The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-06-16

pany-she would sometimes say 70 her daugh-
ters that nothing could ever be made of those
glorified trades people Then, with eharac-
teristic dread of too sweeping assertion, she
would add: Except sometimes, dears-ex-
cept sometimes You know, girls she
said one day, in her gay style, 1T is a pro-
verb that there Is nothing like leather; don't
think there Is Which she delivered with one
of her Frenchihed faces OF dislike. which al
ways set the girls laughing The plain Dones
dreaded the witty, dashing, fashionable Mrs
Barbara Temple; and Mrs. Barbara Temple
regarded the plain Dones with repressed, but
not invisible, scorn.
There were John Done the first, and John
Done the second As Is very often the case
with sons of self-made men. John Done,
junior, while lacking his fathers native sense
and business energy. had inherited double
portion of his homehneSs, made quite intoler-
able by brassy assurance and disregard of
other peoples feelings, which indeed amount
ed TO an anxiety to infiict pain wherever he
could At school he had been hated for
tyrant and bully, and it was also known
among the boys that he would tell a he--and
that not a schoolroom lie-whenever it suited
his game. Percival Brent went to school
with him, being just three years his junior.
Percival was a bright, merry little boy, very
y
only that Done. who always disliked boy in
proportion to his school popularity or his edu-
catonal promise. never lost opportunity
of tyrannizing over him One day, when
they were all in the playground. Done, in
making high jump, fell very awkwardly.
and, amidst the roar of laughter which fol-
lowed, little Brent ran forward and made
pretense OF smoothing the ground after
the overthrow of the weighty Done. Exas-
perated by his fall Done dashed forward and
gave little Brent such a box on the ear as
sent him spinning round. until he fell heavily
to the ground. Brent sprang up all knit into
compactness with rage, and tried TO give
Done a blow ON the face, which he scornfully
warded off, and told the little lad not to be SC
impudent again. But Brent. bristling and
stamping with passion, declared he would
have fight for it; which Done at first re
fused, for all the boys cried out at the idea
But as the little fellow would not he appoaseSi
Done, having satisfied his honor by one rt-
fusal, and always liking 20 infiict PAIN ac-
cepted the challenge, and the two stripped to
their shirts and went at it For several
rounds little Brent was knocked all over the
place; and they all felt for the game little
lad but were sorry to see him so punished
and especially in hopeless fight. For my
lady readers will observe that one of the
crowning achievements in the noble art
is to imprint your fist on your opponents
face. Now if your arms are only two
feet long, while those of your opponent are
three feet, it win follow that while he may be
merrily hammering your countenanee into
ruin, your return blows may fall only on the
unoffending air, This Just what hap
pened now; and poor little Brent was hav-
ing very dispiriting time of it. Some of
the boys, however, noticed that he went
down wonderfully easy; and others, who
knew that the rector's groom was one of the
kest pair of fists in the county, began to
-hink that perhaps the little fellow had
picked up some of the tactics from Bobby
Miller and was trying a waiting game
Done thought so, too; and being a large mealy
0oy, with rather uncertain wind, he re-
solved to bring the thing to an end, and gave
Brent one savage blow, which produced very
disagreeable results ON the poor little mans
nose Brent was not knocked out of it, how
ever, as Done hoped; but the very opposite.
He was strung together with fury; but even
in his rage he did not forget the instruc-
tions of his master, Bobby Miller" He
rushed at Done; and, while the other in his
magnificencc was guarding himself carelessly.
little Brent got in and began to return on
Done's face all the blows he had received,
principal and interest How those little fists
few and hammered How Done retreated
over the ground, wildly trying to get his
adversary outside range again, while still
little Brent dTubbed away with astounding
rapidity and vigorl The fact was the little
fox was quite fresh, while Done was thor
oughN blown. Bobby "Millern knew his
business, and would have been proud of his
young master had he been there to see. At
last Done, nearly blind with blows and rage,
made one grand effort to destroy his enemy
with an appearance of ease. 1t was fatal to
him. Brent was really warm to his work,
and not likely to miss opening. In rapid
succession he managed to plant three blows
just under Done's left eye, the last delivered
with such force that it sent the lunpy fellow
to grass, where he lay vanquished, Brent
standing over him with fists still rlinched
and burning, it seemed, for a little more.
That was sixteen years ago. John Done,
junior, was now rather bulky young man,
with a white fiat face, very small sunken
eyes, a smile which expressed a narrow mind
satisfied with itself, and unprepossessing
manners. His habits, too, had not been the
best and it was known in Kettlewell that he
was, in his sly way, a man of dissolute habits.
He had now been absent, off and ON, for
nearly four years; but when he returned
home he happened to hear of Sophia Temple
and her little affair with Percival Brent BY
a curious chance he had met Brent in
Australia himself, and, although outwardly
civil to him. he remembered with a grudge
the thrashing of years gone by for his nature
was Of that sluggish sort, where revenge
burns long and sullenly, like fuel in slow
combustion stove When he came home and
heard about Sophia, the thought struck him
what nice girl she was, and what fine
thing it would be to marry the woman for
whom his former foe was working now in
another hemisphere! He pondered His
eyes lit with their half-animal gleam. He
said: Il can manage it