The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1890-07-25
BILL NYE AS NOVELIST.

His Elegant Windup OF the Great Syndi-
cate Romance.
The last chapter Of the great New York World
syndicate novel. written by John L. Sullivan,
Ella Wheeler Wilcox and ten others, is con-
triDuted by Edgar Wilson Nye. Following is Q
synopsis:
Across the peaceful bosom of the great plains
no sound disturbed the night, save now and
then when at long intervals the shadowy dg.
ure OF q coyote crossed an aisle in the sagebrush
and, opening his swapping, drooling jaws, gave
forth that justly celebrated dietonic scale of his
which Is SO well calculated to call out the
goose-pimples even on the desth-mask OF Me-
thuselah.
Even the wind trod softly over the scorched
and withered grass and the well-lubricated
moon stole in and out among the clouds with
out creak-with the exception of Bitter creek,
Of course. which laved its alkali shores in the
eternal solitudes and bleached still whittier. a.
the years went by, the snowy bones of those
who once had sought to invade this great under
taking establishment of nature. this petriied
hush Of centuries.
But what sound is this that gently beats upon
the tense drum of the listeners ear?
The distant jar and gentle palpitationg OF
coming train from the Westl
Scarcely do we hear this and catch the yellow
twinkle OF her headlight when another muffled
roar from the east and little crawling lizht
growing rapidly out of the dusk and distance
swallow the intervening miles, and in flash
the two screaming snorting. painting monsters
have met like maii-clad giants in mighty tour
nament
Come to the bridal chamber. Deathl
Come to the mother when she feels
For the first time her first born's breath:
Come when the blessed seals
Which close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wall its stroke;
Come IN Consumption's ghastiy form,
The earthquakes shock, the oceans storm:
Come when the heart beats high and warm
With banquet, song and dance and wine,
And thou art terrible: the tear,
The groan, the knell, the PAIL the bier,
And all we know, or dream or fear
OF agony art thine.
Bat to the heart, where love is dead,
And hope is kneeling DER its bier,
Thy face with joy is oversnread.
And so lights out with bounding tread
The soul that only sorrowed here.
When Lena awoke with this dull pain In her
head she felt certain that she was dead and was
almost tickled to death to think that her sad
heart would sorrow no more and that Harry was
free, but almost at once came the smell OF hot
Yarnish and the slight suspicion Of an overdone
porter who ought to be turned over.
"Great Gawd," she said, as her breath came
in brief pants, 1.-THE car is on fire. must 60
away"
To spectator who might have seen the coils
ION 1t would have seemed impossible that q liv.
ing thing could come out of this terrible wreck
and holocaust, but ere long venerable apple
worm crawled out Of the cool side OF q nice eat
ing apple and, seeing that he could be Of no
further use on board the train, came out Of the
Car and skunk away in the darkness.
Soon the cheerful car stove begins to get In it's
work, and the chaos of broken woodwork begins
to burn. at first slowly, then, az the swift winds
Of the plains catch 1t, the red blaze leaps out
and greets the frightened night with cackling
laugh.
Mrs. DR.. Watson went on the stage and did
well. She received good wages and also got
S35, 900 insurance on her husband, whose life
she had insured the year before. With this
money she bought two beautiful dresses which
she now wears on the stage, and which make a
great hit.
Mr.. and Mrs Henshall are real happy all the
time. Harry is good provider, and Lena can
construct cake which will make ones hair
curl. They have good deal of company come
to see them, and almost without exception each
one says on going away. Eve have had . real
good time"