The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1881-07-15
'ieco of rare good fortune as a memorial

4
| and stone"
''You anticipate me, madam. 1t was
as memorial that sent my first bit of
treasure, but expected TO get it back
again within two years, and the girl with
"And did you?''
''No; nor even received line of ac-
knowledgement that my offer had been
accepted Nothing finds gold quicker
than gold, when man has once got a
fair share of it, and in two years l had,
| in various ways, secured $40, 900. In
vesting it, as Thought safely, Ireturned
| TO Philadelphia In all the pride of con
! quering hero. My story ought to end
here; TO wind up with the chime of we'd
| ding bells and beautiful Rachel as
my reward for faithful serving; but L had
lszaarceIy arrived when 1 heard, incident
/ ally, that Jennie had gone with her
father to Europe, nor left no sign that
she ever remembered me.
You certainly did not let that fact
dampen the ardor of your pursuit?"
queried Ruth; ''you followed her, of
course"
II did no such thing, madam. re-
turned to San Francisco, and plunged
into the excitement of gold hunting with
= AOOhACoSDCSco lilAb ~ NOll1u Cdu upt
understand. Six months after and lost
every dollar, but by that time I had
learned that experience is worth nothing
as solid capital until it has been dearly
bought. whistled my rhyme:
''Loss and gain, pleasure and pain,
Balance the see-saw of life,
hugged his Brown head close to my
RlOnl1or 1ovrrb fhoN Il 4,x-
frlend-rolled up my sleeves, and again
went to work with vigor that I knew
meant certain success if the vein held
out. 1t did, and five years afterward |
had bank account which ran largely
into the thousands. 1 invested it in
land. By that time I was a bachelor of
thirty. Hard knocks and my one big
disappointment had shaken all the
romance out OF me, and when again
went East it was on business connected
with the construction of this railroad. 1"
''And you have quite outlived your
boyish fancy, as heart began to lose its
youth?" said Ruth, with the least bit of
cynicism in her tone.
81 think Fritz knew" said the con-
ductor quietly. 81 had become almost
misanthrope for his sake. If l left him
to go into society-such as we had-for
a few hours, he either whined like a sick
child or kept mp such an increasing
barking and baying that to save HIM be-
ing shot as a nuisance | went to no place
where it was impossible for him to ac-
companyme. The oldfellow went with me
even to New York, and on the journey
often caught myself cogitating how he
born in a wilderness of wild mustard,
and as fond of camp-life as an Indian
would take to the constralnt of an old
city. Well, had not been in New York
a week before there was a strong tugglng
at my heart to run down to Philadelphia.
Not that il was home for me, for my
parents had died before L first left it. L
fst6.led the desire the charm of aSsocla-
ton, and it led me.
.eThere, as l went down Arch street,
my poor dog lost his wits and the sober
dignity of his maturity. He had a re-
markably fine scent. L always knew
that; but no sooner had we turned into
that particular street than, with nose
close to the ground and rigid tail, he ran
zig-zag to and fro, as though he was on
the trail of an erratic fox. called him,
but he gave no heed. People got out OF
his way. The gamins shouted. and,
with a wild. shrill bark, he suddenly
llIO buS uoOi-Mhy O1 n
| dry-goods store. l bounded after him
in time to see him rush up to lady IN
black, who was examining some gloves,
and danced around her with signs of the
most extravagant joy There are tones
that live without the mid of photographs.
Roy Royi Dear old Roy, was all she
said, but I'd have sworn the voice was
| Jennie's if had heard it on the summit
of Mount Blanc. A white hand was
laid upon his head and my ring was on
the hand.
He paused.
''Yours? Sir, I hope you did not
claim it" said the practical cOllocu-
| tor.
81 did, and the hand which wore it,
| Just as / originally intended" Nor did
Alexander, in his hours of conquest, ever
smile more serene approval of himself
than our conductor at this stage of the
story.
"But the conduct of Fritz, and the
lady's silence, and all the queer concom-
| itants which exist only in fiction-how
| do you reconcile them with an ow'r true
tale?H said Ruth, the truth loving.
Fritz was Roy, the Roy who had
often been caressed by Jennie before his
=
| gold fever, when | did, and came to
California, never to return. Jennie had
written, but her letters bad never
reached me. She thought me dead. Why
the dog came to me, when his master
died, is one among the riddles of my
| life which 1 will disentangle in the here
after.
"And to-day where is she ?"
He stood waiting for the answer
''On our ranch near Sacramento, and
| believe one of the happiest women in the
| State We have boy ten years old,
whose name is Fritz. and all the dearer
for the sake of the old friend who has
gone where / hope one day to meet the
human of him. 1 wish you could stop
off bit and see my wife. Queer, isn't il
| that l should have introduced this bit
of private history upon you? But the
truth is. Yes-comingi I'll be with
you again; ladies"
A brakeman beckoned him inside, and
we had seen the last of our handsome
conductor.
The evening shadows had begun tc
lengthen.
The setting sun had turned the vas
plain of the Sacramento Valley into a
field of the cloth of gold," and the dis
tant peaks of the Sierras, clad in eternal
SHOWS, but now rose-tinted and glowing,
seemed to cleave the azure above then
rs with wedge of FURNISHED silver II
was starlight when we reached the end
of our car-ride and were registered fol
the night
"The conductors story was pleasant
little episode, Ruth, wasn't it? Do yor
believe it all happened ?" 1 asked, as
leaned from my pillow to her to leave
a goodnight kiss on her round cheek.
''I like Fritz, was the sleepy answer
s'There's an instinct about some dogs
that the half of mankind can neither
appreciate nor maintain. / trust a mai
whom good dog loves"
"Is THERE letter here in a scented
envelope for my wife ?" he asked the