THAT GIRL of JOHNSON’S II
Tty JEA.fi KATE LVDLVM.
Auihtr *f "At a Girl’* Mercy.'’ Etc.
Entered According to Aet of Congress in the Year 1M0 by Street & Smith.
In the Office ol the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
CHAPTER I.
k •• 4
The Girl.
The day wa3 dreary when »he was
horn, not only because the rain was
• falling in a drizzling fashion and a
mist hung over the hills, but because
she was born. Her mother, having
a soft heart, felt all her tenderness
Awaking for her weak daughter, and
gathered her into her arms with a half
pitying caress. But her mother did
not live long, and some of her friends
went so tar as to say that it was well
she did not, for she would have spoiled
the girl.
Her father—well, there was no dan
ger of her father spoiling the girl
with tenderness. He considered her
birth one of the blows fate dealt him,
and he said he had had many blows
from fate. He said fate was against
him; people said he was shiftless; they
sakl also that there was hardly a
doubt that the girl would be tho same.
None of the Johnsons amounted to
much—at least that branch of the fam
ily. Lemuel Johnson, this man's
brother, was rich, rumor said, ar.d they
did not blame him for having nothing
to do with hio shiftless brother. He
lived in a fine house in New York;
was enterprising and shrewd; how
could anyone blame him for dropping
thi3 ne’er-do-well brother?
His brother thought differently.
Lemuel was rich; fate had been good
to him; it was but right that he should
help him; It was an unheard of thing
that he had never offered to help him,
especially when thi3 added burden was
laid upon his already too heavily laden
I shoulders. Of what good to him was
a girl? Girls wore of little use. Had
she been a boy—but she was not a
boy, and she was motherless from the
time she was three weeks old.
With a pathetic appreciation of the
fitness of things her mother named
her Dolores. And from the time she
was taken from the dying mother’s
arms her large brown eyes, shaded
by long curling lashes, looked out upon
k the world with a strange gravity and
? a knowledge of what it meant to be
brought into the world unwelcome and
unloved.
She seldom cried. She never ccoed
as other and happier babies do. And
!as she grew older silence grow upon
her. She said little and the neighbors
seldom ran In to gossip with her a3 they
did with each other, for there was
no use; she took no interest in them
or their gossip; no one could talk
easily with her eyes upon them. So
when she grew old enough to attend
^ to the household matters herself, they
■ left her alone; even the children of
her own age dropped her as though
she had been dead.
She was an excellent cook, and kept
the house well. In these things her
father had no fault to find. He sel
dom spoke to her; If the food were
well cooked he never found fault; he
never praised It or her; he ate his
meals In silence, and went out of the
house. She saw him only at meal
times; his* evenings were spent at the
tavern; hers were spent at home
"Did ye get ther water7”
mending his clothes or doing whatever
was to be done.
And to every one In the village—out
of it she knew no one—she was sim
ply “that girl of Johnson’s.”
CHAPTER II.
The Stranger.
When Dolores was twenty her father
awoke to the fact that she was no
v. longer a child. The knowledge of her
age and comliness came to him sud
* denly one day.
Johnson was a blacksmith, and
young Green, whose father was judge
in the town across the mountain, was
riding up the valley when his mare
cast a shoe, and he stopped at the
shop to have it replaced.
The day was warm and sultry, and
after a few minutes young Green asked
tor some water. Johnson sent him to
f the house for it, saying that Dolores
would give it to him. Green returned
In a few minutes. There was a strange
expression on his face, and he did not
enter the shop at once; he stood in the
doorway, watching the hammer fall on
the glowing Iron.
Green had a college education, and
his friends were to a certain extent
like all other young fellows, fond of
hunting and all athletic sports, but a
strength like this man’s he had never
before seen. Green was a man, and
men admire strength. The mouth was
sullen under the scant gray mustache;
the eyes were small, and showed a
possible cruelty of nature—brute cruel
ty; the forehead was low and narrow.
There wms not an intellectual line in
his face.
A wrinkle of puzzled thought ap
peared between the young nan's
brows. He turned and looked long
and earnestly up the path that led to
the tiny uupainted house set in its
dreary garden a short distance up tho
mountain.
Dolores was standing in the door
way, her arms hanging down in front
of her, her fingers clasped listlessly
together. The sunlight was on her
dark head; her brown eyes were look
ing straight before her. and there wma
a light in her face that fairly trans
formed it. Usually there was little
light in her face. Her lips were part
ed as though she had been speaking of
pleasant things.
Young Green took off his hat. and
ran his fingers through his fair hair.
The wrinkle of perplexity appeared
and deepened between ills brows.
“Johnson is she your daughter?”
The blacksmith straightened up in
surprise. No one had ever beforo
asked about Dolores. With the back
of his hand ho wiped the urop3 from
his grimy face.
“She my darter? Wal. I reckon. My
cur3ed luck thet she wara’t a boy;
boys is o’ use.”
A flash came into the clear blue
eyes watching him. “Cursed luck?
Man, you should thank ycur lucky star
that she Is a woman—and Euch a wo
man! Where did she get her learn
ing?”
“Learnin’ ?”
The man was bewildered; he laughed
scornfully. "She ain’t never had no
learnin' ’s far as I know. Thar ain’t
no use in learnin’—'t least I ain’t
never seen no use o’ it. Wimmen
’specially air better off ’theut it.
Hyar's yer mare reddy. Fine mare,
she. A shillin’, sir; thank ’ee.”
The mare was full of life and spirits,
and a beautiful animal. When her
master mounted she reared and
plunged; her tail swept the scanty
grass at the door, her long silky mane
swept his face; her eyes were flash
ing, her nostrils dilated.
The girl in the doov.ay lost her list
less attitude. She came down the
steps, and called to him, and her voice
—peculiarly penetrating, but full of
rare sweetness—sounded like a note
of music on the sultry air. He smiled
at her. With a tight rein and a calm
word he quieted the mare, then ho
rode up to the girl. His voice was
pleasant; to her it sounded grave and
almost sweet.
i no mare is genue as u Kiuen; sue
would not harm me fcr the world. It is
only one of her tricks. You are as
fond of animals as of astronomy, are
you not, Mies Johnson?”
Her gaze had strayed down to the
shop. Her father was standing In the
doorway rubbing his hands on his
leathern apron and watching them.
The flash died out of her eyes, the
flush from her face; the listlessness
had returned.
His gaze involuntarily followed hers.
He received no reply from her, and
expected none; he understood with, a
rare instinct.
When he had ridden away she stood
a long time at the gate. The far
away look wa3 in her eyes as she
watched the black mare and her rider
until the haze from the mountain hid
them from view.
When her father came Into dinner
he watched her as she prepared the
table; he watched her as she ate.
His eyes were on her cor.stanly; she
knew it, but gave no sign.
As he took up hl3 hat to return to
the shop he turned and asked, abrupt
ly, but with little show of interest:
‘‘How old air ye, girl?”
Her large eyes looked through and
through him; her gaze was steady, his
wavered; her voice, tco, was steady
and slow:
“I am tvrenty, father.”
“Curse the girl!” he muttered, as he
passed down the worn path to the
shop with no haste in his slouching
gait. “Curse all ther wimmen! Borned
fools, every one of ’em! Jest my luck
thet she warn’t a boy; boys is o’ use!”
CHAPTER III.
Her Learning.
Dolores was sitting on the door
steps one evening. Her father was at
the tavern as usual, and as her house
hold duties were finished she sat In
the mellow moonlight that flooded the
mountain with raidiance. She was no
longer listless. Her lips were parted;
her ey©3 larger and darker than usual;
her face, raised to the starry heavens,
was full of light. On her knees lay
an old astronomy, and one slender
linger marked the place of her read
ing.
She was lost to herself and her sur
roundings; she did not hear the heavy
footsteps approaching along the nar
row path; she saw nothing until a
rough hand pulled the book from under
her fingers. A deep oath smote the
air.
"Curse ye!” her father muttered, be
tween his clenched teeth. "Curse ’em
as Inventsd bcol* an' learnin’! Thes
Is ther way ye waste yer white I
am away. Curse ye! Yer mother was
fodl ’nough, but ye’re worse.’’
She rose up slowly to her full height
and confronted him. Her soul was la
her eyes and his shrank from it.
“Father, say what you like of me;
you shall not say nothing of my
mother; she is beyond your power
now."
The book had slipped from his hand
and fallen to the ground; he kicked It
contemptuously. The flash deepend
in her eye, but she had had her say,
and sat down. The moonlight was
on her face and hair; her shadow lay
long and dark behind her.
I.avina Ketcham made a gentle
wife; oho gave up much for peace,
and at first she had loved her hus
band; aftesward she found out hi?
brute nature. Her nature was fine,
and she was true to him always, but
love was out of the question then. He
%
t — -1
^ «.
He waichsd 'nr facj.
j forbade fccr the use of her books, ami
. in that only she would not obey him.
: For a nature like hers to die men
| tally cr even stagnate was Impossible.
She was above him as the stars she
loved were above her, and she knew
it. and he knew It also; he hated her
for it.
j She was a school teacher, and as
' school teachers did 1101 thrive that, side
J of the mountain he offered her a home,
and she accepted hi3 offer, believing
him noble because of this generous
act, as women will believe of the men
they love until they have bean proved
otherwise, when the sweet If rather
blind faith In them can never return
once being destroyed.
Her daughter Inherited her nature
only in a far higher degree. Her hus
band knew It, and the neighbors knew
it. Never, however, did the girl's
father know that her mother's book9
were her constant companions; that
she lived In them and on them; that
nearly every word of theirs was known
to her by heart.
Betsy Glenn had been her mother’s
schoolmate and friend. Betsy Glenn
taught Dolores with all the power she
was capable. She had long been dead,
but the seed she sowed grew and
grew; seme time It would ripen and
bear fruit.
Had her father known of this he
would have stopped it from the first.
He did rot know it, for he had never
taken enough interest In her to know
It. Had he asked her she would have
told him, but he never asked.
The jealousy he had already felt to
ward his wife for her love of books
seethed and scorched In his heart aa
he stood facing her daughter and his.
She possessed not one of his traits;
the mother's nature had deepened ten
fold in his daughter.
(To Be Continued.)
BARBER WHO WAS A KINO.
Nervous Customer Jumped at Cor*
elusion and Fled.
A queer reminlscential gleam crept
Into the eyes of the barber, with the
long, low, rakish forehead, as be sud
denly rested hi3 razor hand while
shaving the Adam’s apple of the lean,
nervous-looking man In the chair.
‘‘I was King Louis XIV. of France
last eight,” said the barber, suddenly,
the razor still poised about half an
ir.ch above tae lean customer’s Adam’s
apple.
The customer blinked and breathed
hard. The shaved side of his face
became nearly as white as the still
lathered other side.
"Wait a minute,” he said, placing a
shaking hand on the barber’s shaving
arm. He up sat straight in the chair
with a wild look, and then made a bolt
for the door.
"Wew!” he yelled as he went. "What
an escape! King Louis XIV! Bug
house! He wouldn't have done a thing
to me—” and, witu the towel stream
leg in the broeze and one side of his
face still lathered, he loped down the
street.
The barber with the long, low, rak
ish forehead went to the door and
stared after the galloping customer
with amusement.
“Well, I’ll be dad-blnged!” muttered
the barber. “Now what kind o’ cogs
has that feller got in his conk? I was
on’y tryin’ to tell him that I was King
Louis XIV. at the barbers’ masquerade
ball last night, and look at him goin’
after Salvator’s mile record!”—Wash
ington Post.
The Real Cause.
Maude—"What makes you so aw
fully nervous, dear?"
Clara—"Why, Fred is to have an la
terview with papa this afternoon.”
Maude—"Oh. and you are afraid your
father will no*, give his consent?"
Clara—No; I'm afraid Fred won't
show up."
A STAND FAT SPEECH
32NATOR HANNA TO THE OHIO
REPUBLICAN CONVENTION.
“Human Liberty and Protection to
Our Labor and Industries.” "Let
Well Enough Alone: for God’s Sake
Keep Letting It Alone!”
The Republican party if fortunate
In the character and qua ity of its
leadership. It is fortunate In having
as chairman cf Us National Committee
a mao of the stamp of Ho\. Marcus
A. Hanna. The need of th* lour is
stalwart, uncompromising Republican
ism on the part cf the men intrusted
with the duty of directing the party's
politics. Senator Hanna is nothing If
not straightforward and practical. He
does not know what it is to be am
biguous or evasive. Of himself he
might truly say:
X am no orator, ns Brutus Is;
But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt
man,
X only speak right on.
To be a plain, blunt man, and to
speak right on, is an admirable char
acteristic in a campaign leader and
manager. Senator Hanna never ex
hibited these valuable traits to better
advantage than in his speech before
the Ohio Republican State convention
June 3, 1903. Such a speech was most
opportune. It was time that some big
man—the bigger the better—stood up
and proclaimed the dignity, the glory
and the splendid record of unadulter
ated Republicanism; time to show a
just pride in the party’s principles and
achievements, without apolcgy, quali
fication or saving clause of any kind.
Senator llanna was the right man in
the right place. A lifelong member of
the American Protective Tariff League,
this virile Ohioan is a believer in the
doctrine and policy of protection
through and through, first, last and
all the time. He does not think the
Dingley tariff ‘‘shelters monopoly,” ho
knows that it does not. He does not
recognize the present existence or
probable occurrence of anything in the
they are very foolish one*. A party !
Is seldom able to win victory by taking
the position that logically belongs to
the other party.
Republicans have no reason to be
dissatisfied with what has been accom
plished under protection in recent
times. They can continue to point to
it with pride. They do point to it
with pride.—Cedar Rapids Republican.
Very Different.
During these discussions of revision
of the tariff it should bo distinctly re
membered that there is little if any
more similarity between the Demo
cratic idea of tarfff reform and the
Republican idea of changing the tariff
than there is between the old Demo
cratic tariff for revenue only idea,
which has been popularly known as
free trade, and the Republican policy
of thorough protection to American in
dustries. As Hon. Sterling Morton.
President Cleveland's Secretary of Ag
riculture, said, he would burn down
every custom house in the land. The
Republican party has favored a high
tariff primarily for the protection and
uplifting of American Industries and
Incidentally to provide necessary rev
enue for running the government. The
Democratic Idea on the other hand has
always been that we should have free
trade or Just as near free trade as It
was possible to construct tariff sched
ules so as to provide the necessary in
come for government expenses.—War
ren (Ohio) Chronicle.
WHY TAMPER WITH IT?
Discard Theory and Accept the Facts
of History.
It has long been a favorite doctrine
among protectionists that their policy
was necessary for the purpose princi
pally of affording “Infant Industries” a
chance to got a foothold at homo
against the competition of foreign
products of pauper labor. That, every
body recognizes as a familiar formula
once vigorous enough, but now de
crepit with years and employment.
The Journal has but little concern
about the theories, the party cries or
any of the usual forms of “Jawing”
LOOKS AS THOUGH HE’D BEEN LEFT.
nature of "shifting needs” that now
do or are likely to call for any aban
donment, ary abatement, any relaxa
tion of the system of protection to
American labor and industry. Here is
the pith and the core of Mark Hanna’s
position on tariff tinkering:
“Is there anybody in this great au
dience—aye, is there anybody in the
State of Ohio—who hesitates for one
moment, under all the conditions
which have gone before, under all the
environments of the present, under all
the hopes of the future, to see one
single cause as to why the Republi
can party should change one lota in
those principles? (Long continued
cheering.)
"Human liberty, protection to Amer
ican industries and our workingmen.
(Renewed applause.) We started that
slogan many years ago. It went forth
and reached the hearts of every fire
side In the land, and If we needed any
additional tribute, or an accessory to
add to the luster of that monument,
it would be the continuation of hap
piness and contentment perceptible
everywhere around us. I once said,
‘Let well enough alone.’ (Applause.)
For God’s sake keep letting It alone!"
(Renewed applause.)
That is the gospel that Republicans
want to hear. That is the doctrine to
preach from every Republican pulpit.
Let protection alone. Let the tarifT
alone. "Let well enough alone! For
God's sake keep letting It alone!”
It Belongs to Democrats.
Changing a tariff schedule that hap
pens to be more or less out of harmony
wUh the time is quite a different thing
from “tariff reform.” When Samuel
J. Tilden was alive the modified Mor
rill law was In force. It was in forco
when Grover Cleveland was president
for the first time. The Morrill law
was changed twenty-three tlmos, but
these changes In schedules did not
prevent "tariff reform" from being the
slogan of the democracy under both
Tilden and Cleveland. In other words,
"tariff reform” Is quite different from
changing a schedule that Is out of
time. "Tariff reform” Is the Demo
cratic version of the industrial issue.
It was then, is now and will continue
to be. Republicans might an well stay
on their own side of the issue, for
when It comes to the next national
campaign they will either have to
stand for protection, without apologies,
or compete with Democrats on their
side of the discussion.
We are aware that there are some
Republicans who imagine that their
party by taking the Democratic posi
tion In part will be able to crowd the
Democrats off the political map. But
over the pros and cons of protection as
a national policy. Most of these con
tentions are the merest emptiness and
ordinarily serve to vex the air and
men's ears to no conclusive purposo.
As the Journal has said before, the
record made by the operation of the
protective tariff in this country is the
only absolutely determining proof of
results. Every American citizen knows
what that has been; he knows that
under the tariff the American republic
has steadily, rapidly, substantially,
permanently advanced in wealth pro
ducing prosperity in a manner and to
an extent approached by no other peo
ple In the world’s history. It is true,
that, incidentally, domestic manufac
tures have been made possible and
that they are fostered by the tariff,
but who believes that to have been
all that the tariff has done? And who
believes that prices of protected prod
ucts have in any single Instance been
sustained as a result solely of protec
tion? At a time when the country
was solely dependent upon Great Brit
ain for free wire nails, English wire
nails sold for $G; under a later duty
of $6 a keg, home-made wire nails sold
for less than fl a keg. The duty on
lumber Is a factor In this great system
that has brought the American people
unparalleled employment and wealth
—why tamper with it? Of what con
sequence is theory when pitted against
the teachings of events?—The Lumber
Trade Journal.
Who Will Do ths Dodging?
“No political maneuvers or evasions
will prevent the tariff from being the
issue of the next presidential contest
Its shadow is already in the door."—
Philadelphia Record.
If there are any poltlcal maneuvers
or evasions to keep the tariff out of
next year’s presidential contest they
will be on the side of the Democrats.
Republicans are not afraid of the
tariff as an issue; They will welcome
it as the governing issue. The Dem
ocrats may dodge and straddle in de
fining their tariff policy. Very likely
they will. But not the Republicans.
Their convention declaration will, we
predict, be for straight protection
without apologies or “trust sheltering*
admissions.
The lata.
The main Iowa idea appears to be
to get something. They are after the
vice presidency now.—Philadelphia
Press.
Anti-Microbe.
Prosperity has been an effective
anti toxin in fighting the microbe of
Populism.—Albany Evening Journal.
#
SEEK HIDDEN WE ALTH
EXPEDITIONS FITTED OUT TO
RECOVER TREASURE.
Valuable Finds Made In the West
Indies Have Stimulated Speculation
—Authentic Instances of Finds of
Immense Amounts.
A party of three, we were chatting
an the deck of a steamship during a
voyage from Jamaica to Trinidad.
The talk fell upon buried treasure in
the West Indies, and each of ua had
his tale to tell.
A couple of months ago, said the
first man, an American mining engin
eer, I was in New Providence, and
everybody was talking about a mys
terious American who had been down
in the* Bahamas just before.
He came in a small schooner, and
anchored off one of the small cays,
or islands, which are so numerous
there. He said he hadn’t come for
sponges or coral or salt or pearls; but
he would not tell anybody what he
had come for.
One day he hired two men, and got
a boat filled with tinned provisions,
tools and a tent. Then he made them
row him over to another cay about
six miles off—a mere lump of coral
and a few bushes, where nobody lives.
There he staid for a week, making
the men dig like fury in place he
pointed out, while he watched over
them with a rifle to see that they did
not shirk.
After six days’ digging they came
across a heavy, brass-bound trunk.
They carried it to the boat and rowed
him to the schooner. As soon as the
box was aboard he weighed anchor,
and notning more was heard of him.
Nobody knew his name or what he
had found; but of course they all
think that he had the clew to some
pirate hoard, and found it.
When I was in Hayti, in 1898, said
the second member of our party, a
Canadian business man, I came
across a curious treasure story. A
poor man at Cape Haytien, who
everybody knew had not got $100 to
Into a man of wealth, and went in for
land speculation.
Presently the secret leaked out.
The house he lived In was a ruined
French chateau, dating back to the
days when the French colonists occu
pied the Island; a magnificent old
ruin of the type one often sees In
Hayti.
Sawing through the wainscoting
one day to make some repairs, he
came across a big oak chest filled
with French gold pieces, gold and
silver plate, necklaces, brooches,
watches and other valuables. The box
was worth about $15,000.
A wealthy speculator In Cape Hay
tlen, hearing of his find, concluded
there might be some more chests
there, so he offered to buy the
house, ana eventually did so for
$2,000.
The now man did more than
search; he pulled down the house,
and In the end found four other
chests found altogether to be worth
nearly $200,000. The first man got
very angry, and wanted to share; but
he came off badly.
Tho speculator had political Influ
ence, and soon had him flung into Jail
and despoiled of most of his wealth
tor the heinous crime of concealing
treasure trove from the state. That
speculator and his family to-day are
among the richest people in Hayti.
I recounted a most marvelous, but
perfectly true story told to me in
Jamaica last year by the skipper of a
turtllng schooner from the Cayman
islands.
He was aboard the schooner one
day last spring, anchored close to a
reef near the Caymans on which a
bark had been recently wrecked.
Looking over tho side of his vessel,
he saw a curious yeuow gleam on
the ledge of the reef, about eight feet
under watA\ Thinking It was a large
sheet of copper or brass, he ordered
one of his crew to dive for it.
The man came up with his hands
full of gold coins—Spanish doubloons,
with the arms of Seville on them. The
ledge was covered with loose gold.
The snipper showed me a lot of the
gold In a store In Kingston, Jamaica,
and sold the entire find soon after
ward for over $10,000.
At this moment there are two
or three expeditions—English and
American—searching for buried treas
ure in various parts of the West In
dies. The favorite hunting grounds
are the Bahamas, from New Provi
dence as far south as Tortuga and the
Virgin islands.—Chambers’ Journal.
t
A Leading Question.
"Bre’r Williams," said Brother
Thomas, “ ’spose a mad bull wuz ter
take arter you, what would you do?"
“Climb a tree, suh,” said Brother
Williams.
“But—’spose you had de rheuma
tism, en a wooden leg, en couldn't
climb?"
Brother Williams was silent a mo
ment, then he said;
“Bre’r Thomas, It’s des sich ’qulsi
tlve niggers ez you dat keeps dis race
problem gwine. Ef de lynchln’ com
mittee don’t git you finally It’ll be
kaze you outruns ’em!”—Atlanta Con
stitution.
Only a Baby.
Somethin'? to live for came to the place.
Something to die for, maybe;
Something to give even sorrow a grace—
And yet it was only a baby!
Cooing and laughter, and gurgles and
cries,
Dimples for tenderest kisses;
Chaos of hopes and of raptures and sighs.
Chaos of fears and of blisses.
Last year, like all years, the rose and tha
thorn;
This year a wilderness, maybe:
But heaven stooped under the roof on tha
morn
That it brought there only a baby.
—Woman's Ufa.
