ress, I rejoicingly determined that a little Bristolboard and a few paints would be well expended weekly in the purchase of such a blessing. Occasionally, while hearing the señoritas their English lesson, I had been conscious Of something like a stifled little squeal of disbut did not trace or suspect its source, ntil dismissing their class, and calling Up little May for her recitation, I beheld the unfortunate child's head one mass of little wiry tails, braided so close to the roots of the hair as to stand out stiffly all round and make her poor little forehead quite red. The priest's niece was flushed with exertion, but beaming with success. and holding forth in quite a dramatic way among the mules and Greasers. As I drew nearer I distinguished the name of "Monte Dick" above the braying and shouting, and my heart sank with apprehension. I knew the appellation as belonging to a noted gambler and desperado, the chief lion of the great gambling house on the Levee; but of course I had never seen him, and beyond an indefinite idea of monstrous whiskers, top boots, pistols, and bowie knife, it recalled no particular personality to me. I managed to start Soos into school before me, which was quite a feat with a wiry, agile young figure like hers, and then drowned 'Bonito, muy bonito!" she cried, "chi- her recital of Monte Dick's feats in our quita got mucho hair now.” opening exercises. After laboring all the noon recess to undo er mischievous device, and spare the wincng child all the pain I could, I was half inlined to believe that she might have better estowed her energies on the outsiders, and hat the picture reward would not be fairly arned by Jesus-Maria Bartolino. Next day I resolved to place her between ierra Nevada Brown and Juanita Philomela erez, both large and sensible girls, ready act as a police force in case of flagrant isdemeanor on the part of my troublesome apil. But such measures were utterly use3$. Soos had received an outdoor exciteent which she brought with her, and defying efforts at suppression, announced as she Eered the school room. 'Monte Dick shot an Americano!" she An Americano," she continued-and at They were no sooner over than she broke forth with the announcement-"Monte Dick gave himself up to the judge, Señorita, and he has gone to prison." I said, "He is no doubt a very bad man, and good children should not think or speak of such persons." To this the child agreed at once, repeating as if to herself: "Si, il muy malo hombre,” but immediately recurring to his last feat, she again repeated that he had given himself up, etc. After that I began to grow resigned; there was no help for it, the child was actually possessed to recount the adventures of the gambler, and every day she brought some fresh bulletin of his exploits to school, and either delivered it in the form of a general proclamation, or mingled it with the recitation of her lessons. Through her pertinacity I unwillingly became acquainted with the facts of the quarrel preceding the shooting of the "Americano." Monte Dick had discovered him cheating a drunken miner at play, and warned him to desist, and failing in exacting obedience to his rules of honesty at cards, had become emphatic about it with a pistol, and then fearlessly given himself up to meet the consequences. The "Americano” lived,. and was afterward hustled out of the country, while Monte Dick came forth from prison cool and triumphant. It vexed me to think that these shocking details should be introduced to the notice of innocent children, and by one of themselves, so continually; and my annoyance reached its height when I found Soos during play hours assuming the character of the dreadful Monte Dick, and shooting an imaginary opponent with a slate pencil. Familiarity with even Familiarity with even the names of the vicious is to be regretted, so that objectionable character became a perfect nightmare to me. Allusions to him occurred at the most inappropriate and unsuggestive times; the Methodist minister's boy introduced him into physical geography while describing volcanic action: "Molten fire bursts forth at the crater, like Monte Dick at faro, when the deal wasn't square," said this scion of the church; and my oldest señorita, whom I should not have suspected of such impropriety, responded to my request for a short translation by repeating: "Monte Dick, Español, Gambling Dick, Americano." That afternoon, just as I was dismissing school, one of my lounging allies poked his head in at the window nearest me, and bespoke my attention by a prolonged utterance of the word, "Señorita!" The last child had just passed the threshold, and I turned to listen, recognizing the speaker as the laziest and most genial of the packers and orange-eaters, Branco by name, who lived in the shanty nearest to the school, and had an old mother who did nothing but smoke cigarettes, and wink in the sun. "Poquita muchacha mucho sick in my house," said he. 'Whose little girl, Branco?" I inquired with sympathy, for the good natured fellow's face expressed much concern. A poor woman, he told me, whose husband had been killed in a shaft at Murphy's, and who, hearing of the terrible accident, had started from French Camp to go to the scene of the trouble, carrying her baby with her. But the little one was taken with spasms while the mother waited on the Stockton Levee for the stage to start, and some kind gentleman had done what he could to help her by getting a doctor and medicine at once. But the woman, being lately from Mazatlan, could speak no Eng. lish, and so the gentleman, carrying the sick baby in his arms, had brought her up to Branco's to be cared for, making himself responsible for all costs, and enjoining the old señorita to spare no pains in succoring both mother and child. moth This "muy bueno amigo," as Branco described him, had been deceived by the old señorita's amiable smile, for when, at the Greaser's entreaty, I followed him into the shanty, I found the lazy creature half asleep over a cigarette, while the poor young er sat like a Niobe with her babe writhing in dying agonies on her knee. She was watching it with a world of misery in her dry, staring eyes, and the things scattered around showed that she had tried every possible remedy before succumbing to the hopeless despair in which I found her. Her breast heaved with a short, gasping sob that seemed to become more and more stifling, until the poor little creature on her lap gave one convulsive twitch, then stretched its limbs out stiffly, and lay dead. O, such a desolate cry as burst from the poor mother's white lips at this sad sight! It quite overpowered me, and I scarcely knew where I was until I felt my dear little pupil, May Barry, slipping her hand into mine, and whispering: "Here's Uncle Richard; he was coming to see the sick baby, and I met him near th corner." A much younger gentleman than I hat imagined "Uncle Richard" to be, with dark, handsome face, all smooth except delicate penciling of moustache, and rathe sad-looking brown eyes, bowed to me, b immediately concentrated his attention the poor mother, and with an air of autho ity, hidden by a singularly gentle and wit ning manner, managed to make Branc mother stir around and become usefu While I was struggling between the desire withdraw the poor little body from the mot er's frantic grasp and doubting my ability do so properly, he had already stretched tenderly on a pillow and covered it with fres lace that he had by some means induced the señorita to produce. I did not hear a word he said to the weeping woman, but I knew that she did, for she clung to his hands, and even in her deepest bursts of woe murmured some broken words of thanks. I felt ashamed of my inactivity, and tried o assist Branco's mother in washing and araying the little corpse. But the old woman's ay shocked and even irritated me, for, in lace of closing the poor baby's glazing eyes be opened them wide, and sat the dead ild upright, after putting a showy lace slip pon it and crowning its head with gaudy tificial roses. Little May's awe-struck face llowed the struggle between Señora Bran's prejudices and mine, and witnessed the umph of the old Mexican, as she clapped r hands together, chuckling: "Bonito, muy bonito chiquita!" May's uncle was close beside me before I uld utter my protest, and he said in my , in the same quiet whisper with which he d been soothing the poor mother: "Pray do not be distressed by this outrage our tastes and customs. 'Tis the usage these people; they know no other way. , the mother is satisfied, and would be cked at any change." t was truly so; even as he spoke the old nan had added some tinsel sprays to the ooning of the baby's dress, and the sob{ mourner took a chain of yellow beads n her own neck and put them on the d's. The news had spread, and the small place ime crowded with the Greasers' wives daughters, who came in with a lively gratulating air, and commenced to chat it the beauty of the baby and the taste splendor of its adornments. No one any notice of the poor mother beyond the salutation. She sat on the earth floor e corner and rocked and wailed uninteredly. ay had edged timidly toward the door, her uncle carried on one of his noiseless ersations with Branco, the nature of h the Greaser confessed by saying aloud anish that the Señor was very generous, and knew that he, Branco, was but a poor devil, with only two mules to depend on. "I have the slug you gave me this morning," he added in English, "and will give it to Father Bartolino for his prayers. I will go to see him at once." He showed one of those roughly coined eight-sided pieces of gold popular in those flush days, and, following me into the road, went with me as far as Main Street, enlarging on the splendor of the funeral he meant to arrange, and assuring me that it should take place at a proper time next day to give me the benefit of viewing the pageant. What the handsome uncle of my little scholar had said on the subject of Mexican funeral rites had a decided effect on my own views. I had been pained and even incensed at the old señorita's work at first, but when he told me it was their way I naturally felt I had no right to object, and even decided that the best evidence of sympathy I could offer the sorrowing mother was to increase the gaudy adornments of her baby's body. So I gathered together all the gold and silver tissue I could collect, and a choice selection of gay French bonnet flowers, and carried them with me as an offering to the garish shrine in Branco's hut. May's uncle had been there already, and was lingering near the door as I came up. He waited for me to speak, and answered in such a deferential way that I blushed and felt a little uncomfortable; besides, it was stupid not to know his name. I had not calculated all the gratification my small gift was to bestow; even the weeping mother looked up delighted with the glitter and glow of the tawdry things, and Señora Branco grew actually brisk as she hastened to add them to the already burdened figure, whose waxen hue was beginning to darken. sadly in the ghastliness of death. The gentleman still waited outside, and the children were almost all gathered in the school-room, so I asked him if he would not go in and hear the singing. He had hitherto impressed me as being one of the most self-possessed people I had even seen; but at this invitation he faltered and hesitated in an inexplicable way. It seemed a very poor entertainment to offer such a polished gentleman, and I had felt myself blush as I invited him; but he seemed pleased, though he did not accept the invitation. We seemed to share a curious kind of embarrassment; the necessity for my presence in the school was a relief to me. I bowed and went in; but though he did not remain in sight, he stayed until at noon the funeral started, and after the poor little corpse was carried by, seated in the same glaring state and supported by frame-work on the lid of its new coffin, May's uncle fell into line in the short procession, with Señor Branco as chief mourn er; all the Greasers off packing duty followed, and the women in black mantillas, surrounding and supporting the bereaved mother, came after. The place seemed very silent and empty when it was all over. I found myself looking up from my desk at intervals to see if my pupils were all there; and when Jesus-Maria Bartolino recovered from the effect of the procession, but more particularly of her uncle's presence in his priestly robes, and began to offer her comments upon the ceremony, I scarcely reproved her, although she was more than usually confusing to the classes. When little May came up to spell, and crept into my arms in her tender baby way, I fear I lengthened the lesson a little, and forgot to say "hush, dear," when she mixed "Uncle Richard" more than ever with the long words. "P-a, pa, r-e-n-t, rent, parent," spelled my little pupil, adding in the same key, "My mamma is sick, and Uncle Richard got a Chinaman to wait on her-a-1, al, parental his name is Wo-hoy." I asked her if her poor mamma was obliged to lie in bed, and she nodded and looked very grave. "She can't sit up," she said in an awed whisper, "she falls back when she tries." I asked her if there were no kind ladies who came to nurse her poor mamma, at which she shook her head after a little thought, and again recurred to the subject of Wo-hoy, saying that he was very good, and made nice tea and toast, and relating many other culinary achievements of his, particularly the baking of seed cookies, by which he had entirely won her approbation. "Señorita!" piped Soos, stretching her thin, brown neck to get an unimpeded view of the Brancos' shanty, "they are bringing home the Mazatlan woman, and she's sick.” So they were; and she drooped among the señoritas that crowded chattering around her, like one who had received a fatal hurt. They passed close to the window nearest to Soos's seat, and that elastic neck of hers enabled her to hear that the sorrowing mother had fainted at her baby's grave, and only partially recovered as they brought her home. Then the priest's niece developed a new and aggravating faculty. She ceased to announce, and began to foretell. "Maybe the Mazatlan woman took the fever, señorita!" was her first effort at prognostication. "Perhaps she is too ill to get better, señorita !" she proceeded, and before dismission she had gone further. "Ah, señorita, ?the Mazatlan woman will die, maybe,” was her last venture in the prophetic line. I did not reprove her as I should have done; the sad scene and its painful surroundings seemed to have made me strangely nerv ous. I watched the door of Branco's hut even while I resolved to distract my atten tion from the whole affair, and felt that I had already allowed it to interfere too much with my school duties, while I was at the sam time marvelling at the prolonged stay of li tle May's uncle, who went in with Brand when they both came back from the cemeter Of course I wanted to know how the po woman was, and when I had sent the chi dren all home, I stood at my desk affectin to be busy in arranging my books, but real lingering in hope of seeing Branco or som one of whom I might inquire. While I wa ed, the Greaser came out with the gentlema and both were talking very earnestly in Spa ish. I stooped involuntarily that they mi not see me as they passed the window, an then instantly regretted having done They seemed to pause outside my windo and I could hear May's uncle say: "I think I knew her husband; he was down here last month just before he was killed, and lost all his money without regard to the poor little soul and her baby-who were coming to him. Well, well, it did not matter, for she seems to have been very fond of him, and now she's all alone and helpless. Do your best for her, old fellow, and I'll pay -tell your mother to nurse her kindly, and et her strong, and then we'll send her back o her home in Mexico." Branco's strong point was promising, and e did it effectively. He said he would have he sick woman cared for like a queen; that is mother would nurse and console her, hile he would buy all the nice things he ould find to give her strength; and closed his otestations by declaring that he would dete part of his generous gift to drinking ñor Ware's health in good brandy as soon he went down Main Street-which last emed likely to be the most reliable part his compact. "Ware," I kept repeating to myself, as I nt homeward; "Richard Ware. I wonder y I never heard any one speak of him bee. Such a frank, generous-hearted genman; so helpful, too. Stockton must be h in manly nobility of character, since his attracted so little attention." The Mexican woman was ailing quite a ile. I inquired for her daily, and received uminous and most satisfactory bulletins n Branco, who found his hospital duties emunerative that he lay in the sun for rly a fortnight, and hired a packer to k in his place while he ate oranges and anas, and smoked cigarettes. I saw Mr. e sometimes-that is, thrice. He came 3ranco's and lingered around talking to Greaser, but he did not come into the jol, nor even bow to me. er looked up when he was is odd that he should have behaved so. was my pupil and his niece; what could been more natural than that he should in and say something commonplace and sant about the child's progress, or any; in fact. Of course, it was his own afand it did not occasion me a moment's To be sure, I near, but then uneasiness. Certainly not; but I kept thinking about it a good deal. One day May did not appear with the rancher's daughter. I asked the reason, and was told that she was not waiting at the corner as usual, and the larger girl had thought it must be late, and so hurried on. Would she mind stopping to inquire the next day, in case the child did not meet her? No, indeed; she would be glad to do so, and would start earlier on purpose, the goodnatured girl said. But when the following morning came, she confessed with regret that she had forgotten all about it, having been overtaken by a friend with a buggy, and invited to drive to school. Jesus-Maria Bartolino had exhausted the Mazatlan woman's interests; the poor invalid had recovered sufficiently to be carried down to the steamer bound for the Bay, in time to meet the Mexican ship in which she was to sail to her new home. She had told me of May's absence, and suggested her usual list of cheering probabilities. "May-be she has the fever, señorita!" was her first happy thought, which she changed presently to suggesting the possibility of her having dropped into the slough, or the still more agreeable chance of her having been knocked down by a mining team. When she was almost aground for suppositions, she gained a bit of intelligence with which she came into school rejoicing, and began to impart it in determined particles. "Señorita!" "Be still, my dear, and be ready with your lessons." "Monte Dick-" "H-u-s-h; attend to your books." "Whipped the bar-keep-" A frown and a shake of the head quite disregarded, and the persistent narrator maintained |