and was finally reduced to abject poverty. He related how he had become so much discouraged and tired of life that he couldn't endure it, and concluded to end his miserable existence by his own hand; of how, in fulfillment of a promise, he had written to Henry Car- penter, and the way it came about that he visited Yokers, 344 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. and was taken to Tower Place. "And now you have my history," he said in conclusion. Charley Boone heaved a sigh. "What an eventful life you have had! And you certainly deserve credit for committing no greater crimes than you did. But, still, how luckily it has all turned out; we must see to it that Henry Carpenter is always provided for. He is really a noble fellow, with all his faults. He does not do what is right, of course, but who can do right in this world and yet elevate himself above the common herd?" "The very same line of argument I preached to you, Charley," Barney returned. "I know it, my dear boy, and I have been doing my best to throw off my grief; I am willing to join you in burying the past and make the best of the present. We may not be entirely blameless, though we lived pretty much in accordance with the examples set for us; and now that you are with me — you, who have known me so long and so well, and in whom I can confide and trust with everything — I can go down life's decline to the end with perfect equanimity. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 34; CHAPTER XXVII. EEMINISCENCES. It was onlj' when Charley Boone and Barney Gray were by themselves that they indulged in talking over certain events of the past. Not because they were so anxious these things should be kept secret, but for the reason that they knew few -would be able to understand the circumstances which had carried them so far beyond the bounds of what is called respectability. One day when recalling recollections of Sandon, and of the old penitentiary, where they had been so long incar- cerated, Barney inquired suddenly: "Did you ever hear anything of Frank Bays after I left?" "Yes," Boone replied; "Frank became a very noted desperado, perfectly reckless, and seemed really to court death. For quite a while his name was associated with all the great robberies that were committed; then he was reported as being in the counterfeit business — at least he was engaged in passing the queer, but he was too daring to be cautious. He went into a small country town to work off some of the stuff, when he was de- tected, and a sheriff was notified to arrest him. The officer arrived and attempted to do so, but as soon as he laid his hands on him, Frank knocked the man down ; then pulled his gun and shot him. This took place in a store, in front of which some horses were hitched — ■ belonging to people who had ridden into town — and Frank ran out, cut the hitching strap, and mounted one of these, then made off to the mountains. A posse was immediately organized and followed, and after a day or two they succeeded in overtaking him and getting him surrounded. Frank stood his pursuers off as long as his 346 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ammtiiiition lasted, but -when he got dowii to his last bullet he came out of his lair and waved his bat in part- ing adieu, then sent the ball through his own head." "Poor Frank!" said Barney, with a sigh, "he was another good man driven wrong. He proved himself true to his word ; he always said he would never be taken alive. I have often thought of him, and hoped I might run across him some time, for I always felt myself indebted to him. And now, if I am ever permitted to enter the Kingdom of heaven, I shall look among the noblest souls for Frank Bays. I can never forget how happy he was in assisting me to escape from that sink of iniquity where they had us caged. By the way, speak- ing of that den of vice, reminds me of Jimmy Carrol, what became of him?" Charley Boone indulged in a quiet laugh before answering. He then said: "Jimmy played about the same game as that fellow Morgan Roy, of whom you told me." "Why, that's strange! I didn't suppose he had the courage." "Nor had he, had he been left to himself; but he had strong backing, and his release was brought about in a peculiar way. You see, after election the other partj' came into power, and of course they wanted all the fat offices. So when the legislature convened, a committee was appointed to overhaul things at the prison. It was known, it seems, to certain politicians how Morgan Eoy got his pardor(, and they knew there was plenty of filth to be uncovered at the reformatory ; but the trouble was how to get at it. However, when the committee arrived, a part of them made it their business to interview pris- oners, and when they got hold of Jimmy they soon became convinced that he was a very important factor in afiairs of state. But he was wily enough to have it un- derstood that he would give no evidence unless he was first made a free man, saying that it was more than his life was worth to remain in the institution after he had exposed the doings of the incumbents. The result was that as soon as the committee returned to the capital Jimmy's pardon was issued. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 347 "But the prison incumbents were on the alert. Our friends, Mr. Fuse and Mr. Slide, as you have reason to know, had been too long engaged in reforming criminals not to understand their business. So, when Jimmy's pardon came to the prison, he was held between two fires, as it were. One set of politicians was waiting to receive him with open arms at the railroad station, while the other set had him still in its power upon the grounds of the reformatory, frightening the very life out of him with threats of what they would do in case he went back on them. To scare Carrol into submission was a very easy thing, as you know. They told him that if he didn't skip out of the country immediately and keep out they would have him arrested and charged with crimes enough to send him to the gallows; so he was taken in a closed carriage and driven across the country to another station on the railroad, where he was put on the train and pro- vided with a through ticket for the East; and that was the last ever heard of Jimmy." Here Barney Gray threw back his head and laughed quite heartily, exclaiming: "Oh! what a bloody lot of scoundrels we mortals are! Well," he said, after he had finished laughing, "how did it come out? did our friends continue to hold on?" "Oh, no," Charley Boone replied, "there was a legisla- tive investigation, and the prison ofBcials were found guilty of malfeasance, incompetence, and everything else imaginable which would go to unfit them for the posi- tions they held; so they were removed." "They were properly arrested and tried by a court of justice, I suppose?" "Oh, no ; leaders of communities don't do things that way." "I believe not; I had forgotten that. It was simply one lot of political schemers working against another; the party which had come into power wanted to get the other fellows out, so that they could select a set of their own to fill the offices, and let them go ahead playing the same game as had been played by those who were removed." "Precisely," 348 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. "Wellj how did things run under the new administra- tion?" Barney inquired. "It was the same as before — worse, if anything," Boone replied. "The governor proved to be an old imbecile, and was drunk more than half the time, so it was reported, and the affairs of state were conducted by the executive secretary, who must have grown rich by selling pardons. It was no secret among the prisoners that any one who could raise four or five hundred dol- lars for the governor's secretary could be released. It was quietly whispered to me, in a roundabout way, that I could have my pardon if I were willing to pay six hun- dred dollars for it; but I treated the proposition with silent contempt — my time was too short. "You remember Patsy Batts, the pickpocket; Nick Eoundy, the garroter; Slippy Diver, the forger; and then there was Timber- line, Bigfoot, Ironclad, Sheepshanks — all that crowd raised money and bought their pardons, and many more of the same ilk did the same thing — in fact, any one who had enough friends, or could manage in any way to get money enough together, bought his release." "And all this sort of thing goes on at an institution which is supposed to have some influence in changing the course of the wayward and purifying evil minds? I can't see how it would be possible to more systematically edu- cate criminals and prepare them for a life of crime," Bar- ney Gray remarked. "Very true," was Boone's answer; "the inmates of such institutions are brought in very close contact with the affairs of state, and as we know, they are much better informed of what goes on than any other class is. It is perfectly natural that they should justify themselves in their reckless, thieving course, by the way they see their superiors do — those who are supposed to be so much better than they. It is the way with children. A child is not going to be good and truthful when it knows its parents lie, practice deceit, and do what is wrong. The only way I can account for my Lillian being so good to me, antici- pating my every wish, is because I never deceived her — I never told her a lie in my life, and she knows that I never will. She has spoken to me of things before now SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 349 which I have said it was better she should not know, and that settled it. Still, were she to insist, I would tell her anything, no matter how much it might reflect against me, rather 'than lie to her; for then, were I to be found out, her respect and confidence in me would be gone for all time." "Yes, Charley, we understand that very well," Barney said; "but to return to our subject, I don't suppose any pardon was issued to old Solly Smith, who, as it was well known, had been sent to the prison on perjured testi- mony so that those wealthy landowners, the Browden's, could get possession of his water right?" "Well, yes, strange to say," Charley Boone went on to explain, "old Solly did get out at last, and he didn't have to buy his pardon either. There is quite an inter- eating story connected with his release. So long as Browden lived, Solly, of course, had to be kept in prison, for Browden had money and political influence enough to do about as he pleased, regardless of law. This was the old man Browden, I mean, who was the chief con- spirator and the one who put up the job to get Smith out of the way. Well, as good luck had it, he died, and then Solly was turned loose ; and a very celebrated case was the result. Smith, after he got his liberty, had that Michels, who had turned State's evidence and given false testimony, arrested and tried for perjury. Michels, as you may remember, testified that he was with Smith on the night the barn was set on fire, and told how the whole thing was done. Well, at Michel's trial, it was proved that he was eight miles from the barn which was set on fire, and drunk at that; consequently he was con- victed and got a sentence of eight years." "A year for every mile," said Barney, with a laugh. "Yes," continued Charley Boone, "but that was not the end of it. The Browdens, those who were still liv- ing, were anxious to keep the true story from coming to light; so they rallied around Michels and told him that if he would say nothing they would stand by him and get him out of the trouble by getting a new trial. But at the second trial Michels was convicted again and had two years more added to his sentence. However, the 350 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. Browdens stood by their man and kept getting him re- treats — they had plenty of money — and would have con- tinued doing so, I judge, until the day of doom, had not the prosecuting attorney interceded. I was out of the prison long before the case was settled, but I read the accounts of it in the Sandou papers. Michels had in all four trials, and every time he was convicted and had an additional year or two added to his sentence. Finally the prosecuting attorney told him it was useless for him to go on in that way ; that if he would acknowledge his guilt and tell why he had perjured himself, he, the at- torney, would make a plea for mercy and secure for him a light sentence. So at the last trial Michels made a full confession. He said that, to the best of his knowledge, old Browden had himself set the barn on fire, and after letting it burn a little, threw water on the blaze and put it out. That he had told him (Michels) that he was to give eyidence for the conviction of Smith; otherwise he himself would be tried for starting the fire and sent to prison. After this confession Michel got a sentence of three years, and that was the end of the great case." "It is to be hoped," said Barney Gray, "that the devil convened a court in hell for the trial of old Brow- den. But then that is only one sad case among thou- sands. There was Spikes who had been sent there for life on perjured testimony; did he get out?" "Yes, but he had to buy himself out; I got this from the man who paid the money, thougli he didn't tell me how much he put up." "Well, there were Beggs, Greggs, and Steggs, and a whole lot more of poor, broken, dispirited, friendless imbeciles; no pardons were issued for them, I suppose." "Oh, no, that was not to be expected; such miserable creatures as those are permitted to die at their leisure, or are turned loose only when their terms of imprisonment expire. But they never remain out long, as we know, for they must live, and they are generally caught in the act of robbing kitchens, old junk shops, or something of that kind, and are soon returned to prison again." "We no longer see things as we once did, do we, Char- ley?" said Barney Gray, "the world presents to us now SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 351 a very diflferent aspect from what it did when we were inexperienced and first started out to cope in the battle of life with our fellow-men." "And we have been behind the scenes," Charley Boone replied. "That is what we have," Barney continued "conse- quently those things which the great majority of people never think of at all, have made a great impression on our minds ; we see more clearly the incongruity and in- consistency of things. Now take, for instance, the granting of pensions to the surviving veterans of that great rebellion in which we took such a patriotic inter- est; the laws are so framed as to offer every inducement for the commission of crime. No one can get a pension unless there is something the matter with him — has to show that his health was injured in the service of his country. This, of course, gives a clear title for a pen- sion to every cowardly dead beat, coffee-cooler, dog- robber and hospital bum with which the army was infested — 'that whole horde of worthless riff-raff; those fellows who, when they heard the booming of cannon, were taken suddenly sick and were finally discharged on account of physical disability, in order to spare the government the expense of keeping them — every one of that tribe was provided with a pension, while the true soldier, who stood the brunt of battle, kept out of the hospital, and was lucky enough not to get an arm or a leg shot off, couldn't get a pension to save his life unless he concocted some scheme and then perjured himself; just as thousands of them did, and who could blame them for doing so, I'd like to know?" "The pensions laws are about in keeping with every- thing else," Boone answered languidly. "I have often wondered," said Charley Boone one day when talking over past events with Barney, "why it is that you have never spoken of any of your old friends at Sandon." "When I left that place," Barney replied, "I bade an everlasting farewell to everybody and everything there, and have never thought much about them since. Though 353 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. I do sometimes think of Clay Masters; it would do me a world of good to run across him some time. He was a splendid fellow, honest and true, and it keeps one from going entirely mad and wishing to destroy the world when he remembers that such men as Masters are still living in it." "But there were your friends, the Coogans, Cookers, or whatever they called themselves; you certainly haven't forgotten that charming young lady?" "Oh! you mean the Coogas!" Barney returned, "no indeed, I haven't forgotten them — especially Miss Alice; what became of her?" "She became quite celebrated after you left," Boone went on to explain. "It seems she married an old man who had considerable money, but after a few weeks she left him and brought suit for divorce and alimony. There was a great deal about it in the newspapers, but I never knew how the case was settled; I should not have given it any attention at all had I not remembered that she was once a friend of yours." "Those were the days when I was young, innocent, and foolish," Barney said. "But all the same Alice was a splendid girl to sport with. But I shall never forget, Charley," here Barney laughed quite heartily, "the night I took you to see the Coogas, when you were so well entertained by hearing the latest accounts of the Black Ranger." "Yes, Barner, my dear boy," said Charley Boone, sadly, "those scenes have long passed away, and they recur to us now like the memory of horrible dreams. I suggest that we never speak, even to each other, of these things again; let us bury our past completely; shut it out from our sight as though it had never been ; let us live in the present and be as happy as we can, and fo^ you at least there are many happy days in store. What say you, Barner?" "I am willing to shake hands with you on that, Char- ley, " said Barney Gray, "for I can assure you it gives me anything but pleasure to go back in thought to those wretched days when life was such a burden that I was SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 353 driven almost insane. Give me your hand, Charley, let us keep the compact sacred and we will begin our lives anew." They shook hands, and their dark and hideous past was never referred to again. 354 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. CHAPTER XXVni. HAPPY DAYS. It is not to be supposed that Earner Gray gave his en- tire time and attention to his friend, Charles Boone, -with- out being brought in constant close relations with the other members of the family, for such was not the case. There were many drives in the family barouche, and it seemed always to happen so that Mr. Earner Gray had to be seated by the side of the charming Mrs. Earnes. Not that he was averse to this at all ; oh dear, no! but he was never obtrusive about it — it simply happened so. It was a very happy party that indulged in these pleasant drives — Mr. Charles Boone, his wife, and daughter, and Mr. Earner Gray ; distinguished-looking people, rich and gay, they seemed never to have known a moment's un- happiness in their lives. They were pointed out and envied by those who saw them go by, though these people who envied the Boones knew nothing of their history. "How happy we have all been. Earner, " Mrs. Eoone would say, as she had said so many times, "since you have come to us; I really think your finding us must have been providential. Charles' health is so much im- proved, and he is so cheerful — he is really like his dear old self again ; indeed. Earner, I'm afraid we shall never be able to repay you for all the comfort and happiness you have brought us." Mrs. Barnes and Mr. Gray would also, often of pleas- ant mornings, take horseback rides together, and at such times they would engage in confidential little chats, exchanging opinions on various topics, though it nearly always was true that Mrs. Barnes' opinion was Mr. Gray's also. His eyes, when he thought he was unob- SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 355 served, rested constantly upon the fair Lillian. She rode so gracefully, managed her high-mettled horse. Black Prince, in such a masterly way, that Barney, as he gal- loped along at her side, said over and over within himself, that there never was such a magnificent — such a beautiful woman as this one. "I could marry such a woman as this and be contented and happy, if she would only have me ; but I will never insult her with such a proposal — a woman in her position." "Do you really like Tower Place, Mr. Gray?" asked Mrs. Barnes, one morning as they were cantering along, viewing the scenery. Barney replied that he didn't see how any one could help liking it, for it had everything that could be desired to make it attractive. "Then of course you will never leave it?" said Mrs. Barnes. Barney Gray said that he didn't know as to that; but he thought Mr. Boone's health had improved so much he would not require an attendant much longer. "Oh! but you are mistaken, Mr. Gray," interposed Mrs. Barnes; "papa, I know, will never consent to your quitting him — he couldn't do without you — I believe he would give you Tower Place for youi; own rather than have you go away." "Yes, but " "But what?" demanded Mrs. Barnes. "See that bird! I think the buzzard is the most graceful bird of all birds, when on the wing, see! he seems to remain perfectly stationary at times, and with- out the slightest effort. I have often thought I could invent a flying machine that would work, and I believe I will go at it some day." Thus did Barney Gray, foolish fellow, change the subject rather than answer the lady's question ; and they went on talking about flying machines until they got back home and turned their horses over to the groom. Then there were little card parties — private entertain- ments ; besides the grand balls and social functions at which Mr. Gray was always present, and seemed to be regarded as a member of Mr. Boone's family. He at- 356 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. tended the theater, too, in company with the family and occupied a seat in Mrs. Barnes' private box, where be- tween acts Baron Von Vallershamp, Marquis Uptegay, Lord Tootemtoo, and other titled personages often made it convenient to present themselves and make a few com- plimentary remarks to the "chawming" Mrs. Barnes; inquire after Mr. Boone's health, and speak a few kind words to Madam Boone ; but they never had anything more to say to Mr. Gray than a cold, formal "How-de-do. " Barney Gray's relations with Charles Boone and his family went on in this way for months; until one day Henry Carpenter, who was always considered at home at Mrs. Barnes' mansion, called at Tower Place and re- quested Barney to take a drive with him. They had not proceeded far when Henry Carpenter said, very abruptly : "What is the matter with you. Gray?" Barney replied that there was nothing whatever the matter with him, and that he had never enjoyed better health in his life. "Why don't you marry that woman?" Carpenter de- manded. "What woman?" Barney asked, with well-assumed innocence. "Oh, don't act the booby! you know very well what I mean," returned Carpenter impatiently. "Well, then," Barney said, like one preparing for an ordeal, "there is nothing in this world I would like to do better than to marry Mrs. Barnes, if I could only see my waj' clear to making such a proposal to her and yet retain my manhood ; for I think she is the grandest, the most sensible, the most lovable, the most beautiful woman I ever saw ; but for me, a beggar — living here on her bounty like a stray cat taken in out of the cold — to propose marriage to her? I tell you. Carpenter, I can't do it; it would be too great an insult, and I would de- serve to be kicked ofE the place." "You are really to be commiserated," Carpenter said; "you are a peculiar character, and this is the first time you have ever been in love, that is very evident. It is strange how courageous a man can be in some ways and yet be such a timid, shrinking coward in others; why. SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 357 Al, your old captain, would turn over in his grave if he could know what a coward you have turned out to be." "I can't help that," Barney went on disconsolately, "but I tell you candidly I can't stand this much longer, it worries me more and more, and is making me feel wretched. They keep me here, and pay me, under the pretence of having me employed — this, of course, is in consideration of my feelings; but it puts me in a bad fix, and I don't see how I am to get out of it, unless I just cut and run." "Then why not show yourself a man?" said Henry Carpenter; "goto the lady and tell her that you wish to resign your position — that it is no longer agreeable to you." "But I know she would not consent to my quitting on her father's account; I really believe she would marry me to please her parents — for I'm sure it would suit them ■ — but I can't take advantage of the lady in such a way as that, you know. If the property and all their wealth belonged to her father I might feel different about the matter — but it don't." "Well, I'll tell you what is best for you to do," said Henry Carpenter, "and you don't want to delay any time in doing it, either. Go to Mrs. Barnes and tell her frankly how you feel about the matter — that you intend to resign your position, since her father no longer re- quires your services, and that you intend to find some employment in Yokers, or some other place not far dis- tant, so that you can visit him often. She will then have respect for you at least, when she sees that you are above being a dependent. I am surprised myself that you should hang around here as long as you have in this way, and no doubt they all think very strange of it — it is not manly, not the proper spirit. ' ' "I know that as well as you do, and feel it a deal worse; but I was in a peculiar fix and couldn't see how I could help myself — even now I know that Mrs. Barnes will not be willing to have me go on any account. " "Then let her make some different arrangements for retaining you," argued Carpenter ; "give you some posi- tion in which you can feel that you are earning your 358 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. money — make you overseer of the place, or something of that kind; the position you are supposed to fill now seems to be that of a sort of lackey, and'I am not sur- prised that you are anxious to quit it." Conversation ran on in this way, and by the time Bar- ney returned from the drive he was thoroughly con- vinced that Carpenter's view of the situation was the right one to take, and he was determined to act upon it. But it was not so easy to carrj' this into effect as he had supposed; he kept pondering over it for three days, and lost sleep thinking about it by night. How could he deprive himself of the society of Lillia,n Barnes, and still feel that life was worth living? That was the ques- tion; and there is no telling how long he would have kept this question* under advisement had matters not come about just as they did. It was Mrs. Barnes' evening at home, and before any guests had arrived, she came down arrayed in all the splendor for which she was so noted. She chanced to see Barner Gray in one of the parlors, and thought he looked downcast and sad. It then occurred to her that this was the day his salary was due, and she had forgot- ten to attend to his being paid. She went in and said to him, in her customary cheerful way: "I trust you will pardon me, Mr. Gray, I have had so much to think of to-day that I failed to think of your salary, and this is the day you should have been paid ; but I assure you I shall attend to it the first thing in the morning; papa would feel real angry if he knew I had forgotten it, he is so very prompt himself about everything." "I don't want any more money from this house, I can't accept it," Barney Gray blurted out. "And for what reason, pray?" asked Mrs. Barnes, with a look of alarm. "For the reason that I am not needed here," returned Barney, as though in desperation; "your father's health is fully restored, and I can't continue living here, feel- ing like a dependent, giving no return for what I get; so I have made up my mind to leave Tower Place to- morrow. " At this juncture Barney thoughthe caught a glimpse of some one in an adjoining room, and fearing Schooled by the woRLt). 359 interruption, he passed on into a conservatory, closely followed by Mrs. Barnes. Having retreated to a secluded spot and fearing no intruders, Mrs. Barnes asked: "Does my father know of this intention of yours, Mr. Gray?" "Not yet," Barney replied, "but I shall tell him to- night." There was silence for a naoment or two, and then Mrs. Barnes said: "May I ask where you intend to go and ■what you intend to do?" "I can't say for certain, but I should like to get something to do in Yokers, or some place not too far off, so that I could call occasionally and see your father, and your mother, and — you." A choice plant -was within Barneys reach and really not knowing what he was doing, he kept pulling and picking it to pieces. "Would it add any to your pleasure, Mr. Graj', to see me when you should visit Tower Place?" said Mrs. Barnes, with perfect composure. "Nothing in this world could give me so much pleas- ure as to see you, and if I were only your equal, I'd " Poor Barney! In his dejected and confused frame of mind he jerked a sprig of the exotic and knocked over the urn, which fell to the ground, breaking in pieces. "Oh! see what I have done!" he exclaimed, and was about to gather up the wreck. But Mrs. Barnes interposed by saying: "Never mind, it is not of the least consequence ; but what were you . about to say?" "Well — as I was going to say," Barney began hesitat- ingly, "if I were only your equal — if I were not as poor as a beggar — or, if you were just as bad off as I am (it would be all the same to me), I'd ask you to marry me; and if you were to take me I'd have something worth living for." The richly attired Lillian Barnes glanced down at her finery and over her glittering jewels, giving a twist to one of her sparkling bracelets, then a pull at her brilliant necklace, as though she would like to tear the gaudy things from her person and cast them away. "Suppose, then," she said in a firm though gentle 360 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. ■voice, "we were to reverse the general order of things — cast aside all conventionalities, and I should ask you to marry me; what would you say?" Barney Gray looked up with a peculiar light in his eyes, but it was for an instant only; then he said: "But you are jesting. You would never marry me when you have so many titled nabobs dancing attendance upon you; any one of whom you can marry when you feel dis- posed so to do." Mrs. Barnes stepped up and placed her jeweled hand upon Barney's shoulder, and looking him in the face, she said: "You blind, foolish boy! is it possible you do not know — have you not been able to see that I love you most devotedly, and that you are my preference of all the world, and " "Oh! is it really true?" exclaimed Barney Gray, as he threw his arm around the queenly Lillian and kissed her. She nestled her head upon his shoulder. "I have so longed to rest my head here," she said. "It all seems so strange; seems too good to be true, that such happiness as this should be mine, " said Bar- ney Gray, "to think that you should love me and be will- ing to marry me in preference to any of those who stand so high in wealth and social position." "My dear boy," replied Lillian Barnes, "if you had taken pains to study my nature you would have known me better. How could any one of those men of whom you speak be a companion for me? They know so little of the world ; they have never been tried and yet found to be true; they know nothing but their own selfish in- terests, while you have inherited all the instincts of nature's true nobility; you are everything that woman most admires and loves; you are strong and robust; courageous and brave, and yet so gentle and kind. You are all the more to me for having had your life blighted; for having been embittered and driven to desperation un- til you departed from the path of rectitude thinking to keep pace with the cruel, selfish world. You see, I know all, my dear; I know the whole history of your unhappy past; good old Mr. Carpenter told it to me, and I am SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 361 betraying no confidence by saying so, for he said I could tell you when I felt disposed so to do. That you have done wrong, repented, and suffered remorse proves your v?orth, and shows your true character; it is only the noble and good who can be so influenced. The more selfish and heartless keep on habitually doing wrong and delude themselves with the belief that they are doing right; and thus is the misery of the human race perpetu- ated. None of us live as we should; none of us can; the world does not tend, in its ways, to develop the best traits of character; it compels us all to be selfish and greedy; and yet I am so glad that you have been schooled and experienced in the world, for none other could be a companion for me. "It is all over now," and Mrs. Barnes gave a sigh of happy content. "How happy we shall all be, and how delighted papa and mamma will be when they hear of this. Come, let us go find them, and tell them, and re- ceive their blessing." "In a moment," said Barney Gray. He had not once released the fair lady from his embrace. He kept gazing into her eyes and smiling from very joy. "What beauti- ful teeth you have!" he said. "No more so than yours," was the reply. "And your breath — it is like the sweetest perfume." "No more so than yours," was again replied. Barney then caught hold of Lillian's hand. "Oh, how I have longed to hold this hand in mine!" he said; "but these rings, you must throw them away; they area blem- ish to such a hand as yours; see how tight you have to wear them to prevent their dropping off. Tou have no bulge at the joints of your fingers to keep them on. And this arm, so beautiful and round ! ornaments were not intended, my darling, for hands and arms so shapely as yours." "I don't particularly care for any of these expensive things I wear," returned Mrs. Barnes; "the way I adorn myself as well as the social position I have attained are all far more on papa's account than on my own. He is, as you doubtless know, one of the proudest men in the ■world, and his most ardent desire was to see his family 362 SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. placed in a high position of wealth and social favor; so I thought it -was little enough for me to do to try and gratify his wish and make his life as happy as I could, ospecially after all he had suffered and endured — and he is so good, so kind, so just, too. But, really," and Lillian disengaged herself from her lover's embrace, "we must be going; my absence will cause remark, and they will wonder what has become of me." On quitting the conservatory Mrs. Barnes observed lier father, mother, and Henry Carpenter conversing together at the farther end of the hall. Coming within speaking distance, Mrs. Barnes, who was leaning upon Barney's arm, said : "Papa, Mr. Gray proposes to become a member of our family and remain with us always as your son-in-law, what say you?" Then followed expressions of joy and congratulations, and all were supremely happy. Mrs. Boone was trans- ported with delight and was unable to control her feel- ings. "Our wandering boy is at home at last," she said, "and will never wander from us again; oh! had Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Margy only lived to see this day!" All conventionalities were dispensed with, and no attempt was made to keep Mrs. Barnes' engagement a secret. There was a large assemblage at Tower Place on this night, and the festivities were among the gayest ever held there; though many of the gentlemen who had long been ardent admirers of Mrs. Barnes seemed downcast and dispirited. Among these, and the most noticeable, were Lord Tootemtoo and the Marquis Uptegay. They re- mained but a short while, and then framed a very plausi- ble excuse for taking an early departure. "Deuced common, don't-cher-know," said the marquis to his friend. "But the nerve of the bloody loafer to go and carry off a jack-pot like that!" responded Lord Tootemtoo. A few days later there appeared in one of the daily papers the following: "The report is again going the rounds that Mrs. Lillian Barnes is to be married. It has been so often circulated that this lady was about to SCHOOLED BY THE WORLD. 363 be married, that reports of her engagement have ceased to attract much attention. This time, however, it is cor- roborated by the lady herself, so it may be taken as au- thentic. The strangest part of the whole affair, and that which causes much comment is that after the many admirers from among the nobility who have been paying court to the heiress, she has chosen for a husband a man from the ordinary walks of life, without either title, fame, or fortune, who bears the plain, old-fashioned name of Gray. The wedding, which will be the most notable one of the day, comes off at an early date, and immediately thereafter the happy couple will start on an extended tour of the world." All Yokers was agog preparing for the important event, for it was the last the fashionable set expected to see of Mrs. Barnes, since it was known that after her marriage she intended to retire from society in which she had been such a successful leader. The marriage was celebrated with great eclat, and when all was bver the Boones and the Grays started on a voyage, with the intention of spending several years in exploring the world ; and there is no reason to doubt that Mary Parmer failed in having her long-wished-for visit to old Goosetown. THE END. Two Famous Authors. To lovers of military tales and stories of romantic adventure the world over the names of CAPT. CHAS. KING, U.S.A. AND ST. GEORGE RATHORNE, Author of " Dr. Jack," have indeed become household words. Their widely circulated novels may be found wherever the English language is spoken, and have served to while away the tedmm of many a long rail- way journey or ocean voyage. The public seem to eagerly wel- come each new story from these travelei's who have searched the strangest corners of the earth for new scenes and remarkable ex- ploits with which to entertain their legion of readers. Mr. F. Tennyson Neely has pleasure in announcing that the very latest and best productions of these wizard pens are now appearing in his attractive list of publications, and may be found on every book-stall here and abroad. THE LATEST BOOKS by Capt. King. W\KBIOB.GAf. Cloth, $1.25. th&T FEAYHE. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 60c. AN AEMY ViTIFE. FuUy Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 50o. A GAREISON TAHGLE. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 50c. XRUMPETES FRED. Illustrated. Gilt top, 50o. lf03LE BLOOD AND A WEST POIJIT PAEALLSl. By Capt. King and Ernst Von Wildenbruch of the German Army. Gilt top, 50o. THE MOST RECENT NOVELS by St. George Rathborne. Author of " Doctor Jack." Uniform Editions, Cloth, $i.oo ; paper, 5oc, SQSnES JOHN. A SON OF HABS. A BAB SimSTEB. A GODDESS OF AFEICA, HASKED m MYSTEET. SEE EESCUE FEOM THE TTTRKS. Others in preparation for early issue. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prlce> F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 06 Queen Street, London. lu Fifth Avenue. New Yotk, Kerchiefs to Hunt Sotds* By M. AMELIA FYTCHE. Neely's Popular Library. Paper, 25c. Of late years writers have found it necessary to attract the eye of the passing public toward their work by giving it some striking title. Un- fortunately in many instances these remarkable names serve only that purpose, and have little or no application for the story. This can hardly be said of Miss Fytche's new book, " Kerchiefs to Hunt Souls." If for no other reason, this book should certainly arouse considerable curi- osity on account of the remarkable title, which the author has, she confesses, dugout of the Bible, m order to stamp the peculiar features of her story. It is a book well worth reading, and one we cordially recommend to all who enjoy a good story when based upon those great morals that govern the world. There is a promise of even better things to come from this talented writer, ' Kerchiefs to Hunt Souls " has aroused con- siderable newspaper controversy from Maine to California, which fact is in itself enough to stamp the book one of more than ordinary ability, since space is too valuable to be wasted on trash ip the estimation of the modern editor. Fsr sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prfcAi F. TENiyVSON NEELY, Publisher, ffi Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth AveoiM. N«w Yfltk^ A Journey to Venus. By G. W. POPE. Paper, 25c. / N«ely*s Popular "LihtAry with full page illfestiratiom. Lovers of Jules Verne will gladly welcome this remarkable volume. Many have declared that Dr, Pope has even outdone the French master at his own art. At any rate the narrative IS written with an air of candor that almost com- pels a blind belief in its truth, although the ad- ventures which befall the daring travelers to the glorious planet are staggering in the extreme. Books of this character, while written with a considerable latitude, contain many features of deepest interest, showing how far science has gone in its eager quest for the truth in relation witt lour neighboring planets, we may never k??c>w thp truth with regard to Mars and Venus ana ^'upit'"?, but that is no reason we may not speculate and endeaver to lift the veil that hangs ever those bright worlds that glow and sparkle in the heavens. "A Journey to Venus" is an extraordinary volume in many ways, and will well repay a careful perusal. ■?» Bale everywhere, or sent ppat-pald on receipt of price, P. TENNY50N NEELY, Publisher, fd Queen Street, Londoo. 114 Fifth Avenue, New Yori*^ " CORKER STONES OF CIVttlZAnON." TI16 Union Goilege rracilcal Lectures grets and wisdom teeth that can be left in a glass of water ovef m-Stit,"— Bill Nye. SfAUKS FROU THE FEN OEEILLNyE. 193 PAGES. FAFEB, 36a. WIT AHD HTIMOE. BT NYE AND BILET. PAFEE, Mo For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, London. ^ 114 Fifth Avenue, New Yofkt Reelf $ liperlal Dbrary. POPULAR AUTHORS, » BEST TITLES, FINEST BOOKS. [ intiminateS. Paper Oovers and manjr IlluBtratioiu, Entered as Second-Class Mattel. PRICE, 25 eg^TS. The Charlatan. Robert Buchanan and Henry Murray, Burkett's Lock. M. G. McClelland. The Land of Promise. (Illustrated.) Paul Bourget. Hypnotism. (Illustrated.) Jules Claretie. Facing the Flag. Jules Verne. The Fallen Race. (Illustrated.) Austyn Granville. The Disappearance of Mr. Derwent. Thomas Cobb, Sacrificed Love. (Illustrated.) Alphonse Daudet. The One Too Many. Mrs. E. Lynn Lynton. The New Man at Rossmere. Mrs. J. H. Walworth. At Market Value. Grant Allen. A Daughter of the King. Allen. A Monk of Cruta. (Illustrated. > E. Phillips Oppeii< heim. The Gates of Dawn. Fergus Hume, In Strange Company. (Illustrated.) GuyBoothby. How Women Love. Max Nordau. The Comedy of Sentiment. Max Nordau. NEW TITLES WILL BE ADDED RAPIDL7. For sale everywhere, or sftnt postpaid on receipt of price. r. TENNYSON NEELY, PuWisher, I % Queen St., London. 114 Fifth Ave., New York. y v^p^rv ■♦^w^^Fv^p'^rv^ w^i'^F'w^ ■« A Fascinating Sinner. By "DELTA/' Neely's Popular Library— Paper, asc. This is certainly one of the brightest and tt'ost sparkling travesties ever written upon modern " society " in England. There is not a dull line in it, and the author has handled the various characters with rare skill, giving us such strong delineations that we have no difficulty in recognizing counterfeit resemblances of people to be met with in other walks of life besides the "four hundred." It is the s^ory of a luxurious and high-spirited young woman, who, married to an English nobleman, gives the worthy man serious cause for anxiety. Her luxurious tastes, her greedy desire to make the most of life, and the colloquial animation of the narrative give an agreeable raciness to this bright and cheery book that is full of constant sparkle and brightness. It will not require more than ordinary penetra- tion to discover that the author paints her char- acters and introduces colloquial arguments with a distinct and commendable purpose in view. The moral of the book is so manifest that it can hardly fail of its purpose with the general reader. It is evidently no amateur hand that guides these various characters to their destiny, but one long practiced in the art of catering to the great pub- lic of omnivorous readers. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 90 Queen Street, London. X14 Fifth Avenue, New Yorib FOUR BOOKS BY CHEIRO y ■ — ■ ■ — ■ • --r Language of the Hand A Complete Practical Work on the Sciences of Cheirognomy and ChelromaDcyr Containing the System, Rules and Sxperience of CHEIRO COUNT DE HAMONG Fifty-five Full-page Illustrations and over Two Hundred Engravings OF Lines, Mounts and Marks. Drawings of the Seven Types by THEO. DORE Pull-page reproductions of famous hands, also Normal and Abnormal hands taken from life. Eighth Edition, enlarged, $2.50. Cheiro^s Poems A Beautiful Volume showing^ the Versatility of the Author and his Wonderful Acquaintance writh Human Nature. Abounds in Passion, Emotion, Regretfulness, and all Expressed in Language that carries one along interestingly. Cloth, gilt top, 50 cents. ANOTHER BOOK ON THE HAND BY CHEIRO Cheiro^s Guide to the Hand The best ^Vork on Palmistry at a lovt^ price. Fully illustrated and written vritb Cheiro's usual clear style. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cents. The Hand of Fate A Novel By CHEIRO A Strange Psychological Story Chiefly Dealing with Hereditary Laws ano Parental Influences. Cloth, $i.oo ; paper, 5oc. For sale everywhere, or sent postpaid on receipt of price, hy the publisher, F. TENNYSON NEELY 96 QUEEN STREET 114 FIFTH AVENUE LONDON NEW YORK Lunar Catfstic. By CHARLES H. ROBINSON. Neely's Popular Lifcraryr, Paper, 25c If ever a book was well named this one certainly deserves commendation in that line, for the humor and satire within its covers are as cutting as the strongest caustic ever applied to the human skin. Sparkling epigrammatic wit is a rare quality in these latter days, and Mr. Robinson undoubtedly possesses this sterling gift to no mean degree. We commend the book as one well worthy of perusal and study, for much philosophy is contained in its burning satire. In fact there does not appear to be a dull line between the covers. The talented author has been successful as journalist, lawyer and dramatist, and bids fair to carve his name among the leading satirists of the day. It is not a book to be read from cover to cover at one sitting; but like highly spiced food or the condiments themselves, a small amount taken at a time will be highly relished. Few persons can dip into these pages without being deeply impressed with the wide range of subjects treated by the author, and the masterly, convincing manner in which he carries out his self-allotted task. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prica. F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenuet New Yoilb THE MALACHITE CR05S By PRANK H. NORTON, Paper, 250. This book has received columns of reviews on account ^. - f eighteenth century English literature, and many were the dehghtful talks \.e had on the men of Goldsmith's and Dr. Johnson's time, with whose works he was thoroughly familiar and at home. Later on when I visited Amer- ica, it was through him that I saw much of the newspaper side of New York, and met many men prominent in the newspaper world. Of late years he has devoted himself closely to the study of astrology, and has quite recently pub- lished in the magazines some important and startling articles on this fasci- nating subject. His own contributions to literature have not been insignifi- cant. What American schoolboy does not know his ' Days of Daniel Boone, one of the best historical stories for boys we have ? The present book is » romance of two countries, and the scene is laid in New York and Paris. It is_ a tale of magic, mystery, and necromancy, turning upon the potent forces hidden in an ancient neirloom in the f orm oi a Malachite cross. It is dra- matic, and holds the reader with its powerful interest and exciting incident. Coming from so practised a pen it is needless to say it is well written." Bln^rlianipton, N. \. " 'The Malachite Cross,' by Frank H. Norton, published by iSlTenln? H erald F. Tennyson Neely, 1 14 Fifth Avenue, New York City : 50c, A story of Paris, France, and southwestern Europe of a half century or more ajgo, intrigue, plot and weird adventure are met with in every page. The au- thor's description of places, his delineation of character, weaving and un« ravehng of plot and general vigorous treatment of the political and social questions of the forties renders this story interesting, although it is at times so intensely dramatic and sensational as to seem almost improbable. How- ever, none but a very discerning critic will raise this poir-t, and with the geit eral public we predict a good run for this book." For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of pfleej F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, ^ Queen Street. L^adoo. 114 Fifth Aveawt Ns^ VorU An Unusual Husband By CHANDOS FULTON Keel/B Popular library, Cloth, $1.00; Paper, 25 osnts On the woof o£ a very dramatic story of a dual marital life Mr. Chandos Fulton has embroidered an interesting experience in materialization — the most advanced development of later-day spiritualism, and has produced a very readable story of con- temporaneous metropolitan life. The characters are drawn with a free hand, and the action of the story is brisk and interesting. The spiritualistic episode is novel and interesting alike to skeptics and converts. The novel should, and doubtless will, have a large circulation. — Leslies Weekly, The hero leads a double life. He is John Boyd, with a wife in New York, and James Boyle, with another wife in Boston. — Spirit of the Times, Boyle is extricated by marrying a certain Jack. — The Mirror, St. Louis. A spiritualistic atmosphere is wrought into the story, which *S entertainingly written. — Dramatic Mirror. A tale of a female spiritualist, who believes herself to be married to what she terms her " spirit affinity." — San Francisco News-Letter. A peculiar story of a widow, who was an enthusiastic spirit- aalist, who loved and constantly communed with her spirit hus- band, the mystery of which is explained during the progress of the story. — Philadelphia Times. Mr, Fulton is an expert in spiritualism, and uses his experi- ences to expose some bogus manifestations and to devtelop his curious plot. — Author's League. The hero leads a double life. — Boston Ideal. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prlco F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher 96 Queen Street, London 114 Fifth Avenue, New York RACHEL DENE. By ROBERT BUCHANAN, . . . Aiitbor of . . . ■* The Charlatan," " The Shadow of the Sword," " Qod and the Man." Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 25c. ■srrlBbnnc Triegram " ' Rachal Dene ' is one of Robert Buchanan's best works.'" einulnnatl Tribune " This is a good story." ' Boekjr Jlonntain News " ' Rachel Dene,' by Robert Buchanan is one of his best stories." iBecord Union " Mr. Buchanan has not presented a stronger story. He pre- faces it with the story of his life in literature, and gives the writers and am- bitious youths some excellent ^vice," Commercial " An excellent story full of strong points, both constructively and BDllotln from a literary standpoint. It is practical. It deals with the dark and bright sides of life, but always to show the advantage of the bright side." NflshTille Cbristian " The book is clean and wholesome — enough of compiex- Adrociite ity in the plot to furnish the reader with occasional sur- J)rises." erton News " A very fascinating tale." ■ffestern Christian " Fascinating, stimulating— a novel of love, murder, jeal- Adrocate ousy, false imprisonment, escape, and vindication." Bostoo Idt-as "Its elements are excellently characteristic — very likely due to its being an accurate picture for wliicli commendation is due." The American " Is fully equal, if not superior, to his former novels." The Gates of Dawn, By FERGUS HUME, Author of "Mystery of a Hansom Cab," "Miss MepMstoplieIes,"etc.,ete. Cloth, $1.25; paper, 25c. Otis Library "A remarkably versatile and ingenious romance, replete with vivid BultetiQ descriptions and stirring incidents." Mashville Banner '^ A well-arranged plot, and the interest of the story is well- sustained." Mr. Hume has built around a group of interesting characters a story of th' old order of plot and counterplot, where there is mystery surrounding the liero- ine's birth— a wealthy man, in disguise, meets and loves her— a wicked female vil- lain brings danger to the course of their true love— a good friend aids them in tlieir hour of need, and all ends well. The people who make up this story are " A doc- tor addicted to opium, a pair of gypsies, a recluse lady, a lovely huntress, and a sporting parson," besides the hero, a lord of high de.jn ee, Pete, a fox terrier and Simon, a norse. There is a mysterious hatching of plots anions- the gyosies', and much propliesying. The parson is a " simple, kindly old fellow given to strong ale, terriers, and bluster." There is a gieat house with a witch, who holds nightly orgies in the empty rooms at midnight, from which come cries of tortured women and dying men, while by day this witch " tires her head, decks herself with gems, clothes herself m rich garments," and makes a mystery of herself generally. It if by far Fergus Hume's nest book. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, Londbi 1 14 Fifth ^^viTsnue, New York, Thomas B. Connery's Novels. From many flattering press notices those given below will indicate the favor with which Mr. Connerj'-'s writings are received by the public : " All the Dog's Fault is a capital book to pass away an hout or two, full of incident, love, and hamor. The author has long been known as a substantial iigure in New York banking circles, and occupied a prominent positiou in politics during the Gariield Arthur dynasty, his name being mixed with the Conkling im broglio at the time the Empire State senators withdrew so dra matically from the United States Senate. Mr. Connery has given us a delightful romance, which will be read with pleasure by all those who desire to be entertained without the necessity of hav- ing some musty logic generated for the reformation ot the world thrust down their unwilling throats. He writes to amuse- and certainly fulfils his mission to the Queen's taste." " Black Friday : A Story of Love and Speculation, by rhos. B. Connery. When a man as prominent as Thos. B. Con- nery has shown himself in the financial world takes up the pen to write a romance of love and speculation under such a significant title as ' Black Fiiday,' we have a right to expect something out of the beaten track. Nor does the book bring disappointment It is fresh and vigorous. The financier wields a trenchant pen. His pictures are excellent, and the love passages worthy of com- mendation. Some men excel in one field, but Mr. Connery bids fair to make a name for himself in literature as well as among the bulls and be^rs of Wall Street." " That Nobi.e Mexican, Mr. Connery's latest book, even excels the preceding volumes m interest and must adc* to hU already enviable reputation." Neely's Popular Library. ALL THE DOG'S FAULT. Paper, 25 oents- BLACK FRIDAY. Paper, 25 cents. "^HAT NOBLE MEXICAN. Paper, 25 cents. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of pH*Wf F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, London. 914 Fifth Avenue, Nev) Kotlk S^IEELY'S TOURIST LIBRABY Paper, Tweuty-flve Cents. Na 1, The White Company. By A. Conan Doyle, 3. The Deemster. By Hall Caine. 3. A Bomaace of Two Worlds. By Marie Corellia 4. Treasure Island. By Robert L. Stevenson. 5. The Sign of the Four. By A. Conan Doyle. S. Kidnapped. By Robert L. Stevenson. ?.' The Bondman. By Hall Caine. S. Michael Clarke. By A. Conan Doyle. 9. Sport Royal. By Anthony Hope. 10. The Man in Black. By Stanley J. Weymaru 1 1. Uncle Tom's t ^abin. By Mrs. Stowe. 13, Beyond the City. By A. Conan Doyle. 13. Webster's Pronouncing Dictionary. 14. Gosmopolis. By Paul Bourget. J5. People's Reference Book. 16. Around the World in Eighty Days. By Jules Verne, 17. In Darkest England. By General Booth. 18. Ships That Pass in the Night. By Beatrice Harrad^s., 19. Nance, a Kentucky Belle. By Miss Greene. 20. Mark Twain, His Life and Work. By Will M. Clemesjei. 21 . Tom Brown's School Days. By Thomas Hughes. 22. A Holiday in Bed. By J. M. Barrie. 23 By Right, Not Law. By R. H. Sherard. 21 The Child of the Ball. By De Alarcon. 85. Health and Beauty. By Emily S. Bouton, 26. Lydia. By Sidney Christian. 27. Rose and Ninette. By Alphchse Daudet. 28. A Tale of Two Cities. By Charles Dickens. 29. The Last of the Van Slacks. By Edward S. Van Zile. 30. Love Letters of a Worldly Woman. By Mrs. W. K. CliflorS. 81. Ctaudea's Island. By Esme Stuart. 33. At Love's Extremes. By Thompson. 38. The Minister's Weak Point. By Maclure, 34. Riwjhel Dene. By Robert Buchanan. 3.1. Social Etiquette. By Emily S. Bouton. 36. The House of the Seven Gables. By Nathaniel HawthoTBB. 87. At Market Value. By Grant Allen. ' 38. Her Victim. By an Indian Exile. 89. When a Man's Single. By J. M. Barrie. 40. A Daughter of India. By An Indian Exile. 41. Dream Life. By Ik. Marvel. 42. Reveries of a Bachelor. By Ik. Marvel. 43. Christopher Columbus. By Franc B. Wilkie. 44. Dodo. By E. F. Benson. Ftyr sale everywhere or sent postpaia on receipt of price iy the puMitht^, F. TENNYSON NEELY, 116 QUEEN STREET 114 FIFTH AVBmnS. UONPON NEW VOSK^ Works by the popular young American writer. Edward S. Van Zile. Mr. Van Zile's novels are a boon to those readers who delight in fresh fields, stirring scenes and crisp dialogue. He has already won a place among the leading American authors of the day. Newspaper criticism of this work has been almost unanimously favorable, and we have no hesitation in recommending his books to those m search of clean, yet stirring literature. Mr. Van Zile is also a versatile and pleasing poet, and his latest book, "The Dreamers," is one of the most artistic volumes published this season. Mr. Van Zile's poems cover a wide range of topics and bear the imprint of an assured literary touch. Their popularity has been estabHshed by the reception with which they have met upon their appearance in magazines and weeklies. ^EE DBEAMEBS, and Other Poems. Cloth, $1.35. KNSS IN ADVERSITY. Heely's Prismatic Library, gilt top, 50e, SSB LAST OP THE VAN SLACSS. TSeelfa Prismatic Library, Papa;, 86ft ?0f sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of ptiet, F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher. 96 Queen Street, Londoo- 114 Fifth Avenue, New Yorib fflartla Waslngion Cook BooR A COMPENDIUM OP COOKERY AND RELIABLE RECIPES. «^Ter 1,000,000 copies of this popular and valuable book have been sold. A moet comprehensive work, giving all the minute details pertaining to its subject, <;ontains hints and suggestions from the best housewives of our land. An in- dispensable adjunct to every culinary department. T^e Peoiile's teferep BooE. QQQ QQQ FACTS OF USE 777f777 TO EVERYBODY. Paper Cover. Neely's Popular Library, 25c. This is an invaluable book of ready reference, applicable to almost every pos. ^le industrial and domestic requirement. It gives information enabling one to meet everyday emergencies intelligently and promptly. Compiled from the best voedical and other authorities. So indexed that any required item caa be in- atantlr found. No other similar book in the market to compare with it for eS- dency and value. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of priM. F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 06 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New Yoilt. Two Strange Adventures* By KINAHAN CORNWALLIS. Neely's Popular Library. Paper, 25c ■This book is well calculated to please readers of adventutv since there is not a dry chapter from cover to cover. In man^ ways it is impossible enough for Jules Verne, and yet through the whole runs a delicate yet charming thread of love seldom to be found in the works of tha*- French master of adventurous fiction. Those who pick up the volume will hardly be satisfied until they reach the end. Mr. Cornwallis has written many charming stones in verse, the most popular being his ' ' Conquest of Mexico and Peru" and the patriotic " Song of America and Coiumbus," which latter fitly graced the period of our World's Fair. " Two Strange Adventures" met with such a hearty wel- come that the first edition was immediately exhausted. By MISS MUHLBACH. Translated by MARY J. SAFFORD. Cloth, gilt top, 50c. This is one of the most charming tales from the pen of the celebrated German novelist. It gives many side lights to the Story of Napoleon in the height of his power, and would prove interesting even to those who have never admired the genius of the great Bonaparte. The translation by Miss; Safford leaves nothing to be desired, since it could not be improved. For years she has stood in the leading rank of translators, with a charm of expression wholly her own. ' ' A Conspiracy of the Carbonari ' has proven very popular in this neat form so well adapted to the pocket and satchel, and eagerly sought after by the travelinj,' public. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of priett^ F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, London. S14 Fifth Avenue, New Voribi LATE WORKS OF OPIE READ, Author of ^'A Kentucky Colonel/* Probably no American writer of to-day excels Opie Read in the delineation of strange characters. He loves to dwell upon Southern scenes, before and after the war, and so vividly are these quaint pictures drawn that the reader seems to see the characters of his story as plainly as though the skill of an artist had painted their por- traits. " Odd Folks " will please all travelers who enjoy a good story, well told, and should meet with as heavy ; sale as "The Captain's Romance" has enjoyed. It i^ peculiarly fresh and sparkling, and a sure cure for lone- liness or the blues. The remarkably clever pen-drawn characters wiil live through many editions as true type^ of American life. ODD FOLKS. Cloth, ^ 1. 00 ; paper, 250. THE CAPTAIN'S ROMANCE. Cloth, gi.oo; paper, 2Sfc For «ale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of pries. F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New Vorlfc PAOLA CORLETII, THE FAIR ITALIAN. By ALICE HOWARD HILTON, Author of '< A Blonde Creole." Neely's Popular Library, paper 350. This is a charming romance of life in Italy and New Orleans — of a pretty Italian maid, daughter of a Neapolitan nobleman, who elopes with the lover of her choice, a poor musician, and being hounded by the emissaries of a disap- pointed suitor, in conjunction with her angry father^ they start for America, settling in the famous French Quarter of New Orleans. The story is sweet and pure, and full of ex. Deeding pathos — the descriptive bits of old New Orleans, with its Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral, opposite, are clever pictures of the Creole City of the past. Since Cable has ceased his admirable novels of these interesting people, the public will undoubtedly welcome an addition to Creole literature from the pen of one so< j;horoughly conversant with the subject as Mr&^ '■-lilton. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of pr!c& F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, f6 Q|ie«0 Street, LoiidQli> 114 Fifth Aveniae. New Vorjt The Honor of a Princess. By R KIMBALL SCRBNER. Neely's Prismatic Library. Gilt top, 50c. A new novel, "The Honor of a Princess," by a new writer, F. Kimball Scribner, has easily won the approbation of the lovers of romance( dealing as it does with the adventures of two Englishmen during the latter years of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. From first to last the story is filled with ac- tion. Falling under the displeasure of the Virgin Queen, Harold Martant, an English Catholic, makes his escape to France, accompanied by an old retainer of his House, a veteran of the days of Drake and Frobisher. On the advice of a certain Captain Von Francius, a former leader of a Free Company, the refugees accompany him to Schleswig and enter the service of the young king of that country, whose title to the throne Is disputed by a nobleman of the kingdom. The story, which is charmingly told in the Simple language of a soldier of the period, treats of the adventures of Martant and his compan- ions while in the service of the Royal House of Schleswig. Though a new writer, the author's name is not unknown to the literary world, he being a member of the well-known family of Charles Scribner's Sons, publishers. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price, F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, L.oodon. 114 Fifth Avenue, New Vprlu nONTRESOR, An English-American Love-Ston By «• LOOTA." Neely*s Prismatic Library. Gilt top, 50c. In "Montresor" we have a readable little volume, airily written, and dealing with the fan- cies of the heart. Our author introduces us to charming society, and we follow the fortunes of the heroine with more than passing interest. " Montresor" is hardly in the line of sensational novels, but one finds running through the story a most delightful vein of love, and the conclusion reached is so pleasant that we close the book with the sensation of having been very pleasant- ly entertained. The author's views upon divorce ire in line with the ideas of those who have most 5eriously pondered upon this grave question, Montresor " is a book that can be safely placed n the hands of the most exacting, which is more than can be said of most new novels. For aale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prlca^ F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 9a Queen Street, London. 114 Piftb Avenue, New Yorft SnOKINQ FLAX. A Story of Dixie's Latest Problem. By HALLIB ERMINIE RIVES. Neely's Prismatic Library. Gilt top, 50 cents. Stories of the South, dealing with its familiar types jsnd lighter scenes, are of ordinary occurrence. Somber essays, descanting wisely upon its social problems are not rare. But seldom, indeed, has any writer succeeded in decking a sectional sermon in the garb of romance or of tragedy and sketching with the bold crayon of realistic circumstance, the trenchant lines of a condition against which theoretic logicians inveigh in vain. In " Smoking Flax " Miss Rives has done this — her story deals with that grave question of southern social economy, the lynching. Miss Rives needs no introduction, since "A Fool in Spots " and numerous short stories gained for this beau- tiful daughter of Dixie a young popularity. She is a cousin of Amelia Rives, now the Princess Troubepkoi, and has much of the poetic feeling which distinguished that vivid authoress. Her present book is a fierce arraignment of the northern societies which see in. Judge Lynch only the law] ess and unreasoning arbiter of a blind and passion-led mob. And yet the arraignment is before no court, and the briefs are all drawn up by the reader. Upon the stern and rigid warp of brutal and bloody fact. Miss Rives, with the hand of a practised workman, nnd with a shuttle wound with the bright hues and 1 odorous warmths of the south-land has woven a woof of romance, of woman's tenderest love and man's manliest devotion. The lights and shades are closely mingled, and through all the story, from its opening in the calm of peace and content, to its tragic close in the storm of death and bitterness and despair, the reader is held in an interest which grows steadily more real, and more en- thralling. For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. F. TENNYSON NEELY. Publisher, 96 Qaeen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New Yorib,