THE BROTHERS' QUARREL. "I DON'T care," said George; "why should I? nobody cares about me. If I do my best, there is no good word for me; and if I do my worst, it is all the same." He was marching home from school, with his books slung in a leather strap over his shoulder, and his slate under his arm. "Edward takes the top of the class; Henry carries off the prize; John is asked on a visit to Uncle Lothbury's; James receives no end of presents. I get nothing; I'm asked nowhere; I win the blanks; I am the lag of the lowest form. Of course, everybody shakes their head at me. I'm the scapegrace. If I was a soldier, I might get shot; or if a sailor, I might get drowned. In either case I should be out of the way, and perhaps that would please them-of course it would." With this reflection, he sat down on a green bank, under the leafy shadow of a tree, and began to whistle. My brother Henry," he went on, talking to himself, "is about the worst of the lot; he pours over his books as if he liked them, and people say what an intelligent boy!' He keeps his copybook nice and clean, and people say what a tidy boy!' He bows and scrapes, and says 'if you please,' and 'thank you,' to everybody, and everybody says what a polite boy!' He does exactly as he is told to do, and people say 'what an obedient boy!' Ugh! I don't like it!" As he talked thus to himself, stopping sometimes to whistle softly, and sometimes to scratch an ugly face upon his slate, another boy came down the lane towards him. It was his brother Henry, a bright-eyed, delicate-looking boy, three years his junior. George saw him, clenched his teeth, and knit his brows. "George!" cried Henry, "here's news from town-good news from Uncle Lothbury." 66 What news? "He has written another note, and asked me to come and see him." "Of course he has," said George-" no doubt of it. You have written an answer, no doubt ? " دو "O yes. "O yes, of course; with words as smooth as new-mown grass, and lines as straight as a furrow." "I have written as well as I could, George, and father says " "It's perfect, of course-with all the i's dotted and all the t's crossed." "Father says, George," Henry went on, "that it is necessary to take pains with the letter, as uncle is very particular; and, besides, has dropped some hint of wanting a clerk one of these days." George pulled off his cap and made an ironical bow, saying,— "When you're head clerk or junior partner in the firm, perhaps you may want a porter, and will give me the place? 66 "Nonsense, George! Nonsense!-'tis plain good sense. But I -would have you to know that, sooner than be your slave, I would beg about the streets, and write 'I'm starving,' on the pavement." 66 Why, what is the matter, George ?-what has ruffled you?" "Ruffled me!" said the boy, pressing his hands tightly together; "why, you have ruffled me; Edward has ruffled me; John has ruffled me; James has ruffled me; father and mother have done the same. I tell you I can't bear it, and I won't." "My dear George, listen to reason; the letter I have written to uncle-" "Not another word about it, sir-go, make your fortune; let me take my own path." George, if you would but hear me, you would think differently!" He came towards him as he spoke, and tried to take his hand. But George, his face flushed, his eyes flashing fire, roughly repulsed him-so roughly, that he fell, and lay stunned at his feet. As George saw him fall, and noticed that he lay quite still, a dreadful thought came into his mind, and he turned as cold as ice. The violent passion which had made him strike the blow was gone, and was followed by fear such as he had never felt before. The picture-he had often looked at it-in the old Family Bible seemed realized before him. Another Cain had killed another Abel. He did not dare to touch the prostrate form; he thought only of flight. In a moment he bitterly repented the evil passion which had led him to strike the blow; in a moment he felt how dear to him was home, and all the gentle ties of home; acts of kindness which he in his angry moods always forgot, came back upon him. Oh, that he could recall the last five minutes! But the blow had been struck, and he fled away. Away across the fields into the high-road; away across the high-road into the deep recesses of the woods, where he had often gone a-nutting with the boys; away where the road narrowed into a slender sheep track-and then striking off, he hid himself amongst the trees, and waited for the night. When the night was come, he stole out of his hiding-place, and after eating some nuts and berries, began his flight again. The road he travelled was very lonely; the crescent moon and a few stars shed but a feeble light. Everything was very still, as if all nature slept, and the boy grew sick and weary as he went along. Presently George heard the heavy rumbling of cart-wheels behind him, and the jingling bells of a wagoner's team. He crept into the shadow, and tried to hide himself. But as the wagon came up, the carter saw him and called to him. Was he tired? Ay, that he was. Would he have a ride? He would be only too glad. Where was he going-London ? Yes. It seemed to matter little to George where he went, so that he could get away from the scene of his crime. London would be as well as any other place he knew of. So he climbed up into the wagon, settled himself in the straw, and went fast asleep. He woke with the first grey streaks of morning. The cart was rumbling over the stones, and instead of trees and hedges he saw large houses and well-paved streets, and felt that he was in London. As the wagon was about to turn into an inn yard, the carter called to him and told him he must get out. He got out, offered the man a sixpence, which the fellow good-humouredly refused to take. He thought, however, that the man looked upon him with suspicion-imagined that the story of the crime was known; never thinking that his own appearance excited the man's curiosity, as well-dressed schoolboys are not commonly found by wagoners on country roads in the middle of the night. However, he made the best of his way off, and soon found himself in a mystery of streets and lanes which seemed to defy detection. A milkman was going his morning rounds, and he bought some milk; a baker's shop was just opening, and he bought some bread. He sat down on a door-step and began to think what he should do. What could he do? How could he act? What help was there now? He got up and wandered away; away into broad, open streets, where the shops were opened now, and looked bright and gay; away into private streets and narrow lanes; away up one street, down another, with no settled purpose in his mind. As he was passing through a narrow but official-looking street, his eye suddenly fell on two broad brass-plates inscribed "Lothbury, Shipping Agent." George started, and would have fled, but at that moment a hand was laid on his shoulder, and looking up, he saw Uncle Lothbury himself. "Why, George, my boy," said the uncle, good-humouredly, "you are early!" "Early, uncle! it? Note, uncle! then you know all about Certainly; I know Henry is a good-hearted fellow, and that you are quite worthy of his love. But where's your luggage?" George burst into a flood of tears, and was then led by his uncle into the private office. He confessed frankly and fully all his unjust suspicions of Henry-all that he had said, and the cruel blow which he had given. His uncle was much surprised and distressed. The letter he had received from Henry, and which had excited George's anger, was far different from what George had expected. It spoke of himself in terms of the greatest kindness, and suggested that as he (Henry) could not take advantage of his uncle's offer, he thought, and his parents thought so likewise, that it would be a pleasant change for George to come to town and get an insight into business. There was a postscript in his mother's handwriting, which spoke highly of him, and ended by saying, "His one fault is that of ungovernable passion, and this occasions us all much distress. Our sincere desire is that a residence from home may improve him in this respect." * * * * George, quite overcome, from that day lost his evil temper, and became a source of comfort and happiness to those about him. Henry had only been stunned for the moment, and was otherwise uninjured; but the distress of the family had been very great at the mysterious disappearance of George. Yet all had cause for gratitude. It was the turning-point in his life, and the lesson he had learned was never forgotten. He grew up to be a clever and an excellent man, and in the office of Uncle Lothbury soon rose to distinction. Henry became a minister; and the friendship "Early, indeed! why, I only received the of all the brothers was marked by extreme note an hour ago." tenderness and affection. THINGS OLD AND NEW.. SLEEPING FLOWERS.-Almost all plants sleep during the night. The marigold goes to bed with the sun, and with him, rises weeping. Many plants are so sensitive that their leaves close during the passage of a cloud. The dandelion opens at five or six in the morning, and shuts at nine in the evening. The "goat's beard" wakes at three in the morning, and shuts at five or six in the afternoon. The common daisy shuts up its blossom in the evening, and opens its "day's eye" to meet the early beams of the morning sun. The crocus, tulip, and many others, close their blossoms at different hours towards evening. The ivy-leaved lettuce opens at eight in the morning, and closes for ever, at four in the afternoon. The night-flowering Cereus turns night into day. It begins to expand its magnificent, sweet-scented blossoms in the twilight, it is full-blown at midnight, and closes, never to open again, with the dawn of day. In a clover-field, not a leaf opens till after sunrise! So says a celebrated English author who has devoted much time to the study of plants, and often watched them during their quiet slumbers. Those plants which seem to be wide awake all night he styles the bats and owls of the vegetable kingdom." BE QUIET.-1. Because fretting, fuming, bluster, and noise, will not help you out of your present vexation, or aid you to gain one of your purposes.2. Because with quietness and composure, you will be in possession of your temper, and can calmly use your own judgment, two of the best agencies for helping any man out of trouble.-3. Because if you fume, and fret, and snap, you will certainly set the same things. agoing all about you. A fretful temper is a firebrand, and it seldom fails to find combustibles. As a dozen will gape when one sets the example, so a dozen will growl with impatience when one sets the tune. If you do not want a concert of such music as people in a snappish mood make, don't be a leader of the choir.-4. Be quiet, because so many people are not So. There are so many things to disturb people's composure, and so many to justify giving way to the temptation, that we can find lots of fretful people in all directions. Now it is a comfort to find a fair flower in the desert. Be one, reader-by taking everything pleasantly. Be it that the wind is eastthe roof leaky-the side-walk slippery-the door was left open-the debtor refused you, and the creditor oppressed you-the villain slandered you, and so on; the more the storms, the nobler the oak that stands firm amidst them all.-5. Quietness, in opposition to a restless and complaining spirit, is a very beautiful ornament of character. An eminent judge of such matters has said, "a meek and quiet spirit is of great price." We had better fall in with that opinion, and add this beautiful and precious jewel to the other excellences which may be now shining in our characters. THE ODD BOY ON "TIP." "The best way to avoid them," said I, "is to keep out of debt." "MR. EDITOR,-When you were at school, and were locked up, as it were, in a scholastic penitentiary, you were no doubt open to the attractions of "tip." I'm in quod now-propter quod-on account of which tip is to me acceptable; when you, in the munificence of your nature-and may your shadow never be less-"My life has been one of disappointment-of presented to me, on your last visit, a yellow boy, my heart leapt up at the sight of it, as one of our poets represented his heart leaping up at the sight of a rainbow, and I said to Smudge some handsome things about you, which you well deserve, but which, if I were to repeat, your natural modesty might prevent your looking in again, and then I should be deprived of three great joys-the sight of your face, the sound of your voice, and the colour of your tip. Creverunt et opes et opum pinoso Cupido Et, cum possideant plurima, plura voluntsays you, or rather says Horace-you giving it mouth, and minding your quantities; but if riches bring with them an unbridled desire for more, if tip begets the love of tip, what is a boy or a man to do but to see that he lawfully uses his lawful tip? and then he may experience no compunction at the warning words of Horace, who I believe liked tip and what it brings as well as anybody, or of Juvenal, or even of the Editor of the BOY'S PENNY MAGAZINE. Look here, at ours there are lots of fellows who are middling off, if I may use the expression; there are some Rothschilds, and some who are always down on their luck. How am I? Thank you, I am middling. "How are you off for soap?" I said to Patchley the other day, who was lounging in a decidedly used-up attitude, with his eyes at a long focus. 66 I'm cooked," he said, "and shan't hear the end of it for a month of Sundays." "What's the row? He said, after the style of a hero in a melodrama, "I am penniless." He turned his breeches pockets inside out, and there was nothing there but a bit of cork, a fish hook, an apple-minus a bite and four short pieces of slate pencil. He gazed upon me with the abject expression of conscious and irremediable poverty. "But," said I, "you are not in earnest; we are not far into the half-it is too soon to be at low water." "Soon or late," he answered very solemnly, "the affair is unfortunately true. I had money when I returned, but I was in debt; I paid; I borrowed again, relying on my uncle's visit." "Well, he came all right." 'He came all right and nothing left-no tip!" ""Atrocious!" A faint smile flitted across the face of Patchley, as he laid his hand on my arm, after the style of Hamlet conversing with Polonius. "You speak in blissful ignorance," he said. tip conspicuous by absence. When I was at Miss Trimmer's Preparatory, and wore long stockings and a frock, I suffered from the want of tip,-bulls' eyes and almond rock were never obtainable; twice or thrice a purse was opened, and a shilling given, but only to be transferred to Miss T.'s keeping, who laid it out for me in books I hated, or in toys I did not like. When I put on trousers, and went to Grimley's, I had pockets* and my hand to put in them. Whenever I received a tip, this was sure to happen. I was reminded by old Grimley of a charity sermon which was coming off on Sunday, and an inexorable collection, to which I was expected to subscribe. Must be done, or Grimley looked grimmer, cut your meat unpleasant, or cut up rough-cave canem— beware of that dog. There was a boy, and Chowler was his name,-a boy of an unwholesome complexion; he was always giving, always dropping his money into boxes with slits in the roof, and devoted to charitable purposes. And that boy, in a moment of confidence, told me it paid! One day he gave a shilling to something or other, and mentioned the same to a friend who looked in-a perspiring party in the oil and colour line-who was so pleased with his generosity that he gave him halfa-crown! In a weak hour, I adopted his policy. I was possessed of eighteenpence. I knew my maiden aunt was coming. I boldly gave that boband a half to Grimley, as a "Youthful Admirer's" subscription towards-I don't know what. I took occasion to look straight down my nose and inform my aunt, on her arrival, of it. All I received was that 'Fools and their money were soon parted,' and no tip was there for me. "But," said Patchley, waving his hand as if to disperse these painful reminiscences, "this is not to the point-my present embarrassment-" 66 Get out," said I, "that's readily squared up-we must not be bullied." And-well-Mr. Editor, it is unnecessary for me to allude to the matter further than to say that your tip was useful; that Patchley paid his pound of flesh. I have two observations to make before I pull up:-1st, to those who visit boys at school, I would say, don't forget the tip; they will love you for it at the time, and reverence your memory afterwards. 2nd, to those young gentlemen who are looking out for tip, allow me to say, don't overrun the constable, in the expectation of what may be given; don't spend your money before you have it, and act on the maxim, "Neither a lender nor a borrower be," as anciently given by a Danish sage, and modernly endorsed by THE ODD BOY. * This privilege has been denied to the lads of one of our public schools. Pedagogue tyranny; what are we coming to next? CHAPTER XVI. AS RELATED BY HIMSELF. THE SECOND NIGHT. I passed on towards the next sentry-an Indian: he was standing gazing at me with a listless expression, but every now and then he sofort a across shot forth a searching glance across the prairie, as he seemed. I passed by him, and insensibly strolled out into the prairie, along the cavalillo, gun in hand. The night breeze blew softly upon my face as I slowly advanced towards the spot in which the dark deed of the preceding night had been perpetrated. Arrived at the place, I stopped and gazed around me. All was still: the long grass waved gently in the night YOU which is afforded your YOU have doubtless, friendly reader, felt the nervous system, when, fancying yourself fast asleep, you find yourself broad awake. Something of this kind occurred to me upon the night of the Bayle. I awoke to find the moon beaming down brightly, and the cayottes as lively as ever in their concerts. Sleep I could not; and so, as I did not smoke, I thought it better to rise and speak to the sentries,-at least such as could understand me. Accord-air, and the forest trees loomed darkly in the ingly up I leaped, and folding my "bedclothes" around me, as they were rather light, consisting merely of a "mackinaw," and the night was cold, I advanced towards amigo Nicolas, who was the nearest sentinel. "Sabe usted que hora, es Nicolas," quoth I. "El relo esta parado." The Hercules gazed steadily for a few moments at the star-gemmed canopy above us, and then replied, No son mas que los dos, Senor Esteban."* "I wonder," said I, speaking in Spanish, for Nicolas could only utter a few broken sentences of English, "if the stranger of last night will pay us a visit." Quien sabe, senor," replied Hercules, as he shouldered his rifle. It is only two, sir. distant "bosques." A superstitious feeling which I could hardly resist affected me as I left the spot behind me. I turned round, and, to my great perplexity, a "grisly" was standing in the path I had the moment before passed through. I at once presented the gun, which was loaded with ball, and, thinking it better to be on the safe side and have the first blow, I fired at the bear, who had come out to make his repast on the little apples of the manzanita, with a variation on my cuerpo, if possible. Now, before I pulled trigger, Bruin had begun an advance upon me, and my aim was rather unsteady, the ball striking him in the near fore-leg, and making him limp upon three; still, however, his three legs were much more than a match for my two, and, with all the speed I could, I fired the second barrel at him, and then drew out a revolver, and let fly as he was upon me. He advanced still, and I fired again; but next instant the revolver was dashed out of my hand, and I felt his breath upon my face! I made a convulsive bound sideways and toppled over a monzanita, and right into the cavalillo I tumbled, while a huge body tore through the bushes, and I saw the grisly upon me with glaring eyes and broken paw and blood-covered front, while I was floundering about in the arroya like a hippopotamus. Just as I expected the brute to leap in, he stopped short, growled, and then fell upon the bank of the cavalillo. I now took an opportunity of drawing out my second revolver, and fired a few bullets into him to make sure of victory; and then I advanced out of my hydropathic location and severed the other front paw, which is the token of success, like the fox's brush to a home sportsman. I now returned to the corral, which had been disturbed by the reports of the firearms, meeting Nicolas and Dugald half way, who had come to help in case of foul play; and Kinneardie and the Hercules went to look at the bear, while I came into the camp. "Wall, stranger, any more scalps? Fine bar that, I reckon; up to eighteen hundred, I calc'late, from size o paw." Glad to hear it, Mr. Slam." Sentries were now changed, and I lay down again, thanking the Great Preserver of all formy escape, and this time I fell fast asleep. When the morning dawned I was disturbed by a great commotion in the corral; up I leaped to ascertain the cause. El es muerto!"" es muerto!"* and there stood Arangoiz and the sentries, while behind them crowded in the Germans and Indians. One of our best men, a German, was lying dead, and an arrow, piercing his right eye and penetrating into the brain, told the cause of his death. "El Oh! what a scene that was, the murdered man lying upon his back, stark and stiff in the morning dawn, and the crowd of horrified gazers pressing round. 66 Looks of vengeance passed from man to man in silence. Que maravilla Esteban, es increible de veras," said Arangoiz to me. I agreed with him, and we then held a consultation. It was arranged that a mounted party should at once breakfast and sweep the prairie for miles round the "corral," and the Indians under El Oso also were to assist us, together with the dogs, and we trusted to be able to secure this double murderer. The missionary was greatly shocked at the murder, and begged us, if we fell in with any Indians, not to be too hasty. "Remember," said he, as he stood by the corpse, "that if you murder any of these poor savages you will bring blood upon your own souls; remember who it is that has said, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay. But I think I had better accompany you, friends, and try to avoid scenes which you may repent ere long;" and the worthy old man mounted and accompanied *"He is dead, he is dead." +"Wonderful, Stephen, truly 'tis incredible! the party, which set out after making a hurried repast. We were twelve mounted men, the Moravian included, and about thirty Indians on foot under El Oso, the latter accompanying us for about a mile, and then spreading themselves through the plain; while a third band, under Captain Nordheimer, ranged about the encampmento. We trotted on, and then leaving the Indians we quickened our pace and advanced rapidly over the undulating swells of the vast savannah. CHAPTER XVII. THE CAPTURE. WE galloped along the plain for some time without speaking, until, at a little distance before us, we saw a herd of deer feeding, and immediately we separated and dashed in upon them, cracking away with our rifles and firearms as the terrified animals scattered before us. I had shot a fat buck, and he tumbled; the others had wounded one or two more, but we could only recover one of them besides my fellow. We now determined to send back two men to the camp with the booty, and we slung the animals over their horses and they went back. The rest of our party proceeded onwards with renewed speed to make up for the time we had lost. We had not, however, gone on a couple of hundred yards when we were hailed by one of the men we had sent back who carried a buffalo horn, by means of which he arrested our attention. Upon looking back we found that the two men had halted, and that the Indians were all running with great rapidity towards them. We turned about and rode up to the two Germans, and now we saw a singular spectacle. A tall, finely formed savage, decorated with the war-paint of the tribe who had attacked us, and running with great rapidity towards us, was pursued by a score of El Oso's Indians, who were pressing hard upon him. He kept on directly towards us, never faltering nor bending his glance backwards, but ran with all his might in our direction. Now I thought this very singular, for he must have known that we were enemies also. "Wal now, for sartin, that darkie does run unkimmon like," said Levi Slam. "He has the heels of his pursuers," said Colville. Och, more power to ye, my darlint; 'tis you can show a light pair of heels anyway. I wonder if ye could dance the Batthyorum hornpipe on a flure of egg-shells, for throth ye're not letting the grass flourish under your feet anyway, hurroo!" We, as if by tacit consent, remained immoveable, while the Indian burst past us and his pursuers dashed on, whooping, and letting fly arrows every now and then as he continued on his course. "Gentlemen," said the missionary, "it will be much better for us to spare this unfortunate man; we are not free of danger yet, and there is no need of shedding blood unnecessarily." "What, sir," exclaimed Nordheimer, "shall not our murdered comrade be avenged ?" |