sunbeams; a presence gracious, beautiful, and yet full of strength and power. She was sof ly smiling over these thoughts when Geoffr y Carlingford came in with the coffee, the first to desert the gentlemen. which accumulated vegetable matter, which has been increased from time to time, until now it has a crnst sufficiently strong and rich to produce fine corn, although it has to be cultivated by hand, as it is not strong enough to bear the weight of a horse. While harvesting, the hands He came over to the table, beckoning one of the waiters catch great strings of fish by making a hole through the to follow him with a t ay. earth. A person rising on his heel and coming down "May I drink my coffee here, Miss Thornton ?" he suddenly can see the growing corn shake all around him. asked, with an affectation of boyish eagerness. "I watched the butler's movements, to be sure to be in time." "Why not?" she asked, car lessly. Possibly there was affectation on her side, also. "But I mean with you. Let me serve you myself, please, and then I shall dare to ask a favor." He set the cup for her upon the table, and presented the tiny silver jar of cream and the golden bowl of sugar. "And the favor?" she asked, as she sipped the fragrant beverage slowly. "That I might be allowed to earn the gratitude of other flowers, Miss Thornton. Will y u let me find you the wild-flowers and the garden-flowers, too, which you will wear while you are here at The Towers ?" With a pleading smile he looked up into her face. "Why not?” she answered again; and then, seeing the triumph in his eyes, she added, "If I find them suitable. Flowers must harmonize, you know. Perhaps I had better not promise, because you may not be able to select judiciously. Gentlemen seldom understand the fitness of colors." “Ah, but I shall always know what will harmonize with -you. But you will allow me to present my choice for your judgment ?" "That will be but very little to promise," she returned. "Besides, I think it will be vastly entertaining. I shall be curious to see what I am to wear to-morrow. "It shall harmonize as well as the wild-roses, Miss Thornton," he said, confidently. "And could anything be more perfect than they with that dress?" FISHING IN A CORNFIELD. IN Colorado is a ten-acre field which is no more nor less than a subterranean lake covered with soil about eighteen inches deep. On the soil is cultivated a field of corn, which produces thirty bushels to the acre. If any one will take the trouble to dig a hole to the depth of a spade-handle he will find it to fill with water, and by using a hook and line fish four or five inches long may be caught. The fish have neither scales nor eyes, and are perch-like in shape. The ground is a black marl in nature and in all probability was at one time an open body of water, on LOVE'S DEPTH. LOVE's height is easy scaling; skies allure; Who feels the day-warmth needs must find it fair; And failing thee-shall then thy love despair? Say that to thee there came love's dreadful call A TRADITION OF ELBOW LANE. BY JULIUS CHAMBERS. THE PROLOGUE. T was an unusually narrow and ill-kept street. The wall of St. John's churchyard checked its ambition at the end of a hundred feet, and by forming a nave-like recess, converted the by-way into a semiinclosed court. Its peculiarity of form secured for the court the name of "The Elbow Lane." Even in the sunshine the place was cheerless and deserted; but, as night came on, the wall of the churchyard-sole barrier between the living and the dead-was swallowed up in the lowering gloom, and the little court became only a fallow corner of the drear cemetery beyond. There it was that the "corpse-stones" were clustered so thickly together that the cramped dead beneath, in their writhing, had heaved them from their grim propriety. They stood haughtily shrinking from their neighbors or wearily leaning on the dank mounds before them. These tottering slats were a ghostly people, for whom darkness was day and shadows sunshine. In the moonlight they slept, white and still and cold as the human dead upon which they rested; but with the deepening gloom they lost their rigidity, and the darkness, as a garment, warmed them into life. The wall under the shadowing trees grew unreal. The residents in the neighborhood, as long ago as Forty-odd, asserted that, as the gloom deepened, lifein-death stirred these weird ranks 'till they woke to their dark day, stiffly stalked about the court, and gathered in strange groups where the night was blackest. With its ghostly people, the lane remained in the heart of a great commercial city, a slumbering, solemn solitude. CHAPTER L THE COUNCIL OF ST. JOHN. On a bleak November night, in the year eighteen fifty. odd an old. blind beggar, guided by the hand of a trail and bonnetless child, threaded the long maze of streets Slowly, and with hesitancy, the old man felt his way along the little street toward the court beyond. Reaching the churchyard wall, the locality became familiar to him, and thence he took his "bearings"for was not he piloting him self through a waste of eternal darkness? A stone ledge, projecting from the base of the wall, was followed until the darkest recess of the Elbow was reached. Upon this shelf the visitor then sat down. He seemed to realize, through that mesmeric influence which tells of the presence of persons unseen, that there were others near. No one moved nor spoke. The clock, with its great owlish eye, in the old church-tower, was striking midnight. Far off, up the little street, the sound of a regular footstep was heard coming from the great thoroughfare toward the court. There was a shuffling of the feet, a slouchiness in the gait, which the ear readily detected. The silent watchers heard the footfall, and, intensified as were their other senses by the loss of sight, they listened with evident curiosity. As the man of shuffling gait turned from the great, silent A TRADITION OF ELBOW LANE. "THE PECULIARITY OF FORM SECURED FOR THE COURT THE NAME OF THE ELBOW LANE." Slowly edging along the seat, he raised his hand to his mouth, and whispered-"Old Teddy!" thoroughfare into the street leading to the court, the rays from the last gaslight on his route shone full in his face. The figure disclosed was that of a man fifty years of age, low in stature, and slim of build. A very red, coarse face, with a lean Roman nose, was surrounded with long white hair and beard. He was dressed in a poor fashion. A brown topcoat, patched various with colors, and threadbare; a murky, greasy pair of black breeches, and a drab felt hat, included all his visible wardrobe. He carried a staff fully as tall as himself. And one fact more curious stillthe man looked up at the clock! There was no Yet he came to a blind beggars' council. movement among the members until the newcomer had Just a perceptible interval of silence followed; then a shuffled into the midst of the court and rapped three low voice answered-"Friends !" times on the pavement with his staff. A long period of quiet succeeded, interrupted by each arrival, until there had assembled more than twenty individuals. All were inhabitants of that great zone where is eternal night. Here were assembled the members of the Blind Beggars' Protective League," and a regular monthly meeting -reverently styled "The Council of St. John "-was about to be held. Vol. XIV., No. 5-38. The silent audience then rose to its feet. This individual at once took rank as the presiding officer, and opened the session with due formality. "What supports us?" he began. "Asking," was the response. "What is the hour?" "The hour of need." The ritual over, the chairman now took charge of the proceedings. The roll was called, each absentee being liable to a shilling fine. The white-haired man stood out in the centre of the court, and a stray ray of light from the church-clock's face played about his withered form. This man was a corporate body, in whose person were united the offices of secretary, treasurer and president. He was a thief, and robbed the blind. In the face of the next member who rose could bare been recognized the thoughtful organ-grinder of Bowling "We will now hear any complaints or suggestions from Green. our brothers," said the chairman. "My station is on the Gridiron, most worthy president," began a member, rising. "Listen to the voice of Owen Brown," commanded the head of the meeting. "On yesterday morning a card was thrust into my hand, as the persuasive voice of a woman whispered: "This will warm your heart in the cold weather.' I was happy all the rest of the day. I carefully concealed the precious pasteboard in my pocket. When my wife brought my dinner, I told her to come for me in the evening an hour earlier than usual. After we got home to our fifth floor, back, I couldn't keep the secret any longer. At my request, she guessed every species of good luck which could happen ; but she did not think of anything equal to an order on a grocer for food-for such I had settled it to be. I drew the frail cardboard from my pocket and passed it carefully into her hands. Never shall I forget the doubting, halfdisappointed way in which she said, 'Something's printed on it! Shall I run to Dunlap's and find out what it says?' I remembered then that my poor Molly didn't know her letters. I said, 'Yes, do, old pet!' As I heard her feet pattering down the stairs, just as they used to do when we were young, and I-not blind-was able to protect her, I felt both sad and happy. I was alone; my thoughts ran on aloud: 'Benevolent lady; has orders for flour, beefsteaks, clothing, and shoes printed on cards to give away to the deserving poor. An Angel knows how to make people happy.' But I heard Mary returning along the hall below. Was she carrying home the provisions, that she came so slowly? Nearer, step by step; I feared to speak, and waited. As she crossed the doorway I detected, not a suppressed cry of joy, but a bitter sob. She threw her arms about my neck and kissed my face. The galling disappointment came-she cried. I asked no questions then, but tried to comfort her. 'Be virtuous, and you shall be happy,' were the words upon the card; and she said the cruel grocery men had laughed in her innocent face. It's hard to break the heart of the girl who loves you-but what revenge have I ?" "This woman may impose upon others," said the chairman, savagely. "Beware of her. Alas! we have no remedy! Who speaks? Oh, yes-it's Teddy Moran !" "I speak in behalf of Happy Sam," began the member. "He now lies upon a bed of sickness, and his relativesif he has any-have forsaken their blind kinsman. But it is not for the want of kindness that he suffers most; it's better food and proper medicine he needs. I know we all want his life spared to him, and I do, therefore, move that our treasurer be directed to visit Sam at my lodgings, prepared to furnish delicacies for the invalid to the amount of ten shillings. He'd have done the same for any of us!" "This will require a two-third vote," said the chairman. "Those in favor of making an appropriation of ten shillings for Happy Sam will, as your names are called, answer Ay!' those opposed, 'No!' The secretary will call !" A voice, so different from that before heard that none present could have suspected that it belonged to the presiding officer, called the roll, and the money was unanimously appropriated. "The treasurer will execute the will of the Order," said the squeaky voice of the chairman. "Among you," he began, "I am known as 'Organ Johnny,' but my claim to that title has ceased to exist, For twelve years-early and late, in sunshine and in rainI have turned the long hours into melody. As was only natural, I grew to love the box, which was my companion and the centre of all my hopes. Its safety became my greatest anxiety; its preservation my tenderest care. But one by one its notes have grown fewer, until on Saturday last it broke down entirely. I would ask where I could rent a new machine, and what the expense would be ?" "I think I could find you one," said the chairman, in a way most business-like. "My cousin has a store and-" "The price would be—?” Two dollars a month in advance." But a new and unexpected sound prevented the completion of the bargain. There came from out of the little street into that dark court the sound of rapidly flying footsteps-the pattering of a child's feet. A few moments of breathless silence followed, at the end of which a thinly-clad girl turned the corner. She rushed into the midst of a solemn council and to the side of Teddy Moran, who, trembling with terror, grasped her tiny hands. "Oh, daddy!" she said, grasping for breath. "Happy Sam is worse-convulsions. Just afore he was took he called for you." Fragile, wan, unhandsome, wanting in attractiveness of figure and dress, anxiety far beyond her years penciled upon her face; pale from want, chilly from scanty clothing; timid, yet bold in her agitation-she stood before that sightless assemblage, the truest picture of unproclaimed wretchedness pen had ever writ of. The highest of her station may have thought her comely; the lowest could not have believed her wicked. A guileless, palpitating heart in a homely tenement of earth. Dragging the shaking man to his feet, all impulse and fire, she gave the word of command-" Come!" The meeting broke up at once, and in squads of three the blind men emerged from the narrow street into the wide thoroughfare. The chairman lingered behind; his small, restless eyes glistened with hope, and, kneading his hands meanwhile, he muttered: "As well for Sam; better for us." CHAPTER II. DROPPED FROM THE ROLL. HOMEWARD, Over the same route-skirting the curb stones, crossing the ditches, courting the darknesshurried the man and child. The dismal region of their habitation reached, the gir. led the way up three flights of shattered steps to the open door of an uncarpeted room. The light from the hall only sufficed to show that on a bed of straw lay the body of a Otherwise the apartment was deserted. man. The child hurried her guardian toward the bundle of straw. A woman came along the hall, bearing a light, and entering the room, her candle revealed the fact that Happy Sam was dead. "Poor man! He niver come to at all, at all," were the woman's only words, Old blind Teddy groped his way to the pallet and knelt by the corpse's side. Bending over the dreary bed of death, the child strove to console her parent for the loss of his friend, while the woman held aloft the candle, when the shadow of a sharpvisaged man crossed the doorway and hovered over the group. As the figure took form, its eyes were fixed upon the sorrowful pair, and its lips moved with the words: "Better for us." But the quick ear of the child detected the step of the human ghoul, and her eyes caught the reflection from his glacé orbs. Upon the first opportunity the girl imparted the discovery regarding the presiding officer of the League to "Organ Johnny," and the latter took a solemn oath to kill the man who robbed the blind. The days that came after were drear and sad. The death of "Happy Sam" sundered the last links which held the home together; and the long period of rain and snow increased the want which had already caused so much bodily suffering. To end all doubt and hope, an exacting landlord, to whom their rent was sadly in arrears, turned into the street this lone couple in the antipodes of life. Accidentally, as it then appeared, the girl ascertained that cheap lodgings could be had at a tenement in a rear court, near Cherubim Square. She visited the house, and, on the principle that any place was preferable to the streets or the station-houses, secured a small apartment on the fourth floor. Although the act was performed never so craftily, the acute ear of the mendicant detected the locking of the door. At once the horror of his situation burst upon the prisoner, and feeling along the wall for a window, out of which he might shout for assistance, he found one heavily barred within, and closed by a solid wooden shutter with out. For a few moments the host was busied with some occupation at the end of the room. The blind man heard him strike a match, and knew that a lamp was lighting by the noise made in attaching the glass chimney. Then approaching his guest, the treacherous host hissed, in accents full of rage: "You'll beg no more, you dog!" A moment of silence passed. "No, nor follow me, you imp of darkness !" as he kneaded his hands. The blind man seized a broken stool which he had encountered in his gropings about the apartment, and described with it a radius about his head. Now he heard his foe cunningly crawling toward his feet, and with irresistible force he flung his weapon down in front. Again his antagonist essayed to get behind him, but the thor oughly desperate beggar retreated against the wall. Then an awful reality burst upon his senses, for he heard slowly approaching-pushed by his enemy's hands-a heavy object, seemingly a chest. With his legs pinned against the wall, he would be an easy victim. "Ha! the light !" exclaimed the mendicant, realizing that it was an unequal combat. Day had followed day in long succession since the in- Remembering that the lamp stood near at hand, actu domitable "Organ Johnny” had started upon his gropingated by this sudden impulse, he bounded to the left, and search for his enemy, when, late on a rainy afternoon-in this dreary Spring of 1857-he recognized the man and the voice, issuing from an open shop-door, in the crowd : "Two dollars a month, in advance." He stopped instantly, for in his vast, lone land he seemed very near the one object of his life; yet, he knew quite well that should his enemy elude him, a lifetime might be exhausted in again striking the trail. The throughfare, usually so crowded, was almost deserted, but the beggar stopped the first man who passed, and asked the street and the number of the shop. Then lowering his hat, he opened a place of business near the door. He began asking alms. From afternoon until nearly midnight-his hunger feeding upon the hope of revenge-the beggar lingered. The clerks in the adjacent shops pitied the mendicant's blindness, which prevented him from seeing how illchosen was the locality for alms-gathering; but they reasoned that he would not annoy their vision a second day. "Organ Johnny" heard the shutters going up on the windows. The man with the voice, having given some directions to his employés, left the shop. with one blow dashed it in fragments upon the floor. There was only an instant of darkness-in the next the bed and the floor were a mass of flame. The man of the voice and the slouchy gait unlocked the door and stepped without. Before closing it for ever he called to his victim: "You'll beg no more, you dog!" CHAPTER III. THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW. THERE was a fire at night in the most densely populated district of the city. The engines were hurrying to the scene, and the firemen were preparing the attack; but, fed by dry and crumbling woodwork, and fanned by a strong breeze, the fire defied its assailants. Crackling, roaring and hissing, it poured its burning passion forth, and piled up dense clouds of smoke between itself and the cold, sombre sky above. Out of every window it showed its lurid visage until even the walls glowed in its fierce embrace. The small court swarmed with men bearing coils of hose with which the fire was to be beaten down; but it only The mendicant suddenly put on his hat and followed roared louder, as if it would have said, "I only mock the slouchy footsteps. Through all sorts of crowds the groping beggar traced the slipping gait. Incredible as it may seem, the possibility of recognition by his enemy did not occur to him. In a narrow and deserted street, the pursued suddenly turned upon his pursuer, and, clutching him by the arm in a familiar way, invited him to his house. So unlooked-for was the proposal that, before the mendicant could stammer out a refusal, he felt himself hurried onward. Between surprise and indecision, he kept silen. A short walk and a climb up four flights of stairs landed the couple in the attic of an old brick tenement, in a rear court near Cherubim Square. you !" The landings were thick with smoke and the stairs were ablaze, when down and out of the house fled a frantic child, pursued by a wrinkled, white-baired man. In words of fierce invective, the man denounced the girl as the author of the conflagration. It was in vain that she protested her innocence and begged release from the two policemen who seized her. She seemed frantic with grief as, again and again, amid her sobs, she entreated, "I didn't do it; please let me go back into the house !" The fire raged on. Brave men swarmed up ladders to attack the rampant monster from without-all efforts to curb its fury from within proving futile. |