Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1874-10-01


lead the way to where thou hast concealed
my adorable Carlotta."
We do not perceive any movement of the
bed-post, but Scribbleton seems to, for he
continues:
"Ifalt, trcachcrous scountrel. It is not
there we must go in quest of Carlotta. Seek.
est thou to ensnarc or escape me: Have q
care, knave, or thy life is forfeit. Go before
me into this cavern"
The bcd-post makes some response, maud
hlc to us, but perfectly plain to the infuriatc
Scribbleton.
Thou licst, fcnd. l tell thee thou liest.
The Lady Carlotta entered that cave but an
hour ago. There, entombcd in some secret
dungeon, she lictl with anguisll-shakcn form,
tear-dimmcd eyes, and voice trembling with
the unaccustomcd accents of hcart-brOkcn
lamcntation. Perhaps at this moment with
streaming eyes she ebesceches heaven, in pray
crs that set the hosts Of the redeemed a-sob-
bing, that may DC sent to her rescue. And
heaven las sent me, he fairly shriekcd in the
intoxica,ion of rage into which he had
worked himself "and sl,all stand here
tcmporizing with base scoundrcl while she
suffers? Die, for thy falsehoods and obsti-
macy, with all thy damning crimes upon thee"
And with this anathema he thrusts his
sabre into the bed post so forcibly that it pas
see clear through and dcachcs large splinter
Which falls rattling to the floor. Having thus
summariy disposed of the principal villain,
Mr. Scribblcton drops his sabre. takes breath
a moment. and then proceeds to explore the
cave in search of the imprisoned Carotta.
For this purpose he plunges hcadlong under
the bed, loudly shouting,
"Carlotta! dear Carlotta: l am como to
save thee: Where art thou, Carlotta:"
At length he cmcrges covered with dust
and feathers, with a radiant expression of
countenance and pillow in his arms which
he hugs closely to his bosom and covers with
kisses.
"Saved, saved! Carletta, my darling
heaven be praised, thou art saved to me-"
and still embracing the pillow he dances
wildly about the room.
But a reaction from this madness Of express
sion and manner follows. The dance ceases,
the look of frenzy disappears, and throwing
the pillow on the bed and sitting down in
chair, in short time Mr.. Scribblcton appears
as natural and wcll-behaved rs any man.
"That scene was well.carried through" he
finally said to himself. II couldn't have
thought it out half so well sitting quiet at my
table. All! there's the secret of my success
as an author! BY putting myself, as it were,
in the place of my characters, and surround
ing myself with the circumstances that de-
scribe for them, all that men in such situa-
tions would say and do comes naturally and
easily to me, whereas might rummage my
brains for hours with far less effect by any
other method. But now to chronicle these
stirring incidents in all their dewy freshness,
and then away with my manuscript to the
editorial s,nctum of the Sunday Ledger"
CHAPTER II.
Scribbleton stood upon the veranda of his
boarding house, his face bright with a look
of conscious genius and the flame of a match
with which he was lighting his cigar. 1t
was evening, and he had finished the chapters
of his story intended for the next issue of the
Sunday Ledyer. The disguised Duke and the
lovely Carlotta were once more united and
happy, and the principal villain had been lett
for dead at the mouth of the cave from which
the lovely Carlotta had been so gallantly res
cuet.
"Now for a stroll and whatever turns up
in it," said Scribbletop as he stepped into the
street.
Words lightly spoken, but the prelude to
the most serious affair of Scribbleton's life
All! these light remarks, these trivial occur
rences-how little we regard them. and yet
how much often comes of them! The flame
of lamp is small thing, and the kick OF a
cow isn't great matter if it misses you; but
behold, not long ago they became Chicago
in flames, tens of thousands of families rend-
cred homeless, and millions upon millions OF
property destroyed. How many men have
in their affairs, from the veriest trif1es, fam
ing Chicagoes! But Scribbleton's affair
wasn't flaming Chicago,-it was another
sort of flame altogether. Let the story un-
fold it.
Scribbleton walked down the street toward
the park. Not with the walk of an ordinary
mortal. be It understood. No, Scribbleton's
whole mir was that of man of genius. There
was genius in his step. in which the toes were