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JAMES ELVERSON, 0N.
Publisher.
VoL. IX,
.W. corner NINTH
and SPRUCE Sts.
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[Fnterea according to Act of Congress, in the year 1888, by James Fivensoy, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. ©.)
PHILADELPHIA, JANUARY 7, 1888.
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TERMS: § 3:00 PER ANNUM
TERMS: IN ADVANCE,
A flugget and The Burglar.
A REMARKABLE STORY OF
A PLUCKY AMERICAN BOY IN AUSTRALIA.
BY HENRY WILLARD AUSTIN.
CHAPTER I.
Boo-oom! The window-sashes rattled as
if the glass would break, and Si Pettingale,
who was a light sleeper, started from a mid-
night doze, exclaiming :
“Thunder and guns! What’s that?”
His wife, near by, was snoring systemati-
cally, like a steamer ina fog; but he knew
that sound too well to be wakened by it. Yet,
now that he was awake, it provoked him a
little, so he shouted :
“Mariar!”’
And she sat bolt upright, saying:
“Mrs. Fitts, if your hens keep on scratch-
in’ up our garden— Mercy on us, Si! am I
awake or am I dreaming ?””
“Should say you was a-dreamin’, M’riar,
*bout them plaguey hens. But didn’t you hear
thet noise? Guess it inust ’a been an earth-
quake! Thunder wuz a whisper to it, an’ it
wan’t you a-snorin’, nuther!”’
“Me snorin, Si Pettingale ? I should think
not! I never snore! and I don’t believe there
was any noise, ’cept in your head!’
“Don’t git mad, M’riar. Snorin’ ain’t a
pen’tenshry offense. I kin sleep through it,
when it’s reg’lur, but sech a noise ez—”
Boo-oomoom! Again and louder that
sound, shaking the night.
“There, M’riar, what do you say to thet?”
“Say? Why, you stupid, it’s that boy!”
“What boy?”
“Why, that Erny Adams. Didn’t he brag,
day before yesterday, how this Fourth he
was a-goin’ to shake up this sleepy old
town? Ile’s begun pretty early, seems to
me; and I'd like to shake Azim up, just once,
the mischievous little scamp !”’
“Sho? drawled Si, settling back on his
pillow—‘‘sure ’nough, sure ’nough. I for-
got all about the Fourth. But, M’riar, Erny
ain’t a scamp; he’s a pretty good boy, con-
siderin’. And though he’s beginnin’ to cele-
brate raythur early in the mornin’, we must
_make ’lowance for young blood. We wuz
young once, M’riar.””
“Speak for yourself, Silas !’’ retorted his
wife, with vinegar voice.
Si, being of a peaceful nature, though in
the Mexican War he had never turned his
back to the foe, now did so to his wife, and
dozed again.
So other couples, wakened by the two great
noises, happened to remember what night it
was, and concluded that young America, re-
presented by Ernest Adams and his play-
mates, was trying to steala march on the
glorious Fourth itself by rolling down the
hills old barrels filled with cannon-crackers
and firing rockets at the astonished stars.
As day dawned, the explosions increased
so that the cocks stopped crowing and the
town of Sandys awoke to the fact that twenty
boys dressed as Indians, with faces horribly
painted, hair stiffened up with glue and stuck
with feathers, were whooping through the
streets, shooting off big blunt-headed arrows
against the doors and setting off cannon-
crackers under the windows.
chief of the Indians, known in common
school-day life by the unromantic name of
Erny Adams, suddenly called a halt, and
actually remarked, in simple American Eng-
lish :
some breakfast from the pale-faces. So let’s
| scatter, and bring whatever we can find to
But boys, even on a Fourth of July morn-
“MOTHER, 1 SAY! YOU TELL MRS, PETTLN
ing, must have breakfast, so Metacomet, the |
j oO — |
my barn in half an hour. I’ve laid in,” he | tingale, strolling into his yard, happened to
added, as if to stimulate their foraging ardor, | cast his lonely eye (which had lost its mate
“a splendid stock of raisins and sardines.” | in the Mexican War) over the fence, toward
“Fellers, I guess it’s about time to capture |
These extremes of toothsomeness tickled
the fancy of the nineteen savages, who
shouted, with one aceord :
“Hurrah for Erny Adams an’ the Fourth
o’ July!”
And then they dashed off to their homes,
the county bank.
“Thunder and guns!” drawled Si, “ef
them boys hain’t blowed out the bank win-
ders I’m a gray goslin !””
Ife crawled lazily over the fence to exam-
ine the damages. Then, with an impulse
climbed in by kitchen win-
dows, and mysteriously
eloped with rhubarb pies,
custards and cold biscuits.
And one misguided Indian
managed to contribute an
entire Vermont cheese, for
which, next day, his unpa-
triotic father administered
a sound thrashing.
Now, while the braves
were breakfasting, Si Pet-
rather strange for one so lazy, he jumped
and caught on the bank window-sill, drawing
himself up so as to look in.
Ilis one eye widened to its utmost, and he
muttered :
‘Wal, ef this don’t beat the Dutch! Erny’s
grandad kin afford to pay for it, 0’ course;
but I kinder guess he won’t like it.””
Si dropped gently down, and, in so doing,
became aware that Deacon Thurber must
have seen him from the street.
The good old deacon was such a severe
personage that Si, with a general reputation
for shiftlessness, usually felt rather sheepish
in his presence. So now he hastened to escape
notice, and slunk behind a clump of neigh-
| boring lilacs.
But other eyes were watching him—eyes
GALE TO TELL $1 1 DON’? BELIEVE HE STOLE THOSE BONDS, AND IF I COULD I'D HEL? HIM OUT.”
