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“Miss (Jar-icon knows how to niake her guests comfortable, Gladys,” she said. “And now I want to talk to youâ€"sit down. I know you are a sensible girl, Gladys, and on will understand what I am going to say. t is not a. very long story. Squire (Jarleon, you must understand, succeeded to this es- “tate of King's Norton. It is a. magnificent udomainâ€"it extends for many milesâ€"~aiid thel Z’Z‘evenue derived from it is magnificent also. I should say that the sq uire's income is quite 'wx‘fifteen thousand per annum ; and all this was left to him by his cousin, the late Pierrepont ' Carleonâ€"left to him for his lifewand at his [death it goes to his (laughter and only child, Philippa, on condition that she marries be- fore she is twenty-live. Pierrepout Carebn Thad great ideas of founding a family. If Philippa does not marry before she is twenty- h‘fixiie, the whole estate and revenue go at the ‘ squire's death to a distant relative, Algernon Lyndsay. Do you understand ? The squire in any case keeps the property until his death. If his daughter marries before she is twenty-five, she succeeds him ; if not, Al- geron becomes squire, and she has a. trifling annuity of three hundred pounds.” “ It was a strange will to make,” I said. Mrs. Forsyth smiled grimly. “l’iei‘i'epont Carleon did not believe much in women,” she returned. “ His idea about them was that they always go by the rule of contrary. He wished the Carleons of King’s Norton to becomeagreat family ; and he be- lieved quite honestly that Philippa, being a woman, would never marry if she thought she was wished to do so. Events proved he was not far from right. She is new twenty, and is single still.” “ thy does she not marry T" I asked. “ That is the very questionâ€"why does she not? And the answer, to my mind is quite )lainâ€"liec Luse she is wished to marry. ow you, Gladys, I repeat, are a sensible irl, and I want you to try to get an in- uence over Miss Garleon, and use it for a. good purpose.” ... .n . “ur- THE MYSTERY OF THE HOLLY TREE. 311's. Forsyth was wzriting for me in the most amiable of moods. A tumbler of white Wine they stood on the table, and her easy "hair was drawn Close to the bright fire. “ Gladys," said Mrs. Forsyth, “ come with me to my mom. I want to talk to you.” Uudcr some pretext, I went to my room first, and) unlocking the box, took out the silken bug. As I dui so Miss Carleon enter- ed the mum. I placed the bag in her hand ; a deep crimson flush overspreud her face as she touched it. She bent over me, her perfumed hair brushing against my face, and kissed me. It is no exaggeration to say that at, that mo- ment I felt as though I could have died for her. “ Did y0u~did you see any one near the holly-tree ‘3” she asked, with some little hesi- tation. I answered “ No ;” there was nothing but the snow and the dark, silent trees. She sighed, looked ivistfully at the little bag: mn‘l‘theu bade me geod-night. “Talk reafsconably, Gladyh Ayx-ton. \Vho ‘Would be so absurd as to mention love when “it is a question of fifteen thousand a. year '1 ‘Why cannot she love one or the other, pray 2 If she prefers a dark, handsome nobleman, 2ssomething like one of the kni hts of old, let her take Lord Estcourt ; i? she wants one of the finest, most generous, and high- spirited men in England, let her marry Captain Norman." “ But suppose she does not really care for ‘either. ” f‘ How am I to tnank you, Gladys '3" she asked, and her voice trembled. “ You can thank me best by letting me do something else to help you, Miss Uarleon.” “ She has other lovers. Mr. Colehurst, one of the cleverest barristers in London, would give his right hand to win her. The Honorable and Reverend Theobald Duns- tan, Rector of West Tuston, has proposed to her several times. Surely she might choose from‘zrmougst the number.” “ You have common sense,” said Mrs. F orsyth, impatiently, “and she has none. Common sense always gets the upper hand. Miss ()arleon is twenty, and, naturally enough, the squire is growing anxi )us about her. She has two most unexceptionable lovers, and you must try to persuade her, when you know her better, to marry one of ‘them. Lord Estcourt is all that any girl in her ssenses could desireâ€"~handsome, accomplish- ed, amiable, and devotele attached to her. Captain Norman will, some day or other, succeed his uncle, Lord Chilvers. I like him the better of the two. There is not a single rfault or objection that can be raised to either ; but that obstinate, foolish girl will snot accept either of them.” . nu (- quired. tween us. V‘i‘nliéxr‘fiaps she does not love either of thenb’LI suggestgd, till'liqu. . ‘vrI a “ The squire has spoken of nothing of the kind to me,” observed Mrs. Forsyth. “Now, Gladys, Miss Carleon likes you. She told me so to-night ; she says your face is true and good. When you grow more intimate uud familiar with her, will you honestly do your best to try to influence her “to decide in favor of one or other of these suitors ‘2” w “’ith a. {Jo-man’s keen instinct, I hit the mail at once. 7‘7 Possibly there is some one whom she loves, and that makes her indifferent to these (gerltlgmen. ” p .u- 1-” “ That I will, if she will give me an op- poyfigpityz' Mrs. Forsyth. ” I ‘u .u-v l “ It will break the squire’s heart if her twenty-fifth birthday should find her un- married ; and at this rate it is pretty sure to do so. It will shorten his life, I am sure. The squire trusts to you, Gladys.” ‘1. “ It seems curious that he should trust to me ; I am quite a stranger to Miss Car- leon. It is possible that she will never al:- low me to speak to her on such a matter.” Mrs. Forsyth frowned angrily. “ Have I not told you, Gladys, that you are one of those girls people trust without knowing why? You are sure to gain an influence over Philippa. Carleon if you will but try. You must see yourself what a terrible thing it would be to lose fifteen thousand a year just because she cannot make up her mind to be married. Some girls cam I possibly influence her ‘2” I in- f‘ There is so great a. difference beâ€" (.‘J {A I’TE R III. A CHRISTMAS STORY. Lord Estcourt, by some skillful contriv- ence, managed to walk by her side to church; but, coming back, Captain Norman took his place, and Lord Estcourt positively offered me his arm. Did he know that I was only a. “ companion ‘2” I longed to tell him, and feared that he would be annoyed when he discovered it ; but I could find no opportunity. The church was an ancient one, with a. square tower all covered with ivy. The sermon was all about the divine mystery of the day ; and then, after a. long walk in the pale sunlight and the clear, cold, crisp air, we went home to dinner. Those who saw the squire’s banquet that day would understand how to keep Christmas. How many poor he fed I cannot tell. It seemed to me that the whole mansion was full of guests, and in the large stone hall half the poor villagers dined. How happy I was 1 My tears and flushed face thanked himâ€"words Ihad none. It was fiarranged so; the salary they offered me was I most hanrsome. I bade adieu to Mrs. ‘. Forsyth, and entered on my new occupation wig!) the gladdest an_d ligh_test of hearts. The squirev had suggested carria. es, but Miss Carloon said nothing could e more beautiful than a, walk through the woods down to Aberdare Church. I had set myâ€" self to watchâ€"and I watched keenlyâ€"to see if I could distinguish any mark of pref - erence on the part of Miss (,‘arleon for either of her lovers, but I could not. A The d5}: came to an end at last. Through it all I had watched the squire’s daughter keenly, and I had come to the conclusion that she did not care in the least for either of the two men who loved 1101' so dearly. are so eager to be married ; but there is no consistency in women, and never will be. Good-night, Gladys. I thank Heaven that I never had any daughters to trouble we.” Confused ideas of Miss Carla-0n and her lovers haunted me until I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, from which I was roused by apale wintry sunbeam peeping in at the Window, and the sound of Christmas bells. Such a. Christmas day it wasâ€"more beautiful, if possible, than the night that had preceded it, for a. pale golden sun was shining on the snow. lhevold house seemed to resound with Christmasgreetingâ€"how many st'ange hands grasped mine and wished me a. merry Christin as, I cannot tell. How m-my strange faces smiled at me, making sunshine hin wiuter, I cannot tell either. I wish the limits of my story would allow me to dwell on that glmi ms Christmasâ€"tideâ€" to tell of the grand ball the squire «rave to his wealthy neighbors, at which Philippa. Unrleon looked so beautiful that both her lovers were almost beside themselvesâ€"where Lord Estcourt, knowing that I was only a “companion,” danced three times with me and was pleased to converse with me when- ever he was not engaged with Miss Cerleon. A girl would be more than mortal were she not delighted with the attentions of a hand- some and accomplished young nobleman. \Ye had a. breakfast that made me think of the days of Queen Elizabeth~so substan- tial was it, and in such old-English stylish. Then we went over the snow to church. The bells were chiming, the sun was shin- ing, the distant sound of Ul1ristmas~uhimes came over the trees ; the roads were white and frozen hard, while from the trees icicles hugg like huge diamonds. Then all the village school children and the poor were lavishly regaled with bounte- ous Christmas-cheer. How many blessings were heaped on the squire's head it would be impossible for me to guess. Every day brought its separate festivities, old English gamesand entertainments ;we hac “ maszs,” and the Lord of Misrule was busy amo‘ gst us. During all this time I watched the squire’s daughter closely, and I could not distinguish the least sign of preference for either of her admirers. If Miss Carleon sang with Lord Estcourt, the next hour she would play at chess with the fair-haired soldier; if she danced with one, she did not refuse the other ; no one could possibly have told whether she liked both, or only one. I was fairly puzzled. An the. (lava hassed one T daniflpd rhal'. T “ Miss Ayrton,” he said, suddenly, “my daughter Philippa likes you very much. She is lonely at times when no visitors are here , will you, as you are leaving Mrs. Forsyth, live with us, not only as a companion, but as a friend ‘3” As the days passed on, I decided :hat I liked Lord Estcourt best. He was not so brilliant as Captain Norman ; he was not so gifted with the art of pleasing ; he was prouder too, and more reserved. I liked him best. A hundred times each hour my wonder was how Philippa. Uerleon could pos- sibly fail to love one so worthy of all love. The squire came to me one morning and told me that Mrs. Forsyth thought of leaving King's Norton now that the Christmas week was ended. He looked very anxiously at I soon became truly and warmly attached to the old squire, and I saw plainly how great was his anxiety about his daughter. He talked to me continually on the subject. “ You must use your influence, Miss Ayr- ton. If Philippa does not marry, houses and lands go from her to a stranger. I cannot bear to think of it. Advise her to marry Estcourt. She will not listen tome; she m y to _}_Iou." Ivcould see, when I began to know him better, that at some time or other the squire h id passed throu h bitter trouble ; and when I came to know iss Carleon better, I felt sure that beneath all her smiles and bril- liancy she carried an aching heart. She was kindness itself to me ; but, with all her grace and condescension there was a halo of dignity around her that I never could break through. I could not allude to her lovers when she never mentioned them herself. If by chance I introduced either name into conversation, she was perfectly indifferent. One morning, when I was alone with her, the conversation turned upon end-breeding. I said then, what I quite elieved, that Lord Estcourt was the best-bred and most perfect gentleman I had ever seen. She laughed gayly. “ Have you seen many gentlemen, Gladys? Have you mixed much with the world I?” CHAPTER 1V. “ No,” I replied, hastily ; “ but quite sure no one could excel Lord E: in grace and truth of manner. He me think offlKing Arthur.” ' "VfiJEEace flusth ; a. light I hudémér seen befoxje cglllgiqto he; _eycs._ “ I could not be mistaken ; nothing seemed to agitate her. But she was agitated that eveningâ€"her face was flushed, a. strange light gleamed in her eyes. Once, just as we were leaving her dressing-room, she caught me in her arms. “ And I,” she said,“ “ knowgone as bril- liant and courtly as Lancelot, without stain upgn his m‘mxe.’.’ a “ Gladys,” she cried, “ do I look like myself to-night? Could anybody tell from looking at me that my heart beats so loudly that I can almost hear it.” “ You look as though something unusual were about to happen,” I replied; She repeated the word softly after me. “ Unusual ! Oh, my love, my love, that it should be so I” “ It is rather light,” she said ; and, look- ing at it again, I fancied the spring was not vegy sepyre. .I remembered those words, and years af- tegngrde felt t»ha_t‘th_e3f were true. There was plentfof time to alter it ; émd that evening when I stood by her toilet- tuble her beauty fairly dazzled me. I re- member fastening the ruby bracelet on her arm. It was a glorious evening. Philippa. Car- leon, more beautiful than any other, moved amongst the throng like some grand and gracious young queen. When the ball was over, I was so thoroughly tired, that I only remember going to my room. I did not see Miss Carleon. Miss Cux'leon’s birthday came roundâ€"it was the seventh of Januaryâ€"and We had an entertainment of almost royal- magnifi- cence. In the morning the squire resented her witha. magnificent suit of [‘11 ies. As she kissed him, I heard him say : I went to her dressing-roomano queen ever had a more sumptuous oneâ€"and from the depths of a. huge wardrobe the maid brought mt a. number of dresses the like of which I led never seen before. Amongst them we found a superb lemon-colored bro- cade. I seized it eagerly. “ \Vill that do ‘3” she asked. “ It is the very thing we require; the color is pefiectly suited to you, and it Will shgfiv the rubies to great advantage.” She murmured the words, but I heard thgm, and th_ey_set me thinking “ You can make me so happ'y if you will, Philippa; you might; make me the happiest 8.119 the p};oqdcsf_:_father in t_he Woyld.”_ I thought she looked very pale and tired the next morning. She presided as usual at the breakfast-table, but her thoughts were evidently far away. The squire did not feel well, and was remaining in his own room. Miss Carleon said to me : She smiled sadly, and shook her head. 151’. that day I noticed in her a. feverish, foxced kind of gayety. The squire insisted that she should wear the rubies that even- ing ; there was a. bracelet beautifully set, and containing a portrait of the squire. She came to me in laughing perplexity. “ T mmf. ninnse nana..” she said. “ :Lmi T “ I must; please papa,” she said, “ and I really do not know what dress I can wear with rubies; come with me, Gladys, and ’) ' see. The room she called Her own, into which no visitors were admitted, was on the ground-floor ; it was a. cheerful, sunny apartment, full of flowers all the year round, - elegantly furnished, and looking over a. besutiful woodland scene. \Ve went to it. She was so deeply engrossed with her own thoughts that I did not speak to her. She sat near the window, and her eyes were fixed on the white winter landscape. At times a deep sigh would come from her lips. So two hours passed, and then there came a low tap at the door. Tirzu, Miss Carleon’s pretty maid, _cmne in. _ ‘ ‘ Gladys, every one seems engaged or busy in some fashion. Come to my room, and let us spend the morning there.” “ One of the Reeperé,” she said, “ is wait- ing to see the squire, and will not leave with- oufiseeing himz" To my surprise, Miss Carleon’s face grew deadly pale. “ One of the keepers wants the squire she said. “ Send him here to me, Tina.” p! In a few minutes a stvong, well-Built young man entered the room, and bowed low as be caught sight of Mjss ‘ ar_leon._v your message to me ‘3 “‘lYouvwant the squire, Hewson ‘2” she said. “ He is not we11__to-day ; will you give For an answer the man drew a small parcel from his pocket, and took from it the ruby braceletâ€"Ashe one that I had fastened on Philippa’s arm the night before. “ I have no message but this, Miss CM- “ I have no messa. ve but this, Miss Car- leon,” he said. “ was on duty in the woods very early this morning, and I found this. It has the squire’s portrait, so I brought it to him.” She turned away for a. minute lest he should see the ghastly pallor that came over her face. Her whole frame trembled with agitation. When she spoke again her voice was quite changed, so great was the effort she had made to control all outward sign of agitation. She took the bracelet in her hand. I saw how it trembled. “ I zun very much obliged to you, Hew- son," she said ; “ the bracelet is mine, and I should have been grieved tolose it. 'Wherc did you find it ?” “'By the little gate that leads to the cop- piqg,” replitfd the 3mm, with a. 110W. A “ I must h we dropp( d it. I passed bv there yesterday. I am very much obliged to you. I should like to ask a. favor of you, Hewson.” “ Ask anything, Miss Carleon, that I can do,” leturned ther man: “ The squire might feel angry, and think I was careless about his beautiful present, If he knew how and where I 1131 it. Will you keep the matter secret for me?” She tried b0 speak lightly, with a. careless smile, but 1 saw that her lips trembled. “ Most certainly,” replied the keeper, “ I should not have mentioned it in any case, Miss Carleon.” Then I saw her put a. couple of sovereigns 111170 the man’s half-reluctant hand “ You will remember '2” she said, gently. “ I will, indeed, miss,” he replied, earnest- ly, and the next moment he was gone. She did not speak to me nor did we look at each other. I knew that if she had really dropped the bracelet it must have been after the ball was over last night ; and what could Miss Carleon, the squire’s worshiped daughter, the heiress of King’s Norton, have been doing near the coppice at that timeâ€"â€" alone, and in the silence, the darkness, the cold of thatgyinter night? There had been a sflence, between us for 7n some time, and then she came over to nw, angLfllgngeLing by my side}, said : “Gladys, Vwfiate’ver happensâ€"whatever yog_hee_1r 9r fagâ€"will yop trus‘timeif" “After the shocks had subsided, and I had somewhat recovered my scattered senses, I returned to the house to procure clothing for myself and family, for we were all barefooted and in our light sleeping garments. Then too, I wanted to see whether the kerosene from the overturned lamp had ignited. Fortunately it had not. The lamp, however, being broken, I hunted about in the darkness till I found my lan- tern which I lighted, and what a scene I be- held ! Furniture overturned and lying in smashed heaps ; the floor strewn with plas- ter, bricks from the chimney, splinters of glassware and mirrors, vases, crockery and bric-a-brac. The only whole thing left was a common goblet. ' Ilooked in her préud, noble, beautiful f9.quan sqi}l,_simply : “I should 'trust; Siou, Miss Carleon, in spite of all the world, and in spite of my own eyes and ears, if such trust were need- ed." “ \Vhen we stEpped into the yard, we found our feet in water, and, not being able to distinguish in the darkness from whence it came, nor how much there was of it, thoughts of a possible overwhelming tidal wave added to the horrors of the occasion. A great sigh seemed to come from the vexfy' _epth of her heart. u ‘71 hépe no one on earth has trouble like mine to bear,” she said; .and we did not mention the subject again. “ All this time the house seemed flying this way and that, at a. lightning-express rate. Everything was bumping and jam- ming against the wall ; glass, china, clocks, mirrors, and mantlepicces were tumbling down about us. Fortunately, nothing struck ui, and thank’s to our Heavenly Father’s mercy, we managed to get out of the house. The following is an extract from a. letter written by a. gentleman living in Summer- vile, S. C.,.a,t the time of the earthquake. The novel experiences told therein are of peculiar interest. Says the writer: “ My wife and I, being fatigued, had retired 1m- usually early. Suddenly a xumbling sound roused me. I hardly knew what it was, but started, instinctively, to get out of bed, when at that instant the whole house began to rock so that I was obliged to cling to the footâ€"board to steady myself. I called to my wife and she sprang up in a dazed sort of way, asking what was the mattng “ We have no near neighbors, and so I blew on our big horn to let those who lived on the adjoining plantation know that we were still alive, though to be sure, I was not certain but that they themselves might be dead. “ Then I carried out armfuls of clothing to my frightened, shivering family, and by 'the aid of sheets and quilts managed to rig up a. sort of a. tent for shelter, for you may be sure we had no desire to go back into the house, especially us now and then we were startled afresh by the rumbling motion. But we somehow managed to drag through the dreary hours of that horrible night. 7‘ \Vhen daylight came and I was able to inspect the place, I found a complate wreck. My house, which was new and strongly built, had jumped from its foundation about fifteen inches from south to north-west, and one side was entirely level with the grqund. “ In the yard I fohnd six springs bubbling up, the water mixed with a quantity of beautiful gold-colored sand. My pumps stand about; four feet high, and yet the in- ternal pressure was so great that sand and water were being forced up through the valves and out at the spouts. “ The ‘ brunch’ dividing my land from the adjoining plantation, and which, on the previous day, had been but a small stream was now running like a niil‘muce. Here and there on my land I found fissures split open in the earth, large enough for, me to thrust in my hand and part of my arm. It was astonishing to behold the various effects of the earth-freaks, and one can well ima- gine how inexpressibly dreary it was for us all to veiw the destruction and desolation of what, only a few hours before, had been a. happy, comfortable home.” Thirteen Great Mistakes. To yield to immaterial trifles. To look for perfection in our own actions. To endeavor to mould all dispositi ms alike. To expect uniformity of opinion in this world. To measure the enjoyment of others by our own. To expect to be able to understand every- thing. To believe only what our finite minds can grasp. Not to make allowances for the infirmitics of others. To worry ourselves and others with what can not be remedied. To look for judgment and experience in youth. To consider everything impossible that we can not perform. Not; to alleviate all that needs alleviation as far as lies in our power. It is a great mistake to set up your own standard of right and wrong and judge peo- ple accordingly. Speaking of his business of hunting for lost treasure, Capt. Bridgewater told a. re- porter how he had been sent to New Hamp- shire to hunt for the money of a. retired sea captain who died very suddenly. He said : The captain had been a. queer sort of man, very taciturn, and always taking trips out of town after his money. He Wasn’t a mis- erly men, and I concluded that he hadn’t buried it. He slept in no one particular place, and I was pretty sure that there was no place in the house Where he felt better contented than another. So I said : “ Bring his clothes.” We went over them. The binding of one of his coats was wide, and his wife said as I t me it off. “He always sewed his clothes up himself. He was as handy as a. woman with a. needle. Queer.” Then added, “ Why he always wanted to wear that suit to the last. Poor dear l” and she dropped a. tear. In the meantime I had pulled out an oiled silk packet holding six bonds cf $1,000 each, and we found eighteen more in the same suit. His trips out of town meant some- thing, you see. Where he Hid his Money. In the Earthquake. (T0 RE CONTINUED). A MAN WHO WAS SCALI‘ED. lle Says the Operation Caused lllm Consi- dcrnble Pain. It has often been said that a. man can not ? live after being écalped, writes a Fort Keogh '3 correspondent. One of the Crow Indian ' scouts with Custer before that brave officer i met his fate was caught by a. party of Sioux alone on the prairie and scalped ali\ e Hf: _I enemies cut a pear-shaped piece out of the I crown of his head and left him writhing in ' ggonyl, _suppo§ing lie Vyoiild_ of (mints-e d e. The story of that dangerous expe lition is an exceedingly interesting one, and as lelat- ed by himself runs as follows : “ One day we were coming into the valley of Hut creek on our way to Fort Laramie, when we thought we saw Indians coming down the creek to the right. Instead of camping there, we thought it safer to Water our stock and go on to the hills and make a. dry camp in the bushes. I had been sent on ahead up the hill to reeonnoiter, and took with me a boy named Kounlze, from Omaha, merely for company. \Ve sat down to wait for the wagons, which were slowly coming ‘up out of the valley. When the wagons reached us I STARTED ON ALONE. through the rocks and pine bushes to seek a. good camp. A few hundred yards further on I looked down a ravine t0 the right and saw five mounted Indians ride across the valley. I started to go back to the train, when at least a. dozen Indians ran at me out of the bush, and you bet Iran and called for help. In a minute more two or three cf them shot at me. I felt a sharp stinging pain in my right leg and another in my left shoulder, and I fell. Then they were upon me in a minute. and one of them put his knee on my back, while another hit me a. clip with a club. Another struck me with the butt of a. gun, and then I became partly unconscious. Still I had reason and feeling enough left to know that I was being scalp- ed ; for the hair held so tightly, and the pain was so awful that I could not die then even if I wanted to. I felt Saved the Baby. There is nothing more beautiful than the ; last thought of a noble soul in its fatal self- : sacrifice for another’s life. Love has no higher type than this. An exchange prints ‘ the following aflecting story of Lulu Car- , penter, twelve years old, who was mortally I hurt in the terrible cyclone at Sank Rapids, 3 Minnesota, last spring. i She had fled from the storm, but went fr back after her baby sister, and was can ht and transfixed by a huge splinter t at pierced through her body. Her first words when her grandfather found her thus were,â€" ' “ I am dying, but I’ve saved the baby !’ The poor girl lingered a day or two in de- lirium, and her last_w03ds, were,- to speak of. Still, what little he has got, is whitened or gray, the rest of his head, “Where the hair ought to grow,” being as bald as a billiard-ball. To be exact, Ganzio did not lose his entire scalp, but only a portion of it. The probabilities are that he could not have survived with the loss of the whole top of his head. Some fewyeai's ago, when Sitting Bull was master , of this country Ganzio was guide of an emigrant party on route to Fort Laramie, Wyoming territory. A HOT HTINGISG PAIN all around the to? of my headâ€"the hair be~ ing torn out by the roots, so to speakâ€"and it was too much. I died, or at least; I thought; I did ; but as it happened my scalp or part of it, was saved just as it; was being torn off. The boys at the wagon hurl uccn me running ; saw the Indians and came at a. runâ€"thirteen of them, arriving just in timé to prevenflche red devils finishing their work. The Indians, as Well as my friends, thought Llotwithstandiné all which the redskin re- covered, and and at last accounts was liv- ing with his people on the Crow reservatk and doing well. There is an old hunts.» 11 western Montana whose cabin is locate “an the eastern slope of the Rocky mountai is, who had his hair raised some years ago by a. band of savages, and yet he lives and thrives in most; astonishing good health. The old fellows’s name is Ganzio, and by reason cf his advanced years would, in the natural course of evems have white hair now, only that he was left of iny scalp was laia buék in place. It was only half torn ofl‘ you see, and the place is preppy well healedpow.” A “ Whit dia you do with yourself after- wards ‘2” Inimuired. _ “ Why,” I hurried into r‘ort Laramie, got the attention of a, physician, and went back to the states for a while; but the western fever came strong upon me again and I had to return to the mountains, where I have been ever since.” “We had not been more than a, week under the Island of St. Thomas, when we discover- ed a. suspicious looking brig close in shore. We made all sail in chase, and soon came within a mile and a half of the shore, when she fired two shots at us. Ihe elevation was too great and the shots passed over us and between our masts. This incident reminded our captain of a. “ very remarkable circum- stances,” which he proceeded to narrate. “Three was were fired at a frigate 1 was on board 0 , from a. battery, all at the same time. The three shots cut away the three topsail ties, and down came all our topsail yards upon the cap, at the same time. That the Frenchmen might not suppose that they had taken such good aim, we turned up our hands to reef topsails ; and by the time that the men were off the yards, the ties were spliced and the topgaile run up again.” “Very queer, indeed, very ueer,” spoke up the second officer, Donaty y name, and a. right royal fellow and good sailor was he, who had seen a deal of hard service ; “ but I know a. queerer circumstance than that, captain. \Ve had put in the, powder to the {our guns on the main deck, when we were fighting some gun-boats, in a frigate I was in, and as the men withdrew the rammer, a. shot from the enemy entered the muzzle and completed the loading of each gun. We fired their own shot back upon them, ‘and this occurred three times ruhnning.” The captain of the Rattlgsnake having heard this yarn was immediately of a retir- ing disposition. “ Dbn’t be afraid, Siss’y; no’thing shall hurt you; Lulu will take care of you! Don’t be afraid"’ How many other acts of heroism were done in that; awful storm no one but God Himself knows. Such deeds are surely re- corded on high. HAS NO HAIR AT ALL A Sailor's Yarn.