The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1892-12-29
weeks work is wei Done; it's aiwsv.

weeks work is wei Done; it's always
wise to be prepared for accidents"
But what does it amount to when Il
is done?" shifted Pink. THAT other
man viii run us out / haven't any
head for practical matters, India"
Your whimpering is passed over
without notice. Did you ever think
practical matters are just like piano
keys; If you don't touch them with
knowledge, you make discordA We
can't have piano for about four years
yet But when we get home, III take
down the banjo and PUNK you a tune. I"
And if we succeed in making pa
per here, what outlook does it give us?s
Honor, influence, home. seat in
the senate for you or 10 if you hit the
popular need, and care for it. In time
a trip to Europe. All the time, ex-
change of prods with other minds, and
chance to push what is good and pun.
ish what is mean. At summer resorts
the well-nurtured young lady may now
be entering a grand hop, but am GO
ing home with ink on my finger, and
the assurance in my soul that in some
vast future larger battles will be given
me to fight, and shall come off victor"
Past midnight, however the assist
ant saw her former victories crumble
before her eyes. Pink's shouting
struck her through the ear like dag
ger. She crossed great change while
leaping over the side of her bed. The
Office was on fire, but Jo was not in it,
for 10 had walked Pink and run off q
others for help.
India passed through nightmare at
throwing clothing on, finding every
thing inside out or upside down. She
was running across the open prairie
with her brother, the streets rang with
cries of fire, and all the inhabitants of
a town so slightly built turned ont
with terror. A crowd was already
passing pals of water from hand TO
hand.
1t was too late to do anything hut
confine the fire. if possible, to the one
crumbiing block. There was at the
time no wind, and the pals were made
to do vigorous duty. In went the roof,
sending up constellation which put
ont half the stars.
This is too bad, sis, amt it nosv?''
said a human voice through the tumult
to India's ears Mr.. onebralxe, the
stock farmer, was there, his whip in
hand ready for driving home
II was settin' up with hogs to ship
tonight" he shouted, land was one of
the first to see the fire. 1t bust ort all
at once full blaze"
I'm afraid you won't get your paper
Tomorrow" said India.
"Pshaw! You'll lose considerable,
won't you?"
Burning up there is all that my
brothers and ! have except little
cheap furniture. There goes what |
have worked for since we Were left
alone in the world"
''Pshaw No insurancec"
I'VE were to insure the latter part OF
this week. Every dollar was needed
before. But I would like" said the
assistant, shaking her finger at the FIRE,
ITO get the better of that!''
''Pshaw!' groaned Mr.. Bonebrake,
with full western sympathy.
MY brothers," said India, feeling
her heart swell 10 proportion to the ca
lamity, will take that old fire for a
mere candle, though, to light them ON
the road. And I'll help!"
"What'n you do now"
Wen have to get presses some way,
and start the paper again"
"Got any backers?'
No"
Eyes, you have, said Mr. Bonebrs,re,
rising also to the occasion He pushed
through the crowd abruptly, and got
upon high platform in front of one Of
the stores In the midst of the roar of
fire and human lungs, he began to
shout speech, saying he did not in
tend to do so, but pluck was pluck. He
was burnt out once himself, and had
tornado tear him down another time.
And these young people was bound to
make it go; they had the rattlesnake-
KILN grit into 'em, and who'd stand
by to give them another start?
When people understood what he
was talking about they began to con-
suit among themselves The banker
leaped upon the platform. He was a
man of few words, but remarked that
the Chronicle was an Institution of the
town, and for his part he would not
have it destroyed: he would head q
paper at the bank in the morning.
Mr.. Bonebrake shouted to him to head
it now, and the banker took out his
notebook and did So Israel Bone brake
adding his name and his hundreds
with an eager hand. Somebody called
out that a new man had come, we'll
heeied to start another paper; but the
popular voice replied:
Throw him in the fret"
Other well-to-do citizens sprang upon
the platform, and put their names and
contributions upon the paper. There
was crowd raging to contribute. The
philosophical enthusiasm was so great
that cheer after cheer for the Chronicle
arose, while the fire which had de-
stroyed its outward presence among
them was sinking. The editor, Pink
Bradshaw, was called upon for q
speech and lifted to the platform. He
had but one boot on, but, brimmiNp to
the lips with such appreciation of his
as made maturer man of
him, he spoke straight out of his poetic
heart to the hearts bearing him up ia
calamity and made what thew v..o