Fifty prints were immediately struck off from the negative, and these were given to detectives, who scoured the country in every direction. After a two days’ search, those nearest home were successful, and found Parker in the same woods where Lester and I had first surprised him. He had sought to evade capture by avoiding railroads, and hiding himself until the first excitement of the robbery had passed. As the whole amount of stolen funds was discovered in the little black grip which he carried, he was convicted of the crime without difficulty, and sentenced for a term of fifteen years in State prison.
The sequel of the incident was the most agreeable and the most astonishing of all. One day, a month subsequent, when Parker had been safely housed in the penitentiary, my father came home, and, with a mysterious smile upon his face, handed me an envelope. Upon being opened, the discovery was made that “Howard Benton and Lester Drake were authorized to draw upon the First National Bank of C——, for $100 apiece, in slight recognition of their part in apprehending Eli Parker, the perpetrator of the recent robbery upon that institution.”
I am still an ardent disciple of amateur photography. Who wouldn’t be under such circumstances?
—The umbrella is undoubtedly of high antiquity, appearing in various forms upon the sculptured monuments of Egypt, Assyria, Greece and Rome; and in hot countries it has been used since the dawn of history as a sunshade—a use signified by its name, derived from the Latin umbra, a shade.
| [ GOOD RULES.] BY REV. P. B. STRONG. If a mean thing you would do, Always put it off a day; If a noble act and true, Do not e’en a moment stay. Ne’er by proxy do a deed. Would you have it surely done; It you’d never come to need, Wait not wealth from any one. Deem no coin too small to save, Quit not certainty for hope; Good denied, you cease to crave, Neither o’er the future mope. What you can’t by bushels take, Get by spoonfuls, if you can; Never mounts from mole hills make; Ere you leap, the distance scan. Shiver not for last year’s snow, Nor bemoan the milk that’s spilt; When you hasten, slowly go; Keep your conscience clear of guilt. These old rules, which here in verse You behold thus newly set, Well it would be to rehearse, Till not one you could forget. |
[ A Perilous Ride.]
BY W. BERT FOSTER.
“So you boys think you came down here pretty fast, eh?” asked Randy Bronson, crossing one wooden leg over the other and stretching them both out toward the great fire of hickory logs that were roaring in the chimney.