The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-11-17
In TWO Halves.
The Story of Divided Bank Note.
THE FIRST HALF.

Wet and dreary. IL is midwinter;
the scene is Kirklington, on the Lon
don and Northwestern the time one
quarter to eleven; just after the night
mail flashed through without stopping
bound for Liverpool and the north.
The railway officials are collecting pre-
psratory to going off duty for the
night.
"Where's DAM" asked one of the
crowd upon the platform.
~ saw him in the hut just after the
one-quarter to eleven went through.
Can't have come to any harm, surely?"
"No; he he aaid he'd seen something
drop from the train, and he went down
the line to pick it up"
And Dan had picked up something
1t was basket, common white
wicker basket, with a lid fastened
down by string. What did it con-
tain? Dirty clothesP What?
A baby-a child half dozen weeks
old, no more.
"Where did you come across it?"
asked one.
"Lying on the line, just where it
fell. Perhaps it didn't fall, perhaps
it was chucked out. What natter
Pve got it, and got to look after it,,
that's enough for mel"
The mites linen was white and of
fine material, but he lay upon an old
shawl and few bits of dirty flannel.
All they found was dilapidated purse,
common snaplock bag purse of faded
brown leather. Inside was brass
thimble, a ticket, and the half of
Bank of England note of100 pounds.
A new Harold Tref'ry-had
come lately to Kirklington.
He is now paying round of par
ochial visits, accompanied by an old
college chum, who is spending Christ
mas with him.
@Yonder," said" Treffry, pointing to
thin thread ofsmoke which rose from
some gaunt trees into the sullen wintry
air, "yonder is the house-if, indeed, it
deserves so grand name-the howell,
rather, of one whose case is the hard
est of all the hard ones in my parish.
This man is mere hedger and ditcher,
one who works for any master, most
often for the railway, but who is never
certain of a job all the year around.
He has swarm of young children, and
he has just lost his wife. He Is abso-
lutely FRUSTRATED; aghast probably at
his utter incapacity to do his duty by
his motherless little ones. l wonder
if you could rouse him? If you could
only get him to make sign, or cry,
or laugh, or to take the smallest in
tercst In common affairs. Jack, / be-
heve you're the very man. You might
get at him through the children-that
marvellous hanky -panky of yours,
those surprising tricks; child takes
naturally to you at once. Try and
make friends with these. Perhaps
when the father sees them interested
and amused he may warm q little,
speak, perhaps approve, perhaps smile,
and in the end give in. Jack, win
You try7"
Jack Newbiggin was by profession
conveyancer, but nature had intend
ed him for new Houdin, or wizard
of the north. He was more than half
professional by the time he was full
grown. In addition to the quick eye
and facile wrist he had the rarer gifts
of the suave manner and the face of
brass. He had even studied mesmer-
ism and clairvoyance, and could upon
occasion surprise his audience con-
siderably by his power.
They entered the miserable dwelling
together. The children-eight of them
were all diminishing over the floor,
except one, child of six or seven, a
bright-eyed, exceedingly beautiful boy,
the least-were not natures vagaries
well known-likely to be born among
and belong to such surroundings,
who stood between the legs of the man
himself, who had his back to the visi-
tors, and was crouching low over the
scanty fire.
The man turned his head for a mo-
ment, gave blank stare, then an i'm
perceptible nod, and once more he
glowered down upon the fire.
"Here, little ones; do You see this
gentleman He's conjuror. Know
what conjuror IL, Tommy" catching
up mite Of four or i've from the
door. mo, not you; nor you, Sarah;
nor you, Jakey"-and he ran through
Al their names.
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