The Arkansaw traveler., 1883-09-08
A DAUNTLEss MAN.
CHAPTER I.

 of its people. The community, you migh, say IS, or rather was, almost self sustaining for it received very little bene- fit from the world. Coffee was unknown there until ii was introduced by a doctor who went there to practice medicine. The decoction was promptly examined by cid man Gressom who pronounced il worthless and calculated to inJure the community. There was no appeal from the decision, and the doctor was in- formed that unless he discarded the use of the stuff he would be driven from the neighborho He would not agree to give up the use of his only s,im- uiant, and one morning, shortly after the promulgation of the decisive edict, the doctor might have been seen-in fact he was seen, carrying pair of dingy saddle bags down the mountain.
 This community had no other name than the " District" and if any one had attempted to change the appella;ion he would no doubt have felt the heavy hand of revenge. The District people had no regularly established religious creed. Every Sunday they would meet in rude log building and listen to the illitera,e discourse of John Sumpter, an old fellow who took upon himself the duty of in- structing the people on the principles of religious morals.
 Once newspaper man of misdirected enterprise attempted to publish a weekly journal in the little village known as the capital of the District" but before the first number of the paper came out, a committee, headed by old man Gressom, called on the journalist and told him that they did not want newspaper.
 "We did not send for you," the old man said, (which is a mighty good evil dence that we didn't want you. We don't want no man to come around pryin' inter our affairs, an if it's all the same to you, we'd ruther you'd go back whar you come from or leastwise leave the Dis nict.'
 The editor argued that a newspaper would materially assist in the develop ment of the eountry's resources.
 "We've got all the developness we want," the old man replied. Develop ness is what makes fokes miserable. We never go down from here an try 10 run the world, an we'll be blamed if the world shall come up here an try to run us. If you want to come here an fall in with the rest of the fokes. an work fur a Twin, all right, but nc lazy man can live here."
 The editor explained that the publi- cation of newspaper required the exer- else of great industry, but the old man, losing patience, said:
 "We've dun give you fair warnin We have been kind enough 10 tell you what's the law, an if you don, prof, by it, we can't help it. Now, let us tell you once for all: If you print any of your papers here, we'll fling you offen the top of the mountain"
 The next day, hand-press might have been seen-in fact it was seen, going down the mountain.
 In this way the people ofthe District lived. Sons grew up, married and settled near the homestead, and no one ever thought that a change would come John Sumpter, the moral lecturer, had a beautiful daughter, who, despite her crude surroundings, had acquired, to some ex- tent, knowledge of books. She was tall and graceful. She was kind of Sheila among the ruder inhabitants of a Bavabost. Once, ate. long persuasion, she induced her father to let her go down in the world. She would not remain long. She only wanted to see what other places looked like. The people of the "District objected. They told John Sumpter that nothing but evil could re- suit from such wild exploit, but the giris shrewdness outweighed the argu- ments of the sages, and she went down among the strange people below. A few weeks afterwards she returned. Every one noticed that she had changed. Her wonted laugh had died away, and in the evening when the sun died. melting behind the rugged peak of the mountain, she would sit under the great oak in front of her fathers house and muse. Her father was alarmed. aLamuth," he said to her one evening, calling her by her curious name, "i want you to tell me what's the matter with your
 Nothing" she replied without re- moving her gaze from the deep blue space where distance seemed to level itself out into great turquoise plain.
 ~Nuthin'," repeated the old man. sli