ENGINE NO. 1, CUBA CENTRAL RAILROAD, WITH SPANISH CREW. and follow implicitly where he leads." "And where are the police all this time?" "We have but one policeman in our part of the town, and I'm afraid discretion outweighs valor with him. At least he has earnestly advised me to give up these meetings for a while and not irritate the boys." The stranger laughed and following the parson's example picked up his hat. "I'm going with you," he said. "I'm just aching for a little vigorous exercise." The parson, looked at his new friend with surprise in his glance, but he offered no objection. There were more people in the assembly room of the modest church than the stranger had anticipated. There were at least 100, but a large proportion were women and girls, with here and there an elderly man. The stranger looked around for the disorderly element, but it had not arrived. The pastor took his new friend to the very front row of seats and left him there, and the stranger at once discovered that he was the only occupant of this somewhat prominent tier. But his attention was quickly taken up by the simple servHe bowed his head reverently and he sang the ice. familiar hymn in a loud strong voice that had considerable music in it. Then he presently settled himself back to listen to the young pastor's talk. It was at this point that the first interruption occurred. There was a rude and noisy shuffling of feet at the rear of the room, and some irreverent talking. This was followed by a laugh, and then came more talking and scraping of feet and presently an imitation of the tramp, tramp of a company of passing soldiers. At the first indication of a disturbance the pastor had slightly frowned. As the noise increased the pastor frowned again, and presently laid down his book and looked about in an almost helpless way. His eye caught that of the stranger, and the stranger smiled and nodded in a manner that evidently meant to go ahead. The pastor picked up his book and resumed his reading. As he did so the stranger very deliberately arose and carefully buttoning his coat, started down the nearer side aisle. The noise had increased in volume until it quite drowned the pastor's voice, but the pastor read on. Then the noise suddenly ceased. It was only for a moment, though. It broke forth again louder than before. At this there was the added sound of a struggle, a very brief struggle, and when it ended the noise ended, too. IN THE FIELD OF CONSTRUCTION. A moment later the more or less affrighted congregation were treated to a peculiar sight. A very neat appearing stranger walked down the aisle, and leaning on his right arm was the town bully. The bully's face was very pale and there were tears in his eyes. Yet he did not appear to go unwillingly. On the contrary he seemed to be anxious to keep up with the steady stride of the stranger. No doubt this desire was strengthened by a somewhat singular twist that the stranger had secured on the bully's left arm. The bully was a younger and considerably bigger man than the stranger, but this apparently did not suggest any scheme for parting company with his escort. He walked beside him, to quote one of the elderly men of the congregation, as meek as Moses. When they reached the front row, the stranger released the bully and pointed to a seat. He accompanied the gesture with a welcoming smile and a polite bow. The bully sat down. Then the stranger retraced his steps. Almost immediately he came back with three more of the gang, big boys who were almost men in size. One boy walked before him, he had a firm grasp on the other two. On the way down the aisle, one of the two tried to squirm away. Without losing a stride the stranger caught the lad by the back of his coat and lifted him off his feet, and so carried him almost at arm's length the rest of the way. When they reached the front row he gave them seats beside the conquered bully. Then he turned again and went back for more. This time he was successful in corralling but one, the others having ignominiously fled. The latest victim was a stubborn youth, and the stranger had tucked him under his arm and so bore him down to his fellows. When the last arrival had been seated, the stranger resumed his seat and the services suffered no further interruption. When the final hymn was reached the stranger signaled the gang to rise and they all stood during the singing, one or two of them actually joining in. They turned to go when the benediction was pronounced, but the stranger stopped them. "The parson wants to welcome you, boys," he said. "Hold fast a minute." And sure enough the young pastor came down and told them all how glad he was to see them there, and shook hands with each and cordially invited them to come again. "And now let me say a word," remarked the stranger. "I want you to understand, parson, that if there's any more disturbance at your meetings it won't be these boys who are a party to it. They are not that kind of rowdies, and, besides, our big friend here is going to keep them all straight. Ain't you, my boy?" And he tapped the bully on his broad shoulder. "You'll look after things when I can't be here, won't you? There was a sickly grin on the big fellow's face. "I'll promise," he said. "He'll do it, parson," said the stranger. "He's one of the lads who when they make a promise always keep it. Good night, boys," and he passed along the line giving each of the lads a hand clasp that made him wince. wonder," "Say, you're a blooming murmured the admiring bully, as he straightened out his cramped fingers, and then they all filed out. "Did you hear what somebody at the door called me as we passed?" inquired the stranger as he and the pastor leisurely strolled towards the latter's lodgings. "No. What was it?" 66 "The parson's bouncer." "And what, pray, is a bouncer?" "A bouncer is a man who is engaged to throw out visitors that are not welcome." "Ah, but that doesn't apply to you. You hold fast to them and do your best to make them acceptable." The pastor paused and looked at the stranger admiringly. "What wonderful strength you have!" he said. "It's the biggest part of my business," the stranger laughingly remarked. “I'm the strong man of the show, you understand. Been gathering muscle for almost twenty years. Trapeze, leaping, tumbling, weight lifting-it has been a part of my training. And now I'm 'The New Hercules' on the posters and the small bills.” The pastor paused again. "What a wonderful amount of good you might accomplish if your strength were only applied in some useful direction," he said. "Perhaps so,” said the stranger, “but I'm very much afraid that a change of occupation would serve me in the same way that the scissors of Delilah served my predecessor, Samson, when they snipped away his strength." The young parson laughed and linked his arm in his new friend's. "Perhaps so," he said. "But there's one thing very certain, I will never forget this latest labor of Hercules." And they laughed together.-Cleveland Plain Dealer. The Lightning Express. Down grandmother's banister rail I'm the engineer that never knows fear, Bowen, the housekeeper, come along in a few days bringin' some help with her. She hired Mandy Ross to help put things to rights, and the things Mandy told when she got through her work and dropped into first one house and then another made us all open our eyes, I can tell you. Wild roses on the ceilin' of one room, with pink satin-yes, ma'am, pink satin-on the walls instead of paper, and the beds with silk curtains and silk comfortables. Among the other expensive things there was the picture of a king painted on ivory that Mrs. Bowen said was worth a mint of money, and I call that foolishness, for if you are goin' to pay so much for a portrait it's better to have one of some member of your own family and not of some old king that's been dead for hundreds of years and ENGINE NO. 15, COLORADO MIDLAND, COLORADO CITY, COL., DECORATED FOR PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT'S SPECIAL, APRIL 14, '05. MISS DAISY E. WALKER, PHOT. excitement than Mrs. Armand did," observed Mrs. Mason, as she deftly quartered and cored an apple and dropped the pieces with a sharp clatter into the tin pan on the floor at her side. "The excitement commenced before she got here, for she had bought the red house-that place on the hill south of town that's got SO many trees around it. Nobody had lived there for years; the house is too big and expensive for anybody around here, and some even said it was ha'nted, though I don't take no stock in such stories myself. "But one day a lot of painters and carpenters went up the hill, opened the house and went to work at it, and Mrs. mebby didn't amount to much when he was alive. 66 Mandy told us that the owner of the house was a wealthy widder who had traveled all over the word and seen everything worth seein', and had concluded to buy a home and be quiet for a while. We made up our minds that she'd be old, and I thought she would be tall and thin, but Mrs. Stevens, next door, said Mrs. Armand was sure to be fat; fat women, she said, always seemed to have the most money. Mrs. Stevens is thin. Well, we was both mistaken, for Mrs. Armand wasn't old, or fat or thin, just tall and graceful and as handsome as a picture, though the first glance I got of her face I said, 'Though that woman ain't over 25, she has seen trouble, and I know it.' "This is a sociable town, and there wasn't a woman who considered herself anybody at all that didn't go to see Mrs. Armand, who always treated them polite, had a girl in a white cap pass around tea and cake, but told 'em she never made calls herself. There was only one thing that she seemed to take any interest in, and that was circuses. I didn't b'lieve this when I first heard it, for Mrs. Armand was so ca'm and cold that I didn't think she'd care for a fool thing like a circus. But it was a fact, and this fad was first noticed by Betty Leonard that keeps the little store where you buy embroidery silks and such things. "There were some circus posters on the fence opposite Betty Leonard's store and Mrs. Armand come down the street and stopped before them posters, and studied every one of them as if she'd never seen a show in her life. When she went into Betty's store there was one of these 'dodgers,' they call 'em, on the counter, tellin' still more about the show, and Mrs. Armand picked it up and read it from top to bottom. "Are you fond of circuses?' asks Betty, to be polite. "No, I detest them!' answers Mrs. Armand, droppin' the dodger as if it had been a snake, which Betty thought was awful queer, seein' she'd been so killin' anxious to know just what kind of a show it was to be. 66 Betty told me afterward that you could 'a 'knocked her down with a peanut shell when she saw Mrs. Armand come to that very show and stay through the whole performance! It's only human nature, says I to Betty. "There ain't many people honest enough to own that they like a circus. As for me I ain't ashamed to say I like the whole thing from the grand entry to the concert, and the clown just tickles me to death.' "There ain't a town anywheres that's visited by more shows than this one is. There's so many miners and workmen in the blast furnaces, and every one of 'em turn out for a circus and take their fam❜lies. The biggest show of the season come along in August and Betty Leonard and her mother stopped at my gate on their way to the 2 o'clock performance and we all went together. After we'd been waitin' for some time, for we went early, Betty pinched my right arm, and there passin' in front of us was Mrs. Armand all in white, for the day was hot, and she went to her place amongst the reserved seats like a queen mountin' a throne. The grand entry come prancin' in about this time, a fine sight all a glitter with gold and spangles, and Mrs. Armand put up a pair of little opery glasses, which she kept to her eyes till she'd seen the procession pass around once, then dropped 'em and didn't look again till the next act begun. "The bills had said there would be a Signor Rudini, the finest bareback rider in the world, and his son, a mere child, that could ride wonderful, and that the child had had the crowned heads of furrin countries on their knees at his feet. There was a big crash of music when these two come in, for I reckon they was considered the cream of the show. Šiner Rudini was an awful handsome man in blue and silver, and his little boy was dressed just like him, and I heard some women sayin', 'Oh, ain't he just the image of his pa? The ringmaster said that the boy was just 3 years old, and he didn't look over that, and he was the prettiest little mortal you ever set eyes on. The clown says, 'Listen at the ladies say, Oh-h-h, how sweet! They didn't say that when I come in,' and everybody laughed. Rudini mounted his horse with one skip, and the ringmaster picked up the child and tossed him to his father as you would toss a ball, The little one stood on his father's shoulder and threw kisses to the audience with his little hands, the cutest you ever saw. Then he climbed to his father's head and stood there with his chubby arms folded as cool and unconcerned as if he'd been on the floor, and Rudini jumped over banners and cut all kinds of capers with that baby on his head. "Suddenly, and I don't know to this day how it happened, the child lost his balance and fell to the ground. The women screamed and some of 'em fainted. everybody stood up and some rushed to the ring. The clown carried the child out, and the little face was like wax, and looked so pitiful that I cried, and I guess' I wasn't the only one that did. The ringmaster asked the audience to be seated, as the child, he said, was only stunned and would soon be all right, while Rudini mounted his horse again and pranced around as if nothin' had happened. "But I couldn't get the thought of that little white face out of my mind, and I was bound I'd see if I couldn't be of some use to the child, for I'm a good nurse, though not perfessional. We was on the top row, and it made me nervous climbin' down them ticklish seats, specially as so many looked cross at havin' to move. I went around to the part of the tent they used as a dressin' room and a man at the door tried to keep me out. But I says 'I'm a nurse,' and shoved my way in. Mrs. Armand was there before me, and I guess she hadn't no trouble about gettin' in, for it would be hard for a man to say no to a grand, commandin' woman like her. The child was stretched on a bunch of hay that I expect had been left from the elephant's dinner, and one of the banners Rudini had jumped over was spread over him. He looked taller and older than he did in the ring, and I found out afterward that he was really over 6 years old. On the ground by his head was seated an old woman, wrinkled terrible, with her arms clasped around her knees. Young Dr. Crane, that knows about as much about sick folks as a mole does about astronomy, was sayin', in that pompous voice of his'n, 'I think, madam, the child will recover, but there will be no more equestrian performances.' "Let me take the little fellow to my ought to dote on the baby, showin' no more feelin' than a catfish. 666 "Rudini is not her father, and she has not a drop of my blood in her veins,' says the old woman in a snappish voice. "She? Who are you talking about?' says I. 66 6 'Oh, I've told everybody she was a boy, so she wouldn't be found. I needed her myself, but I don't care who knows it now. She was left with me to take care of her, and no money was ever paid me, and I had to make her work.' "At this Mrs. Armand turned as white as her dress. She touched the old woman on the shoulder and said, 'Come, I must speak to you,' and she crushed a bill (I didn't see the size of it) into her hand. house,' says Mrs. Armand in her clear, cool voice. 'I will see that he has the best of care.' But the old woman didn't seem to hear, for she kept sayin': 'No more ridin'! Then how can I make a livin'?' I couldn't stand it any longer, and I says: 'I reckon you're his grandma, and a nice one you are! Instead of thankin' the Lord that the child ain't goin' to die you go to worryin' about the money you're goin' to lose by the accident! This boy has a fine set of relations, I must say! There's his father cavortin' a-horseback this minute as if nothin' had happened, and you, his grandma, that D. F. Champion. John Curlison. The two went into a corner of the tent and talked a long time. At last the old woman took a letter or a folded paper out of the bosom of her dress, and Mrs. Armand snatched it, and after she'd read it she went over and knelt down by the pile of hay as if it had been an altar, and there was a light in her eyes that told me this was her own child. "I can't talk much longer, for it's time to bake this pie, but it seemed that Mrs. Armand, the only child of a very rich man, had ran away and married a goodfor-nothin' scamp and was cast off by her father. Her husband deserted her and |