Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 261) (1882 07 25)
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~ pall falafel) Sete Se ae a (pes! al nl y), V) ‘ TTS Entered at July 25, 1882. or No. 261. Price, Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. ERG FEARNAIGT, THE NEW-YORK BOY.| —, } | i j i | | A Story of the Byways and Thoroughfares | by Daylight and Gaslight. | BY GRORGE LL, AIKEN. INST ids Ss ISN SS / aie = = lb), My) / \ | ‘ i S } | i Se See) t8 co Maat all ‘*SAIL IN, BUBBIES—GO TO WORK!” HE EXCLAIMED ENCOURAGINGLY TO THE BOOTBLACKS. 4\
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— 2 Fergus Fearnaught; THE NEW YORK BOY. A Story of the Byways and Thoroughfares by Daylight and Gaslight. BY GEO, L, AIKEN. CHAPTER I. THE STREET ARABS. , Iv was a curious sight—one well calculated to at- tract the attention of the passer-by. A group of boys—the gamins, or street arabs of New York city—was gathered at the junction of Chatham and William streets. The object of this gathering was plainly percepti- ble in the central gure in the group. This figure was a boy, who stood in a peculiar at- titude. He had engaged the services of two boot- black boys, either with a view to expedition, or swayed by some eccentricity of his nature, and stood, something ‘in the ei of the famed Colossus of Rhodes, on their two boxes, with one boy polish- ing his right boot, and the other his left. The appearance of the boy was as peculiar as the attitude he had chosen. He had a frank and open face, with mpi ip defined features, and he wore bis hair, which was light-brown, inclining to red, or what is termed auburn, quite long and flowing. His skin was very white, somewhat freckled, and he had a color in his cheeks that many young girls would have envied. His nose was long and straight, his eyes a dark blue, the pupils looking like glitter- ing sapphires set in ivory; and he had a4 small, well- shaped mouth, with finely cut lips, upon which de- cision was firmly stamped. 4 There was a kind of “don’t care” air in the boy’s face and a manner generally that impressed the be- holder at once with the idea that he was, to use a common expression, “full of fight,” The free-and-easy pose he had assumed,and the yatronizing manner in which he had directed the boys to “shine ‘em up good,”’ had not been without its effect upon their minds. “Say, Cully, I shines fur der shiners, How are yer off fur der brads?’’ said one. “Dat am de question,” added a sable youth, who also followed the occupation of blacking boots. “Take you both, and give you a five-eent nickel each!” eried the free-and-easy lad, in a very non- chalant manner, and he jingled the fiye-cent pieces merrily in his band. 4 The music was very stimulating, for they set to work at once with a will, each emulous to outstrip the other in the desired *‘shine.”’ The novelty of the sree, position soon at- tracted a crowd of the boys who haunted that neizghborhooa. ' Nor were the boys alone attracted by the peculiar position our hero had assumed. ‘Two men paused, who were walking leisurely up Chatham street, con- versing in an interested manner. The moment the eyes of one of them fell upon the face of the boy he stopped abruptly, and imed, in an involuntary Manner: ‘*Good heavens! See that boy!” “ Whatds there remarkable about him? vagabond!”” ‘*No common street vagabond, I am certain,’ re- turned his companion. “Why?” inquired the other, curiously. ** Because he puts me so much in mind of—” ‘“*Who?” demanded his companion, surprisedly. ““No matter!” was the short answer, His companion was by no means offended by his curtnaias rhe only chuckled to himself and mut- tered? : ** As close as an oyster! If ever there was a close man that man is Rufus Clean Fergus ¢aught the fixed gaze of the strahger, and returned it unflinchingly, taking in Gigpeoning’s face and figure with a quick, searching glance. He saw & Man, apparently some thirty-five years of age, with & tall, well-proportioned figure, and well- dressed, evincing in his appearance the possessor of ample means—evidently aman of wealth, and mov- fog in good society. ‘or full a momént.the man and the boy stared at each other, but Fergus’s blue eyes never flinched beneath the searching serutiny of the man, and he finally said: , ‘“* Guess you'll know me when you see me again!” Glandenning smiled in a mysterious manner, but answered with great agg very likely. at might your name 7 father was a better look- ak A stréet and winking saucily at Glendenning. “This,” answered - eecrpes taking a fifty- re A a from pock f and extending it toward 6 > Fergus did not put a frill on you!” exclaimed Fergus, men- ingly. “Oh! will you? Here, you, Ikey! jest. hold my papas while I wallop this rooster out of his new- ked. boots. ; : - took the bundle of eee with alacrity, and ‘the other boys burst into exclamations of delight at the pros of a fight. Those in the crowd wlio sympathized with Fergus trembled for the result. Then he turned to the group of boys, remarking:. rooste: away with me as easy as he thinks. ut the courts, and most of |, secret **Cut and run,” advised Ben Gummy, the fiddler boy. “He is big enough to eat you.” “Not much!’’ responded Fergus. “He can't get , Tl knock the spots out of him in five minutes.”’ And he boldly awaited the attack of Rowd This youth plunged forward with his hea something after the fashfon of an enraged bull. Expecting his opponent to fly without resistance, he did not keep a very look-out ahead, In consequence of this, his fists went on either side of Fergus’s head without touching it, and he received a blow wader the chin that made his teeth rattle in his jaws and sent him to the sidewalk in a sitting posture, where he gave utterance to a dismal howl— a howl in which surprise, rage and pain were strangely blended, “ Hooray!” shouted the boys, delightedly. This first repulse of the bully sent all their sym- pathy over to Fergus. “Tl fix you for that!” howled Rowdy Rube. He gathered himself hastily 5 and made another and more vty abet plunge at Fergus, who stepped lightly aside, thrust out his foot, tripped =p Rube and sent him sprawling in the gutter. Rube was completely demoralized by this second overthrow. As he attempted to rise he saw Fergus standing over him. “Lemnie up!” he whined. Rube. down, CHAPTER II. A YOUNG BLOOD. -‘ Hooray!” shouted the boys again. The bully was whipped, there was no mistake about that, and he would no longer dare tyrannize over them. The blow given him under the chin by Fergus had caused him to bite his under lip, and the blood trickled. forth, to his great. consternation... He seemed to think he had received a mortal injury, and all desire for further fighting was completely taken out of him. ; é ‘‘Lemme up!” he whined, abjectly, for the second ime. ‘‘Have you had enough?” Ay a Fergus. “Yes,” answered Rowdy Rob. ** And some to spare!”’ added the Chicken, This remark produced a shout of laughter frow the other boys, and in the midst of it Rowdy Rob gathered himself up, recovered his bundle of papers ' and went slouching down the street. The other boys began to move away in different directions, but the Italian fiddler remained with Fergus, His easy victory over Rowdy Rob had Sere! raised Fergusin Ben Gummy’s estimation. e had received sundry punches and kicks from the bully, which he was too weak and small to resent, and he derived a natural satisfaction in witnessing that summary punishment. “Dat was goot!’’ he told Fergus, delightedly. You knock him down goot—ob, my! furst-rate. Hit him some more de next times!” “Tl hit you!” cried a harsh voice, and a ratan descended, with a slashing sound, upon Ben Gum- my’s back, ‘Yah!’ he yelled} in pen and affright. ‘*You lazy little whelp! is this the way you fool your time away, instead of trying to earn some pennies? Tl teach you better!” Again the ratan was raised, but the blow was not given the second time, for Fergus sprung upon the man, wrenched the ratan from his grasp, and dealt him a couple of cutting blows across the face. “Take you care—it is de padrone!” cried Ben ml warningly, as he saw Fergus spring for- wi “You coward, to strike such a little fellow, and for nothing!” exclaimed Fergus, indignantly, as he administered the cuts, with all the strength of his "eos young arm, upon the padrone’s face, is patron’ was a small-sized, wiry-framed Ital- ian, past middle life, with a’ bearded, swarthy face, somewhat sinister in expression. His features by no means evinced an amiable disposition. Never was a man more astonished than he was by voranes unexpected attack, and his rage was & yual to his astonishment. . ** Maledizzone !” he peutegred for though he could speak very good English ordinarily, he alwayw ex- ressed himself‘in his native tongue when enraged. Then he drew forth a keen-bladed xnife from some pocket and sprung toward Fergus, with a murderous intent gleaming from his small, glitter- ing and bead-like eyes, “Take you care!” cried Ben Gummy, who knew the significance of this action; it was not the first time he had seen:a drawn knife in the padrone’s hand; and then he took to his heels and ran away, lea Fergus atthe mercy of the enraged Italian. ’ But Fergus never thought of Bying e doubled oldty. ee fists and faced the padrone ell had he yer given the name of Fearnaught, for the thought of fear appeared to be unknown to His bravéry, however, would have availed him but Jittle in this emergency where the odds were so much against him, if did had not come to bim in a most unexpected manner. “Stop that!” oried a clear, youthful voice, aad its owner enforced the command by rapping the pa- drone over the knuckles of his right hand with the little gutta-percha cane he ed. These raps were given with such quickness and precision that the padrone dropped his knife, with an exclamation of pain, and then he stood - ing at the boys and swearing furiously a string of Italian oaths. “Oh, dry up and be off!’ advised the new-eomer, in a peremptory manner; and he shifted his cahe ig ge A ALL AAL LLL Ct ate tl i it ne Sieeeeliees
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| ; i appearance and good clothes of his new opponent. @ quickly stooped, recovered his knife and rat- an, flung a parting oath at the boys, and then shuf- fled down the street. “The maccaroni-eater has beat a retreat!’ cried the new-comer, laughingly: “Bully for you!” cried Fergus, thanking his new friend with an admiring glance from his bright, lionest blue eyes. The other boy surveyed him curiously. _ ‘“Y¥ou’re a likely chap!’ be eried, after he had aken this survey. **You’re another!” returned Fergus, cordially. “What's your name?” “Fergus Fearnaught. What’s yours?” “Clinton De Witt Stuyvesant.” “Oh, you belong to the big bugs!” laden: there was the stamp of a long and gentle Uneage upon Clinton Stuyvesant’s handsome face. He was Fergus’s senior by a twelvemonth, his age being sixteen, while Fergus appeared to be but fif- teen, despite the precocious look of wisdom on his face. Slowly the two boys sauntered up the street, side by side, going toward the Bowery, and at every mop Wevus's admiration of his new friend increased. He was charmed by his easy, nonchalant manner, and the genial expression of his handsome face. ‘This admiration found vent, in his usual impulsive manner, in the forcible exclamation of: “You're some!” ; Clinton’s careless eyes assumed an expression of surprise. ‘* Eh?” he cried, interrogatorily. ‘‘Some what?” *One of the boys!’’ explained Fergus, Clinten laughed, in his careless, good-natured way. “You can gamble on that,’ he replied, **‘Go it while you’re young;’ that’s my motto.” “I'd like to go it, too,’ said Fergus, “Can't you?” *“No;” and he sighed regretfully. Clinton took a eursory survey of him, and re- joined: : “*T suppose not; haven’t got much to go it with?” “No. Your dad's got the rocks, hasn’t he?” ** Lots of ’em.” “That's nice. I wish I had a rich dad.” And again Fergus sighed regretfully. He was not uaturally of an envious disposition, but he could not help contrasting his — in life with that of Clinton Stuyvesant. e would have been less than human if he had not done so, ** What does your dad do?” inquired Clinton, evine- ing’a sluggish kind of curiosity in his companion. *T haven’t got any?” ““ Dead, eh?”’ “Yes, and mother too.” “Oh! exclaimed Clinton, in real sympathy. ** Lost ’em both—how long ago?”’ A troubled look came upon Fergus’s face. “T don’t know,” he replied. j Clinton looked surprised. “Don’t know when they died—too young to re- member, eh?’’ he asked. “If 1 was put on a stand like I have seen them do it in the Tombs, and told to hold up my right band or kiss a gilt cross on the Bible, as some do, I could not sv.ear that Lever had a father or mother,” re- plied }"ergus; and he said this in a dogged kind of a fash on, asif he felt aggrieved by being obliged to make this admission. “Well, that’s queer!’ Clinton exclaimed. ‘ Did ou never see your father nor mother?” * Not that I can remember,” Clinton looked bewildered. “ But you must have had 2 father and a mother!”’ he cried; ‘everybody has. You couldn’t the world without ’em, you know! But it’s queer that you never saw them, You live here, don’t you, in the city?” “Yes; ’'m ssebpis now with Mrs. Nandrus and ¥leda, in Baxter street.” ; ‘*Mrs. Nandrus; who’s she?” - “A poor woman; she does washing for a living; she don’t know much, but Fleda is awful smart." ‘* Who's lleda?”’ “ Her daughter.” * Nice girl, eh?” i Ve , ry. “ And pretty?” ‘*Real pretty.” “Ah! guess I'll drop in and see ~ some day; might give you a lift, you know. Where can I fin you? . * On the first floor.”’ ‘* Where’s the house?’ “* Betw en Grand and Hester, I'll tell you how you. can 2 r ; Fergus gave hima full description of the location of the house. ‘ There eomes a earthat goesup my way. Ta, ta, Remember, you've a friend in nt Stuy- \y¥ leaped u 1@ rear platform, turned and waved fis band hes ion pre the car rolled swiftly away with h-. CHAPTER Il. RAGGED TERRY. Frere yained on the curbstone watching the ear until¢ ©sappeared-in the distance. ‘‘ He’s a - vlendid fellow!” he murmured to him- self, *‘ His father must be awful rich. It’s a nice thing to have a rich father; but I'll never have one glow. I wonder who I belong to, anyway? get into. Fergus Fearnaught, the New ***Pears to me if a mother had a niee, likely boy, like Iam, she wouldn’t go back on him, ’Pears me she wouldu’t send him to the poor-house, where they half starve a fellow, and beat him if he grum- bled about it. When I get big enough I'll go back and whale that overseer.”’ He had begun to move slowly up the Bowery, dodging the hurrying throng as he made these re- flections, when he saw a pocket handkerchief lying ou the sidewalk before him. He stooped quickly and picked it up. Looking ahead of him he ee ge a well-dressed lady, and thinking that she had dvopped the hand- kerchief hoe ran after her. Just as he broke into this run a cry of ‘Sto thief!’ was uttered behind him. Fergus, in ‘his anxiety to overtake the lady and restore her proper- ty to her did not heed this ery. The surging crowd swept around him and hid her from his view. As he darted in and out in his efforts to overtake the lady, the ery was repeated and taken oP b several voices, “Stop thief! Stop thief! Stop niet !’ Fergus was very naturally mistaken for the thief, and several bands were thrust forth to catch him, but he glided away from them with the suppleness of an cel; he was not long in recognizing the situa- tion. “By Jinks!”* he muttered to himself, “ they think I’ve stole the handkerchief, and they are after me. This will never do. Let her whistle for her hand- kerchief. She'll thin; I picked her pocket, just as like as not. Nobody believes poor people can be honest."’ He thrust the handkerobief hurriedly into his pocket, oes and joined in the hue and ery, baw)- ing - lustily as any of them: “Stop thiet! Stop lief |’ ; Then, singling out a stout, stolid-faced Dutchman in the crowd, he shouted: ** There he is—that’s him! Stop him!” The Dutchman was instantly seized by the over- zealous mob, and during the altereation that ensued, Fergus quietly walked away, turned into Bond street, and directed his progress toward Broadway. * They can jig the Dutchman, if they want to,” he told himself, with a chuckle, “but they can't catch me—I'm too wide awake for them! L'll take the handkerchief home and give it to Fleda. What's the use of a poor cove trying to be honest when everybody takes him for a thief?’ : Having come to this conclusion, Fergus paused on the corner of Broadway, and leaning against the lamp-post, gazed at the stream of vehicles which rolled continuously down that busy thoroughfare. Suddenly a scream burst from the open window of a private carriage, and Fergus, attracted by the sound, saw a woman’s head thrust from the window, and her right arm was held toward him, the hand resticulating in an agitated manner, and he beard er cry out: ° “That is he-—-the boy—there!"’ He could not mistake her action; beyond a doubt, He dast one wild at her. and muttering: “ By Jinks! again!” turned and fled precipitately. “Oh! stop—stop!"’ came after him, in an agonized cry, but Fergus only redoubled his speed. — The block between Broadway and the Bowery is but a short one, and before the driver could stop bis horses and turn the carriage around into Bond street, the fleet-footed boy had disappeared, Fergus was too familiar with the turns ané wind- ings of New York to be easily overtaken, and he knew that the moment he mingled with the ever- moving throng upon the Bowery he was safe; so he dashed along at all speed until he reached the cor- ag into the Bowery, and™subsided into a walk. “ Phew!” he puffed, drawing a long breath. ‘* Who put up that jobon me, I wonder? That couldn’t be been the woman that lost the handkerchief— she belonged over here, and the other was a Broad- way big-bug, and a real nobby one, too, riding in her own carriage; with a driver in livery—and such a handsome face, Oh, by Jinks! if the angels are any prettier than she is they must look stunning! But what did she want with me?” It.was utterly impossible that this woman in the carriage could have been the one who had drop the handkerchief. Besides, if it was really the woman who had lost the handkerchief, how could she possibly know that he had found it? “Tt just beats all!’ he told himself. ‘“T never did nothing to her—I know I never did; then what did she want to have me caught for? Guess she must have mistook me for somebody else. Lord, yes—that's it—what a ninny I was never to have thought of that before,” : His reflections upon this subject had so preoc- cupied his mind that he had reached the corner of Grand and Baxter streets almost unconsciously, but the turnings that led to his present home were so familiar to him that his feet took that direction almost of their own volition. , Clustered on the sidewalk in front of the dingy brick house, where he had found a shelter, and which was let in different apartments, like all the dwellings in the street, so that every house was a hive of humanity, was a group of noisy, ragged boys, en- gagedin a game of *“*marbles;” and the noisiest und raggedest of them all was a diminutive young- ster, who could not have been over ten eon cas age, though his face was as sharp and shrewd-look- ing as that of a man of forty. Indeed, he looked like one of those “‘changeling” children that we of read in Irish | ds, where the body is that of an infant, but the face is that of a man. : No searecrow in a'farmer’s field ever had more rags fluttering im tee breeze than did this young- she meant him, , Startled glance I’m in for it ——— ster. Looking at them yeu wondered how he ever got them on him, and haviag got them on. how he contrived to keep them thore. “There’s Ragge! Terry,’ commented Fergua, aa he beheld the group. ‘He amd his gang are par. ing marbles on our sidewalk agaim, Mleda w after them presently.” Fergus chuckled % himself, paused, and watchec the game. Then a window in the third story is gently opened, and a small, curly black head is cav- tiously protruded. A pair of bright, black eyes suré vey the noisy group below, and then a tin kettle, e¢ three quarts pn ge is reached forth and turmee upside down, and the head and kettle disappear quickly within the window. Swish-swash! down comes the water in a d on the boys. Just at that moment thee were all together, for Ragged Terry was ‘' ling down ’’ fora shot and a strong su tat he will cheat pervades his chums, he pensity is well-known to them, and none escape oxtemporized shower-bath, They hastily gather up thely marbles and somm- per over to the other sidewalk, where they el together, shake the drops. from wantenbat where they came from and swearing trayas--- and pirates and robbers they will undénbtealy grew. up to be, and the trial of one of thems, fow } evitable crime he must commit, will cost New more than totake the whole of them, just as ‘ are now, and educate them in some reform se 9 * That's Pleda, and she bas ducked t&eaa,"’ er Fergus, ‘Ragged Terry was about to take eff kis eeat agul cane some one to fight, but he desisted when he saw 4 "ergus. ‘Sides, Cullies!' he said. ‘ There’s bully Peegu, the Fearnuught.”’ PRET prare ‘Be off! exclaimed Fergus. ‘ You heve no business Lere—and you have been teld se often enoug’s,”’ ‘You be blowed!’’ cried Terry, deflantly, “You don’t own the street.” Terry, however, was eareful to keep at a safe dia- tance while he made this romerk, wabeking keenly with his twinkling eyes, which were as and as bright as those « a mouse. Fergus made a feint to eross the street, . ‘**Mizzle!” cried ‘Terry, warniagly. ‘* He's a-cor n’ fur us!”’ And the ragged crowd scuttled rapidly away, for lowing the lead of Terry. Ferge laughed as the eeys scampered away, and then turned and entere@ the house, In the hell bu met a girl hol atin pail in her haud, She bad just come down-stairs, “Hallo! Fergus!’’ she called out to hiny in a» shri?) clear voice, ‘ Didn’t T duck ’em good)” a ‘You just dia.” The girl broke into a merry laugh, the mirth cosa: ing as spontaneously from her lips as song from» throat of a bird. “TIT knew I could make them scatter, and a little. water won't hurt any of them,” she said, ‘1 gues , if that little ragamuffin Terry once had his faee washed, good and clean, his own mother wouldn't” know him.”’ She opened the door that led into: the apar:ment on the ground Aoor, stepping down a step to «ntey « and Fergus followed her, closing the door ufter rim. ¥ It is not to be wondered at that Fergus had taken a great liking to this lightsome creature, ” ‘inding her in Mulberry street annoyed by the rude boys, he had, with the natural chivalry of hi, nature, constituted bimself her ehampion. His ib- terference was regarded with derision by the your rowdies, but when one was tripped up a sprawling, and another gwi a black eye,; and. mr third a bloody nese, like Tom, the py pepe mee “went howling down the street,’ fully con : that they had caught a Tartar, dikes! In this way Fergus made the acquaintanee ox’ Fleda. He walked home with her+-it was a heme, despite its poverty, as Fergus found to his herp: tiop, She questioned him concerning himselt more than ber usual curiosity, and ‘that trait was strongly developed in Pleda Nandrus’s a She found himyery nen-communicative Lord however—shy and evepiaions even of her, Me : her his name_ was, Fergus. ‘Pergus what?" she’ questioned, He did not know; rp. country, whewve _ he came from, he had been called Fergus, but neti , ing else. Fleda considered this ver strange, * did Fergus then, though he had piven it vay Micke he ‘thought before. » ahd “You ought to have another name,” she told him. * ‘Everybody has two pames.”* ’ ety ‘*Lsuppose so,” answered Jergus, indifferently. “Tf you don’t know what your right rer [ymad why don’t you call yourself something else suggested. wel “Tl také any name you've’a mind to pick ewt,” said Fergus, rather pleased to be spared the trowme of choosing for himself, ‘“You're awful brave!’ cried Fleda, ‘and you. ought to have some other name that would tell ple so—something that would sound nice.” — “ They called me a young ‘dare-devil’ at the alms-- house. How would that do?” , ei Fieda gave a little scream of dismay. mm ‘“Dare-devil! Good Lord, no!" she erled t. would never do. You are not afraid of ; . at are you?” ; Paretis ave his head a proud toss that floated hia flaxen , something after the fashion of a tom throwing back hismane, — | ; ; “Not much,” he answered. “I don’t scare worth acent. I stopped a runaway horse the other days
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4A and the gentleman that owned bim gave me a dol- jar, and told me I was a ‘fearnaught,’ whatever that is.” Fleda clapped her hands delightedly together. “That’s it!’ she excladmed. “Fergus Fear- naught!" ' And so she gave him his name—a name that he was destined to bear through long years of varied adventures and experiences such as fall to the lot of few mortals, “That wasa cute age of yours, Fieda,”’ observed Peageas, laughing over the recollection of the duck- Mg scene. “They couldn’t tell where the water e from.” “ll warm it for ’em, and give it to’em hot the next time!” cried Fleda. Her animosity toward the boys appeared to be very strong. **Oh, [ wouldn’t do that,” remonstrated Fergus. “TL wouldn’t seald the poor cusses.”’ **I’m sure they deserve it!” “P'r’aps they do; but that would make 'em mad, and they'd throw stones and break all your win- WS. Fieda felt the foree of this remark; such a retalia- tion would be unpleasant, “P’r’aps they might,” she admitted, ‘“ But they are a dreadful nuisance. On! I do wish we could move away from this neighborhood! There’s noth- but beggars an4@ thieves around here.” “But there’s uone in this house!” cried Fergus, _ . ‘ eda’s black syebrows were arched in a very ex- prescive manner. On! isv’t there?" she rejoined. ‘ Don’t you be 6 of that! What's that tall man, who lives the upper floor, who's out all night, and home all John Jackson, they say his name is, but who s-whether it is or not? Who knows anything him, or what he does, anyway?” _* Why, you don’t mean to say that he is—” a ped her hand quickly over Ferguas mouth, ‘ “Hush! she cried, warmly. ‘He might be going through the hall and overhear us talking about him, and come in here to-night, when we are , and wring both our necks for us.” ‘He'll find me a cone chicken, if he troubles me!” cried Fergus, stouily. “I ain’t afraid of any ‘man's black looks. But, never mind bim; he won't swrouble usif we don’t trouble him. Where's your mother?” “This is one of her days out, and she basn’t got dome yet. You didn't come home for any dinner. Where have you been all day?” ‘Down by Courtlandt ferry." “Did you get any job?” imguired Fleda, with in- t * Yes, two.” “ How much did you earn?” “Oh; map keit yt tiavebeen 2 h as m ut you have n lucky to-day!’’ she enclaiened, h KY : delig: ~ “T just have. I carried a valise for a gentleman to French's Hotel, and he gave mea sandwich ig got. comiug on the train and didn’t eat, and that e my dinner; and when I got to the hotel there was a gent just to go to the ferry, and he had a carpet-bag he wanted carried, and so I[ cut it both ways—got a quarter from yo So I let the boys word, boots, just to show how flush I was." % what extravagance! Your pride will be we ruin of re yet, Fergus.” ‘She shook the forefinger of her right hand at him, reprovingly. CHAPTER LV. FL@NA'S BRIGHT IDEA, Perevs laughed at Fleda's reproof. “Guess not,” he returned, lightly. ‘I like to magnet a little when I get a chance, What's being a fellow unless you are some of ? Ah, wouldn’t I like to be as well off as Ciint Stuyvesant: He's the boy that can put on the frills, and stareh ‘em up to the nines, too!” ~ opened her bright black eyes widely at this tened to. venture, Gy pee tin fg eda d to him, u'll get killed yet, Fergus, see if you don’t!’ rt ihche bicot it. What's the use of tiving tf ee use ‘don't have some sport?” he seterwed, hs Bnew eg ~ a Bh Sd lg ’ . " ng @ sna of it sur- prising sweetness 7 melody: ** So let the wide world wag as it wil Hare aap — ‘15 — I'll be gay hapa still!’ wy Fieda, kneeling before the little square stove and arranging her kindlings, looked up admiringly at “Oh, my, F 1 but you do just sin, idly! Where ait sum te “hd : ent § ? onguslntughed gioetuly. he answered, “It a gh En , a8 it does to the birds. 4 OM SA DOF as I can, and how did you learned me when I was a baby; least- ‘ways I picked it up from hearing her.” Fergus F and — ) I’llraise the money somehow, ‘one way I’ve just tho arnaught, the New Fergus's sunny face clouded. “*T never had any mother to sing to me,’’ he said. ** You can’t remember your mother?” ‘*No,” answered Fergus, with a reflective shake of the head. ‘Pears to me that I never had any.” ‘*Oh, nonsense!’’ cried Fleda, laughingly. “That couldn’t be so, you know. There, the fire's going; now wait till 1 fill the tea-kettle and then I'll tell you my idea. I have been thinking that I would like to do something to earn my own living.”’ *“ Show! ‘pears to me that youdo enough. Why, don’t you do all the housework while your mother goes out to wash?” “Of course I do that, but Lord! how long does that take? I have lots of time besides, I want to do something that will bring in the money.” ‘*Yes, that’s what we are all after. Every fellow is on the make - I am myself.” * But some days you don’t make anything.” “That's so.” “You depend on what odd jobs you can pick up; now, wouldn’t it be much better if you & regu- lar business?” Fergus opened his eyes at this. ‘* A regular business!’ he cried. ‘‘ What kind of a regular business ?”’ ‘‘& peanut stand,’ answered Fleda, with the air of one achieving a triumph. *A peanut stand?” echoed Fergus. ‘Yes, I’ve heard mother say that iots of old wo- men get their living that way,’ continued Fleda, with enthusiasm, Fergus did not share in this enthusiasm. **There’s lots of ’em, I know,” he said, ** down the Bowery and around the City Hall, but I don’t know how mtuch they make.” * But they must make something or they wouldn't keep at it,’’ urged Fleda. Fergus felt the force of this argument. ** That’s so,’’ he admitted. Fleda was encouraged by this admission. **Don’t you think it is a good idea?” she asked. “Tt might be,’ he replied, a little dubiously. “Where could you start it?” “On the corner of Grand street, on this side of the way. I’ve had my eye on that corner for some time,” replied Fleda, vivaciously, “IT can take that old table in the corner there, mother can spare it, and the chair without a back, that I do my washing on. I can start small in the first place, you know.”’ “Couldn't you get some money from your mo-. ther?”’ “No Fergus,” she answered, quickly; ‘‘ and what’s more, [don’t want to. I woulda’? ask her for the world. No, I want to do it without her help—it must be done by you and I alone, Fergus, or not at “ Allright! then we'll do it. I'll start out bright to-morrow morning, and hunt up jobs. — Oh! by jinks! there’s oO Be “What is that?’ she inquired eagerly. “T might get it from Clint Stuyvesant.” * Do you think you could?” ‘*Why not? He must have loads of money! Why, a dollar to me aiu’t more than a five-cent piece ne, I'll ask him to lend it to me, and I'll bet he af Well, there would be no harm in asking him; be can’t more than refuse, and we could soon pay it him, “Of course, I'll hunt him up to-morrow. And now— Hallo! Who's that, I wonder?” This iquiy was caused by & loud knock at the door of the sitting-room. “Some peddler,” answered Fleda. ‘‘Go and send him away.” } Fergus went to the door of the een eee opened it, and found ham 4H. Pickles standing in the hall in front of and this astute lawyer grinned at him in a most affable manner. * Hallo, Pickles!” exclaimed Fergus, in great sur- “Mr, Pickles, if you please—there's a handle to my name,” said the lawyer; and he crowded Fergus back into the room and closed the door. ‘‘ Draw it any teneds tomtomph.” always pay. proper t pt. ways pay proper res t to our elders and betters. xh: not 80 ly fixed here after all. Might have been worse— yes, decidedly worse!” “What brought you here?’ demanded Fergus, rently. Pickles nea upon him in a patronizing manner. “TI might be facetious and reply my legs my bully boy," he made answer, ‘‘ but I will not dulge in unn irrelevancy. I came to see you.” Having thus spoken, Pickles seated himself in the rocking-chair, crossed one leg over the other, began to nurse his hat upon his knee, and nodded benevo- lently at Fergus. Fleda put her head in at the door leading to the tchen. “ What did you ask him in for?" she cried, sharply, “T didn’t ask him in; he walked in without Le 5 ing,”’ replied Fergus. bounced into the room, confronted Pickles, and Eocene. shrilly: “ Fons voy vy weg sister?’ ired ‘Fergus, my boy, your r?’ ingqu Pickles, composedly, indy “No, she is not,” he answered, shortly. “But I'm just as good!" cried Fleda, quickly. he told himself. ‘* They are as u cheese. The boy is a waif, undoubtedly, who has y, TOUR A found shelter here. examination to elicit the truth.” aloud: **T have come here in a most friendly £ , irit, en- tirely for your good—en-tire-ly. Just liste.. to me, my brave boy, and answer to the best «f you knowledge and ability a few questions that 4 ax about to put you, and it may be the best thing that ever happened to you.” Fergus surveyed him doubtfully. This vague announcement of future good did not) have a dazzling effect upon his mind. Fleda shared in his doubts of the little lawyer’s friendliness, , ‘Don’t you tell him anything, Fergus!’’ she cried, in her sharp way. “Don’t be so vinegary, my nut-brown, black-eyed damsel,” said Pickles, insinuatingly. ‘What a sharp little gipsy you are, to be sure.” ‘** She’s up to snuff, and so am I,”’ rejoined Fergus, significantly. ** Ah, yes. undoubtedly,”’ answered Pickles, with his oily chuckle. ‘' You’ve been kind of knocking round the world, getting more kicks than ennies, ever since you can remember, eh, my bold Fergus?’ ‘*T just have,” replied the boy. ** Ah! no friends to help you along?” ‘* None but Fleda, here, and her mother.” ‘*Ah, yes, I see; you were a stranger, and they took you in. Good, ve-ry good! Where did you come from?” Fergus did not answer this question. Pickles played carelessly with his watch-chain, and scru- tinized the boy covertly for a moment. ‘* Ah, you don’t want to tell?’ he continued, after a short silence. **No,”’ replied Fergus, decidedly. “Why not?’’ insinuated Pickles. ‘“*Causel don’t!” rejoined Fergus, doggedly. ‘* Ah, a very good reason, but not sufficiently ex- plicit, You must have some reason for being so close about pounects. a **P’r’aps I have." ** What is it?” ‘*What's that to you?” Pickles was by no means offended by this plump ei More tha imagi bold F *More n you may imagine, m ergus,’* he answered, “I have taken ite an interest in you. I might give you a start in life that would send you a considerable distance on the high-road to fortune. I might put Pies in the way of earn- ing your living a great deal easier than you do now. * Oh, we are going to earn our own living!" cried Fleda, quickly. ‘‘ All we wantto start us is a dollar, and Fergus is going to borrow that from Clint—” 4 Fergus put his hand over her mouth and stopped er. ‘‘Hush up!" he exclaimed,wexedly. ‘‘Whatdoyov want to tell hiny that for?” ‘“Where's the harm?" sputtered Fleda, breaking away from him. ‘** You keep quiet!” ‘I will,” answered Fleda, submissively. She be gan to think that she had been rather too ecmmu nicative. ‘‘But I didn’t sey nothing to hurt,’ sh< added, Gemrecstingty. : Pickles ehuckled. “Of course you didn’t,” he said; ‘“‘on the cor trary, what you have said will produce the capits.. you require to embark in the business you contem- plate.” He took out his pocket-book and selected a crisp one-dollar bill from its contents. ‘‘See here, now, Fergus, my boy; answer _ half a dozen questions, to the best of your knowledge and belief, and I will give you this dollar.”’ Fergus's eyes glistened for a moment,but the next he shook his head doggedly. Fleda trembled ex- ci ;_the bribe appealed more strongly to her than to Fergus. “Oh, take it—take it—it’s just what we want!’” she cried, rly. = oe haven't done any wrong, he can'tdo you any hurt." “On the cont By might do you considerable: bee ‘ickles, rege Bo ‘ergus was ag G) ws but w ut you the way of finding a ch father?” = ath ae, face flushed, and he quivered in every “A rich father!’’ he murmured, in urable an- ticipation; and then his face clouded, and he shook * “How do you know he is?” questioned Pickles, Now for a little judicic wer sg Then he said “Then what makes you think that he is dead?” ae use he would have looked out for me if he had been alive. I should have had a home as Fleda. has here,” replied Fergus. “Ah! you are too young to understand what strange t happen in this world, rd boy. Peo- ple don’t always get what be to them; oo a deal of trickery and ri ity at w y—one about your size and age. me, what do you say?" No,” replied Fergus, “T will give you three dollars a week—that's more- than you can picl: up by odd jobs, on am average. Eh? t it over.” ; “I don’t want ” .. he’s going into bi ; ‘and so we'll take the dollar, aad he'll an- Tab your questions."” She quickly pomessed her-
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= § > ti + cei to accept Fleda's action as binding on himself. “ Aha!” chuckled Pickles. ‘ Sharp practice that. You'll do, Fleda! You have more reason than he has, which is not generally the case—it_oftener goes vice versa. Now, my bold Fergus, tell the truth— you don’t know what may come of it.” * Did that dark man, that took such a good look at me, send you here to find out all you could about me?” asked Fergus, quickly. The op menage of this question threw Pickles off his guard. “Eh? aht no—why should you think so?’ he stammered. “ He did!” eried Fergus, with decision. “Umph—umph! what it he did?” rejoined Pickles, satisfled that he could not now drive this idea from the boy’s brain. ‘*Do you kriow him—did you ever see him before?” ** Never,” answered Fergus, positively. Pickles looked disappointed, “Ah! I didn’t know but what he might have been known to you,” he said, musingly. “You don’t think he is my father?” cried Fergus, scornfully. * Oh, no, no, nob certainly not-—cer-tain-ly not. To my certain knowledge he isa bachelor—has never been married, and, besides, he’s rather young to be the father of so old a boy as you are. y the way, juow old are you?” “T don’t know exactly; I suppose I’m about difteen,”” ‘“*Yes yes, there or thereabouts, T should say. ough there's no telling within a year or two; and “hen a youngster is thrown on his own resources, ‘8 youl ave been, his face gets older than his body. Fo —" where you were born?” “ oO. > “* Have you any idea?’ #ergus shook his head. “No; I can’t tell you,” he replied. “It ’pears to me, sometimes, that I was born here in New York, and then I think I must have been born up-coun- ary.”* FPS Sige: eh?” “That's rather vague. How far up?” “ Never you mind; ['m not going to tell you that!’ weplied raed oe in that dogged way that he was in the habit of assuming. expos- “Oh, come, come, a bargain’s a bargain!’ tulated Pickles, “ You've taken the money.” . “You can take it back,” answered Fergus, indif- erently, ; Nor he sha'n'tr" cried Fléda, “He cante-from Rockigud , near the lake.” 4 “ You hush up!” exclaimed Fergus. us “For the Lord’s sake, where's : " re- wnonstrated Fleda, “You think after syou, but I tell yo as I have often told you before, that they won ‘ar yet are only too glad to have the boys run swoy —then the town don’t have to support them any longer."" — ‘ ‘ “Ahal sy th the county , and poor-house, they half-starved you until you ran away to New ‘York, eh?’ questioned Pickles. : “Lordee!” ejaculated Fleda, surprisedly, “but syou “re good at cuessing.” *¥ou’re good at blabbing!’’ exclaimed Fergus, “It was easy enough for him to guess that r what vou told him.” He turned defiantly to Pickles, adding: “Now you know it, what are you going te do about it?” ' Pickles chuckled in his customary manner. ** Whatever I do will result in your good, my boy, vou may be assured of that,” he answered, ‘it unay be that I shall find a father for you and mother too; and rich ones at that, for there’s good blood in vour veins, or l am very much mistaken. How long ¥s icsince you ran away from the poor-house?”’ “Five years.” * And you came right down here?” “ee Yes.’ “ How did you get here?” “* Worked my passage in a lumber schooner.” *“ How jong have you lived with your little friend Fleda here?" “ Six months.” Pickles evinced some surprise at this. = Is that all?’’ he inquired. ' “Have you any idea who put you in the poor- ~ house?” “No; they said nobody ever came to inquire for me, and they guessed that everybody that belonged “oa me was dead.” **What name did you go by there?” ** Fergus.” ** Was that ajl?” **You.” “*- You were never called by any other neg’ “No? “‘ Where did you get the Fearnaught from, “T gave it to him!” cried Fleda, quickly. ““Vou! How was that?” Fieda explained sea ‘Pickles arese to take his departure. “Very good—ve-ry food !’ he said, ‘You have earned the dollar; and remember there is always a eituation open for you in my office. You know where it ix, eh? There's 4 sign at the door— Effing- jam H. Pickles, Attorney-at-law '—you’ve seen it, eh? Neat but not gaudy. Come round and see me ny time.” Blekles opened the door, entered the passage, and emerged into the street. . Verv satisfactor. —ve-ry! he muttered to him- « |, he walked along. ‘There's a history con- 9 a. ° nected with that boy or Glendenning would not be so anxious about him. Well, I’ve got my finger in the pie, and if there’s any plums in it I’m bound to have some, ‘ CHAPTER V. AN ADVENTURE ON THE HUDSON. Arrer due deliberation, and a consultation. with Mrs. Nandrus, Fleda and Fe invested the dollar reccived from Lawyer Pickles in’ peanuts, apples, cakes and candy, and the stand was established on the corner of Grand street, Fleda taking charge. Fergus, not considering his presence necessary at the stand, after he had seen Fleda all prepared for business, went in quest of jobs, as was his custom. The piers and ferries w: 8 favorite resorts. The day became excessively sultry, not a breath of = appearing to fan the h atmosphere of the city. Nh He went along by the different piers until he came to the Atlanta at club-house at the fvot of Christopher street. * Here he went out to the end of the pier. The day grew warmer and warmer. He looked across the Hudson to the Jersey hills. The carriage stopped at last, the door was opened by the driver, and the three htec, The a r received his fare, remounted his box and ve away. - Fergus stared at the massive brown-stone pillars and the steps, with crouching stone dogs on either side, and the round fountain behind the strong rail- ing. The house had a majestic, though somewhat gloomy appearance. “Tt’s just splendid!" exclaimed Fergus, overcome by its grandeur. “Wait till you see the inside,” said Clinton. ‘‘There’s. more stairs to get up and down than the nursery rhyme tells about. Now, Gerry, let’s sly tm I've got my latch-key. You hurry your room and change, and I'll take Fergus up fo mine. Come on.”’ ; ; 2 Clinton thrust his key into the key-hole he could turn it the door openedand a richly-dressed and handsome lady SEDPATSG upon the threshold and exclaimed excitedly: * Oh, my cluldren! what has happened to you?” Fergus turned to run down the steps, but Clinton caught him by the arm and held him, * Hold on! what are-you about? Don't rum away!” he cried. “It's only mother. We went out on the river for a sail, and got ducked, mother,” he ex- plained to her, still grasping Fergus's arm and pre- venting him from going. “This boy helped us; Fergus Fearnaught he’s called—and it’s a goo name for him, because he don’t scare worth a cent, Gerry will tell you bow it happened. I'm going to take Ferg un to my room and give him a suit of my old clothes.” Mrs. Stuyvesant scrutinized Fergus kéenty. . ‘He looks as if he needed them,” she said, in kindly manner, 7 “You bet he does!” “He has an honest face,” “Oh, yes, he’s poor, but honest! Ferg?’ Thus appealed to, he answered modestly: “TI try to be.” “Come, Geraldine, you must, c 6 your wet clothes as quickly as you can,” said Mrs. Stuyve— sant, and she added to her son: ‘You can i) your young friend up to your room, Clifton.” Geraldine followed her mother, ana Clinton dragged Fergus. , ‘Here we are!’ cried Clinton, opentng a door and ushering Fergus into a rooan of ample ¢ize and handsomely furnished, © This is my snuggery, How do you like it?” he continued. *Tt’s splendid!” answered Fergus. Ain’t you, but before —
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6 -s— ee . By was gplendid im his eyes at that mo- ment, fer t boy’s were completely teved by the ess with which he found himeelf surrounded, The tment had two windows, and walkimg ta ene of m Fergus fennd that taey looked down upon the avenue, © Pits is a front poom,”’ he said. “Of eourse it is,” replied Clinten. ‘‘ You don't u IT would take a baek reom do you, as many ry 25 to choose Srem? No, sie—I'ua nd to have the best: How do you. Hke the way 1 am fixed up bere?” Splendid)” cried Fergus again, : pistols, masks, foils, isjointed poles, ’ - beming-gloves, Indlaw clués, dumb-bells, and base- ball bats were scattered promiscuously in the dif- fewent corners. Clinton went to a closet at the foot of the bed, ed it, and displayed a large nusmber of gar- ments within. There were coats, pants and vests of all shapes, hues and materials, ‘Here you have them,” he oried. ‘‘I’il pick you out a suit—a nice one, toe—fix you up so your mother won't know oe when you go heme, Strip vff your old duds! Here, this k-brown suit will a gl the thing. Ive es gsi it, and I guess it just about ft you, and it’s almost as good as uer. : The tears gathered in Fergus’s eyes at this liber- ty. “Tt’s real good of Foy he said, with emotion. “@h, nonsense; nota bit of #,” replied Clinton, in his'careless fashion. ‘They'd be to the ragman, aay ani you'd them than him. I’ve ken a netion to you, and when | like a fellow, Llike him; there’s no alf-way business to me. Hold on! don’t put them on yet— you must have a clean shirt.” , “ Eh, a clean shirt?’ stammered Fergus, “Of course! I’m going to give you a full rig, _ from top to toe!” OMnton was as good as his word and soon the two were attired in new suits. “ How is that?” he asked Clinton. ae aip-t0P had ” Wow do these clothes fit?” * «irst-rate!” <%amton now combed and brushed his hair before the loeking-glass on the bureau, and then advised Fergus to do the same, * Well, I think Ido look better,” replied Fergus, he steod before the glass brushing his long ry, flaxen hair, and he smiled complaecently, at his own . “I'd like to wear good clothes like thsee all the time,” “ Why don’t you?” * Haven’t got the brads to stand it.”’ “The what?” “ The spondulix.”’ “Oh, oh, the rhino—that’s what you mean, eli? *Money makes the mare go,’ and the ponies, too. rn yaey can have lots of fun if he can only pony up er it.’’ “ Guess you have lots of fun,’ answered Fergus, ng about the room, | ‘*What makes you think so?” Lage “Cause you've got lots of things here to have it e ‘ iven away tter have “ @h, yes; I’m tolerably well supplied, How would like to put on the gloves for a few minutes, a he ws Cee ‘Gloves, eh?” ? “Yes — boxing-gloves —these. You know what boxing is, don’t you?” “Oh, paw a 2 seh — mean, ButI never had any gloves on whenI sparred. ‘Pears to me you eouldn't hurt much hitting-a chap with those stuffed sone on your hands.” _ Clinton laughed. “You’ve hit it — that’s just what is intended. gloves are made to box with in fun and not jn earnest. Put ona pair and we'll have a set-to, » and then I'll show you about the heags.”’ a ything to oblige,” replied Fergus, and he put on ® pair of the gloves. ‘ Lordee! how bunchy Cag make a fellow’s fingers feel,”’ giuired Fergus. “ Yes, send it, good and hot\”’ pe oop Clinton 4 resounding piow. Jaspite By to stop it, fall upon the chest, whieh caw aristocratical youth to sit down on the flocr in, ae end very upceremonious manner. 4 ow’s that for hot?’ asked Fergus. “ Paew'" gasped Clinton, “That beats me!’ Fergus lifted aim to his feet again. * a little mere?” he said. “Wo,” answered Clinton, Jauzhienly: “no, enough je as geedas a feust. Your right dus in %00 ‘ ge condition forme. Phraw off tha gloves, aed ‘Il show you what uw smeer old house this-is. Be- sides, { want mother urd verry to sce you, now i've got you dressed up.’ an Wher am I to do with my old atothes?'’ asked errus. “Ob, leave them here, and I’ have them thrown into the ash-barrel.”’ “No, no, don’t “7 want them.”* : “You want them?” rejeined Clinton, surprisedly. “Why, what do you want of them?’ “For every day, to work ia—I can get more jobs with my eld clothes om than I can these good glotzcs,” de that!” cried Fergus, quickly. Clinton was still more surprised. “Can you?” he imqutred. “Oh; yes; fella are apt to take pity on a chap w he Jeolss peer.” t’s sol’? exelaimed Clinton, struck by the / ferce ef this reasoning Dazed end bewildered, with very much of the same feeling that must have filled the breast of Aladdin when he penetrated into the cave of jewels and saw the golden trees laden with their precious fruit, Fergus followed Olinton through the maasion, the servants nodding kin to him as the friend of the ‘young master,” and finally the exploration ceased in the sitting-room beneath the stained-glass sky- light, and here were three persons. ‘ergus saw Geraldine in a white dress, with a cherry-colored sash, and Mrs, Stuyvesant, in a rich silk of a garnet hue, but the strange gentleman made him w back and whisper in Clinton’s ear: “There's your father—maybe he won't like my being here.’ ‘No, it isn’t,’ answered Clinton, ‘That isn’t the | ahi iene that’s my uncle Elliott. Don’t you be ightened; he won’t eat you. Come along.’ e dragged Fergus along by the arm, crying out: “See here, mother and Gerry, I've brought Ferg here te show you what a nice-looking fellow he is when he’s dressed up. Make your best bow, Ferg,”’ he added, in an undertone, to him, and Fergus | ducked his head accordingly. Elliott Yorke turned to look at the strange boy, and an involuntary exclamation broke from his lips. ‘Good heavens!” he cried, ina tone of great sur- prise. CHAPTER VI. FERGUS CREATES AN IMPRESSION. Mrs. Stuyvesant gazed up in wonder in her broth- er’s face. He had been standing beside her, resting one arm upon her high-back chair, while he con- versed with her. He was a man who seldom dis- played any emotion—a calm, dignified gentleman, Pith his once dark-brown hair and beard thickly streaked with gray. She was at a loss to account for his sudden emotion. ‘“ What surprises you, Elliott?’ she asked. “The boy—look at him.” ‘‘T do—and he’s not bad-looking, as Clinton says; what freaks he has, to be sure; but for this lad, so Geraldine tells me, both she and Clinton might have been drowned.” ‘But do you not see? his face, his hair—those eyes—the very hue!” whispered Yorke, bending down his head to do so. Mrs. Stuyvesant studied Fougne s face intently, and the lad became embarrassed under the scrutiny, shifting his feet uneasily, and blusbing until bis usually pale cheeks assumed a vivid tint of carna- tion. “How they’re looking at me,” he whispered to Clinton. “Let them look,” returned that irrepressible youth. “A cat may look at aking! Their looks won't hurt you. Hold up your head; you're looking fine, and that’s what’s the matter.” ‘Am 1?” asked Fergus, dubiously. “To be sure you are! Why, you are handsomer than a great many girls I know—handsomer than Gerry there.”” . “Oh, I don’t think so!"’ rejoined Fergus, quickly. At this moment Geraldine tripped toward them, and shook hands with Fergus. ‘Clinton has fixed you up real nice,” she said; “and I am glad he has, because you are such @ brave boy.” : Ana the blushes on Fergus’s cheeks grew deeper stil] as he shook hands with, and heard the words of the little maiden. “Don't mention it,” he stammered. “I'd swim clear down to Staten Island to get you out ofa scrape.”’ ‘ : paring this, Mrs, Stuyvesant completed her scru- Strangely like!” she said, “ Ah! yow see it, then?’ he responded, eagerly. ‘The resemblance?” ‘ “Yes. Who does he put you in mind of?” ** Lorania.” ‘**My wife?” “ Yes.” ; Elliott Yorke drew a long breath; it ap if some unpleasant suspicion that had coat} into his mind had been confirmed. “Tt is very singular,” he murmured. , “Can this boy be any relation of your wife’s?" asked Mrs. Stuyvesant, The question annoyed him. * {mpossible!’’ he rejoined when I married her, was re} as ust then quickly. ‘‘ Lorania, arret Van Amringe’s yaks only surviving child. The others died in infancy. She never had a brother or sister married—she was the last of the family.” “T have an idea that this boy isa Van Amringe. Such a resemblance could not be entirely accidental, it appears to me, Resemblances run strangely in families. See how much Geraldine resembles me.” “But you are her mother—what more natural?"’ His brow clouded as he continued: | boy is like his mother she is the very image of—” He paused abruptly, as if he found the thought | too repugnant for utterance, ** Lorania?”’ she pappieds **Yes,’’ he answered, R “Oh! what a preposterous idea,” she exclaimed. ““You must not entertain it. I will question the boy, and you will speedily find that a random re- semblance has misled you. Clinton, bring your young friend here,” she called out to him. , Clinton pushed Fergus forward with this admoni- tion: “Hold up your head, don’t be so bashful!” of it until Fleda’s mother took me in, “And if that | Miliott Yorke’s gray eyes were fastened upon pie baw face in a searehing manner as the lad H emily advanced. With al his fearlessuess ras abashed im the presence of this dignificd | au and handsome lady; but modesty is al- ways the attendant of true eourage. What is your mame, my iad)” inquired Mrs. Stuyvesant, ina manner. “Fergus Pearnaugh ,”’ answered Fergus, prompt- | | ‘and he’s a bully boy,” added Clinten, impres- sively. “Of, Climton, for shame!" oried Mrs. Stuyvesant. ‘How often have | requested you te refrain from espressions. I @iglike te hear sueb sinug.”’ “The youmg men of the prevent are net what they were in my boyheed,”’ ekserv: orke. “Of course not, uncle,” returned the ineerrig le Ctinton. ‘ lused to hear grandfather say the same thing about the boys in his time. You wasn’t up to his mark, any more than we are to yours--but the world still moves, and boys are livelier than they used to be,” Elliott Yorke’s grave features relaxed into a smile. ‘** Wisdom from the mouth of a babe,’ ”’ he said | ‘*We old fellows stand still, and the world moves away from us. But the heart never grows old. It maintains all its freshness through all the changes and mutations of time.” While he made these remarks his eyes lingered upon Fergus’s face, and he found the likeness that had at first impressed him growing stronger and stronger. ; Mrs. Stuyvesant brought the conversation back to the starting point by saying: “You have a singular name—Iergus Fearnaught! Is Fearnaught the name cf your family?” “*T don’t know,” replied Fergus. “Was it your father’s name?” pursued Mrs. Stuy- vesant. “T don’t know,” replied Fergus again. ‘*Don’t know!” repeated Mrs. Stuyvesant, sur- prisedly. “Don’t you know what your father's name was?” “No, ma’am; I don’t know anything about him.” “ Ah!’ murmured Elliott Yorke; and he exchanged an inquiring glance with Mrs. Stuyvesant. She continued her inquiries, but in so genial a manner that Fongne readily gave her his confidence. ‘* What name did your mother have?” she asked. “T don’t know, answered F . “ILdon’tk any more about my mother than I db about father. I never saw either of them since I have been old enough to remember oneuine- y!’* exclaimed Mrs, Stuyvesant, involun- ** Poor tarily, and this display of sympathy went straight to Fergus’s heart. ‘* o brought you up?” Fergus hesitated here, and his face flushed, but after a moment's pause he answered: ‘*T was brought up in the almshouse in Rockland county, but they didn’t treat me well, so I ran away, and came down here; and I had a pretty rough time , ut now I'm doing pretty fair."’ “The history of many a poor boy in this great city,” said Elliott Yorke. “ Were you called Fergus: in the almshouse, my boy?” , Aad at “ss n ’ ~ fe aie “Then where did you get the name of Fear- naught?” Because he’s so spunky,” volunteered Clinton. had been bestowed a“ Fe explained how name | upon him by Fleda Nandrus, and this led to quite an account of Fleda and her mother, and the peanut speculation in which that s rightly young maiden had just engaged. Elliott Yorke was much inter- ested in this account, and when Fergus had finished he took out his pocket-book, saying: * As you have to furnish capital for this enter- prise, you must permit me to aid you, as a recom- pense for the service you to-day rendered my nephew and niece,”’ ith this he gave Fergus a five-dollar nback. **Oh! but I don't want it,” stammered Fergus. “Yes, you do,” whispered Clinton. “ Take it--he's got lot’s of. money, and he’ll uever miss it—take it, e all you can get; that’s the way I do, and I make it fly lively, you bet!” ; Fergus put the note in his vest- pocket. “T'm much obliged to you, sir,”’ he said; * but Pir do anything for Clint, here, and his sister, too, and never ask a cent for it.” * And so would Clint for you,” returned (he heir of the Stuyyesants. “Youre hunky-dory! But come, let’s mizzle; I guess they have seen about all they want to of us just at present. Ta ta, uncle; save the first vacancy in the store for my bold Verse lly : here; he’ll make a good clerk, for he takes natura to boats’and all that sort of thing.” *T will,” replied Elliott Yorke, promptly. “He shall have the first vacancy that occurs.’ ‘All right; then I needn’t say anything to the | governor as I was going to—about it. Come, let's | skedaddle!" So sayine, Clinton locked his arm in that of Fergus, and led him from the room. Fergus followed Clinton in quite a flutter .of ex- citement, but it was of a pleasurable nature. He rolled his old clothes into a bundJe and Clinton gave him a newspaper to wrap them up in. “T’m in luck to-day,” he exclaimed, as he busied himself about this. ‘‘A new suit of clothes, and a five-dollar bill! By jinks! won’t Fleda open her eyes when she sees me?”’ ‘*Let her open them!"’ rejoined Clinton. ‘Give her a good look, and don’t charge .her anything. You deserve all you've got; and that’s where v
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Fergu —— are ludry, for a fellow doesn’t always get all he de- gerves in this world! Come on now, and I'll let you out by the aide door. “ake care of yourself!” he said, Fergus’ sped lightly d the ste d turned 8 2" own the steps, an m his fewe homeward. Té was six o’clock by the time he reached the old beuse em Baxter street, and he found Fleda and her mother waiting supper for him. ‘*Mercy’s sakes!’’ cried Fleda, the moment she saw him; “‘ whatever have you been doing to your- self? Oh! why I never should have known you on the street.” “Don’t Tlook gay?” “Prime! You've got a new suit of clothes?” “Yes,” answered Fergus, triamphantly; “‘let’s have supper first, for ’'m awful hungry, and then Vl tefl you all about it.” CHAPTER VII. LORANIA YORKE. Crepar LAww was the name which had been given to the residence that_the rich merchant, Elliott Yorke, occupied upon Bergen Hights. It was the abode of luxury. o could be other- wise than happy beneath the roof that covered that sumptuous furnishing? And ek the gossip of the neighbors was to be credited, e mistress of this stately mansion was not, bape, She had beauty, wealth, a proud station, a hus- band who fairly idolized her, and yet a smile was never seen on her fair face. He had appealed to her father, old Garret Van Amringe, for the cause of this strange sadness, and the old man had answered indifferently: “It’s nothing, only her way.” When he ques- tioned Lewania, tenderly and gently, she had re- pre passively, and almost like an echo to her ather: “It is nothing! do not mind me; it is my way.”’ Tiiiott Yorke was'by no means content. Though the senior of his fair Apa bride by nearly twenty years, he loved her with a strange, wild fervor, and this love was all the stronger that it had come to him go late in life. Then Garret Van Amringe died suddenly of apo- plexy—he was a high liver—and it was discovered, to everybody’s surprise, that, instead of being the rich man he was supposed to be, he was deeply in debt. Reckless speculation had ruined him. When his estate was settled not a dollar was left for Lor- ania, Elliott Yorke thought he had found the key to her inexplicable sadness. “She knew hovy her father was ‘involved,” he told himself. ‘* That is what has troubled her." He questioned her upon. the matter, and she frankly answered him: “Yes, Elliott, my father was the cause of my sad- ness, cannot help it, but I will strive my best against it.” He was satisfied. The thought had obtruded it- self into his mind that she had come to him an un- willing bride—a thought that was very galling to his proud spirit, and this answer put that thought to rest. The years passed on but the sadness still clouded Loranta’s face. Two children were born to her, and both died in their infancy, and now there was cause for a sad look on those pale features, but it was — the same, neither deeper or more marked than fore. Elliott Yorke, immersed in business cares—he was one of the merchant aye of New York—was ab- sent the ter part of the day from his luxurious home, is cousin and junior partner, Rufus Glen- denning, occupied an apartment at Cedar Lawn. He was young enough to be Yorke’s son. The mer- chant had taken charge of him when he was quite a lad, and made a home for him in his own family. Rufus Glendenning owed everything he had in the world to Elliott Yorke. How grateful he was to his benefactor the events to follow will show. ce who was quite an artist, amused many an hour’by sketching. She had drawn crayons of the house and grounds, a portrait of Elliott Yorke, herself, and the two shildren they had lust, and these were handsomely framed and hung on the library wall. It is pursuing this favorite occupation that I shall present her to the reader. , She is very intent upon her work, tracing a head upon a little square of card-board—a boyish head, which she draws with great skill and singular beauty. You think it must be a portrait, it looks so real and life-like—a portrait though she is ithe it om memory; and as her work progresses tqwar completion a wonderful change takes place in this woman, who is considered by her husband and ac- quaintances to be scarcely more than a living statue. A faint tinge of pink steals to her cheeks, as deli- ease in hue as that which dwells in the heart of the sea-shell, her eyes gleam with a look of joy and ride, in utter contrast to their usual sad look, her Ereath cot.cs pantingly, and ..er bosom heaves with an unwonted motion. ‘ She lays down her {pencil, having completed her task, contemplates the image she has drawn for a moment with ayearning look of love, then bows her head and presses her lips toit in a lingering caress, “Bre lives—he lives! and I have seen him!” she murmurs, tremulously. “Oh! my heart, what joy, what pain, is in the thought. To see *‘im—to know he lives, and yet not dare to—” She paused Serene seized the card and thrust it into her bosom. en she turned and coldly faced the servant who entered the library, and whose coming he had heard. ** Well, Christine?” she said. “A gentleman to a ma’am,”’ answered the meld and she extended a card toward her as she spoke. Mrs. Yorke arose at once to her feet and took the card, glancing tees! at the inscription upon it. It contained this name: Cyrus Jetuirrs, LL. D. “Thave been expecting him,” she said. in the parlor?” ‘Yes, ma’am,”’ “T will go to him.” Lorania passed into the hall and through it to the front parlor door which she entered. *“You smile!” he exclaimed, asif he found some- thing surprising in the act. “And you wonder at it? So do I! I never thought to smile again, I felt like that king of England who never smiled again after the tidings were brought to him that the prince, his son, was drowned.”’ “Your loss was greater than his,” “Tt is not true!” she cried vehemently. Mr. Jelliffe’s features wore a look of perplexity. “Tam positive of it. The boy lives. I have the best proof of it, for have seen him!” She took the drawing she had made from her rae and placed it in his hand. “There is his por- rait. He stared at it in amazement. “Ts it like?’ she continued, ‘*Wonderfully!’” Then he turned his astonished eyes from the portrait to her face. ‘ But where did you get this?” he inquired, curiously. “T drew it.” “How? When?” *‘From memory—from the single glance that I had at his young face.” ‘ = fey then this is little more than a fancy sketch," e said. “It is his very likeness,”’ she asserted, positively. *Thave no doubt you think so,” he answered, with a smile. ‘* Where did you see this boy?” “On Broadway—I was riding in my carriage—I saw him leaning against a lamp-post on the corner of one of the cross streets. I saw his face distinctly, and the thrill at my heart convinced me who he was. I called out to him, but he ran away—why I could not tell; but he ran away in 8 most unaccountable manner.” ‘** How was he dressed?” “Very poaiy. “Hum! I thought so.” “Tt is but natural. Where else could we expect to find him except among the ranks of those poor waifs who eke out a miserable livelihood in the streets of New York?” Mr. Jelliffe deliberated, and shook his head grave- ly at the end of his deliberation. “There's plenty of young reprobates in New York,” he said, ‘‘and I am very much afraid that you have selected one of them, deceived by a fancied resemblance." She resented the implication. “Tt is not a fancied resemblance!” she cried. ‘‘ Do you not see the likeness there?” ‘* Undoubtedly,” hé admitted. “*That is a literal transcript of the boy's features. Where else could I obtain them?” He shook his head, by no means convi “Drawn from memory after a single asked. “ Yes.” , ae shook his head again, and smiled in his grave ‘ashion. “You draw exceedingly well, Lorania,” he said; “T have remarked that before, and you have a vivid imagination. How ony then, it would be for you to sketch out your ideal of what the boy’s face would be like if he had lived until now,” She was greatly oid Nong “You believe, then, that this sketch is the result of my imogipation, and not a portrait?” she inquired. ‘Frankly, I do,” ‘““You think, also, ie Roy is dead?” “IT think the probabilities of the case all tend that way.” ** And Tam satisfied that he lives, and that I have seen him. Therefore, I have sent for you, as an old and esteemed friend-—-my only friend, n fact—to aid me in what I consider to be my duty.” Mr. Jelliffe inclined his head. ** Whatever aid I can offer you shall be cheerfully given,” he said, ““T know it,’’ she continued. ‘‘ While I awaited your coming I drew that, portrait, for it is one, al- though you may not think so. That will aid you in the search I wish you to institute for this boy.” “You wish to ascertain beyond a doubt that he is cae Armytage’s son?” ”“ C oO To what end?” : “To place’him in the position to which his birth entitles him.” He shook his head rather discontentedly at this. “Hum! that is rather dangerous,” he said. “To him?” she cried, surprisedly. “No, to you,” “Ah! in what way?” “You cannot acknowledge him.” She drooped her head sorrowfully. “No, no,” she murmured. ‘Oh! what a cruel fate is mine!” “Tt is inevitable, and you must bow to it with resignation,” he continued. “TI stand in your father’s place toward you now.” * But your heart is not so hard as his was.” He smiled in his grave fashion, “Perhaps not,” he replied, “but I cannot permit you to sacrifice yourself.” “Ts he ce?” he “But my duby?’’ “Your duty as a wife—the wife of such a man as Elliott Yorke—is more imperative than any other.” “*Perhaps it is—but I cannot feel it so,”’ “You must,” he answered, almost sternly. “I _ will act as your agent in this affair, and carry out your wishes to the letter—” “Oh! gpa are so good to me,’’ she interrupted, gratefully. “On this condition,” he added. ** A condition?” “Yes; that you shall not be seen In the matter, You must keep in the back-ground,” “Oh! I must see him—I must speak to him, Can I not do so without his knowing who I am?” “Perhaps, but only when we are satisfied that the boy is indeed what you take him to be, and then you must use every precaution to conceal your identity from him.” *T will—I will!” “T will take this card with me, as it may be useful in identifying the boy. 1 will place it in the hands of a detective, one upon whom I can depend, though I shall by no means tell him any more than shall be absolutely necessary. Your name must not be brought into question under any circumstances, His instructions will be simply to search through New York for a boy resembling this drawing, and, when found, to ascertain if bis name is Robert Army- tage—was the boy given his father‘s name?” ‘Yes, Robert Fk. Armytage.” “When this is proved to my satisfaction I will dis- pose of the boy according to your wishes. Will that content you?’ * Perfectly.” ; “Very well. Then I will return home,” * “Will you not remain for dinner? Mr. Yorke and Mr. Glendenning will be here in an hour new,” “Excuse me, but Iam expected at home. I came up from my office directly here. Need I counsel you to guard your feelings against any display of emotion that might betray your secret?’ “Fear me not, I shall not forget the lesson Ihave learned so thoroughly through all these passing ears. The secret of the past lies hidden in my rozen heart,” She walked to the front door with him, * Good-day,”’ she said, He exchanged adieux with her, walked down the stone-paved walk to the iron gate, and let himself out upon the avenue, She went back to the libr when he was gone, and sat down again at the table that containcd her drawing and painting materials, ‘I must sketch another portrait,” she said, ‘but this time I will paint it in water-colors,”’ A labor of love is gqrickly performed, The por- trait was soon finished. This one was drawn upon 4 sheet of paper, and was much larger than the other. It was only the head and a portion of the bust, about the size of an imperial photograph. She was greatly pleased with this second effort. “T will call it a fancy sketch and have it framed," she cried, with an almost childish admiration. ““How much the coloring improves it.” She placed it on the window sill to dry, the window being open. Scarcely had she laid it there than a sudden gust of wind caught it and bore it away. She uttered a little scream, and ran out through the hall to goin search of it, She looked benea the window, but could not find it. She followed the direction of the wind, which was blo toward the avenue, and as she reached the front of the house she heard voices, and saw Elliott Yorke and Rufus Glendenning coming up the walk. Glendenning held a paper in his hand, ‘He has found it,’’ sho gasped, and a chill of &p- prehension crept through her frame, though she could searcely have told why. “See what Rufus has found!” cried Elliott Yorke. “Tt is mine,” she said. ‘Hah! a colored drawing—a boy's head,” Elliott Yorke remarked, with a careless look “ it, Lorania thought that Rufus Glendenning regarded it with a singular scrutiny, She held out her hand for it, but be still retained it. “Ts it a seney, sketch?” he asked. ‘** Yes,’ she answered briefly. — Glendenning again bent his. eyes upon the draw- — ing. “Tt is very singular,” he said, musingly, ‘but I saw a boy in New York the other day who was the very image of this.” Lorania shivered, and he gave her the took it without a word, and hurried on Yorke, who had walked on to the house, Rufus Glendenning smiled darkly. ‘““A fancy sketch, eh? Ob, no!” he muttered, “The likeness was too strong for that. The boy w something to her, but what I must find out, shrewdly suspect that her sad face has something to do with that boy!” wae S CHAPTER VIII AN ACCIDENT, Promptry in the morning, at the hour appointed, Clinton Stuyvesant made his appearance at the home of Fergus Fearnaught, and was ushered into the front room by Fleda, who, having been apprised of his coming, had “tidied’’ herself up; as she phrased it, for the occasion. She and Fergus were alone together when Clinton — Mrs. Nandrus having departed upon a day's work. “Here you are!” cried uty te ; “Here I am!” answered Clinton, and he took a comprehensive survey of the little maiden, whe was devouring him with her sharp black eyes. “This is Fleda?” he added. “Yes,” replied Fergus. - aper; she — 4 ott
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S Fergus Fearnaught, the New Yor “Nice little girl!’ exelaimed Clinton, in his off- hand manner. Fleda smirked, and dropped him a little courtesy. “Tam glad you think so,” she said. ‘‘ How's the peanut trade?” continued Clinton. “Tam doing as well as I expected,” replied Fleda. That's good!” “ But I can do better now, because Fergus has got more money, as you know,” * Yes, uncle ott came down with 2 V. He’sa nice old chap—I always liked him, They say he'll leave me lots of money when he dies, as he hasn’t got any children of his own.” “You're a lu fellow, Clint!” cried Fergus. Clinton laughed cardessly. “Yes, I'm one of the chaps that you read about that’s born with a silver spoon in his mouth,’’ he re- plied. “ How would you like to have me in the pea- nut business?” he added, to Fieda,”’ **Sakes alive! such a business wouldn't do fora gentleman like you,” she answered. “Oh! a kind of silent partner, you know—the chap that puts in money and don’t have much to say. I made a raise this morning from the governor,”’ He took a handsome portemonnaie from his pocket as he {ee “Told him I wanted some new clothes and he came down handsomely. How much do you think I have got bere?” | “Ten dollars,’’ guessed Fergus. “Twenty-five,” guessed Fleda. vy You haven't either of you hit it. I've got ‘*Wifty!” echoed Fergus and Fieda, surprisedly. Tt was a good deal of money in their eyes. “That's the ticket! There's enough here to. see the CS amma and pay for a piece of his tail: eh, Fer- gus me Sa tl say so!” “Take care you don't get into a scrape," cautioned Vleda, as they quitted the house. As the two stood in the street, Rowdy Rube, Johnny, the Chicken, and Ragged Terry came along on the other side of the way ani perceived them. * Only Ferg Fearnaught!’ cried Rowdy ube, “And there’s that swell with him,” said the Chicken. ‘“*Go and muddy his boots, Terry, so I ean get a chance to black them.” ed Terry crossed the street. “Please help a 2 horphin!’’ he whined extend- ing his dirty paw to Clinton. he aristocratic youth regarded him in surprise. “ Halioa! where did this animated rag-bag spring from?” he exclaimed. ae Ragged Terry!” cried Fergus. ‘Be off with you!’ He raised his foot to kick, but Ragged ier Biclj nimbly away, and applied his thumb to hi nove mockingly. “Yer didn’t come it!’ he piped. Clinton made a rush for Terry, and Rowdy Rube aud the Chicken darted up an alley-way and disap- Clinton did not find the task of catching Ragged aeee, A easy a one as he had seared. That nufive youth dodged and doubled with an agility that was surprising; but Clinton’s mettle | was up, and he determined to capture him. At last he closed in upon him, extended his hand to p him, when Terry ducked suddenly down on all fours and Clinton sprawled over him, f. at full léngth on the sidewalk, inan awkward and de- edly mo ng manner, en Terry rose to his feet Fergus had him by the, soa Bg Ss ragged ‘pen ether ** lve you, you ie. scamp!"’ he cried. of Oh—o-h~o-h-h!" how Terr ; and then, with a sudden twist of his lithe body, he emerged from the coat, leaving it in Fergus's hand. ‘If you’ve got him, hold him tight!” exclaimed Clinton, struggling up to his feet in a. crestfallen piece Le “er Bast the little beast; he gave me an kward ! But the “little beast’’ darted across the street and jumping down an open cellar door, disappeared with a cele ty that was almost magical. ** Well, that beats me!’’ cried Clinton. Fe looked rather foolish, standing with the ragged coat in his hand. “And me, too!” he answered. “ We can’t catch * him now.” “Tt looks very much like it. He has dived into his hole like a fox escaping from the hounds. Are you ae to take that coat home as a trophy?” “Faugh! I should say not,. It’s as filthy as a fish- basket. I'll drop it hers. He'll come for it when we are gone.” Fergus threw the coat down. | ** Where shall we go now?” he asked, “Let’s go up to the corner and see how Fleda’s ’ trade is at her stand to-day.” e ' he saw eeanthin * All right They walked away, and as the curve in the street them from wate. fy eyes, forth from their hid- Pi anos came Rowdy Rube, the Chicken and erry. Terry darted swiftly across the street, anxious to regain his r; d garment, but as he picked it up. ying under it that made his little eyes bulge from his head like a lobster’s. “Oh, crickee!”’ he piped, shrilly. “Halves!” cried wdy Rube, who came up at “ thet moment. “Thirds yer mane!” exclaimed the Chicken, close following at Rowdy Rube’s heels. *‘ Yer can just * count me in, my covies!”’ Ragged tony clutched his prize covetously, and appeared to have a decided objection to an vision. The two larger boys were one on eac e of him, and watching him narrowly. “Tf yer attempt to cut with it, I'll murder yer!" cried Rowdy Rube, savagely. ‘And I'll put an existence to yer life!” added the Chicken, impressively. Ragged Terry felt his weakness, but he was very loth to relinquish any portion of the prize he had so page gn found. “oT ain't nuffin’, much,” he whined. e M1 None o’ yer gammon—I see’d it!” cried Rowdy ube. ‘‘Don’t yer lie to us, Terry,’’ admonished the Chicken, “ Fork over, or yer’ll smell of that." He held his clinched fist disagreeably near Terry's nose in a threatening manner. “Come up the alley, and we'll divvy,” said Rowdy Rube, clutching Ragged Terry by his right shoulder with a tenacious gripe. “Well do the square thing by yer,” added the Chicken, fastening in a like manner upon Terry's left shoulder. Terry resigned himself to his fate, conscious that | it was inevitable, and was led like a lamb to the | slaughter, | Leaving the young rascals to make a division of their prize, we will return to Fergus and Clinton, By this time they had reached the peanut-stand on the corner of Baxter and Grand streets. It was rather a primitive affair, consisting merely of a common old pine table, and a chair without any back. But Fleda bad covered the table with nico white paper, and her wares were tee dis- played in some quaint dishes—the reninants of a peculiar set which her mother had possessed in more prosperous days, and which she had spared Fleda for this purpose. “ How’s trade?’’ inquired Clinton, as they paused before the stand. ‘Tolerably brisk,” replied Fleda, smiling in a manner that displayed her teeth to good advantage. ‘** As pretty as a picture, and as smart as a steel- trap,” Clinton thought, as he said, pany: *“Tngist patronize you a little, Miss Fleda, just to help along the trade, you know.” He put his hand into his pocket to extract his portemonnaie. *“ Jumping Jupiter!” he ejaculated. ‘It’s gone!" This exclamation startled Fergus. P ‘““What’s gone?” he asked, ° “My portemonnaie. Do you think any of those ragged scamps picked my pocket?” ergus shook head dissentingly. “No,"” he answered; “they couldn’t do that. There was only Ragged Terry, and he wasn’t near baa? but a moment. I saw wdy Rube and the icken on the other side of the street, but they cut as soon es the Chinaman began to holler.” “T must have dropped it from my pocket when I fell over that little ragamuffin.” **So you must,” “Run right back and look for it,” cried Fleda, sympathetically. ‘ You may find it,” . t’s doubtful!” exclaimed Clinton, with a shake of the head. ‘I don’t think anything in the shape of money would say. loose around this neigh- borhood for any len; of time."’ ** You bet it wouldn’t!’’ corroborated Fergus. “ But there’s no harm in trying,” insisted Fleda, “Do go back; you may find it after all.” ‘** Well, there’s noubing like trying, as you say; so come along, Fergus, ell take a look for it, any- way. ' he boys hurried back to the scene of their en- ‘counter with Ragged Terry, but they did not find the pocket-book, nor see anything of Ragged Terry, Rowdy Rube, or the Chicken. ** That fifty dollars has gone up!" remarked Clin- ton, in a very unconcerned manner. ¥F rgus looked grieved. “It’s a lot of money to lose,” he rejoined. , “Pooh! that’s nothing. I'll make the governor pony over some more. I wonder which of the scamps got it?” “Tl try and find our for you," replied Fergus, quickly. “‘ Perhaps I can get it back for you.” _. ** Ah! you know the hiding-places of these young scallawags?”’ “Yes; most of them. They've gota rondévoo, as they call it, under the pier at the foot of Dover street. That’s where they carry- their swag after one of their thjeving expeditions. ner don’t dare to carry it to their homes, for fear of the police.” “IT suppose not. Does this Ragged Terry belong to this gang of thieves?” ‘Yes; he and Rowdy Rube.and the Chicken, and lots more that lives in the Fourth Ward. I think if I go down to the den I shall find them there with the a : . “And do you think they would give it up to you?” “Oh, yes; they’re all afraid of me, as I have thrashed about ail of them at different times; and besides, there’s two or three that Ihave got out of scrapes, and they would stand by me.” **Come along then; I'll go with you.” But to Clinton’s great pee Fergus objected to this proposal in a very decided manner. ‘“No, no!’ he replied; ‘“‘you can’t do that. It would be as much as your life is worth for me to take yov there.” “Phey a th k d ft “'Phey’d think you were a spy, and go for you sure,” exclaimed Fergus. - “But won’t they go for you?” “Oh, no, they know me, and they know I wouldn't give them away to the cops for nothing.” **Who’s the cops?” ** The perlice.”’ “Ah, yes, I might have known that.”’ . “They wanted me to join them—said they’d make me capt’in." ** And you couldn't see it?” ‘ - . “Not much! I don’t intend to mix myself up with aset of thieves, if I can help it."’ ’ ‘*That’s where your head is level, Ferg, my boy! Stick to that. ‘* Honesty is the best policy.’ You'll make something act my boy. It won’t be my reg if you don’t, or I mean to give you a lift in © world.” The tears started to Fergus’s eyes at these words, for he had one of those passionate natures which are easily excited. ““T know you do, Clint!’ he exclaimed, gratefully ; ‘“and I would just die for you—see if I wouldn’t?" Clinton clapped him upon the back in a friendly manner. “T don't want you to die for me, ; my boy, but to live!’ he eried. ‘* Dying isn’t, e ticket, not just at present; so you be caref ong these yo scallawags, and don’t get into*rouble, “There'll be no danger to me—they dasen’t try to hurt me.”’ ‘‘Don't be too risky about it. Who’s their cap- tain now?” **Rowdy Rube,” “‘That’s a nice name fora small party! Is hea friend of yours?” “No, he isn’t; but he’s a big coward.” ** How do you know he is?” “T punched his head the other day, and he hollered good. Fetched him a clip under the chin, aud he wilted.” “Ha, ha, ha! Good for you, my bully Ferg! You're the best fellow to travel with that I ever fell inwth, We'll hitch horses one of these days, and see the world, and knock the spots right out of it. If you think [I'd better not go along with you, I'll be getting home.” : ‘“You had better not,” replied Fergus. “If I had you along with me I'd never stand a chance for the money, and Idon’t think I could get into the den; and if I did I wouldn't find anybody there; they'd all mizzle the moment they saw you.” *‘ Shouldn't wonder; then I'll return to the paternal mansion. Well, I’m blest if I've got a red. Say, Ferre, have you got a stray five-cent-piece about yom clothes?” , ‘Yes, here’s one,’ answered Fergus, surprisedly, as he produced it, ‘‘ Do you want it?” ‘‘Yes; I want to pay my car-fare. I don't care to walk home; that’s a little too much pedestrian ere a my delicate constitution. Can you spare i “Of course I can,” rejoined F quickly, onl too proud to serve his friend, ‘“‘ You can have a the ed I’ve got, if you want it.” “‘But-T don’t; appreciating your liberality, m bold Ferg, I will content myself with this nickel. I'll come to-morrow to see how you make out in your search for my portemounaie.’ “ geht. “You'll know it, if you are fortunate enough to see it again?” “T think so.” ¥ Dl boll, pom how you can make sure of it: my Initi ©, D.8., ave on it.” “TD bear that in mind.” ‘*Now I'll be off.”’ A hearty hand-shake between them, and they rted. a8 moines ween a Pigdaia posane wen aa ; ve you foun ” she uired, eagerly, moment she beheld him. bs “ ‘*No,”’ he replied. “Where's your friend Clint?” was her next gpauiry; and she flushed just a little as she made “Gone home.” ; Fleda breathed a regretful sigh. “Oh, my! but isn’t he a nice young fellow?” she murmured; aud she took up a rosy-cheeked apple, and began to polish it energetically with her apron. ‘*Do you like him?” ‘Ever so much!’ “Sodol. I mean to bea gentleman when I grow up, same as he'll be. I don't think I was ever cut out for a loafer!” “I’m sure you were not!” replied Fieda, with emphasis. ; ‘Give me the key to the rooms.” ‘*Sakes alive! what do you want to go there for?” she rejoined, surprisedly. ' “T want to put on my old clothes, and then I'm re to see if I can find Clint’s pocketbook for ‘him.”’ ‘“Why, do you know who has got it?” “Not for certain; but I think it lies between Ragged Terry, the Chicken, and Rowdy Rube, and I think I can find them, and if they are flush, I shall know what made them so,”’ “That's a good idea, Here’s the key.” “T'll bring it baek to you after I change my clothes,” said Fergus, as he received it; ‘‘and I sha’n’t be long about it, either.”’ He hurried away, and in ten minutes was back with the key, and dressed in the worst clothes he possessed, even worse than those in which I first presented him to the reader, “Oh! why did you put on that ragged coat?” cried Fleda, as he gave her back the key. ‘* Because I wanted ‘to look as bad as I could,” he answered, smilingly. “Well, you’ve succeeded! You look like a beggar!” “That's the way I want to Jook. Those coves don’t like to see a fellow any better dressed than they are. This will kind of gammon them.” ‘Where are you going?”’ “T'll tell you where I’ve been when I come back.” * How long are you going to be gone?” “That's aard van but I guess P’ll be home to supper,’’ Le answ' w laughingly, and walked away.
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Fergu _——-— CHAPTER IX. THE YOUNG THIEVES’ DEN. Peravs turning into Pearl street, went on to Dover street, and out on the pier. Half-way up it, he encountered a man, who was leaning against one of the large wooden posts that are used to moor vessels, lazily smoking a cigar. He was of a large, strong frame, attired in a rough kind ef business suit, and wore a black felt hat, pulled uite low down over his brows. His eyes were small, f agrayish hue, and peered from beneath heavy lack eyebrows. A restless movement-of the pupils, kind of looking out of the corners, denoted a keen ‘watchfulness, despite his sluggish attitude. ‘Hallo! exclaimed Fergus, in his impulsive manner, as he saw this lounger: ** Hallo, you!’* he responded, in a gruffly amicable fashion. The recognition between them had been mutual. This man was the mysterious tenant of the upper floor of the tenement bouse in Baxter street, where Fergus lived, and who was known to the other inmates of the house as Mr, John Jackson, Fergus wondered what he was doing there, but John Jackson took the boy’s presence as a matter of course. Why, the ensuing conversation will explain, “Going to the den?” inquired Mr, John Jackson, who had @ faculty of conversing without removing his cigar from his mouth. “Yes,” replied Fergus; and he was perplexed by Mr. John Jackson’s knowledge of the young thieves’ haunt, *“ Ah! I didn’t know you belonged to that crowd,” continued Mr, John Jackson, meditatively. ““¥ don’t,”’ replied Fergus, pointedly. Mr. John Jackson looked surprised, and somewhat incredulous. “How did you know anything about it?’ he demanded, suspiciously. “ How did you?” retorted Fergus. Mr. John Jackson's thick lips parted in a grin, and his strong white teeth glistened strangely in con- trast with his heavy black mustache, and the end of the cigar, firmly gripped by those teeth, was jerked up toward his left eye again. “Cute little cuss!’’ he muttered, ‘‘ Well, I just discovered it by accident.” * And I discovered it one day when I came down here with the Chicken to have a swim,” said Fergus. Jackson nodded his head, still quite affable, and his keen y eyes lingered pleasantly upon the _ frank and fearless face of the boy before him, _ ‘Going to joln them?” he asked. “*No,” answered Fergus, decidedly. » **T wouldn't!" rejoined Jackson, with an approving nod of the head. ‘Game too small for a lad of your mettle. Ican put you up to something where you can make more in a night than they make in a year, Some risk, though. But you are not afraid?” ‘* Not much!” “ Ah! I thought not—don’t look like it,” responded Jackson, with satisfaction, ‘Can always tell by the eyes what stuff a boy has got inhim. You'll do! i'll gamble on you every time. Come up to my room to-night—you know where it is?—top flight, first door to the left—come up, I want to have a talk with you. A Mr. John kson gave his cigar another twist, nodded his head in a mysterous fashion, pulled him- self up leisurely from the leaning posture he had as- sande against the post, and sauntered away. Fergus turned to look after him. “Well, he’s a queer kind of cove, anywa “2 he thought. “I wonder what he wants with me?’ He did not deliberate long over this question, how- ever, his mind being intent upon the purpose that had brought him there. He walked on to the end of the pier, where he found six boys, whose ages ranged from twelve to seventeen, engaged in bathing, jumping and diving, with great glee, into the river. As the day was warm, Fergus thought it would be a good idea to take a swim himself; besides, he rea- soned, it would allay any suspicion that might be excited as to his object in coming thither, He was hailed boisterously the boys, who all knew him, as he knew them. They were part of a ang of young thieves who made their head-quar- oe here, and it was generally supposed that they lived on what they could steal from vessels, or from tae Fulton market. : Under the pier they had a snug hiding-place where they could live and sleep and elude the police. ‘They prowled around the docks, watching their op- perresey to steal any small articles that were left ying about. hen chased by a policeman, they jumped into the water (all being expert swimmers), dove out of sight, and swam between the spiles under the dock, and defied arrest. Ifa liceman procured a boat and followed them, the young scamps, like wharf rats, which they so much resembled, would swim out on the | side toward the next pier, and so escape. When it was high tide it was dangerous ror a man to venture into their amphibious den. Fergus quickly divested himself of his garments as he an- swered their greeting, and then jumped into the water, e had recognized all that were there; Micky Shea, Archie Quale, Johnny Cregan, Dicky Long, and two brothers, named reapecs rey Tommy and Billy Googan; but Rowdy Rube, Johnny Dugan, the Chicken, and Ragged Terry, were not among the swimmers. Thinking they might be in the den, Fergus swam between the spiles, and clambered up to it. The den was formed Fy, nailing cross-pieces to the spiles, about two feet below the top, and boards were laid across these, forming a floor. This served a | | flourishin, them as a receptacle for their stolen goods, as well asa ee a Fergus found the den unoccupied; po oe owed he sought were not there. He dropped b into the water again. “No use fooling round here,” he muttered. “I must look somewberé else for them.” He climbed up to the top of the pier, where he found all the boys collected. ‘Goin’ out, Ferg?’ inquired Micky Shea. 2 Yes,” answered Fergus, beginning to dress him- self. ** Why, you hain’t been in but a minnit.” ‘Long epough. I only wanted a dip.” His example seemed to be contagious, for the other boys began to resume their clothes. This was not a lengthy operation, as none of them possessed any superfluous articles of wardrobe, Presently a loud outcry burst from the lips of Tommy Googan, the youngest boy in the party. *Somebody’s gone through my pockets!’ he cried, ‘‘ You've stole my money, Dicky Long!” “ Yer lie!” retorted Dicky Long, promptly. “Say that ag’in and I’ll belt you in the snout!’ “Give me back my money!” whined Tommy, retreating to his brother, who was a much larger and older boy than himself. “T ain’t got it—I’ve got my— O-h!” Dicky Long had thrust his hands into his pockets as hes and this sudden break in his words and exclam “was caused by the sudden discovery that they were empty, — ‘ aici ae been through me!” be added, ex- ly. ‘And me, too!”’ howled Micky Shea, Archie Quale, and Johnny Cregan, in al chorus. Billy Googan pre ed that he had also been robbed. ; ‘ **Don't you know who’s done it?” he asked, significantly. All eyes were turned upon Fergus, and he was not slow to comprehend the implication, He flushed indignantly, and turned quickly upon Micky Shea, an old adversary of his. “You lying scamp! do you mean to sayI stole your money ?”’ he demanded, fiercely. Micky drew a knife from his pocket, which opened with a spring and Serer es a murderous-looking blade, four inches in length. “Keep off!” he shouted, brandishing the knife. “You've been a-whipping me for some time, when- ever you got a chance, and you ain’t a-goin’ to do it no more. You've belted me in the snout and kicked me, and now if you tech me I'll just Hp pi MPT “You just put down your knife, and I'll fight you with my left. arm, tie the right behind me,” said Fergus, persuasively, “You're the thief that’s got the money, and you know it!" There was a murmur among the boys at this pro- osal, Pe Put down your knife, and fight it out fair,” sug- gested Johnny Cregan. But Micky Shea had no idea of aocenting Fergus's challenge. As he had intimated, he bad ve Hogi ished a grudge against him, and he was thirsting for revenge. He wished, however, to have the rest of the band make common cause against Fergus, for he still stood in fear of him, even with the ¢ in his hand. “He hain’t got no business ‘round here,” he cried, * He ain’t one of us, and he only came here to steal our money.” This was more than Fergus’s hot blood could stand. “T’ll steal you!’ he shouted, and made a sudden dash at Micky Shea, “The suddenness of this attack took Micky by sur- prise, for he did not think Fergus would dare to attack him with the knife in his hand. He made a futile slash at Fergus with the knife, but the Vearnaught a the blow aside with his left arm and shot out with his right, planting his fist be- tween Micky’s eyes with such good will that the oung rascal was sent literally “heels over head,”’ or he went down on his back with a resounding thump, and his lggs went up and he rollee over like a eet oni then lay sprawling on his face, howling dismally. The knife was thrown from his. hand by the vio- lence of his fall. Billy Googan instantly gre cd it. ‘He's kilt Micky; go for him, boys!"’ he shouted. But he found himscit gone for with a celerit was more surprising than pleasant, for Fergus sprung upon him with a panther-like bound wrenched the knife from bis hand before he could use it, and as Billy twisted away from him, adminis- tered a resounding kick upon the rear part of his per- son, Aah just then was brought prominently for- ward, ; “Now, I'll fix some of you!” shouted Fergus, the knife; but this was done merely to frighten the boys, for he had no idea of using it. The fray was interrupted in an unexpected man- ner. ‘“Cheese it! here’s a cop!’’ cried Dicky Long, shrilly. Fergus found himself grasped roughly by the shoulder, and the knife was knocked out of h hand by the blow of a club which did not spare his knuckles. “Tve got you, you young devilskin!” exclaimed a voice, and Fergus speedily discovered that it be- longed to a brawny policeman, e€ young thieves, at the warning cry, adopted their usual tactics, darting to the string-piece of the pier, plunged over into the water, and then, swim- ming between the spiles, disappeared like so many scared whart-rats. ‘ peo and the policeman were left alone on the P er. “Oh-h!"’ cried Fergus as his knuckles smrtaed oliceman’s club, “You ° off if I s@e fit,"’ returned the ceman, ; ek “ You'll see fits if you try it,” exclaimed Fergus, fiercely, me > The policeman shook him up vigorously and with a aren kind ef satistabtion. 75 vt Sos ‘Doyou want a clubbing, you imp pt the devil?’”he inquired, and with an exhibition o toce- tiousness, as if he was pleased with the boy's sp while he reproved it. F “No, I don’t,” seplied Fergus; but he ceased to struggle, convinced of the folly of resistance to strength so much superior to his own. *“Why don’t you take a fellow of your own size?” “Ho, ho! You find I've got at g way with moe, do you?” cried the policeman, with a chuckle, “Altogether too “responded Fergus. “I wish you'd take your hands Ct, of Satan!’ I must “Never a take, young take you in, I’ve been watching your crowd for some time, and you're the first one I've been able ti d you're the firs ‘ve been able to lay my hands on, We'll have to make an example of you. So pick be your knife and come along.” “Tt isn’t my knife.” “Whose is it?’’ questioned the policeman, his man- ner hag that he thought Fergus had uttered aa untru a Micky Shea’s.”’ ‘* Who's he—one of the gang?” ae Yes, ” “How did you come by it?” “T took it from Billy Googan, who was going to stick me with it. ; The policeman laughed. : ** Pity he hadn't stuck two or three of you,” he said; “it would have saved the city the expense of hanging you one of these Sta Pick up the knife, anyway; no nonsense, mind! If you try any she- eniger on me T’ll club you within an inch of your e ’ “T'll knock your poli He still retained his grasp on Fergus as he stooped ick up the knife. “ Now shut up the blade.”’ Fergus did so, and the policeman took it from him and put it in his pocket, “That’s right,” he said; ‘just you keep docile, It'll make things easier for you. Come along, now.” “What for? I ain’t done anything—I don't belong to that thieving gang!”’ The policeman shook his head in an incredulous manner. to ‘*Tell that to the marines!’’ he rejoined, ‘‘ You can’t play that on me—it'’s too thin! Ive been w you twigsing your crowd for some time, and ete enough with the others before you got into the ergus could not deny this. He was beginning to experience the evil results of keeping bad com: “ ‘ } Thay said I stole their money,” he said dog - “ Just as like as not you did, That's the kind a crowd you are; when you can't steal from anybody glee Pats steal from yourselves just to keep your an ‘ The policeman led Fer yoy submit- ting doggedly. Indeed, he was rather Bh Pky finding self a prisoner under such circumstances; but, knowing his own innocence, he did not imagine that any punishment awaited him, may He was yet to learn how justice is administered in the oe metropolis of the New World. “ Adversity makes evaarige bed-fellows,” is an old saying, and a true one, as Fergus discovered on that eventful night of bis life. A horrid din and babble were kept up through the night, by three intoxicat- ed pecners, oat he 0 : im fo B @ haile ¢ approach of morning w looking for a spee 4 release. He was marched to the ‘lombs with the others. Justic Nixlaw was on the bench, a short, fat man, with a consequential look, and a high o , along, the ion of his own merits, and the c with which he disposed of the cases, and meted ou ‘thirty days—two months—three months—a year,"’- fairly took away Fe: ’s breath. His turn came in due course, and he was led be- fore the Justice, by the policeman who had arrested him, } The Justice knitted his brows and frowned at Fer- gus in a portentous manner. “Hah! who's this?” he inquired. ‘A young re- probate?” Fergus fired up at this. “T ain't a reprobate!’ he cried, “Hah! of course not. I don't a you would admit it—you never do,’’ he said, sarcastically. ‘Who arrested him?” , “T did,” answered the officer, “On what charge? What's he been doing?” The policeman related the circumstances that led him ao arrest Fergus. ae ae “Here’s a young scamp e Justice, with an oracular;shake of the bead. “One of those thieves—fighting, with a knife in his hand. Yo make a good beginning, young man.” “T ain’t bai Ye yet,” remorsreted Fe wel“ Tem not a thief. I don’t belong to the gang; I was only down there swimming—”’ “That's against the city ordinarce,” interrupted the Justice, sternly. : “Well, a feller oughter have a chence to wasb himself this warm weather," rejoined Fergus, dog- gedly. : F 18 Justice shook his head again in h/ portentous ashion. “e — pave te send pie u Ne he said, ‘Idon't want to go up; Lain’t done nothin« wrong!" cried Fergus. | with e “Do ng think he’s one of those young thieves?*. the justice inquired of the policeman,
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10 ‘‘T have no doubt of It,” replied that officer. “Probably the ringleader?’ **T shouldn’t be surprised.” 2 “What have you got ag’in' me?” demanded Fer- gus, surprised by t testimony. “Bilenee |’ roared the justice. ‘‘You are here to puawer, questions, not to ask them. What's your me ‘Fergus Fearnaught.”’ “Ah, yes; I ht have known it would be some- ang ethat. Fearnaught? Do-naught more like- ly. at does your father do?” “ Ain’t got any.”’ “Your mother’s a widow. eh? Ah, yes; lot’s of that kind of widow in the city.”’ “*T baven’t got any mother.” “No mother nor father?” “No,” answered Fergus, tremulously, “Hah! never had any, perhaps, eh? He paused here and smiled grimly, and the attend- ant policemen chuckled audib. VAt the joke, as they were in duty bound todo. ‘‘Where do you live?” he continued. . “In Baxter street.” “Ah, yes; nice neighborhood that! What do you do for a living ?”’ “T do jobs, when I can get them.” _“ And steal when days for you. Take him away.” ‘Thirty days!” exclaim Fer; in dismay. “Thirty days! when I ain’t done nothing, you old pudding-head!” ii “Hah! what’s that?’ cried the justice, wrathfully. “ Pudding-head, eh? That's thirty days more!” The policeman dragged Fergus away, whispering in his ear: “Held your teugue, you fool, or you'll get six months,” Soon the prison-van arrived, and all those who had been sentenced were placed in it, The door was shut and bolted. The deputy-sheriff took his seat by the door, the driver gathered up the reins, the load of prisoners rolied out, and the iron gates clanged behind them. The route of the ‘“* Black Maria” was through Elm to Grand street, up the Bowery to Third avenue ee to Twenty-sixth street and down it to the East iver, ' At length the pier at the foot of Twenty-sixth street was reached, and the van rattled through a awe gateway, having over it the following inscrip- on: , Dupartment oF CHARITIES AND CoRRECTION. This is the last of the wayside inns on the road to Blackwell's Island. _ There the prisoners were unloaded. The men were put ina waiting-cell on one side of the pier, and the women in a corresponding cell on the other. ‘The ee came to the grating of the men's ccll, ; “Boys, do you want any tobacco or anything to eat” ne inquired. “Here’s an old man will sell you some.” ) 2h a ae taal was the speedy answer from a dozen f “Tm to spend all oney!” cried one, “ Wha I Sant of mithey while I'm goin'?” Another tried to sell to a friend of the deputy- sheriff, who was gazing curiously at the prisoners, an old silver watch that wouldn’t go. He was **dead broke,” he said, and wanted some money. hy Beg of banter the bystander offered him a dol- lar for it, and the offer was at once accepted. In the meanwhile, an old, decrepit-looking man, with en] white hair and a thick white beard, ’ap- proached the grating with a basket containing pers of chewing tobacco and some stale cakes. fre 1 M of his small stock in trade, all but one cake. * This cake is for the light-haired boy,” he said. Fergus started as he found himself thus alluded to, and he thought the voice sounded familiar in his ears. He approached the aoe ‘*Here’s the cake, bubby,”’ continued the old man, Fe extended his hand for it, and as the old man placed it in his , he pressed his hand sig- and whispered: “1D get ron out of this, Fergus. Watch at night —the first dark one that comes—and when you hear the sound of a fish-horn jump into the river and strike out for the opposite shore. There'll be boat ready to pick you up. Mum! don’t give it away to anyb i Another si cant pressure of the hand and the old man hobbled away. F 6 was in a maze. Tie old man was Mr. John Sackson, the mysterious tenant of the upper floor of the Baxter street house. “ Well, I hope he will get me off,” mused Ned,‘ i = I don’t want to live long with such a crowd as 8. ” An hour later he was ushered into a oell, the door of which bore this inscription: ** No. 1807 Faxaus Fearnavent, aged 16 yrs. Ameri- can. Vi t. 60 days—Auqust Wth, 186—." He had reached Blackwell's Island. Effingham H. Pickles sat in his office with a pile of briefs, bound with the customary red_ tape, spread out on a table before him, making a show of being very busily occupied. This was a device he always ws when he expected a visitor. é had been looking out of his windows, glancing up the street toward Broadway—his office was on the corner of one of the streets leading in that direc- tion—when he saw Mr. Rufus Glendenning coming down the street. He knew his purpose must be a visit to his office, and so he prepared himself ac- cordingly. ou can’t! Oh, yes; it’s thirty | | i | | | ‘Come in!” he cried, when he heard the knock at the door, and Rufus Glendenning entered the office. ‘** Have you learned anything!” inquired Glenden- ning, eagerly, “Hum! not a great deal, but still something.” ** Something ?’’ ‘‘ Well, in fact, every thing that can be learned at present, for the boy possesses the remarkable fac- pi cf being able to hold his tongue. He’s sly, sir— 8- -y bd “You have discovered where he lives?’ “Yes; ina tenement house in Baxter street, on the ground floor, with a poor widow and her daugh- ter. The daughter is sha: sharp as vin-e-gar!” ‘* How long bas he lived there?” ** About two years.”’ “And is he known by the name of Fergus Fear- naught?” “ By that, and no other.” ‘But hasn’t he another name?” “‘Ifhe has nobody knows anything about it but himself—and he'll never tell it—ne-ver! Haven't you an idea now, in confidence, in the strictest con- fi-dence, who he belongs to?” asked Pickles, per- suasively. “Not the slightest,’’ replied Glendenning, with a promptitude that convinced Pickles he was speaking the truth. “That is what I want to find out,” “But the resemblance which you recognized—I thought—-hum! ah!’ “That is what I want to account for. It may be accidental after all. But then the ere he mut- tered, as the recollection of it flashed through his aay 7 Oh, by heaven, there is more than chance in this!” He sprung excitedly to his feet, and burriedly put on his hat. ) ‘Perhaps she could tell! T'll try it!’ he continued. ‘*Keep on, my friend, you are doing well; don’t lose sight of the boy! I'll see you again—in a day or two, } Glendenning hurried away. “Sup!” mused Pickles, ‘*Ah, hum,hab! There’s a woman in the case—always a woman! I might have known it!” CHAPTER X. TRACKING THE SECRET, Loranta YorkKE descended from her chamber to the library to select a book and pass away the hour that yet remained before her husbans would return from his place of business in New Xork. To her surprise she found Rufus Glendenping there. He was standing before a small picture, in a plain walnut frame, which hung against the wall, This was the portralt that Lorania had painted, and she had caused it to be framed and placed there. It represented a boy with flaxen ha‘r, bright. blue eyes, a peachy complexion, and regular and ‘hand- some features. In fact, it was a charming painting of a boy’s head, who might be some fifteen or six- teen years of age, Underneath the head was written, in a bold, though feminine hand, a single word, a name—the name of RoBERT. Rufus Glendenning’s features wore a puzzled ex- Keene as he studied this picture. He turned his ead to look at her as the rustling of her dress an- nounced her coming, and he saw a slight wrinkle of displeasure between her shapely eyebrows; but it was goné ina moment. ~ “You here?” she said. “Yes, Mrs. Yorke,” he answered, with a courteous inclination of his head, “Ts this a fancy sketch ?’’ he inquired. “ What else should it be?’ she replied, evasively. “Tt looks like a portrait.’ She turned around upon him with a sudden quick- ness, “Ah! that shot told,” was his exultant thought. « “What makes you think so?” she demanded. “Because I have seen a boy in New York who is the very image of this picture,’’ he answered, bold- She made a step toward him, and then checked herself; but she could not restrain the eager gleam- ing of her eyes, They told more than she was aware of, “You have seen—in New York—a boy — like that?” she said, steadying the tones of her voice. “T have,” he answered, well satisfied with the effect he had produced, but Pigs y Wes replies with great caution soas not to alarm her, and put her on her guard, ’ “Where?” “Tn Chatham street.” “ Ah 978 This was a sigh more than an exclamation. She turned pain to the shelves and took a volume out, but he observed that she selected it hap-hazard. She turned to him again, holding the volume care- <5 in her hand. “Do you know this boy?” she continued. He smiled, and replied: “Tt can hardly claim the honor of his acquaint- ence. I have seen, and exchanged a few words with him. I was attracted toward him by his free- and-easy bearing, and the singular attitude in which he bad placed himself.”’ “ Flow singular?’ she asked, displaying an eager interest in these details. : Glendenning described the peculiar manner in which Fergus had patronized the bootblacks, and he thought that a faint smile flickered over Lorania’s pale features as she listened to him. “ What is this boy’s name, do you know?” “Yes; Fergus.’ He paused here designedly, and he saw her eyes gleam again. He thought she would be disappointed in the Fergus Fearnaught, the New York Boy. name, but she was not; at all events, he could not discover any sign of disappointment in her face. “ Fergus?’ she repeated. “ Yes.”’ ““What other name?” she inquired; and he saw that she awaited his reply with anxiety. ‘* Fearnaught,”’ This answer surprised her. ‘‘Fearnaught—Fergus Fearnaught?’’ she ques- tioned. ~ ae Yes.”’ “Strange,” she murmured. ‘* How strange?” he asked, insidiously. “The name—does it not strike you so? It seems very singular to me,” she answered, composedly. “She is on her guard,’ reflected Glendenning, 1 — Iam on the track of the secret, and I'll have e a D0 you know where this boy lives?” continued Lorania. “ Yes.”’ “Where?” she demanded, eagerly “In Baxter street, with a poor widow-woman and her daughter.” “ Do you know their name?” “I don’t think Pickles mentioned the name," re- pie Glendenning, incautiously; ‘‘if he did, I have orgotten it; but he knows.”’ ‘Who is Pickles?’’ she questioned, quickly. “A lawyer friend of mine, who has an office in Center street, New York.” “How came he to know anything about this boy?’ ‘*T asked him to make some inquiries.” “Why should you interest yourself in this boy?’ she questioned, in a suspicious manner, and with some show of displeasure. He bit his lip vexedly, finding that she had led him into telling her more than he intended. A bold frankness was his best plan, he thought, and acting on this thought, he answered: “Tl was led to do so by a strange resemblance that I saw in the boy’s face.” ‘To whom?”’ she rejoined, icily. “To yourself.” She shrugged her shoulders coldly. ““Ah! you think you saw such a resemblance?” she said, “T saw it then—I see it now,” ‘“ Where?” “Tn this tiene here.” ‘Indeed !”’ “Tt is enough Mie the boy to have been his por- trait—and you are enough like the boy to have been his mother1”’ - Her limbs stiffened rigidly, and her pale face was as white as if it had been carved in alabaster. “His mother!” she murmured, and the words had a hollow sound. He was surprised at the effect he had prodmced. ‘* Another chance shot, but it seems to have struck home,”’ he told himself, He resolved to follow up his advan ‘*His mother!” he repeated, intedly. “Oh! surely you cannot think that?’ she respond- ed, huskily, He saw her clutch at the back of the cbair near which she was standing, as if a sudden weakness had seized upon her frame. “* You look ill,’’ he cried; ‘‘ pray be seated.” “It is nothing,” she faltered; but she slid into the chair, and rested her right arm upon the tabie. He could see the powerful effort she was making to re- cover her composure, ‘Shall I bring you a glass of water?” he inquired, solicitously. “No, nothing—leave me,” she answered. ‘‘ This is a sudden lassitude—caused by the heat of the weather. It will soon pass away.” He stood afew pacesfrom her, studying her pale face with an eager, wistful regard. Never that face appeared to him more lovely than at that mo- ment. Butits beauty was that of some exquisite statue carved from coldest marble. ‘“‘Mrs, Yorke,” he said, and his manner was most bi acnpnrat humble, ‘‘do you want a friend?” She turned a surprised glance upon him, and he could see that she was fast recovering her com- posure, “A friend?” she repeated, vaguely. “Yes; an earnest and sincere friend,” he con- tinued; ‘‘one who would study your interests as if they were his own; one who would devote his lie to you, smooth every care and trouble from your path, and prevent this secret, which you have so carefully guarded, from ever being known?” * What secret?” she demanded, with a resump- tion of that haughtiness which had so often galled im. “The boy.” “e Ab y* “He is living in poverty, and porents: is next door to crime. Would you have him grow up to be one of the desperate characters in the city?” She winced at this, as he thought she would, ané@ her white ie were sternly compressed, but she did not make him any reply. Encouraged by her si- lence he proceeded: “Tcan save him from sucha fate. Ican place him in a position where he can earn an honest liv- ing, and become, in time, an honorable member of society.” She did not receive this proposal in the manner he expected, “Why should you do this?” she responded, coldly. “To serve you,” he answered, significantly. ‘* How would it serve me?” The question perplexed him. ie “You appeared to be interested in the boy. ‘*Perhaps I am, but I think you have mistaken the cause.” :
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Fergus “She was thoroughly herself again, calm, com- posed, and passionless. He smiled deprecatingly. ‘*T do not think so,” he rejoined. ‘Do not fear to trust me—you can safely do so.” Her pale lips curled with a slight expression of scorn. “Thave nothing to fear, Mr. Glendenning,’’ she replied, with hauteur. ‘I will tell you something that will rise you. I have myself seen this boy. He was indeed surprised, and his looks showed it. - “ You have seen him?” he cried. “T have seen him,” * Lately?” “Within a week.” “Ah!” he ejaculated, “T, too, was struck by of—my brother.” **Your brother?’’ ‘“Who died when he was only ten years of age. There is bis picture drawn from memory.” “Robert—and not Fergus?” he cried, glancing at the inscription. : “TI beg, Mr, Glendenning, that you will not in- terest yourself in this strange youth on my behalf; if you choose to befriend him let it be on your own account. Excuse menow, I must dress for dinner,” She inclined her head haughtily, and sweeping by with majestic grace, left the library. er was & man more completely nonplused than Rufus haha het He stared at the door through which she | disappeared for several minutes in blank astonishment. “The deuce!’’ he muttered, shaking off this trance of amazement. “Have I been on the wrong scent all the time? CanI be mistaken?” He deliberated over this.’ “No, no,” he continued, confidently; ‘Tar positive that I am right. The game is to a more difficult one than I imagined. .She has taken the alarm ‘and will confess nothing—if she can help it. Butcan shedoso? That remains to be seen. I'll force it from ber! I'll bend her haughty spirit, let it cost me what it will!” ‘ erplexedly. rrave, for it reminded me CHAPTER XI. RIOKLES EXERTS HIMSELF. Tue evening of the same day that Lawyer Pickles received the visit from Rufus Glendenning, he called at the house in Baxter street. “There's money in this case,” was the conclusion he had arrived at. “That boy belongs to a good family—he's got it in his face—good blood will tell— and I must keep him inhand. There'll be a nice bill of costs at the end of it.” He found Fleda and her mother in a state of ex- citement. Fe had not come home to his supper, and they were anxious about him. “Pooh! that's nothing,” said Pickles. '* He’s gone to the theater, perhaps. I will call again in the morning,” he continued, addressing himself to the widow; ** will you be kind ee to request Fergus to remain untill come? It will be to his interest to do so, I assure you.” The widow promised to do so, and the lawyer took his depa : “What do you su he wants with Fergus, mother?” questioned Fleda, when Pickles was gone. “Tm vf I don’t know,” replied Mrs. Nandrus; ‘*but I think ‘he hay found out something about <n folks.” k “Do you think so?” cried Fleda, surprisedly. “Yes; I have vers thought that Fergus had some folks, and that they were well off.’’ “Then why didn’t they take care of him?" “That is what I cannot explain, but neers this lawyer can, Who knows but what Fe ’s friends, or relatives, are searching for him, and this lawyer is pelptog ‘heet He wouldn’t waste his time for nothing; lawyers never do." This theme being once started, was discussed be- tween them till quite late. They sat up until twelve o’clock at night anxiously watching for the return of Fergus, ¢ d then they reluctan -Y went to bed wer eet conviction that somethiug had hap- n i PoThe sat down to their breakfast the next morn- ing with sorrowful hearts, which quite spoiled their appetites. The meal was more a form than any- t Re hy was speedily disposed of, and the table cleared away. “Oh! where on Fergus be?” Fleda cried, for the twentieth rey oe heard the hall door close, and a step in the entry. “Here he comes at last!"' she exclaimed, joy- fully. She sprung to the door and threw it wide open, and, to her intense disappointment, fomnd Mr. Ef- flogham H. Pickles there. “Oh! is it only you?” she cried, vexedly. He smiled upon her, nodded his head, and entered the room in hist usual unceremonious manner. “Only me,” responded Pickles, graciously, ‘‘ But where’s my bold Fergus? I do not perceive him ” : ere. Fleda’s face clouded again at the question, ‘He hasn’t cone DDN yet,” she answered. ' es Was S sed. : Tot come home!" he rejoined. “What, out all ht? But where was he soing when he left—didn’t he tell you?” inquired Pickles, quickly. / “Oh; no, he wouldn't,” answered Meda; and she proceeded with great volubility to give Pickles an account of Fergus's expedition in his old clothes, and the mysterious way in which he had set about it, Pickles listened to her attentively, and did not put any uestions, allowing her to exhaust her sub- ject and her breath together. ; “Where do you suppose he was going?” he in- quired, when she paused breathlessly, Before she could answer there came a. knock at the door. “Come in!” Pickles called out, as if he was the proprietor of the place. the door opened and Clinton Stuyvesant entered. “Oh! here's Clint!” cried Fleda, springing im- pulsively toward him, ‘Have you seen Fergus?” Clinton looked bewildered at the question. ‘Seen him? No; that’s whatI came for. Isn’t he hére?”’ he responded. *N-o-0,”' replied Fleda, dismally. “ And he’s been away all night.” “Then he couldn't havg found it,” cried Clinton, . “What? What was hétrying to find?” e ity portemonpaie, that 1 lost down the street.” ‘Aha! here’s a clew!” exclaimed Pickles; “ ayd I think I can follow it up.” He had keenly noted Clinton’s appearance and dress, and was very favor- ably impressed by them, ‘‘ Who is this young gen- tleman?’’ he inquired of Fleda. ; “He's a friend of Fergus—and his name’s Clint Stuyvesant “Clinton Me Witt Stuyvesant,” aménded Clinton. “Ah! a scion ef one of our old Knickerbocker families,” continued Pickles, in his most affable manner, “Two or three of them,” answered Clinton. “Ab, yes—proud to know you, young sir. Per- mit me to introduce myself; my name is Effingham H. Pickles, attorney-at-law; perhaps you may have heard of me, as I have gained some little cele- brity in criminal cases. I have gained severa) mur- der cases on the plea of insanity. Just give me the particulars of the loss of your portemonnaie, my young friend, and, possibly, I may be of some as- sistance in aiding you to recover it,” “That's so, as you are a lawyer, andI don’t mind paying you for your trouble, if you are lucky enough to do so,” responded Clinton, “Do not charge yourself with the question of recompense, Mr. Stuyvesant,’ replied Pickles, with a condescending wave of his right hand. “Iam personally interested in this matter—interested in the fortunes of that gallant youth, Fergus the Fear- naught, and shall be delighted—delighted to serve his friend. Come with me; let us constitute our- selves private detectives for the occasion, and see if we cannot get on the track of this Ragged Terry for I think he knows something about your money,” “Do you know’ him?” inquired Clinton in some surprise. “Oh, yes; I wey my eye on all these young scamps ye sare ve clients.” “Nice ents they are,I should say!” cried Clin- pom laughingly. “T should not want any of that 60 “We make more by rogues than we do by honest mén; that’s one of the beauties of the proveesion, * replied Pickles, with a chuckle, ‘ But, come along, and let us see what we can accomplish in the way of discoveries.” Pickles and Clinton Stuyvesant left the house to- gether, and walked down the street a short dis- tance in the hope of meeting Ragged Terry, but they did not succeed in doing so, ; ‘He lives somewhere round here,” said Piekles; ““we must make some inquiries." ‘*But do you think we shall find him at home?” asked Clinton. ‘ ‘Well, no, hardly, but we might get some idea of the streets he frequents on his begging expeditions,” replied Pickles, ust then a blowsy Irish woman came out of an alley with a pail of dirty water in her hand, which she splashed unceremoniously into the gutter, Pickles darted toward her as she turned to retrace her steps, crying out: “My good woman!”’ She wheeled around vy. and it appeared to Clinton that she was strongly tempted to throw her em pty ail at the little lawyer’s head. ca ell, what does ye want?” she snarled, b Pickles beamed one of his affable smiles upon er. ‘We are looking for a lad known as Ragged Terry,” he Piovaing 9 " ed Terry, is it?” **Do you know where we could find him?” * Bod ‘cess to me if Ido! I ‘spect he’s tuck up, and sint to the Island, mebbe, as he ought to have been, long ago—for I haven't set eyes on him since ete tical < you; that will do,”’ responded Pickles, itely. PThe woman looked suspiciously at him and Clin- ton, and shook her head. “It's no good ye want him for,” she said, with conviction; and went back through the alley. ““Not much information there,’’ observed Clinton, smilingly. / Pickles shook his head in a commiserating man- ner. “Ah! the innocence of youth!” he rejoined. “If we could only retain it, but we cannot—we can-not. My dear young sir, that woman has told me all I wish to know,’ “The deuce she has!” cried Clinton, surprisedly, “She just has.” Then you did not wish to know much.” Pickles chuckled at Clinton's perplexity. **There’s where my legal acumen comes in,” he re- plied. ‘“‘Ragged Terry has got your pocket-book, sure. Don’t you see? He hasn't been home, Why not? Gone on aspree with the money, eh, ah?” * That's so!’’ responded Clinton, with conviction; and the little lawyer rose in his estimation from yan moment. “T never should have thought of that. . ‘Of course not; it’s not to be expected that you should. Every man to his trade”: : Fearnaught, the New York Boy. “What's the next move?” ; “Down to the den of these young thieves. Ten chances to one we shall find them enjoying a regu- lar blow-out at your expense.” “Tam afraid we will not find much of the mone left,” replied Clinton, as they proceeded on the way. o Well, I must confess our hope of recovering the money begins to look shady—quite ape rejoined Pickles, ‘‘ But there’s no help for that—if they’ve Hd ivoniy it we can’t get it back, though we can send) them up for it. Iam more anxious, though, to find out what has become of our bold Fergus.’ “So am T; for I fear he has got into trouble. The thought worries me because it was on my account,’” “Never worry; life is too short; take it lively. Care killed the cat! If Fergus is in a scrape we'll get him out of it—we’ll get him out—sure pop!" CHAPTER XII. A HIGH OLD TIME. Frepa attended to her business, as she called it,, in a very absent manner after she had arranged her: stand and wares at the custom corner. She had been there about a quarter of an hour without having a customer, when her attention was: attracted by the sound of boisterous laughter, and: she saw Rowdy Rube, Johnny the Chicken, and Terry coming along the sidewalk toward her, but so changed in their appearance that she rubbed her: f es surprisedly, and wondered if it really could be ey. ach one of them was dressed in a new summer suit, and wore a calico shirt of a variegated pattern, with a fancy necktie, of a high color, a new straw hat; and each one held a cigar in the corner of his mouth, with the nonchalance of an old smoker, with this difference, as Terry was the ebosteey boy he had contrived to get the longest cigar. ‘Oh, my!’ murmured Fleda to herself, as she hase them, ‘Ain't they just a-goin’ it? Clint. aureney t won't get much of mouey back, I’m» afraid. . The trio paused in front of Fleda’s stand, and saluted her boisterously. | “Gimme a pint o’ peanuts!" piped Terry, in his: shrill treble. “I don’t want no trust, neither.” He displayed a handful of change as he spoke. “Let's buy her out—give the gal a lift!” crie@ Rowdy Rube. “°Twon't take much to do that,” said the Chicken, ‘Help yerself, boys, and I'll stand the damage.” The boys began to fill their pockets with Fleda's- wares, vociferously demanding the damage as they did so, They cleaned her stand, and paid ber the price she demanded without eavil; three princes of the blood royal oe ie not have dispensed their mene with a freer “ ne. " " “Now you can go home,’ erry, who- seemed to be in a particularly happy frame of mind; “and don’t say we never nuthin’ for er." ‘Oh, if I only knew where to find the lawyer and: Clint!’ thought Fieda, dy wor ta Then a new idea came suddenly into her brain, ‘ Perhaps they know where Fergus is!’’ This reflection was in- stantly acted upon. “When did you see hg last?’ she questioned, addressing the question in a. general manner to the whole three. : , ‘Why, don’t yer know?” returned Terry, “ Hain't. yer What?” rejoined Fled gasping! “What?” rejoin eda y. ’ “He's sent oe cried Row. e hahey exultingly. “He won't get another chance to punch my head) for some time to come,” Fleda looked, in a dismayed manner, from one boy’s face to another, and both the Chicken and Terry nodded a confirmation of Rowdy Rube’s: words. “Sent up!’ stammered Fleda, “Oh! what do you mean? Sent up where?” “To Blackwell's Island!” answered Terry, lugu- briously, ““ What for?” “For fichtin’ with Micky Shea down on the pier at Dover street. A cop came up an' grabbed Ferg, but the other coves scooted, an’ got away; an’ Ferg was carried to the station-house, an’ tuck to the Tombs in der mornin’, an' der judge sent bim up. That’s eg Arohie Quale told me, and he see’di Ferg tuck in,” Terry delivered this account volubly. “Oh, the lawyer and Clint must know this right away,'’ murmured Fleda. “Where are you going now, boys?” “Let's go to der Atlantic Garden an’ have some: lager beer and Switzer kase,"’ said Terry. ‘That's a go!” answered Rowdy Rube, approv- ingly. A bm convenient,’’ added the Chicken. The trio locked arms and walked away, swagger- ing along the sidewalk in a ludicrous manner. ‘Oh, jf they will only stop there long enough for me to Nad the lawyer and Clint, and send them there!” muttered Fleda to herself, as she hurried home with her stand. She deposited it in the house, gave her mother a hurried account of what she had heard, to her great surprise and grief, and n went in search of law- yer Pickles and Clinton Stuyvesant. Knowing that they would go to the Dover street. ier, she thought her best plan would be to proceed ere at once. Fleda was fleet of foot, and she soon reached Chatham street. As she | ep on the corner of Pear! street, waiting for the vehicles to pass, she: saw Pickles and nton Stuyvesant coming up Pearl street on the sep side, With a glad cry, and at the risk of being run over / '
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\ | 12 ‘by a horse car, she bounded across the street, and ean to them, crying out: Pg. here you are! I've found you—oh, I'm so “IT can tell you where you can find three of the gang!” cried Fleda, feeling some little exultation “over the tidings she had to impart. ‘“ You can?’’ exclaimed both Pickles and Clinton, én concert, “Yes; and I can tell you where Fergus is also,” and then she proceeded to recount her intelligence with all her natural vivacity. “That’s the way shings always turn out,’’ said / Pickles. “You may search for me weeks, months or even years, for something without success, an then stumble on it by the merest accident. Let’s go for the Atlantic Garden, Mr, Stuyvesant, and catch them young scamps." ‘Shall I go with you?” asked Fieda, in a tone that expressed a desire to accompany them. “No, my cowslip!” answered Pickles. ‘* You have dene enough, and now bby: can go home. I'll soon t Fergus olf the Islan ; that’s easily fixed—error n the writ—habeas corpus—have him out! Come, my young friend, we will not stand upon the order of our going, but go at once!” Fleda ¢ over again to Baxter street, and Pickles and Clinton Stuyvesant walked swiftly up Chatham street toward the Bowery. When they came to the Atlantic Garden the fpassed through the saloon to the garden beyond. About midway in the garden, seated at one of the ‘tables, they beheld the objects of their search, The description that Fleda had given them of their change in costume enabled Pickles and Clinton to weadily recognize the boys. Each ene had a mug of. foamy beer, and a plate of bread and cheese before him. It was evident, to tase one of their own phrases, that they were hav- ing **a high old time.’ There they are,” said Pickles. out, too, as the girl said.”’ ; - - = at my expense,” answered Clinton, nely. “ia, ha!” laughed Pickles. ‘*They don't often stumble on such a windfall, and they are making tthe most of it. Now, then, we must surprise them, for they'll run if they have a chance. The two large ones are seated together, you see, and the little chap opposite, Now I'll steal bebind them, and col- lar them, and you lay hold of the little one at the same time, I'l! go down this passage, and you take the other. Keep ccol—don’t get excited—saunter down leisurely. They are so busy with their feast that I don't think they will notice us. Go it!’ Piekles’s maneuver succeeded admirably. “Ain't, this jolly!’’ cried Rowdy Rube, replacing this mug upon the table after a hearty draught. ‘*Prime!” chirruped Terry. ‘ “ Blap bang!” exclaimed the Chicken. “Tt wes a lucky find that. of yourn, Terry,” con- tinued Rowdy Rube. ** He, he, he!”’ piped Terry. ‘The owner can af- ford to lose it, 1 guess. I wonder how he feels rabout now?” ** He feels you!" cried Clinton, clutching the di- minutive scamp firmly by Ins right shoulder. At the same moment Pickles secured Rowdy and the Chicken, pressing them down in their seats, and preventing them fro he The boys uttered a dismal how] in concert. ** Nabbed, by thunder!’ muttered Rowdy Rube. “TI was a-goin’ for ter bring it back, but they svouldn’t let me,”’ whined Leyes “Bring what back?" demanded Pickles, sternly. “This here swell cove’s pocket-book,”’ “Oho! then you admuat finding it,” continued Pickles, geet “He found it—I didn't!’ cried both Rowdy Rube and the Chicken in a breath. “See here, now, we are folng to make short work of you,” said Pickles, ‘ Sto your howling, or we'll turn you right over to the policemen we've got wait- a outside.” his fiction told with great effect upon the boys. Terry tried to slip out of his seat, and hide under the “ Nieely togged table, but Clinton pulled him back. ““None of that,’’ he eried. “Oh—o-h!” moaned Terry. ‘‘I didn’t mean for to 0 for to doit!” “Choke him, my young friend, if he don't keep quiet!"’ said Piekles. This command completely silenced Terry, and he remained limp and quiet. , “New then, fork over!’’ continued Pickles; ‘ that’s a la é you can understand. Fork over what ares left, and we'll let you off; I may promise hat, eh, Mr. Stuyvesant?” * Oertainly,”’ responded Clinton. “We'll fork,” cried Rowdy Rube, quickly; *‘ but there ain't much left; we'll fork over, but don’t send ws to the Island.” an a! and quickly !’’ answered Pickles. Rowdy Rube drew forth the portemonnaie and laid it on the table, and Terry and the Chicken placed their money beside it. He opened the portemonnaie and inspected its contents, *Hum—ah! four dollars and sixty-five cents. Pividend not hea Returned by Terry, whilom the ged, one dollar and eighty-five cents: ditto the Chicken, who is in nice feather, two dollars and ten cents. Sum total: eight dollars and sixty cents,”’ “Ts that all?” inquired Clinton, “very cent, The Loung ragamuffins have squan- dered nearly forty dollars, and have nothing but those clothes to show for it. Well, rascals, you have just had a high old time of it!” The young scamps exchanged apprehensive lances as Pickles counted thfe money they had re- turned, and when he made his remarks on the sam total they looked very blank. “You if we'd fork over you wouldn't send us up,” urged Rowdy Rube; ‘‘and we’ve forked, fair and square, all there is left.” “Tarry yet a little, there is something else.” The three boys exchanged apprehensive glances, ‘* Wot is it?” inquired Terry. “You told the little fc that keeps the peanut- Layer fl something. about Fergus, surnamed the Fear- naught?’ “We didn’t do nuffin to him! It was Micky Shea, niece Quale, and der rest on ’em!’’ cried Terry, quiekly. ** That’s so,” chimed in Rube and the Chicken, “Then he really has been sent to the Island?” " Yes; the Black Maria tuck him away this morn- “That will do. You can go.” The boys availed themselves of this permission in uite a hasty manner. Evidently they had a great read of the little lawyer. “Are you going to try and get Fergus off the Island?” Clinton inquired, as they walked toward the door leading into the street. “TInstanter! I shall release that bold youth from durance vile, not pervens in the exaggerated time designated as the * twinkling » @ bed-post,’ but with all oe speed.” ese words brought them to the corner of Canal street, where a Pee Clinton extended his hand to the little lawyer wi h, “Say, old fellow, do you know I rather like you?’ ; Pickles grasped d hand cordially. “ Delighted: to.) : esant, junior—de- lighted !’’ he rejoin hould the cares of life at any time involve you in litigation I'shall be glad to serve you in a professional capacity. Pray aceept of one of my cards, ‘When this you see, remem- ber me.’ Ta, ta!” Pickles walked swiftly toward his office, and was very much surprised to see a lady standing in the doorway when he reached there. This lady was dressed in a plain, dark walking suit, had on a black straw hat, from which de- nded a thick, green vail, which was drawn over 1er face, utterly concealing her features, “Hum!” murmured Pickles, and his keen eyes surveyed her critically. *‘‘Here’s a client for some- body; I wonder if it is for me? A lady, evidently, but does not wish to be known. Ah, hum, bah!” Pickles raised his hat politely to the lady in the green vail, and with great suavity said: * You appear to be looking for some one, madam?”’ ‘*T am,” she responded, ‘A lawyer by the name of Pickles. Perhaps you could tell me where I could find him?”’ “Tecan, Zece homo—behold the man!” “You are the gentleman?” “The identical)” ‘This is very fortunate!”’ “4 Extremely so—ex-tremely! You wish to consult “ I ” “Very good. This way, if you please, madam; myofige 8 on the first floor.” ot ushered her into his office, and placed a seat for her, - Bone friend of yours is in trouble, eh?” he asked. “* Yes, a very dear friend, a youth—” Pickles sat bolt upright in his chair, “Pergus Fearnaught?” he interrupted, suddenly. “ Yes—yes—it is he!” bog ‘““Aha! I know who you are now, my lady, but I must not frighten you," Pickles admitted to him- self. ‘‘ Did Mr, Rufus Glendenning send you here?” he inquired. “No, no!” she answered, vehemently. ‘And he must not be told that I have been here.” 4 These agitated words puzzled Pickles, but he re- joined promptly: ‘ He will never know it from me, madam, if such is your desire.” “Tt is!—it is!’ She was silent for a moment, and then resumed earnestly: ‘* Oh! if I thought I could trust you!” The lawyer was touched by this plaintive Gases. There was one soft place left in his heart which the law had not been able to harden. “You must trust me, madam, if I am to do you any good,”’ he replied. is manuer impressed Lorania favorably—the reader has conjectured who the vailed lady was, of course. ** You have beeri sroploy $e by Rufus Glendenning to make certain inquiries about a boy who is kuown as Fergus Fearnaught?”’ she said. ‘* Yes, madam, I have,’ was the.prompt reply. “Have you any idea what his motive was in urging you to these inquiries?” ** Not the slightest.”’ “Did you think—had you any reason to believe— that he knew the boy’s true name and birth?” she resumed. “He assured me that he did not, Mr. Glenden- ning was attracted to the boy, whom he met acci- dentally in the street, by a resemblance to some friend—or acquaintance of his, and he became very anxious to know all about the boy, and I instituted inquiries accordingly.” * And what did you discover?” “Precious little. I learned that he was called Fergus Fearnaught—this last name belag given on account of the spice of dare-devil in his nature, and a pretty strong spice it is, too—and that he lived with a poor widow and her daughter, whose name is Naudrus, in one of those wretched tenement houses on Baxter street, and that he did odd jobs about the street for a living.” Fergus Fearnaught, the New York Boy. “Well?” cried Lorania, who had been an atten- Sithat te all I ld tell Mr, Glendennin could te . Glendenn t but one could tell him maen ari om ray ae * You I she exclaim periously. “I will ee yon dbase treble, what he has agreed i ye ‘outbid yon sordid aa eh? os has not given me any retaining fee, so. I am at liberty to decline the.ease.” , Lorania took out her pocket-book, ‘I will give you your retaining fee now,”’ she said. “You ge serve the one who pays the best, would you not?” “Certainly. For that are we lawyers; and I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.” stan “You know just where to find this boy?” con- tinued Lorania. “TI do; he’s in a very safe place. He'll stop there until I go for him.” . “ Where is that?” “ Blackwell's Island.”’ “Heavens! What is he doing there?” exclaimed Lorania, excitedly. ‘He got into a difficulty with some young thieves, and was sent up, by some mistake, but I can fix that as soon as I see the judge that sentenced him. We'll have him off of the Island in a jiffy !”’ “We must. He must not stay there a day, an hour, longer than is necessary. Here is money. Expect me to-morrow.” . Pickles gallantly opened the door for Lorania to ass out. Then he closed it after her, and took up he bank-bill she had left upon the table. “Let me see what my retaining fee is,” he said pleasantly. ‘Great Janus! Five hundred dollars! a five-hundred-dollar bill! Phew! This is going to be a better case than I expected!” CHAPTER XIII. THE HORN SOUNDS. Frerevs FraRNAUGHT was not pleased with his quarters on Blackwell's Island. eget rankles more in the human breast than a sense of injustice, or oppression. The boy knew that he was enduring an unmerited punishment, that he had not committed any crime, and that he was unjustly restrained of his liberty, and he resolved to Phe that liberty as soon as an opportunity resented itself, He believed that opportunity would soon be fur- nished him. He treasured memory the words whispered to him by the mysterious Mr. John Jack- — and at. night he listened for the sound of the orn. But the first night ed away and he did not hear it. He was greatly disappointed, for youth is always er in its expectations, He fancied that it must have sounded while he slept, for sleep had surprised him during his notwithstanding his determination to remain aw opens the be tea iy lw more wakeful to-night,”’ he resolved, the shades of the second evening ‘ to fall, ~ “Tt’s so warm to-night that I sba’n’t lock your door,” the turnkey told him, “I guess you won't tle this hewinked | t 8 he at Fe: with his left in a very significant manner ond retired.: F owen not slow of apprehension, He had an idea t the horn would sound that night, and that the ey had been bribed to connive at his escape. Darker grew the shades of night, and as the gloom athered around him, F ’s Impatience in . e saw that there was no prospect of a moon, a cir- cumstance favorable to his escape; so he thought: . “Mr, Jackson will be more to come on & dark night than when the moon shines, He watched and listened, and about ten o'clock, to his great delight, he heard the horn sound, It was far out upon the river, but the night breeze bore the sound to his listening ears—the concerte¢ signal, three notes; toot—toot—toot. “There he is!” exclaimed Fe aehigh A ““He’s come for me, Now I'll just get out of lively. Clever chap that turnkey to leave the door unlocked for me.” He stole gently out into the corridor, and found the door at the end of it unlocked, This led into the ard, but this yard was inclosed by an iron picket ‘ence, and a sentinel was stationed there, Fergus knew nothing of this fact until he was nimbly sealing the picket-fence, when he was loudly commanded to stop, “ Hold on, or I'll fire!” shouted the sentinel. “T am holding on,” replied Fergus, as he himself on the iron spikes, ‘Come back!” Nolet oar ket, but F Bavg wen e musket, but Fer had dro on theother side of the fence as Hane flashe es the bullet passed harmlessly over his head. He pakhored himself up and ran swiftly toward the eacn, “T shall have to swim for it!" he thought, as he sped along at a rapid rate. Toot—toot—toot, sounded, the horn, out upon the bosom of the river, the sound coming strangely and mysteriously from the gloom that gathered Tike a pall over the face of the water. The alarm was loudly sounded behind Fergus, but he paid no heed toit. He directed his course by the sound of the horn, reached the river's brink, ont off his prison shoes, and plunged boldly into the water. An excellent swimmer, he increased the distance between himself and the shore rapidly, never stop- ping to look back but striking forward with brave etermination. When he thought he had got out of musket-range
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—__—_ of the shore, he paused, began to tread water, and looked back. He could see the lanterns glearaing along the shore, and he knew that the keepers anc guards werg looking for him; but he had an idea it was more for form’s sake, and to keep their record clear, than from any anxiety te recapture him. “There — are, and here lam, and where’s the boat?’ he said. Toot—toot—toot, sounded the horn, away to his le ft. “There itis! I wonder if I can’t bring it up to me?” He put two fingers of his right hand in hia mouth and produced that shrill whistle that boys so well understand; but in that gloom, and in that place, it sounded like the cry of some water bird. The horn immediately answered it, which showed that Mr. John Jackson had heard and understood the signal Fergus began to swim again in the direction of the sound. Soon he heard the movement of oars, and then the form of a boat came through the gloom. “Fergus!” called out a voice, that he recognized at once as belonging to Mr. John Jackson. **Here!"’ he answered. “Good boy! you're the ticket, every time. Give me your hand. Now then!" Fergus extended his hand to Jackson, who slid his hand down his arm and griped him by the shoulder, and then lifted him with easeinto the boat, saying: “There you are, my hearty!” “Thank you," replied Fergus. “You're welcome. Didn't I tell youl’d do it?” “You did—and you have,” rejoined Fergus, laughingly. Mr. John Jackson joined him witha grim kind of a chuckle. “When I say I'll do a thing, you can just bet your bottom dollar it’s got to come. Socco never went back on his word yet!" “Who's Socco?” inquired Fergus, bewildered by this allusion. Jackson chuckled again. “* That’s me,” he responded. “*T thought your name was Jackson?" “So it is—t'other’s a pet name that my friends have given me—John Jackson, alias Socco. See?” A deep-drawn sigh came from the stern of the boat, and Fergus, turning, became conscious that there was another n in the boat, for he could dimly see a human form in the stern. “Hello! got a friend here?" he cried, with his usual bluntness. ** Yes, that’s a particular friend of mine,’’ answer- ed Socco—to give him his favorite name—with a ehuckle; “I'll give f mar an introduction, but shake those prison duds first. Here’sa suit of clothes I brought for you.” j This consideration surprised Fergus. He could not account for the interest that Mr. John Jackson, altas Soceo, took in his welfare, “You are very kind,’’ he exclaimed. “Oh! you'll pay me back some time,” answered Socco, with another chuckle. ‘I can put you up to a dodge where we can make lots of money.” Fergus thought he heard another sigh in the stern of the boat, but he was not sure of it. It was evident that it did not reach Socco’s ears, for he continued his discourse. , “Shed those striped togs and pitch them over- board,” he went on, ‘* You won’t have no further use forthem, I reckon. Do you want a little light en the subject? I've gota lantern here.” “Won't they see it from the shore?” ne much—not the way we'll fix it. Turn on the glim, Moll.” A of light was shed upon Fergus and Socco sm person in the stern, who held a dark lantern. was done by pushing back the shade. Fergus st: off his prison guit and cast it into the river, and then dressed himself in the suit that Socco had provided. He had selected a suit as near Fergus's size as he could guess, and he bad not made “The whole'thing pl © whole’ was complete from head to foot; bey = vee vest, pantaloons, shirt, necktie, stockings a “That's an odd name your friend has got,” said Fergus, as he @ressed himself. ry odd, how?" “ Moli—queer name for a map.” ‘ “A mi oe yes o P Socco dugted. here quite eartily. “ Yes, yes, it's a queer name for a man.” F wondered what he saw so funny about it. “How do they fit?’’ inquired Socco, when Fergus was attired. ‘A trifle large, but they'll do.” “ Better be too large than too small—give you a chance to grow, —_ know.” All this time boat had been drifting slowly with the tide. Socco now stepped past Fergus, and Seckithe lantern from the persen n the epee, pen pped back ergy turned the t the lantern upon his friend. - “See here, Ferg, my boy!’ he cried. .“‘ Here's Mister Moll; take a ook at him!’ And he ebuckled pleasan Fergus loeked curi at Socco’s friend, and he was greatly surprised when he saw a ht re Ses Fae eerie ee ate e w , mou an eyebrows of such inky blackness that they seemed to have been patnted pon the pale face and not to have nafiirally. “ , he's ouly a boy!” exclaimed Fergus. “ He isn'ta boy returned Socco, who seemed to beer her" ePjoined Fergus, dubiously “He isn't a he, but a she.” ; “a she!” Fergus Fearnaught, the New York Boy. 13 “Tt’s my wife, Ferg—my wife, Mary, though I oftener call her Moll.’’ “But why have you dressed her up like a boy?” demanded Fergus, surprisedly. “She always dresses that way when she goes on an expedition with me; it makes it handier for her to move round,” answered Socco. ‘She don’t make a bad-looking boy, does she?” ** Sbe looks nice.” Socco gave the iantern back to the disguised woman. **She’s been as true as steel to me,” he said; ‘‘ and I guess, Ferg, that you are a boy that wouldn’t go back on a@ pal, particularly when he’s been a good friend to you.” ‘**T never go back on anybody.” ‘That's what I thought. I set you down as true blue the first time I clapped my eyes on your good- looking face. Now, just squat yourself forward there, and I'll take the oars. I Always row and she steers, I let the boat float while you was fixing, ‘cause the tide was taking us in the right direction. Socco bent to the oars and sent the boat swiftly forward. Sitting in the bow of the boat Fergus azed over the dark surface of the water and won- dered what his strange companions were, and whither aay were going. His brain was in quite a whirl over the singular events of the night, But there were stranger things yet to happen be- fore that eventful night ended, Fergus watched the lights glimmering from the shore, and he observ other lights out in the stream which he knew were lanterns attached to the rigging of vessels lying at anchor. ‘There's a vessel right in our way—look out or you'll run into her!"’ he cried, warningly. “How do you know?” “See the light there hanging to the yard-arm.” Socco rested on his oars. “Show the glim, Moll,” he said; and a flash of light was thrown over the water, revealing the hull of quite a large vessel. , ‘Ts it the one?’’ continued Socco “ Yes,”’ answered Moll, * All right—douse the glim.” The shade of the dark lantern was closed again. ‘*Now for it,’ said Socco, and he began to row again; but Fergus observed that he did so in a very cautious manner. Again his curiosity got the better of him. ti ee you going to the vessel?” he questioned. ol eg ** Why—what for?” “Hush! don’t breathe a word above a whisper now. These jobs are risky sometimes. Keep as still as a mouse when a cat is watchiny for him,” “But what are you going to do?” asked Fergus, perplexedly. e began to think there was something wrong in this mysterious proceeding. “Just you keep quiet, and you'll see, my boy,” answered Socco, with a chuckle, The boat containing Socco, Fergus and the dis- guised woman, whom this singular man called Moll,” and had proclaimed to be his wife, glided up to the dark hull of the vessel, cautiously guided by Soceo, who shipped his oars without noise, as the contact became imminent, and, rising from his seat, fended off the boat from the vessel's hull. As he did this, Moll flashed the light of the dark lantern along the vessel’s side, and disclosed a rope hanging down from the deck, Socco uttered a smothered exclamation of satis- faction as he beheld it. “ Here we go!” Socco drew himself up by the rope and disap- peared over the bulwark, “ What is he going to do?” Fergus asked Moll. “Don’t you know?” she rejoined. “Of course I don't; if 1 did I wouldn't ask,” returned Fergus, rather impatiently. “Then why are you here with him?” This question increased Fergus's Lpyantence. ‘* Don’t you know why I am here?" he demanded. “You were in the boat when I came; you ought to know where I came from and how I got here. ‘“‘I do. You came from the Island. What were you sent up for—stealing?”’ “No, I wasn't!” replied Fergus, indignantly, “I never stole anything in my life, and I don't mean to, But I tell you what : think—I think there is some stealing going en to-night.’ “} ro wea you knew it. He told you he was go- ing on an expedition. Don't you know who he is, and what kind of expeditions he goes on?’’ ‘No, I don't know oe ages about him, only that his name is John Jackson, and that he lives on the top floor of our house in street. Do you live there with him?” ‘Part of the time, but we have another house in Harlem, It is not safe for us to live too long in the same place. We have to keep Godging the police, “Look here, I want to get out of this!" cried Fer- us, quickly, “I’ve been jugged once for keeping company, and I've had about enough of it. I’m not going to join the river pirates—he's one of them, I know, by what you've said.” “He is the m otorious of them all, He told you his name— ; he was not joking.” iT bere Bead Jt ting out ‘of the frying? “T have of ge ou e -pan into the fire,” he vaid, ‘and it *pears to me that this is something like it. I guess 1 would have been as well off if I had staid on the Island,” This cpg ag oy vas, pn beenane OI on abrupt close by the report of a sounding fain and Pruffied, “ if proceeding from the cabin of the vessel. This report was followed by three others in rapid succession, thus plainly denoting that a revol- ver was being used. am “Oh, heavens!” cried Moll. © He is discovered, and there is murder doing!” ‘Shall I push off?” exclaimed Fergus, ‘‘I know how to row!” “Not yet—not yet!” she answered, in a voice of command, ‘‘We must wait and see. He may ea cape-——he would never suffer himself to be taken alive—that I know. Be ready to move the moment I tell you.” There came a hoarse, gasping whisper down te them over the bulwark. ** Moll! Moll! are you there?” ‘*Yes, here—are you hurt?”’ “Yes, some, but I guess I can get down. Bud, . lend us a hand.” They both assisted him to descend into tho boat, and he sunk down in the bottom, resting his head in Moll's Jap. The effort to gain the boat had exhaust- ed his strength. “Row, row, row for your life, for all our lives!’" cried Moll, energetically. Fergus obeyed her gee ie . He pushed the boat away from the vessel, and se tags oars, began to row with all his strength and ski ‘There they go!’ was shouted from the deck of the vessel, and shots rung out startlingly upon the night air. “Pull, boy, pull—faster—faster!"’ cried Socco, gaspingly. The sound of the oars directed the aim of those upon the vessel’s deck, and a bullet whizzed by Wer gus’s left ear and struck in the bow. Socco rose up to his knees, evidently with the de- sign of taking the oars from Fergus, but as he did 80 @ bullet struck him in the back, and with a gasp- ing cry he fell backward into Moll’s outstretched. arms, The career of the river thief seemed over, Fergus ceased rowing. “Ts he hit?” he inquired anxiously. ‘Row, boy, row!’ cried Moll, quickly. ** Never mind him—save yourself, save me! Fergus bent to the oars again with renewed en- ergy. Two more pistol-bullets whistled over his: head. He could see the flashes of the pistols, his. face being toward the vessel as he rowed. “Oh, blaze away!"’ he shouted, defiantly. “Blaze: away if you like it!" “Hush |’? she cried, warningly, fear?’’ . ‘Not enough to worry me, What's the use of’ being funky. That won't help us any.” * Brave boy!’’ exclaimed Moll. youve did not reply; he found he needed all his: breath for the tremendous effort he was making with the oars. The boat seemed to fairly leap. through the water, and in less time than it es me to tell it they were out of pistol-range, and the ship's. lantern gleamed dimly in the distance, “Phew! but that was a breather—wasn’t it!” he exclaimed, “ How is he now?” ‘He is dead—he is dead!” cried Moll, huskily. be Are you sure?” questioned Fergus, in a hoarse: whisper. # es; shot through the heart, I think,” e@ ?”’ “Yes, thank God for it!" she exclaimed, fervent- Fergus was greatly surprised. He wondered, in a. by ba kind of manner, if all wives uttered a prayer of thanksgiving when their husbands died, ‘ ane you glady” he asked, in his usual blunt ‘fashion, “Yes; why should I seek to conceal it?” she answered, ‘I know whatis passing in your mind but you do not know this man as well as I do, and: it is well for ros that you have been — that. knowledge. I th God that I have n freed from a life of c and that you are spared enter- Good for you!” cried F uragt or you!" crie ‘ergus, enco ngly.. * Your heart is all igh if ven bara had ha rey: nt. what are you going to do with him? Take him ashore?” “No, no! we shoukl be arrested as his accom- plices. Wemust throw him overboard,” ‘** What, to feed the fishes?” “ What else can we do? If the harbor police should find us with him, what could we say?” “It wouldn't make much difference what we said,. they'd put their own meaning to the affair, and then: it would be Sing’Sing instead of Blackwell's Island. a are ent, Reo Moll; we must sock Mister ©0 ; “ How fortunate I am in having such a boy as you are with me to-night! Now then, I will help. Be: careful or we may upset the boat.” They slid Socco over the gunwale of the boat, and he sunk with a sullen plunge into the water. “ He is gone— ms Heavernt have mercy on his soul!” exclaimed Mok. “Now, take your oars. again, and let us go psbore. The air is full of rain; Your uamuet" abe oontiousd ae Teme cheek hon name?"’ she continued, as obeye rr. “Fergus Fearnaught.” adh ba) my life tonight, aud’ goa wil etree bene oe 'e to and you w ways a ' friend in Mary Jackson!" Pon re “Have you no CHAPTER XIV. ANXIOUS INQUIRIES, Lawyer Pricxxes, sitting in his office awaiting the coming of Lorania Yor oming. orke, was considerably sur- he entrance of Rufus Glendenning. ‘How does our case come on?” fie asked. ~ be qhe boy, Fergus Fearnaught?”’ “ Swimmingly.” “That's be
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14 “T think I am in a fair way to discover his mo- ther.,”’ “You do?” cried Glendenning, with animation. Pickles winked at him significantly, * Ah, yes, as if you didn’t know! fully. “Is there no fair lady, among distinguished friends, whom this b sembles, eh, hnb, ah?” **Lorania Yorke!’’ answered Glendenning, invol- untarily, and thus falling into the trap that Pickles had laid for him. ickles could scarcely conceal his satisfaction. ; e said, musingly. ‘‘ That’s “ Yorke— Yorke?" He was appointed my he cried, play- your circle of oy greatly re- one of your firm, isn't it?” “ Yes, Elliott Yorke. guardian in ny infancy." “This Lorania is his wife, eh?’’ continued Pickles, pursuing the investigation with avidity. “ Who was this aforesaid female before she married Mr. Hiliott Yorke?” “The daughter of old Garret Van Amringe of Bergen Hill, The old man speculated, and Elliott Yorke held morse es for cash advanced. Ihave always thought t Lorania married him to saye the old man from utter ruin. At all events, the re pa 9 settled the business by giving all to Elliott orke, ‘‘Hum! these particulars will be of great service to me, Mr, Glendenning,” said Pickles, “I think I shall be able to make & very clean case of it now. This Mrs. Yorke is very handsome, is she not?” My Baceiinh as an angel!” replied Glendenning, fer- vwently. Pickles smiled significa ptty “You would kind of wouldn't you?” he asked, artfully. Glendenning rog¢ excitedly to his feet, crying: “You just ie hold for me, Pickles, and I'll !’ make your fort é . Pickles smiled and nodded his*head. Glendenning counted out a number of bills and placed them on the table before Pickles. “There’s a hundred dollars,” he said; “but Pll make it a thousand if you cap obtain tor me any in- tormation that will bring ab@nt a separation between Elliott Yorke and his wife. Now I’m off, but I'll tek ip. agaln in a day or two.” ; So saying, Rufus Glendenning took his departure, “*Oh! the pernicious caitiff!’’ exclaimed Pickles, as the door closed upon him. “But I'll scoop in this hundred dollars, notwithstanding my opinion of him, , All’s fish that comes to my net." He 3 Se up the money and put it away in his pocket-book. , ‘But it’s no use, my gentle Rufus!” he continued, “The lady has seen me and gone five better, and I think she is likely to prove the better client of the two. I’m afraid I shall have to play the odds on you.” The door opened and Lorania entered, attired and vailed as on her previous visit, He placed a chair for her with polite alacrity, and she sunk into it. ‘Rufus Glendenning has just left you,” she said, excitedly. ‘I was coming toward your office on the opposite side of the way when I saw hin approach- ing yeur door; so I watched and waited until I saw him leave,” ‘*A very judicious movement on your part, Mrs, Yorke—very, indeed,” “ You know me?” she cried, starting to her feet. “‘Did you tell him that I had been here?” ‘* By no means, madam. That would be a breach of professional confidence that nothing could tempt me to be guilty of. On the contrary, he told me who you were,” “Indeed?” Lorania resumed her seat and threw back her vail. ‘‘ There shall be no concealments be- tween us, I will trust you, and, asI have already told you, it will be greatly to your interest to serve me faith ot “T will, madam,” Hereupon Pickles recounted all that had trans- pired between himself and Rufus Glendenning. * Wool!”’ exclaimed Lorania scornfully, ‘* does he think that if I separated from Elliott Yorke I would wed with tim? .He is mad to think so! but Mr, Ru- fus Glendenning does not cause me any ARES, I have something of more importance to think of. Have you obtained the boy's release?”’ “He escaped last night, aided.and abetted by some one outside, who was probably waiting in a boat for him, for our bold Fergus, with that fear- lespness which is so characteristic of him, Jumped in the river and swam away. “ Heavens! he might haye been drowned!” “TY think not, for he can swim like a Gack, and there yu a boat waiting for him, as I . This wnaueh I could learn from the officials there, but not who the outside party was; they were too close for me there. “He may have returned to his former home!” cried Lorania, q . “T thought of that, aren Ty I made a call there en my return from the I d; but neither the woman nor the girl had seen him.” Lorania wrung her hands together with a piteous action, “ Oh, he is drowned—he is drowned !”’ she moaned, “Banish such a thought from your mind,” said Pickles, regu *T am confident that he is ” like uty a hold on her, alive—and kicking, to use a popular phrase, and we shall soon find him. ; ** But why has he not gone to those people with whom he lived?” urged Lorania. “Yor the simplest of all reasons; the boy does not know anything about his discharge; he looks upon himself as an escaped convict, and he don’t want to be caught, don’t you see? and so he will lay low for the present.”’ Lorania’s face brightened at this explanation. prisedly. “She smiled at his perplexity. “With all your keenness, you are at fault, Mr. Pickles?” she inquired. ‘Have you not discovered why 1 am so much interested in this boy?” Pickles inclined his head, rg tape ah “ Madam, it is not for me to form any opinion con- cerning your motives,” he replied. ‘‘It is enough for me to carry out your instructions, and receive such confidence as you choose to bestow upon me. In due time, I have no doubt, you will tell me all that is necessary for me to know.” “You shall know it—all the world shall know it— when the proper time “comes!” she exclaimed; and drew her vail over her face, preparatory for her de- parture. He opened the door for her and she passed out. Lorania Yorke walked down Center street toward the City Hall Park, intending to cross it to Broad- way. By the time she reached the corner of Cham- bers street, she became conscious that something unusually exciting was occurring in the city. People were running about in a hurried and agitat- ed mamer. Little squads of police dashed swiftly past her. The crowd surged in the diréction she was going as if some great eign awaited them, and they were anxious to behold it. as it a fire, or what? She did not hear any alarm bell sounding, nor were there any engines in the street. The crowd increased in density around her, and she was pushed forward in the throng. She could not have extricated herself from it now if she had desired.to do so. A feeling of alarm seized upon Ker. This wild and excited crowd, that bore her along with it, as one is phe onward by a swift and irresistible current, filled her breast with dread. Danger of some sort appeared to be imminent. But what couldA® be? ‘The bulls! the bulls!” she heard the men shout- around her. at could they mean? If she had been cross- ing a field in the country she might have understood such @ cry and taken it as a warning. But, surely, Sr d be no wild bulls in the streets of New ork!” . But there was, though, and the wildest kind of ulls. Hight large Texan steers, that had been brought to the city by an Erie Railroad ferry-boat, maddened by starvation aud thirst, when they were landed at the foot of Chambers street became uncontrollable. Pluding their drovers and frenzied by the yells and sbouts of an idle crowd of men and boys, that always collects on the slightest Fs ipanase: in the streets of New York, and the shrieks of terrifled women and children, who, returning from pleasure- jaunts in the country, thronged ‘the neighborhood of the ferry-house, the infuriated steers, with blaz- ing eyes, foaming mouths, tossing their horns reer ney and lashing themselves with their tails, dashed up Chambers street toward West Broadway. , Lorania attempted to fly across the open space, when one singled her out and pursued her. Fright deprived her of strength, and she sunk down upon her knees, giving herself up for lost, and awaiting her fate with the numbness of despair, ~ At that dread moment,a boy sprung lightly before her, holding in his right hand a gleaming bayonet which he had snatched from a soldier in the crowd, The boy’s hair was so short that you could not see any of it beneath his cap, and he had a white face with a vivid red flush in either cheek, and a bright blue eye. His bearing was utterly dauntless. The mob shouted encouragingly to him. **Tt’s Ferg Fearnaught!”’ cried Rowdy Rube. “ And he’s a-goin’ fur der bull!” exclaimed Terry. These two youths had followed the steer to the park, and were still taking a look at “ the fun,” ‘ The steer seemed to be very much astonished to find himself confronted by so slight an an nist. He paused with e head and distended nos- trils ‘and Rored at him. . Fergus bounded swiftly forward and plunged his weapon in the steer’s breast. The animal sprung toward him, blood streamin from the deep wound, but Fergus warily jeaped aside, and, as the steer passed him, buried the sword bayonet in his side. . He was fortunate enough to reach a vital part, for the steer staggered confusedly for a few moments and then fell over upon its side, dead. The Ps ce formed a circle about the carcass and empti their revolvers ‘into it, and the crowd hacked it with knives, Rowdy Rube and Terry par- Si ae aid in this singular amusement with great glee. Fergus . ed the sword bayonet to the owner, who came just then to claim it, and turned his at- tention to rania, who remained upon her knees with her face buried in her hands. He raised her gently w d Ls abe her toward a bench, she yielding to direction passively. Lif; ae re , ma’am,” he said. ‘The bull’s a , She shivered, and then looked at him, ge best “ My brave youth, to whom dolowe— Heavens! it ers aah? rey, ar Pera: nd pressed e caug ‘ergus er arms & him wildly to her heart. Fe was very much astonished to find himself so affectionately embraced, but he attributed this action to the "8 gratitude. — Boy. “Oh! how'short they’ve cut your hair!” she ex- claimed. “Yes, that’s the Island clip,"’ replied Wergus, witty et ‘Had you waited until to-day you would have re- ceived your discharge.” ‘Yes, I know it now, but I didn’t know it then; I would have waited if I had.” “When did you learn it?’ ‘About twelye o’clock to-day. I was stoppin with Mary Jackson at her house in Harlem, and i thought that Mrs. Nandrus and Fleda might be anx- ious about me, ang soI asked her to go down and see them and tell @pm that I wasall right, When she came back she said Lawyer Pickles had been there after me, and said he'd got my discharge. Clever in him, wasn’t it? So I just traveled down home, and I tell you, they was glad to see me again, Fleda, particularly.” «The little girl?” “Yes; so afterI had taken a lunch with her, I ust sailed out for a bit of a walk, and I tell you, the oys looked at me, for ag # hardly knew me with my hair so short. It felt kind of good, though, to think I could walk round and not have to dodge the cops. I’m going to call on Bickles and thank him— though I don’t know why he shouki trouble himself about me.” ‘* It was at my request." “ Yours?” cried Fergus, surprisedly. “Yes; look at me. © you think you ever saw m foes, petro ee ra , rania put t question eager scanned her features closely in comp. uest, wa Yes, I do remember you now,” he replied. s “ You do?” she cried, in a gratified manner, “* You o” 4 “Yes, it was you that was in the carriage on ag and sung out ‘That’s the boy — stop m i) . * Yes—yes!"” “What did you want to stop me for?” “Oh, Fergus! can ze not guess?" The boy shook his head. ** No, I’m blest if I can!” he answered. “Do you not feel your heart yearn toward me?” He gazed earnestly in her face. “You are a nice looking lady,’’ he said, “‘and 1 feel as if I could like you.” “Like me!—you must love me!"’ she exclaimed. “Why must I?” he inquired, quite bewildered by her manner. “Why? Because, Fergus, lam your mother!” “ YD Seton ” sh ted d agai ‘Your mother!” she repeated; an n she clasped him to her heart. Despite hi wilderment and astonishment her words carri mviction to the boy’s-heart. ‘““You must be—you must be,” he murmured pleasantly; ‘‘and oh! what a nice mother you are!" “ Heaven has been good to me oh peers me to find you after all these years,’ cried Lorania, grate- fully. ‘Now, Fergus, you must go home with “What, right away?” “ ‘Seo—ven” y “I'd like to go home and tell Mrs. Nandrus and Fleda first. They'll be anxious about me if I’m not home for wre vad Lorania reflected for a moment. “ Perhaps that would be best," she said. ‘I must explain all to Elliott now, and arrange my plans for the future. Will you not come to me thi: evening if I tell you where to come?”’ “Yes,” answered Fergus, promptly. She took out one of her cards and gave it to him. He read off the inscription readily, somewhat to her rise. ‘Mrs, Elliott Yorke, Bergen avenue.” “You can read?” she said. “Oh, yes.” “Who taught you?” ** Fleda.” “She has been a good friend to you?” "*Tip-topl” F referred to the card that he held ip his hand. “Is this your name?” heinquired. “Yes—my married name.” “And is my name Fergus Yorke?” “No, my boy; your name is Robert Fergus Army: tage.”’ Porgue could not understand this at all. “How can that be?” he questioned. “Tt was your father’s name; but all shall be explained to you in good time, It seems that in some way you lost your first name and were called Py, Fi middle name jonly. I must go home now. you walk to the ferry with me?” ” and Fergus ce with the “ Of course I will. * As we go along I can tell you how you can find the house in which I live.” They ed out of the park together and point her in ning, kissed him, and t - arted. ouse in ings to Mrs. an, and her vo: steady it; “an cause you have loved me so well.” There came a pleasurable gleam into his eyes. “You know, then, how much I have loved you,” he said; “how much [I still love you!”
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“ -comprehend what had happened. *T do; and you should have been apprised before of what Lam about to tell you now. He tried te smile, but the effort was a faint one. “Ts it something very terrible?” he asked “Tr was a deceit—and a deceit Should never be practiced upoa an honorable man,’ “ What was this deceit?” “T was uot the young and inexperie need girl you took me to be; I had been a wife before.” ‘* Married! and your first husband—he was not— is not alive?” he inquired huskily. “Oh, no! it is not so bad as that,”’ she replied quickty. ‘“ He was dead when I married you, He breathed a deep sigh of relief, “You were a widow?’ he said. **Yes.’’ He could smile now without an effort. “Really, there is nothing so very terrible in this confession of yours, If I had known this at the time {should have wedded youallthe same. What was your motive for this concealment?” lie asked, pleas- antly. - “Thad no motive, I was but a passive ipstrament in my father’s hands,” she answered. The story of my first marriage can be briefly told.” *T should like to hear it.”’ ““When I was but seventeen I made the acquain- tance of a young man named Robert Fergus Army- tage. I thought him os, handsome, and I fell in love ‘with him, He was buta clerk on a humble salary. This infatuation culminated in an elope- ment, for I knew my father would never give consent to our union; but [ made it a condition with Robert that he should take me aw ay from my home, and that our marriage should be kept a secret fr om every one but my father, I made.a pretense of visiting a relative in Philadelphia, and went to New York with Robert, where we were married at a minister’s house, the mbmbers of his famil being the only witnesses. I wrote to my father telling him »vhat I had done, for I did not dare to face him with the intelligence, and received a bitter letter in reply, in which he cast me off forever.’ But my heart was happy, in the choice it had made, and I derided his anger.’ “It was a rash and ill-advised step,” remarked Elliott Yorke. “f found it so,” she answered, “and it inflicted upon me lovg years of suffering. Robert was con- fident that he could provide amply for the future, and life was pleasant with him, for my love incre rased ratuer than diminished. I think hé cherished a hope my father would forgive us in time—I was con- fident he would; but I was proud as he was, and I gt er wrote to him again until after my boy was orn.’ “A boy! I see—that portrait, then—the resem- blance! ‘ie i is your son?” “Heis. I wrote to my father of his birth, but the x “only Lreceived was moré bitter than the one before.” ‘He was an implacable man.” “Tfound him so to. my sorrow. A year passed away. I lived in the greatest seclusion, scarcely venturing abroad, for | shrunk from meeting ree former friends. There came a depression in b ness; Robert lost his situation; our means became straitened, and I resolved to appeal personally to my father. I concealed this resolution from Robert, knowing he was of a haughty spirit, despite his poverty, for fear he would restrain me. I dressed Drecit for the visit, and moms 3 my child sleeping in his cradle, hurried to my father’s house. “My father received me coldly, but _ listened calmly to all I had te tell him, and then bade. me follow him. He led me to a chamber in the upper story, and I, thinking he was about to relent, was indti¢ed to enter it. The key was turned upon me— I was a prisoner. On the third day of my confine- raent he made me this ryt ‘Write to this man that you call husband,’ he said, ‘ these words: : Accept of the conditions proposed ; itis my avish |" I was about to refuse, when he added: *Do this, or I will have you placed in.a, mad-house.’ I was ter- vifie. into complianee. I wrote the words and signed them, and he went away exultingly. “The next day he brought me a letter from Robert. It contained these words; “Yow ‘have basely deserted me and your child, and so you will never see either of us again. Then I felt my,brain reel as if I was really going mad. This blow gave me a brain fever and it was months before I could When Trecover- ed, another shock awaited me. 1 was told that Robert Armytage had been killed by the cars at one md Eee street crossings. I would not believe it until rons) ht me the “roots of his death, which. Toss tained by Jelliffe, my father’s law- ver This gave me @ relapse of sickness, and when once mare arose from my bed, I was more like a walking statue than « living woman. I was told that my © wasa secret, and must be kept so to save the proud name of Van Amringe from dis- grace, and I was also told that I must receive you as a suitor to save my father from ruin. I consented passively, for T been given to understand that my boy, smitten by scarlet fever, had died before his father.” “7 can understand your lations, and your —— ae face, now. You were sorely "aftliched,. Wh d Bee u discover that your boy still lived?” a ‘ot until aoe my father’s death. A ear um among pers excited m icion and I pa ary | Mr. seine. and he adinitted. to me that e child did not die at that time, but had been car- ried away by his father, when he *had:-been made to welieve that I had se cruelly deserted him, god Sg been placed in somé one’s keeping. ‘The search instituted for him gave no results, as a Ha for him in the coutitry when he was in New accident revealed to nite."’ Lorania related then how she had seen Fergus 0, Broadway when riding in her carriage, described her search for him (but she did not allude to the information afforded her by Rufus Glendenn. -~ and which had been of so much service to her) ax her adventure with wild steers, Elliot Yorke listened to her attentively, and when she had finished he exclaimed: “A brave youth! You must be proud of him, Lorania,”’ “Oh! T am—I am!” “JT will provide for him in the future, stepson, adopt. him as my own son, and he shall take the place in my affection of those wo have lost,” “Oh! Elliott, how shall I ever repay you for all your goodne 88?” she cried, while grateful tears dimmed the luster of her eyes. And she fell weeping on his breast, They were distinbed by a ring at the door-bell. ‘“*}tis he!” cried Lorania, “my boy, come!” A. few He is my but he shall be more than that; I w The stor ry of Fergus Fearnaught is told. more words will sum all up, The plans arranged for him by Lorania and Elliott Yorke were carried out, and he went to Columbia College with Clinton Stuyvesant in due. time, and there he made such rapid progress that one and all predicted that in years to come the world would honor the name of Fergus, once called Wearpapght, THE END. W averley Library. Mrs, Mary R. Crowell, 2 Was Iv Love? By Wm, Mason Turner. 3 Tur Grint Wire. By Bartley T.. Campbell. 4 A Brave Heart. By Arabella Southworth. . 5 Bessre Raynor. By Wm, on Turner, M. D. 6 Tue Secrer Marriuce. By a Claxton, 7” A Daveutrer or Eve. By Mrs. Crowell. 8 Hearv to Heart. By Arabella Southworth, 9 ALONE IN THE WORLD, « author of * Clifton,” 10 A Parr or Gray Eyres. By Rose Kennedy. 11 ENransiEp: By Henrietta Thackeray. 12 His Lawrun Wire. By Mrs, Stephens. 18 Mapcap. By Corinne Cushman. 14 Way I Marriep Him. By Sara Claxton, 15 A Farr Facr, By Bartley T. Campbell, 16 Trust Her Nor, By Margaret, Leicester. 1 THe Masken Brine. B 17 A Loyau Lover, Arabella Southworth. 18 His Indu. By hire. ary Reed Sale 3 fi 19 Tak Broken BerroTHat. By Mary G. Halpine. 20 OrpHAN NELL, 21 Now anp Forever, By H. Thackeray, By Agile Penne. 22 Tue Bripe or aN Actor. By the author of “ Alone in the World,” etc., ete, 23 Leap Yrar. By Sara "Claxton. 4 24 Her.Face Was Her Fortune, By E. Blaine. 25 OnLY A ScHoonmistress. By A, Southworth. — , 26 WirHovt A Heart. By Col. P. Ingraham. vrTrE? By H. Thackeray. y Mrs. Ann S, Syoineerr’ ton 27 Was SHE A Co 28 Sypru Case. 29 For Herr Dear Sake. By Sara C 30 THE ap ver Girt, By Agile Penne, 31 A ARRIAGE, B Mary A. Denison, 32 Mari rare THE Prima DONNA wr mA A. aeovaeprids 33 Tue Turee Sisters. By Al leming. 34 A MARRIAGE OF er raat By Sara Claxton, 35 Aun Acatnst Her. By Clara Ane 36 Sin ArcuEr’s Brive, By Arabella Southworth, 87 Tae Country Cousin, Rosa. Kerine eth 88 His Own AGAIN. Py, Re ella Southwo 39 Furrration. By Ra ph Royal, 40 Purp@gp To Marry. By, Sats Claxton. - a Burnp Dzevorion. . By Alice Fleming, 42 Beatrice, THE BEAUTIFUL. By s A. Southworth. Sa Caxton, 43 Tue BARonrt’s SECRET. Fleming, 44 THe Onby DAUGHTER. By A 20 45 Her Hoppven For, By Arabe er ae 46 Tue Litre Heiress. By M. A, ae 47 BECAvaR Sar) Lovep ease ge Bley is aaah 48 Srrrg or HERSELF, 5 1erwoo ArabelNa Southworth, 49 His Hearr’s preTaRaey 2) y Mrs. Mary A, Denison, 50 Tae Oupan Herress. 51 Two. Youne Gres. By, lice Fleming, ‘ 52. Tan WINGED Meee By May a Crowel, 53 Acnns Horr, M. Turner, M 7 54 One Woman’s avon By George 8. Kaime, 55 Sue Dip Nor Love Him, By ‘Arabella Southworth, 56 Love-Map. By Wm, M. Turner. ees Dd. 57 A Brave Giri. .By Alice Fle 58 Tux Bron Mask. . By Mary Reed POrowell, 59 A Wipow’s WILEs, Rachel. Bernhardt. 60 Cvorm’s Decrir. By Jennie pare Burton, =. 61 A WickEep Heart. eR Claxton, 62 Tae Manrac Bripe., By hang aA Blount. 63 Tre Creone Sisters. By Anna E. Porter. 64 Waar JeaLousy Dip. By Alice Fleming. 65 Tae Wiru's PaaEtie By Col. Juav Lewis. 66 A Brotuer’s Six. By Rachel Bernhardt, 67 Fornippen Bans. Be erabelis Southworth. 68 Weavers AND Wert. By Mrs. M. E. ArAdpH, By Alexander Dumas. 70 Tue Two Orrwans, .By D’Ennery, 71 My Youne Wire. By My Young Wites Hu Husband, 72 Tar Two Wipows. nnie 73 Rose Micusn. By ae Hilton, 74 Cer, CasTLEMAINE's Gaer. By Ouida. 7 Tux Buack Lavy or Duna. By J. 8, 1s Fanu. 76 CrartoTte Temple. By Mrs. Rowson. _ - “U7 CaRISTIAN OAKLEY'S Mistake, By Miss Mulesk, ES rs Youna Huspanp.__ By Sreeaiee AMONGST Woman, By the Pe of 1 So: teatems eee Seco 69 CAMILLE. By Florence Marryat, _Fergus Fearnaught,, the New, ‘York Boy. as 81 uccoy TEMPLE, = 1 Lona Tous Aco. By Meta Orred. 3 PtayinG For Hie Stakes. By Annie Thomag 8 att LAUREL Buse. By Miss Mulock, 85 Lep ASTRAY. By cers bh reo 86 JANET’s REPENTANCK. sporee Eliot. 87 RoMANCE or A Poor Bas By O. Feuilles 88 A TerrinLeE Dezp By asa Jones, 89 A GiupED Sm. D H 90 ‘Tue AvTHOR’s DAUGHTER, Mary Howits, 91 Tax Jmr. By Charles Reade” 92 Exugen ALANNA. By Dennis O'Sullivan. 93 Love’s Victory. By i 4, ag -On. 94 THe Quin HEART. Oliphant. 95 Letricg ARNOLD. By ee Wate e 96 Hauntep Hearts. By Rachel 5 raga 97 Huau Meiron. By Catharine Kin 98 Arice LeARMonT, By Miss Mulock. 99 Margortms Brucy’s Lover. By Mary Sed 100 Tarovan Fire AND WATER. By Fred. 101 Hannan. By Miss Mulock, 102 Pea Worrinatton. By Charles Reade, 103 A Desperate Derp, By Erskine Boyd, 104 SHADOWS ON THE Snow. By B. L, Farjeon. 105 Tut Grear Hogaarty Dramonp. y W. Thackeray. 106 From Dreams TO aire. ee ag Lynn Linton, 107 Poor Zeru. By F. W. Robinson, : 108 Tae Sap Fortunes oF THE REY. AMos Barton. By George Eliot, 109 Breap-ANp-CHErEsE. AND Kisses. By B, L. Farjeon 110 Taw WanpERiInG Here, By Ge Beas 111 THE BOTHER Ber, By rien, 112 A Hero. oi Miss Mulock. 113 PAUL AND nardiu de St. Pierre. 114 "Twas iy TraratGar’s Bay, By Walter Besant and James Rice, 115 Tom Mar or Kruueena. By Wiliiam Black. 116 Herry. By Henry Ki a y 117 Tan Waysipg Cross. aaah E A, 18 Tua VicaRor Waknrtrip” = orbs Moan. mx! vonage ei” man ‘.) we HADDEUS OF WaRSAW, Miss Jan rter, 121 THe Kina or No-Lanp. By B, : eon, 122 Love. Tak Wipower. By W. M "Thackeray. 123 An. Isuanp Pearu,. By B,L,,Farjeon,., . i a oe pag one q _ Ed Ly JEILA; or, Tae Siren or GRENADA. y Wi Bulwer, (Lord; Lytton.) 126 Wuen ‘THE Sup Comes Home, By Walter Besant and James:Rice. By James Payn, rs. Gore, 129 MoTHERLEss; or, The Farmer's Sweetheart, By Colonel Prentiss eInarenae 130 Hommness; or, The Two Omphat Girls in New 1 ek By pote Aiken The Ri ol ISTER AGAINST SISTER: e Rivalry Reed ienent Hearts. By Mrs. Mar Imost Lost. By Mrs, M. 132 SoLp For LD; or, V. Victor. 1383 Lonp Rorn's Sry; or, Betrothed at the Cradle, By Mrs. Georgiana ‘ee ens, 134 Dip He Love Her? By Bartley T. Campbe 135 Sinnep AGAINST; or, ee in cerry ihe Lillian Loveley. 136 Was Sue His «x? By Mary Reed G rd 137 THe VILLAGE ON THE Ome. May Misa er, The Broken on tothe Margaret Blount. 139 Marcarer Granam. By G, P. R. James... 140 Wirnour Mercy. By Bartle ya T, Campbelt, Vv 141 Honor Bounp. By L eh 0Y. 142 Firewve rrom Love, Mrs, Harriet Irving. & 7 127 One oF THR Famriniy, 128 Tue Brrrurient, By 138 Poor VALERTA; “= 143 Appuctep, By Rett Winwood. A new issue every week. For sale by all Newadesle or sent, postage paid, on Teoet SE ARES AND ADAM Avian Brier | “ DIME DIALOGUES AND. SPEAKERS FOR SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS 1 a '* se AND HOME BNTERTAINMEN TS. Dialogues, Nos. 1 to 2 inclusive, 15 to % popu- lar dialogues and dramas in each book. Each ‘yol- ume 100 12mo pages. Speakers, Nos. 1 100 pages 12mo, containing from sara hacaal YOUNG PEOPLE'S SERABS — a ise pu of Winter Sports. rend ; Book of Summer Athletic Sports” ’ Dime Gents’ Letter Writer. 't Dimé Book of Etiquette, | Dime Book of Verses. q Dime Book of Dreams. Dime Fortune T¢ Sin Dime Ladies’ Letter Writer. me Lovers’ Casket. Dime Ball-Room Com i Gan @arhdsz: Dime sen 4 of ode inaieberett 27" The above hooks are sold by : we oO each. Praved CE, NOV ett ores nes or will be sent, post , on receipt_of price ten cen ers, 98 William ’ aieg Cr % inclusive. Each speaker RaiNtA,, From the French of Ben ~ rs pin fe ents cach,
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By Edward LL. Wheeler, 2 Vellowstonme Jack. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 3 Kansas King. By Buffalo Bill. 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Irrederick Whittaker. 5& Vagabond Joe, THE YounG WANDERING JEW. By Oll Coomes. Dowlle Number, 10cts. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. By E S. Ellis. 7 The Flying Yankee, By Col. P. Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones. By Edward 8, Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen. 10 Nat Todd, By E.S. Eltis. 1I The Two Detectives, By A.W. Aiken. 12 Gulliver’s Wravelsx, By Dean Swift. 3 The Dumb Spy. By Oil Coomes, Aladdiny or, Tre Wonperret Lamp, The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 3 Robinson Crusoe, (27 Iustrations.) Maliph Roy. | By Col, Prentiss Ingraham, Sindbad the Sailor, 9 The Phantom Spy. The Double Daggers, By FE, L. Wheeler. Whe Frontier Angel. By Edward 8. Ellis. 2 The Sea Serpent. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o? the Night. By T.-C, Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. 25 The Boy Captain, By Roger Starbuck. 26 'Cloven Hoof, By Edward L. Wheeler. 7 Antelope Abe, THE Boy Guipr. Oll Coomes. 28 Buffalo Ben. By Edward L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, Tue RrEck- Less RANGER. By Harry St. Cs 31 Keen-Knife, Proce or Tae Ries. By Ol Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, By Edward L. Wheeler. 33 The Ocean, Bloodhound. 8. W. Pierce, 34 Oregon Sol, By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 5 Wild Ivan. By Edward L. Wheeler. 6 The Boy Clown, By Frank 5S. Finn. 7 8 9 Ot te Sas By Buffalo Bill. RS RO RS a tit tft ft © thew ict me he tS] The Hidden Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh. Ned Wylde, THe Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. Death-Face, TH: Detective. By Wheeler, 0 Roving Ben. By J. J. Marshall. 1 Lasso Jack, By Oll Coomes. 2 The Phantom Miner. By E. L. Wheeler. 3 Dick paring a AS t. Fred. Whittaker. 4 Rattling Rube. By Harry St. George. 5 Old Avalanche. By Edward L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THe Great SHor oF THE WEST. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 47 Nightingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, tee Roap-Acent. By Badger. 49 Omaha Oll, By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. C. EK. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles. By Archie C. Irons, 52 The White Buffalo. By C. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr. By Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel, By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, TH» Unxnown- Scout; or, THE BRANDED BROTHERHOOD. a Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whilfiles’ Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick's Eagles. By Wheeler. 58 The Border King. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old oun ty: By Harry St. George. 60 The White Indian. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill, By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood, W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack. By T, C..Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 66 Single Hand, W. J. Hamilton. i ihe be ibe ime he GO GO GO 8 GO 67 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip 8. Warne. 68 Border Robin Hood, By Buffalo Bill 69 Gold Rifle. By Edward L. eeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin. 71 Delaware Dick. 72 Mad Tom Western, By W. J. Hamilton. 8 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Wheeler. Hawk-eye Harry. By Oll Coomes, The Boy Duelist. By Col. P. Ingraham. Abe Colt, raz Crow-Kriirr, By A. W. Aiken. Corduroy Charlie. By E. L. Wheeler. Blue Dick. Captain Mayne Reid. prre. By A.W. Aiken. ob. By Edward L, Wheeler, S1 Lightning Jo. Captain J. F. C. Adams, 82 Kit Haretoot, By T. C. Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. Rs Coomes. 84 Kdyl, the Girl Miner. By E. L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buckram, no A poe J. F.C. Adams, 86 Daudy Kock. By G. 87 The Land Pirates, 88 pak gat a Phil, 89 Island Jim. By Brace 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club} or, Tae Youna Rrvat A’ By Bracebridge Hemyng. 92 Canada Chet. By Edward L. eeler, 93 The Boy Miners, rea 8. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The RivalRovers, Lieut. Col. Hazeltine, 96 Watch-Eye, THe Smapow. By E, lL. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers, By J, J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, By Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos. By G. Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A © STROKE FoR LIBERTY. Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col, Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, rae Honter. Capt. H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, THe Guing. By T..C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim, By James L. Bowen. 108 Daring Davy. By Harry St. George. 109 Deadwocd Dick as BDetcetive. By Edward L. Wheeler. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. By Ol] Coomes. fork, His Seven Voyages. | 1 Deadwood Bick, tar PRINCE OF THE ROAD | The Black Steed of the Prairies, A | Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. | The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraliam. The Mad Hunter, By Burton Saxe. Jack Hoyle. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Black Schooner. Roger Starbuck. The Wad Miner. By G. Waldo Browne. | The Hussar Captain. Col. P. Ingraham. | Gilt-Edged Dick, By E. L. Wheeler. Will Somers, THe Boy Derecrive. Morris, | Mustang Sam. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. | The Branded Hand, By Frank Dumont. Cinnamon Chip. By Fdward L. Wheeler. Phil Hardy, ti Boss Boy. By C. Morris. Kiowa Charley. By T. C. Harbaugh. Tippy, THE Texan. By George Gleason. Bonanza Bill, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete. By Charles Morris. Wild-Fivre, Boss or roe Roap. By Dumont. The Young Privateer, By H. Cavendish. Deadwood Dick's Double. By Wheeler. Detective Dick. By Charles Morris. The Golden Hand. By Geo. W. Browne, | The Hunted Hunter. By Ed. 8. Ellis. Boss Bob, THe Kine or THe BooTsuacks: or, Taz PAWNBROKER’s Piotr. Ed. L. Wheeler. Sure Shot Seth, | By Oll Coomes. Captain Paul, By C. Dunning Clark. Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. The Helpless Hand, Capt. Mayne Reid. Blonde Bill, 5s Edward L. Wheeler. . r. B dE EE dd ed ee WH SUC PDHAC MAN HOV SUIAMEMNH © Ww ve CHSC MAA HOW HSC Same Ww Judge Lynch, T. C. Harbaugh, Blue Blazes. Frank Dumont. Solid Sam. by Cdward L Wheeler. Handsome arr By Charles Morris. Scar-Face Saul, "Sa Coomes. sina Lance, THE Boy Sport. By Badger. Captain Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler. Silver Star, THE Boy Knicut. By Coomes. Will Wildfire. By Charles Morris, Sharp Sam, By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Gold. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Lance and Lasso. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Panther Paul. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Black Bess, Wu. Wroprire’s Racer; or, Winnino Acarnst Opps. By Charles Morris. Eagle Kit, THe Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes. The Swerd Hunters, iy . Whittaker. Gold Trigger, THe Sport. T. C. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, Tue Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. Miike Mferry. By Charles Morris. Frank ot Colorado, Buffalo Bill. By Whittaker. J. E. Badger, Jr. SF AKA Fane >The Lost Captain. 0 The Black Giant. a 1 New York Nell. By E. L. Wheeler. 2 Will Wildfire in the Woods. Morris. By Oll Coomes. G.W. Browne, Charles Morris, 6 Hickory Harry. By Harry St. George. 7 Asa Scott, Tue Streampoat Boy. By Willett. 8 Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 9 Tornado Tom. By T. C. Harbaugh. Card, By Charles Morris. an. By Frank Dumont. By Harry St. George. By G.W. Browne. ockett, THE Boy Dopaer. By Morris. By Philip 8.Warne. Runaway. By Lieut. Perry. Nobb ick of Nevada, E. L. Wheeler. Old Solitary. By Ol! Coomes. Bob BRockett, THE Bank Runner. Morris. The Sea Trailer. By Lieut. H. D. Perry. Wild Frank. By Edward L, Wheeler. Little Wurricane, By Oll Coomes. The Hidden Hand, By Chas. Morris. 84 The Boy Trailers. By Badger, Jr. Evil Eyé, Kine or Carrie Tmrves; or, THE VULTURES OF THE Rio Granpe. By F. Dumont, Cool Desmond, By Col. Delle Sara. Fred Halyard. By Charles Morris. Ned Temple, tHe Borver Boy. Harbaugh. Bob Rockett, Trax Cracksman, By Morris. By Wm. R, Eyster. ro 3 Little Texas, 4 Dandy Rock’s Pledge. B Baggage. B DPA AAT SUSe TT SUSU Ste Ot Su ihe shee hie Hie ae ihe she be hn Hm CO GO 0 GO CO 5 ys’ °o ~ - A Trum 1 Ebony Thunderbolt Tom. Dandy Rock’s Rival. Bob Captain Arizona, The Bo DOW GO Gad aHakadadababadas ns SOO MMOS DIAG HW Dandy Darke. Buffalo. Billy. By Capt. Taylor, U. 8. A. By Lieut. H. D. Perry,U.8.N. Captain Mask. By Philip 8. Warne, Buffalo Bill's Bet, By Captain Taylor. Deadwood Dick’s Dream, By Wheeler. | Shadowed. By Charles Morris. Little Grit, THz Wicd River, By Ingraham. | Arkansaw. By T. C. Harbaugh. Featherweight. By Edward Willett. 00 The Boy Bedouins, By Whittaker. 201 The Black Hills Jezebel, By Wheeler. ! Captain Kit. SDMA WH KOSOOSUIA Gee RD ee et ret ret red fred et et et feat fret fet ft fect rt rt ft tt ft fet et ft fet ft tet ft fst ft ft ft fl fr ptt et Jt fe fe fl Pf mh lf a fe fl ff fh fh ft fh oh Ph tl ft fh fs fh ft fu fm fl pp J i —=— SOOSOCSCOOCOooeseeew =. By Oll Coomes. The Gold-seeker Guide; or, THe Losr Movuntary. By Captain Mayne Reid. Cyclone Kit, By Edward L. Wheeler. Bill Bravo and His Bear Pards, By T. C, Harbaugh. The Two ‘ Bloods, By Charles Morria- The Disguised Guide. By Oll Coomes. Sierra Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler. 245 Merle, the Middy. By Col. P. Ingraham. 246 Giant George. By Buckskin Sam. 247 Old Grizzly and His Pets. By Captain ** Bruin ’’ Adams. 248 Sierra Sam’s Secret. By E. L. Wheeler. 249 Milo Romer, By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 250 Midshipman Mutineer. By Ingraham. 251 Light-house Lige, By J. F. C. Adams, 252 Dick Dashaway. By Chas. Morris, 253 Sierra Sam’s Pard. By E. L. Wheeler. 254 The Half Blood, By Edward 5. Ellis. 255 Captain Apollo. By T. C. Harbaugh. 256 Young Kentuck. By Capt. Mark Wilton. 257 The Lost Hunters. By Capt. Adams. 258 Sicrra Sam’s Seven, By E. L. Wheeler, 259 The Golden Harpoon. By R. Starbuck. 260 Dare-Devil Dan.- By Oll Coomes, 261 Fergus Fearnaught, By Geo. L. Aiken. 262 The Young Sleuths, By Charles Morris. 263 Deadwood Dicks Divide. By Wheeler. 264 The Floating Feather. By Ingraham. 265 The Tiger Tamer, By Capt. Whittaker. 266 Killb’ar, the Guide. By i Charles: Dudley Warren, (of the Engineer’s Corps.) 267 The Harbaugh, Buckskin Detective. By T. C. 268 Deadwood Dick's Death Trail. Edward L. Wheeler. 269 The Gold we +! or, MERLE, THE Con- DEMNED. By Colone) Prentiss Ingraham. 270 Blizzard Ben. By Captain Mark Wilton. 271 The Huge Hunter. By Edward 8. Elis. 272 Minkskin Mike, By Ol] Coomes. 273 Jumbo Joe. By Edward L. Wheeler. 274 Jolly Jim. By Charles Morris. 275 Arizona Jack. By Buckskin Sam, (Major } Sam 8. Hall.) 276 Merle Montes Cruise; or, Tar Cuase or THE Gotp Surv By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 277 Denver Doll, By Edward L. Wheeler. 278 The Three Frepeerss or, Taz Mounrarn Monster. By Major L. W. Carson. 279 Old Winch, rae Rove Kina. By T. C. Harbaugh. 280 Merle Monte’s Fate; or, Psar., THe Prratn's Prive. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 281 Denver Doll's Victory; or, SkuLL snp Cross-Bongs. By Edward -L. eeler, Detective 3; or, WEASEL, THE By Edward Willett. 283 Indian Joe}; or, Tox Warre SPIRiT or TRE His, By Major L. W. Carson. 284 The Sea Marauder; or, Meriz Monrs’s Puxevex. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 285 Denver Doll’s Decoy. By E, L. Wheeler. 224A 226 227 228 229 By 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 By Ed- 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 By: 282 The Typo Boy TRAMP. 286 Josh, the Boy Tenderfoot; or, THz Wiip Men or Buzzarp Bar, By Mark Wilton. 287 Billy Blue-Kyes, rue Boy RovER oF THE Rro Granpe. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 288 The Scalp King. By Capt. J. F. C, Adams, 289 The Young Detective; or, Jotty Jm's Cure Cass. By Charles Morris. 290 Turk, the Ferret, By B, L. Wheeler. A new issue every week. Ly em erg Library is fox gale by ~ Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt, of six cents each. BRADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.