THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 JNVESTMINTS & INSURANCE, 
 7O3 Pacific Finance Bldg. 
 Los Angelas, Cat
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN
 
 Seven Orphan Skates bred 
 in Old Kentucky." Page 25.
 
 BY HUGH McHUGH 
 
 jr-flr 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 "JOHN HENRY," "DOWN THE LINE WITH JOHN 
 
 HENRY," " IT'S UP TO YOU," " BACK TO 
 
 THE WOODS," ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON H. GRANT 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM CO. 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1903 
 
 By G. W. DlLLINGHAM Co. 
 
 Issued, August, 1903 
 
 [All rig kit reserved^ 
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN
 
 fs 
 
 Hi* 
 
 To the thousands and thousands of the 
 Faith fut who have Followed me From my 
 First book to the Fourth, be patient with 
 the Fifth and Jet us be Friends to the 
 Finish. 
 
 7592.21
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PACK 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND WALL STREET . . . n 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE HORSE TRAINER . 27 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE SOUSE THING . 39 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE Two DIPPY BOYS . 51 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE ORPHAN SKATES . 70 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE BIG RACE . . 83 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE STRONG FINISH . 96
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " Seven Orphan Skates bred in Old Ken 
 tucky ! " Page 25 .... Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Yo' all was Big Casino on the Eastern 
 
 Tracks" 30 
 
 Murf sat on Uncle Peter's Chest ... 66 
 
 The Ponies soon tumbled that I was their 
 
 Meal Ticket 70 
 
 Then suddenly the shout, " They're off ! " 89 
 
 " Look out ! I took the hinges off that gate 
 
 to-day" 105
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JOHN HENRY GETS IN WALL STREET. 
 
 SEVEN thousand ahead in seven 
 days! John, if you keep that 
 up you'll set Morgan back 
 among the pikers!" Bunch Jeffer 
 son joshed me, as we ducked out of 
 a broker's office and headed up Wall 
 Street for Broadway. 
 
 "It does look like a skeeze!" I 
 answered, swelling up fore "and aft, 
 as I gave Bunch the easy-money 
 gaze. 
 
 "I've got money now I can't spend. 
 Every morning I crawl into the bank
 
 12 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 with a bundle of bills that a horse 
 couldn't kick apart in a week!" 
 
 "Say! Bunch, the receiving teller 
 up at the Money Barn has gout in his 
 ringers from counting the kick-full 
 of yellow backs I unload on him every 
 day. If my luck holds out and I 
 keep on Pierping I'll have to build 
 my own bank." 
 
 Bunch gave me the merry ring-off 
 and told me that my head-piece was 
 growing out over the sidewalk too 
 far. 
 
 "The trouble with you, John," ex 
 plained Bunch, as we dropped into 
 the club where I get my mail down 
 town, "is that a bundle of quick 
 money gives you palpitation of the 
 egotism, and you begin to see medals 
 on your chest!" 
 
 Bunch loves to throw ice-water at 
 his friends.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 13 
 
 "Who put you woozy to this Wall 
 Street fight?" inquired Bunch. 
 
 "Uncle Peter did," I answered. 
 ' ' Say ! will you go in bathing if I call 
 the waiter? What '11 it be, surf or 
 still water? 
 
 "A lemonade for mine," Bunch 
 said. 
 
 "All right, if you're afraid of the 
 surf so am I bring me the same! 
 Yes; you know Uncle Peter used to 
 be a money-coaxer here in the Street. 
 
 " He was one of those old guys with 
 the mucilage on the hands couldn't 
 drag the money away from him with 
 out tearing it. 
 
 " Finally he got so rich that he used 
 to trip and fall over the day's win 
 nings when he tried to lock up shop 
 in the evening. He then decided to 
 build a fort around his rake-off, so he
 
 14 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 grabbed his lid, shook a day-day to 
 the Street, and dipped for the woods." 
 
 "No doubt your family history is 
 highly diverting when heard for the 
 first time," Bunch put in, "but it 
 turns sour on the twenty-second re 
 peat. Let's have sixteen bars rest 
 on this Uncle Peter gag. I know he's 
 the man who invented money and 
 then sat down on his invention, but 
 why tease ourselves by walking 
 around the mint when the gates are 
 all locked?" 
 
 "Bunch, you give me a pain in the 
 waist!" I got back; "ever since you 
 fell in love with Alice Gray you've 
 done nothing but stand around and 
 throw the hammer at Uncle Peter. 
 The fact that Alice's Uncle William 
 Gray and Peter Grant are ancient 
 enimies doesn't give you the right to 
 jab the harpoon into my uncle. What
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 15 
 
 are you trying to do, cook up one of 
 those Kentucky feuds just to make 
 good with the girl?" 
 
 Bunch laughed uneasily, and said, 
 " Nix on the feud thing, but you must 
 remember, John, that Uncle William 
 Gray used to do a few stunts in Wall 
 Street himself before he crawled away 
 into high grass to cool off. Peter 
 Grant wasn't the only cuckoo on the 
 curb in those days!" 
 
 "Why, Uncle Peter put it all over 
 old Bill Gray whenever they bumped," 
 I yelled. " Every time they clinched 
 Uncle Peter used to push Bill Gray 
 under the safe and hit him with the 
 combination. 
 
 " Old Bill Gray is only an imitation 
 financier. He's nothing but a piker. 
 Whenever he lost two dollars he made 
 the office boy jab the hypodermic 
 needle into his shoulder in order to
 
 l6 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 put strength enough in his arm to 
 pay up. 
 
 " I'm wise to that old jojo. Every 
 time he won eight dollars he used to 
 run out in the street and faint there 
 so as not to wear out his office floor. 
 Don't unveil any Bill Gray statues 
 near me, Bunch, or I'll get critical." 
 
 Bunch was hot about the collar 
 just about then, so I called for another 
 dish of ice and we bit into it. 
 
 Presently Bunch caught a cool and 
 inquired, "What stock are you trail- 
 ing?" 
 
 "D. Q. & N.," I said, "and it's the 
 goods. I climbed in at 95 and to-day 
 it's 104. It's a moral that it goes to 
 10 before it hits the ceiling. Why 
 don't you cut off a slice? " 
 
 "Not me," Bunch said; "I've been 
 tipped to a sag." 
 
 "Sag nothing," I chirped; "every-
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 17 
 
 thing is on the airship. It's a case of 
 balloon on the Bourse, my boy, so 
 come on up the ladder. D. Q. & N. 
 goes up to 10 without a single side 
 step. 
 
 "Why, Bunch, I've picked out the 
 spot where I'll build a tunnel from 
 here to Hartford, Conn., as soon as 
 D. Q. & N. hits the rafters. That's 
 the latest pizaro, my friend. All we 
 millionaires begin to build tunnels 
 when our wealth gets cumbersome. 
 Come on, Beau, get in on D. Q. & N., 
 and join the tunnel push, won't you?" 
 
 "Take my paragraphs for the real 
 news and bow yourself out of D. Q. & 
 N. There are doings," Bunch ad 
 vised. 
 
 "Say, you're handing me the same 
 line of gas gab that Uncle Peter threw 
 at me this morning before I left home. 
 'Get out when it hits 102, John!' he
 
 l8 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 told me. Suppose I had listened to 
 his patter song, wouldn't I be good 
 friends with the lobsters? I've got 
 it right that D. Q. & N. is on the hal 
 yards for a hoist, and I'm going up in 
 the elevator, too." 
 
 "You for the witch hazel on the 
 neck!" Bunch chimed in. 
 
 "Oh, very well, Beau, I'll get off if 
 you're going to get sulky about it,'' 
 I said with appropriate sarcasm, as I 
 dived for the telephone. 
 
 Get out of D. Q. & N. now, when I 
 stood to win a wad a street roller 
 couldn't flatten out ! Nix on the back 
 up. 
 
 I called Clara J. on the 'phone and 
 asked her to meet me in town for 
 dinner. 
 
 When I got back to Bunch he was 
 using the grin that won't rub off. It 
 always tickles an advice-pusher if he
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN IQ 
 
 thinks somebody has listened to his 
 tip. 
 
 I let him dream. 
 
 "Still living at Jiggersville ? " Bunch 
 inquired. 
 
 "Jiggersville nothing!" I snapped; 
 "why, we held a mass meeting of the 
 citizens and changed the name of the 
 place. Uncle Peter and I went down 
 to the depot and woke up the rest of 
 the inhabitants, and he came out of 
 the ticket office and helped us change 
 the name to Ruraldene. Like it? 
 And we call our home Dove's Nest 
 Villa wouldn't that keep you off the 
 grass? " 
 
 "Dove's Nest Villa, Ruraldene!" 
 Bunch repeated, gingerly. 
 
 "Pastoral idea, isn't it?" I urged. 
 
 "Very," Bunch agreed; "sounds 
 like a cow promenading a muddy road
 
 2O OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 after a rainstorm. It's full of local 
 color." 
 
 "Jealous!" I retorted. "You! in 
 a minute! Why, you'd be over the 
 hills to a shack in the woodlands in 
 jig time if you only had nerve enough 
 to lure that girl of yours away to a 
 minister and have him rivet the 
 handcuffs on!" 
 
 "Nix on the hayseed habitation 
 not me!" grinned Bunch. "Not any 
 bungalows in the brush for mine. 
 Why, I wouldn't wear out my feet 
 running after the 7:02 train in the 
 morning and the 5:19 in the evening 
 for any castle in a cornfield not if it 
 had a bevy of real cooks chained to 
 the kitchen wall!" 
 
 "Say! we had a cook that stayed 
 with us a whole week!" I boasted. 
 
 "Yes, I know," snickered Bunch; 
 " she stayed the last six days because
 
 OUT FOR THE COI-N 21 
 
 she fell off the veranda and sprained 
 her ankle. Are you paddling after 
 the ponies these moments?" 
 
 "Not so that you could notice it," 
 I answered. "Why, Bunch, I took 
 a solemn six months ago not to look 
 another race track in the eye as long 
 as I live. 
 
 "I've handed the good-night signal 
 to the bookies and for me so far as the 
 turtles are concerned the six o'clock 
 whistle blows perpetually. 
 
 "Say, Bunch, this Wall Street pic 
 nic has the races squeezed to a shriek. 
 No more bum gallops for mine!" 
 
 "Wife objected, didn't she? " Bunch 
 quizzed. 
 
 "Well, Clara J. didn't exactly ob 
 ject, but after I lost everything I had 
 in the world except my appetite, she 
 made me promise to pass the ponies 
 up.
 
 22 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 "She suggested that every time I 
 felt an uncontrollable desire to lose 
 my money I'd better put the coin in 
 a bag and she'd walk down to the 
 river with me and help me drown it 
 like they do kittens. 
 
 "For a week or two kind friends 
 had to blindfold me and lead me past 
 the bulletin boards, but since I got 
 the dope out of my system I feel fine." 
 
 " Never no more? " Bunch queried. 
 
 "Not on your palisades!" I an 
 swered. "I promised Peaches never 
 again, and this time it goes if I have 
 to wear blinders. Why, I wouldn't 
 trot to the track again even if I could 
 drag the long green away in a dray." 
 
 "That sounds good, John, but I 
 hope you're not treating yourself 
 to a hot-air serenade," said Bunch, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "Nix on the steam spiel," I an-
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 23 
 
 swered. "I wouldn't ring in a cold 
 deck on the little woman at home for 
 any horse that ever hugged a hames 
 not me! 
 
 "Why, for four years the Bookies 
 broke it off in me till I looked like a 
 porcupine in distress. I had base 
 ball fingers and knots on my thumbs 
 from trying to get my money out fast. 
 Honest, Bunch, my face used to get 
 sore just from trying to look pleasant 
 after a long day's lose." 
 
 At this point one of the hall boys 
 butted in. 
 
 ' ' Letter here for you, Mr. Henry 
 been here three or four days," he said, 
 as he placed the document in my hand 
 and retired. 
 
 "Somewhat the worse for wear, 
 isn't it?" I observed to Bunch, after 
 a hasty look-over. 
 
 It had evidently been chasing me
 
 24 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 around town, for the envelope gave 
 token of having been re-addressed sev 
 eral times. 
 
 I opened it and read it through cas 
 ually. Then I became the author of 
 a yell that awoke the neighborhood. 
 
 "What is it?" gasped Bunch in as 
 tonishment. 
 
 "Read the damn thing!" I splut 
 tered, fanning myself with the lemon 
 ade glass while heat waves played tag 
 all over my system. 
 
 Bunch took the letter and read it 
 aloud : 
 
 LEXINGTON, KY. , June igth. 
 JOHN HENRY, Esquire. 
 
 Respected Sir. Your father's brother, Owen 
 Henry, having departed this world by dying, has 
 left to you in my care seven horses, mostly two- 
 year-olds, and all of them promising youngsters. 
 As I am coming East with some of my own 
 horses, I will bring yours along and will be 
 pleased to meet you in Jersey City about June 
 2gth in the afternoon to deliver the goods.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 25 
 
 Hoping this finds you well, as it leaves me at 
 present. 
 
 Your obed't serv't, 
 
 MURF HlGGINBOTTOM. 
 
 "Wouldn't that keep you waiting?" 
 Bunch grinned. 
 
 "Seven orphan skates!" I groaned 
 in bitterness. 
 
 "They were bred in old Ken 
 tucky ! ' ' Bunch carolled gayly . 
 
 "My father's brother, Owen!" I 
 gasped. 
 
 "Seven come eleven!" whispered 
 Bunch. 
 
 "Uncle Owen is dead," I mur 
 mured, "and I never knew he was 
 alive!" 
 
 ' ' Mostly two-year-olds ! ' ' said Bunch 
 in a stage whisper. 
 
 "All of them promising young 
 sters," I muttered. 
 
 "But you promised the little 
 woman at home never no more to ' '
 
 26 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 "Oh! shut up!" I snapped, "and 
 tell me what am I to do?" 
 
 "Do!" echoed Bunch. "Do noth 
 ing. Pass it up, unless you want to 
 start a stable and go broke! " 
 
 "Wait!" I yelled; "see here he 
 arrives June 2Qth that's to-day 
 now! where's my hat?" 
 
 "And what then?" asked Bunch. 
 
 " Me for the ferry !" I said, hoarsely.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JOHN HENRY GETS SOME HORSES. 
 
 I FOUND Murf. 
 Over in the yards of the Pennsy, 
 I found him and his select assort 
 ment of equine roustabouts. 
 
 Murf was all to the good. He had 
 a Kentucky dialect that sounded like 
 a pink tea on a moonshiner's lawn, 
 and he was made up to look like some 
 thing that could be but didn't seem 
 possible. 
 
 Murf was glad to see me. " Yo' all 
 cern'ly do favah yo' Uncle Owen, suh: 
 Mighty sudden taking off, but a 
 ge'man, suh, right up to the finish of 
 the funeral sa'monies yes, suh! Prov 
 idence had saw fit to drag yo' Uncle
 
 28 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 away from the pleasures of the thirst, 
 but like a brave Kaintucky ge'man 
 he furnished drinkables for all them 
 that saw him planted thoughtful 
 ge'man, yo' Uncle Owen, suh! In all 
 the history of our country, suh, they 
 wa'nt nevah a funeral wh'a B'u'bon 
 was so free and tasted so good. Know 
 much about hosses, suh? " 
 
 Then and there I tried to confess to 
 Murf that I didn't know the difference 
 between a fetlock and a quart of oats. 
 
 "I don't quite understand why my 
 late lamented Uncle Owen should 
 have turned this foundling asylum 
 of fillies over to me, Murf. I never 
 did Unc any harm in life and I don't 
 see why he should come back after the 
 croak and haunt me in the form of 
 seven spinled-legged sand -pounders!" 
 
 "Family pride, suh!" Murf an 
 swered, incisively. "Yo' late Uncle
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 29 
 
 Owen done much for the spo't of Kings, 
 suh! He spent his money freely, suh, 
 for the glory of the steeplechase and 
 the one mile dash ovah the old co'se, 
 suh!" 
 
 "Generous Unc," I answered, some 
 what bitterly. 
 
 "And when yo' uncle was entered, 
 suh, in his last race with the pale hoss 
 whose rider is Death, suh, he called 
 me ovah and says, 'Murf, yo' all take 
 three of them thu'breds for yo'self 
 and them othah seven goes to my 
 brother's boy in New Yo'k according 
 to my last will and testament bettah 
 pull open a fresh bottle of that B'u'- 
 bon, Murf!' he said, suh, just afo' he 
 turned his face to the wall." 
 
 Murf paused while memory stepped 
 up to the bar and refreshed itself. 
 
 "What made Uncle Owen think 
 that I would shriek with joy over the
 
 30 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 arrival of seven sunburned colts into 
 the bosom of my family?" I finally 
 asked in despair. 
 
 "Just a few weeks previous to yo' 
 uncle's demise, suh, a Kaintucky 
 hossman came home from the East, 
 suh, and info'med yo' uncle that yo' 
 all was big Casino on the Eastern 
 tracks, suh!" 
 
 "A Kentucky horseman told Uncle 
 Owen that?" I repeated. "Naughty 
 horseman. What's his name?" 
 
 "Hank Peters, suh, from ovah 
 Bowling Green way. Him and Kee 
 Barclay, the old colt tamer from 
 Princeton, Kaintucky, spent sev'al 
 weeks in the East this spring. Hank 
 told yo' Uncle Owen, suh, that he 
 chummed up with yo' all at Graves- 
 end." 
 
 "Hank chummed up with me at 
 Gravesend!" I echoed, vainly trying
 
 " Yo' ail was Big Casino on tf 
 Eastern Tracks." Page 30.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 31 
 
 to get wise. "I wonder if that was 
 the day I fell off the water wagon!" 
 
 "Hank was all swelled up ovah 
 meeting yo', suh. Yo' all told Hank 
 that when it came to knowing the race 
 track game yo' had Pittsburg Phil put 
 to bed without saying his prayers!" 
 
 "'I told Hank that, did I?" 
 
 " Yo' all did, suh; and yo' told him 
 that when it came to a show down on 
 hoss knowledge yo' had William C. 
 Whitney up in a sycamo' tree a'holler- 
 in* for help, suh!" 
 
 I could feel my ears getting red. 
 
 "That was the day yo' all won 
 $42,000 on the fo'th race, suh!" 
 
 "The day I won $42,000 who 
 dared to wake me?" 
 
 "Hank says yo' all told him that it 
 was the smallest win you had made 
 at the meet, suh!" 
 
 "There's no doubt about it, Murf,"
 
 32 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 I said, thoughtfully. "That ivas the 
 day I fell off the water wagon, and I 
 must have landed on Hank good and 
 hard. I remember the afternoon, but 
 I can't place Hank. I wonder what 
 round of drinks he blew in with! 
 That was the evening I win $8 and 
 the shock drove me up against the 
 bar. It was my first take-down 
 in six weeks and it made me so ner 
 vous I was afraid to keep the cash. 
 Before dark I had traded my roll for 
 a bun, and then I began to talk pipe- 
 talk, and dream out loud. You 
 know, Murf, whenever I hit the hose 
 the first thing I do is to turn on the 
 electric fan and get the hot air busy. 
 Your friend, Hank, probably got 
 caught in the wind storm." 
 
 Murf listened in silence till I had 
 finished; then he said, slowly: 
 
 "Yo' Uncle Owen left this world,
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 33 
 
 suh, believing yo' to be a fuss class 
 hossman. It's up to yo' all not to 
 make yo' Uncle Owen out no liah, 
 suh ! ' ' 
 
 Murf the implacable ; Murf the un 
 believer; Murf with a power of attor 
 ney from Fate. What would Clara 
 J. say when she discovered that I had 
 jumped into the stormy sea of horse 
 speculation and was far from the life- 
 raft? Visions of a happy home rent 
 asunder tortured my sight and I could 
 hear busy old Uncle Peter driving me 
 forth with wild anathemas. 
 
 Presently Murf broke in upon my 
 meditations: " Hadn't yo' all bettah 
 look the hosses ovah, suh? " 
 
 I took a peep at the ponies, and see 
 ing but seven of 'em I asked Murf 
 where his three were. 
 
 " It became necessa'y for me to part 
 with my three, suh, in order to ca'y
 
 34 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 out yo' Uncle Owen's request and de 
 liver the goods to yo' all," he an 
 swered, quietly. 
 
 "Murf," I said, with a bit of a lump 
 in my throat, "you're aces up with 
 me from this moment. This cloud 
 burst of horses came on so suddenly 
 that I forgot my manners shake!" 
 
 We shook hands and I asked: 
 "Didn't Uncle Owen leave any money 
 when he took the long canter?" 
 
 "After the estate was settled up, 
 suh, they wa'nt nothing left but them 
 thar hosses and yo' Uncle Owen's last 
 will and testament," Murf replied. 
 "I was yo' Uncle Owen's trainer for 
 eighteen years, suh, and when I heard 
 the facts in the case I says, 'Murf, 
 yo' all are going East to train them 
 thar colts for yo' friend Owen's 
 nephew seeing as how Hank Peters 
 says the young man is big Casino on
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 35 
 
 the Eastern tracks.' I had to sell my 
 colts to do it, but I got here and I 
 wait yo' orders, suh!" 
 
 I couldn't possibly do a soft shell 
 solo and leave that kind of a man flat 
 without the price of a dish of beans in 
 his rowdy do ws, so I quickly made up 
 my mind to see Murf through if I had 
 to put him and the ponies in the 
 spare room at Ruraldene. 
 
 "Yo' Uncle Owen had a pow'ful 
 sum of money once but he was enticed 
 into speculating in Wall Street and 
 lose," Murf continued; "it is one of 
 my pa'ticular desiahs to meet one of 
 them brokers and communicate my 
 best respects, suh!" he added, bit 
 terly. 
 
 I sized up the wiry frame of Murf 
 and shuddered as I thought of the re 
 sult it would have on that human air
 
 36 UT FOR THE COIN 
 
 cushion known as Uncle Peter, but I 
 said nothing. 
 
 Finally I came to an amicable un 
 derstanding with Murf Higginbottom, 
 my friend from Kentucky, and we 
 decided to send the colts to a train 
 ing farm not far from Ruraldene. 
 
 I figured it out that by getting rid 
 of my D. Q. & N. stock at the present 
 price I'd be about $8,000 to the good, 
 and with this amount I saw my way 
 clear to making a shine start with my 
 Santa Claus stable. 
 
 "If yo' all don't happen to be big 
 Casino on the Eastern tracks, suh, I 
 would advise you not to mention noth 
 ing about it, because I don't care to 
 have yo' Uncle Owen's opinions dis 
 turbed, suh!" Murf quietly admon 
 ished as we parted. 
 
 Plainly I was being whipsawed by 
 circumstances, but I hugged the con-
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 37 
 
 soling thought that some day one of 
 those Kentucky rabbits might get 
 scared and cut around the track in a 
 manner calculated to give the odds- 
 layers a nervous chill. 
 
 I didn't want to keep Clara J. wait 
 ing up town, so I hustled over the 
 Cortlandt Street ferry to keep our 
 dinner engagement. 
 
 The first foot I stepped on in the 
 Elevated belonged to Bunch Jefferson. 
 
 "You're a lucky McManus, all 
 right!" he informed me as I shared 
 his strap. 
 
 "You haven't seen Murf and the 
 seven goats," I answered, sadly. 
 
 " No, but I saw my prophecy pulled 
 off," he answered. "Mean to tell me 
 you have'nt heard about the slippery- 
 day stairs in the Street?" 
 
 My heart began to beat its way out 
 and I could feel the cold chills moving
 
 38 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 into furnished rooms up and down 
 my spine. 
 
 "I've been too busy to buy a paper; 
 anything happen?" I gasped. 
 
 "The bottom dropped out of the 
 market ten minutes after you left. 
 D. Q. & N. fell in the well and closed 
 at 93. You certainly were a wise 
 William to roll off the toboggan," he 
 said, calmly. 
 
 I tried to bite the strap, but the 
 guard had his eye on me, so I com 
 promised by emitting a short, sharp 
 groan. 
 
 "What's the matter?" Bunch in 
 quired. 
 
 "Nothing" I answered feebly; "I 
 was thinking about my orphan skates 
 far from their old Kentucky home."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE SOUSE THING. 
 
 I BROUGHT Tacks with me be 
 cause I had to do some shop 
 ping, and he's so much com 
 pany," Clara J. explained, when I 
 joined them at the restaurant. 
 
 "Tacks is always pleasant com 
 pany," I said, politely, but I deter 
 mined to keep a watchful eye on my 
 youthful brother-in-law, nevertheless. 
 
 That kid was born with an abnor 
 mal bump of mischief and by pains 
 taking endeavor he has won the 
 world's championship as an organ 
 izer of impromptu riots. 
 
 "Oh, John!" said Clara J. when I 
 began to make faces at the menu
 
 4O OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 card, " I didn't notice until now how 
 pale you look. Have you had a busy 
 day?" 
 
 "Busy!" I repeated; "well, rather. 
 I've been giving imitations of a bull 
 fight. Everybody I met was the bull 
 and I was the fight. Nominate your 
 eats! What '11 it be, Tacks?" 
 
 "Sponge cake," said Tacks, 
 promptly. 
 
 "What else?" asked Clara J. 
 
 "More sponge cake," the youth re 
 plied, and just then the smiling and 
 sympathetic waiter stooped down to 
 pick up a fork Tack had dropped. 
 
 In his anxiety not to miss any 
 thing, Tacks rubbered acrobatically 
 with the result that he upset a glass 
 of ice water down the waiter's neck, 
 and three seconds later the tray- 
 trotter had issued an Extra and was
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 41 
 
 saying things in French that would 
 sound scandalous if translated. 
 
 It cost me a dollar to bring the dish- 
 dragger back to earth, and Tacks said 
 I could break his bank open when we 
 got home and take all the money if I'd 
 let him do it again. 
 
 "Uncle Peter is delighted beyond 
 measure with your business ability," 
 Clara J. informed me after the treaty 
 of peace had been signed with the 
 waiter. 
 
 " He has a right to be ! " I muttered, 
 painfully, as I thought of my swift 
 ride down the mountain side on D. Q. 
 & N. 
 
 ' ' He says that by following his di 
 rections carefully you are seven 
 thousand richer to-day. Are you, 
 John?" 
 
 "Sure, Peaches!" I answered, 
 truthfully, "I'm seven to the good."
 
 42 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 I neglected to add the word skates, 
 but, then, what's a little thing like 
 that amount to among friends? 
 
 "Seven in one day," she said, en 
 thusiastically. 
 
 "Seven in one day one of them 
 with four white feet," I said, like a 
 man in a dream. 
 
 "What do you mean?" Clara J. 
 asked; "is that a Wall Street ex 
 pression?" 
 
 "No," I answered hastily; "I was 
 only talking to myself and I held the 
 'phone too close to my mouth. Let's 
 start this banquet with a hot wave 
 waiter, clam cocktails for three!" 
 
 "Uncle Peter, Aunt Martha and I 
 had a long talk to-day about your 
 prospects in Wall Street," Clara J. 
 rattled on. "Oh, John, you don't 
 know how happy it makes me feel to
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 43 
 
 think that you'll never, never go near 
 those awful race tracks again." 
 
 My thoughts took the ferry for Jer 
 sey City, and I could hear Murf Hig- 
 ginbottom saying, "Yo' Uncle Owen 
 considered yo' all as big Casino on the 
 Eastern tracks, suh!' 
 
 "You'll make a lot of money with 
 the seven you got to-day, won't you, 
 dear?" Peaches asked, encourag 
 ingly. 
 
 "Possibly," I replied, nervously; 
 "still, you never can tell. They may 
 get into the habit of running back 
 wards er, I mean, the market is very 
 uncertain! Tacks, take your thumb 
 out of that butter!" 
 
 "I was so sorry I couldn't get you 
 on the 'phone early this afternoon," 
 Clara J. informed me. "I called up 
 your broker's office down town, but 
 they couldn't find you."
 
 44 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 "Sorry I had to give you the busy 
 ear, Peaches, but the fact is I paddled 
 away to the office of Higginbottom & 
 Co., who wanted to put me wise to 
 some, er that is, some new stock!" 
 
 "Railroad stock?" she inquired. 
 
 "Well, not exactly Twentieth Cen 
 tury Limiteds or Royal Blue Flyers," 
 I answered, "but I think some of it 
 could win from a slow freight if prop 
 erly coaxed." 
 
 "Watered stock, I suppose!" 
 laughed Clara J. 
 
 "Yes, it was watered all right, but 
 not fed," I replied. "There wasn't 
 much doing in oats until I led the way 
 to the barn." 
 
 I had Peaches in the air by this time, 
 but she thought I was talking the 
 broker dialect, so she stayed on the 
 roof and watched the scenery go by. 
 
 Just then I got a flash of Dike Law-
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 45 
 
 rence bearing down in our direction 
 under a full head of gasolene. 
 
 Dike was leading a three-days' jag 
 by the hand and talking to it like a 
 child. 
 
 A good old fellow, Dike, but for 
 years he permitted a distillery to use 
 his thirst as a testing station and it 
 had put the dear boy away to the 
 conviv. 
 
 Dike was a good lawyer when he 
 worked at it, rich, unmarried, and the 
 busiest booze buyer in the Borough. 
 
 "H'ar'ye, Mrs. John? Howdy, 
 John? How do do, little man! 
 Scuze me for int'rupting a family 
 party, but I demand 'pology!" he 
 spluttered. 
 
 "What's wrong, Dike?" I inquired. 
 
 ' ' Demand 'pology, ' ' Dike continued. 
 "Old friend life time threw me down 
 lesh have drink! Your little son
 
 46 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 growing shplendid boy, Mrs. John!" 
 
 "This is Tacks, my little brother, 
 not my son, Mr. Lawrence!" Clara J. 
 explained; "we haven't any chil 
 dren," she added nervously. 
 
 "Haven't got a baby my mis 
 take! Ought to have one by this 
 time damshame, John! I demand 
 'pology! Lesh have drink!" 
 
 As I said before, Dike is the cham 
 pion bun builder of my acquaintance, 
 consequently his conversational out 
 bursts are never considered seriously. 
 
 "Shorry make such a shene, Mrs. 
 John!" old Doctor Benzine rattled 
 on, "but. musht have 'pology from 
 life-long friend. Threw me down 
 hard waiter, bring bo'l wine, quart 
 wine, two quarts wine, whole dam- 
 case wine beg pardon, Mrs. John! 
 shouldn't shwear presence lady and 
 her little son little brother, scuze
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 47 
 
 me! the wish is father to the son, I 
 mean father to the boy don't know 
 what fell I mean! lesh have drink 
 musht have 'pology!" 
 
 "What's gone wrong, Dike? Who 
 owes you an apology?" I asked in an 
 endeavor to calm him. 
 
 "You do," he answered, trying to 
 look me in the eye; "wait till I get 
 back I'll shplain why demand 'pol 
 ogy," and then his lamps started to 
 follow the room as it went round and 
 round. 
 
 Presently his gaze rested on Clara 
 J., and he continued, "Mrs. John, 
 your husband's gay Lothario bet 
 two dollars thash lasht time to-day 
 I'll be able to shay that word. Never 
 could shay word like that after sheven 
 o'clock. Mrs. John, you mush join 
 me demand 'pology from thish man. 
 Time's come when friendship sheashes
 
 48 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 and we musht shtand togezzer, sho'ler 
 to sho'ler, Mrs. John, and so mush 
 your little son I mean little brother 
 for love of Heaven please have little 
 son with you next time so I can shay 
 what I want to! Lesh have drink!" 
 
 "What did my husband do to 
 offend you, Mr. Lawrence!" Clara J. 
 asked, encouragingly. 
 
 "Threw me down hard, cold, flat! 
 Life-long friend threw me down. I 
 shink I'll bust out crying!" Dike an 
 swered, on the verge of tears. 
 
 "Where did I throw you down, 
 Dike?" I asked, smilingly. 
 
 "Jershee Shizzy!" he answered, 
 painfully. 
 
 "Where did you say?" I snapped, 
 perceiving quickly that Dike and his 
 souse promised to lead me into the ice 
 house with Clara J.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 49 
 
 "Jershee Shizzy!" Dike repeated, 
 doggedly. 
 
 "Does your friend mean Jersey 
 City?" Clara J. asked, throwing out a 
 chill that cooled the room. 
 
 "Jershee Shizzy, ash what I shed," 
 Dike put in. " If I don't get 'pology 
 I'll bust out crying!" 
 
 "When did you see me in Jersey 
 City? How dare you make such an 
 accusation against me?" I demanded. 
 
 "John," said Dike, trying earnestly 
 to look at me gravely, "I shaw you 
 in Jershee Shizzy zish aft'noon. Pen- 
 shionvania station, zish aft'noon. 
 Spoke to you politely you threw me 
 down. Followed you to demand 'pol 
 ogy you gave me shake. " Saying 
 this he grabbed a wine glass from the 
 table and held it close to his heart in 
 order to illustrate the intensity of his 
 feeling.
 
 50 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 The next instant a thick, reddish 
 liquid began to flow sluggishly over 
 the bosom of his immaculate white 
 shirt and was lost in the region of his 
 equator, seeing which Dike gave vent 
 to a yell that brought the waiters on 
 the hot foot. 
 
 "I'm stabbed! stabbed!" groaned 
 the startled jag-carpenter, clutching 
 wildly at his shirt front. 
 
 "It's my clam cocktail," whispered 
 Tacks to me ; "I poured it in his wine 
 glass 'cause they was too much to- 
 bascum sauce in it for me!" 
 
 ' ' B rave boy ! " I answered. "It was 
 a kindly deed. Come on, Clara J., 
 the woods for ours!"
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE TWO 
 DIPPY BOYS. 
 
 TACKS laughed half the way 
 home, but Clara J. kept hand 
 ing me the verbal ice pitcher. 
 
 "What's the matter, Peaches? 
 surely you're not angry because the 
 old original jag builder butted in! 
 Dike doesn't mean any harm, believe 
 me; and, besides, I couldn't help it 
 I didn't see him first," I explained. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Lawrence didn't worry 
 me," she answered; "I felt sorry for 
 him, that's all." 
 
 " Then why don't you haul in the 
 cold wave flag? " I insisted. 
 
 "What did he mean about Jersey 
 City?" she queried.
 
 52 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 "Peaches, I'm astonished!" I an 
 swered. "Don't you know that Dike 
 has been carrying that lightship 
 around with him all day? Don't you 
 know that a man hasn't time to think 
 straight when he is trying to pilot a 
 bun like that through the city's 
 streets? Don't pay any attention to 
 Dike; every time he gets good and 
 kippered with the souse thing he al 
 ways goes around among his friends 
 hoping somebody will apologize to 
 him for something so that he'll have 
 another excuse to buy a tub of suds." 
 
 " Yes, but you went to Jersey City 
 alone, and I've been begging you for 
 six months to go over there with me 
 and call on Aunt Debbie Williams," 
 Clara J. complained. 
 
 "Is that all that's worrying you?" 
 I answered. "You see, I had to go 
 over there on business stock busi-
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 53 
 
 ness and that's no idle dream! The 
 first time I get hold of an evening that 
 I really hate I'll take it over to Aunt 
 Deb's and kill it. We'll do a society 
 call that will make her and the parrot 
 sit up and notice us. Come on, now, 
 Peaches, let's tear up the divorce 
 papers and be good friends again!" 
 
 Clara J. smiled and then I knew 
 the storm was over. 
 
 Bright and early next morning 
 Uncle Peter was down on our porch 
 throwing the hooks into me about my 
 Wall Street deal. 
 
 "How much are you ahead, John ? " 
 he asked, delightedly. 
 
 Of course I couldn't afford to let 
 him know that I had sawdust in the 
 coco so I yawned and said, "Oh! 
 about $8,000 ! " in a bored sort of way. 
 
 "Fine," chuckled the old gentle 
 man; "now you take my advice and
 
 54 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 stay out of the market for a week or 
 two." 
 
 "Sure as you live," I answered, 
 earnestly. "Make it three weeks 
 I'll give the Street a chance to re 
 cover from the jolt I gave it. It 
 doesn't seem right to go down and 
 yank the yellowbacks away from 
 those busy boys in the Bond district, 
 so I'll let up on them for a while, eh, 
 Uncle Peter?" 
 
 The old man took my josh as a bit 
 of on-the-level reading matter and 
 said, "Leave it to me. I'll tell you 
 when to get in again and when to 
 get out. After that stormy drop in 
 Westerns yesterday the market is 
 bound to be unsteady. Walk slow, 
 John and watch me." 
 
 I promised to be very careful and 
 went in the house to figure out just 
 how I stood in the matter of ready
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 55 
 
 cash. After a hard dig I found that 
 over and above home comforts I could 
 roll up just eleven hundred dollars, 
 enough to keep Murf and the seven 
 orphan skates out of the poorhouse 
 for a few days, at any rate. 
 
 After breakfast I sat down in my 
 dope den to map out a plan of cam 
 paign and presently Clara J. came in 
 and said, "John, how much more 
 money will you have to make in Wall 
 Street before you can buy that auto 
 mobile you promised me ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Did I threaten to get one of those 
 kerosene carts for you?" I answered. 
 "I'm getting so absent minded. Well, 
 just as soon as the new styles are 
 ready I'll get a devil wagon for you, 
 Peaches, that will burn up the barn 
 every time it goes out." 
 
 "When do you think the new styles 
 will be ready?" she asked.
 
 56 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 "In about a year," I guessed. "You 
 see Tom Edison is working on a new 
 thingamajig that won't buckle the 
 eccentric. Oh! it'll be a great day 
 for automobiles when that new thing 
 amajig is invented. I promised Tom 
 faithfully I wouldn't buy a benzine 
 buggy until he invents the dingus 
 that's the name of it! The dingus. 
 You see, Peaches, a dingus is some 
 thing like a bifftoid, only its deeper 
 and more parallel near the circum 
 ference. You wouldn't care to have 
 an auto without a. dingus, now would 
 you? Especially when I've promised 
 Tom to wait till he invents one ? ' ' 
 
 Clara J. didn't know exactly wheth 
 er I was kidding her or not, so she 
 laughed and dipped her oars. 
 
 An hour later she was back again 
 just when I had my pipe burning fine
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 57 
 
 and my horses had won me $89,000. 
 I hated to wake up. 
 
 "John," she said, "I've been talk 
 ing for some little time with a peculiar- 
 looking stranger who came to see 
 you." 
 
 "Yes, "I said; " what'stheanswer?" 
 
 "From what he says I am led to 
 believe that you are deceiving me," 
 she came back at me, coldly and 
 cuttingly. 
 
 "Deceiving you!" I repeated. 
 
 "About horse racing," she added, 
 with falling barometer and increasing 
 cloudiness, winds shifting to north 
 east, probably snow. 
 
 I began to wonder if I had talked in 
 my sleep. If so, here was my chance 
 to confess all and do the retreat from 
 the Moscow act; but I hadn't the 
 nerve, and quickly the golden moment 
 was gone.
 
 58 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 "The man's name is Murf Higgin- 
 bottom!" she said, quietly, looking 
 me straight in the eye. 
 
 "Murf Higginbottom ! " I echoed 
 slowly, while I got a good grip and 
 pulled myself together. 
 
 "Yes, Murf Higginbottom!" she 
 said, questioningly. 
 
 "Dear old Murf," I murmured; "so 
 he did get out to see us after all. Bless 
 his kind heart, how does he look?" 
 
 "I presume he looks as he usually 
 does; you ought to know," she an 
 swered, haughtily. 
 
 "All the way from Kentucky to see 
 me," I went on as though thinking 
 aloud. "He was my Uncle Owen's 
 best friend Uncle Owen Henry, of 
 Lexington, Kentucky." 
 
 Clara J. watched me narrowly. 
 
 "Poor Uncle Owen is dead!" I 
 said, with a sob.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 59 
 
 "Uncle Owen is dead!" Clara J. 
 said in astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, dear, but don't cry; I'll bear 
 the blow alone," I cut in. 
 
 "I had no thought of crying, I 
 assure you," she answered. "Why, 
 I never even heard of this Uncle Owen 
 before." 
 
 "Neither did I! that is, I mean I 
 never heard of him dying until he was 
 dead! a very sad case. The news 
 only reached me yesterday, but I kept 
 it from you and I bore up and was 
 cheerful just for your sake, Peaches." 
 
 She didn't know just how to size 
 me up. 
 
 "And now Murf is here," I started 
 again. " Murf was my Uncle Owen's 
 care for years. I wonder if Murf is 
 still afflicted. Did Murf say that he 
 was on here with a string of horses?" 
 
 "He did," she said, stonily.
 
 60 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 " Poor old Murf ! A string of seven 
 horses for me?" 
 
 "A string of seven horses for you, 
 yes!" 
 
 "Too bad; I was so in hopes Murf 
 was better. Did he say that Uncle 
 Owen considered me big Casino on the 
 Eastern tracks?" 
 
 "His very words," Clara J. said. 
 
 "Isn't it pitiful to think Murf is no 
 better," I went on; "but he's per 
 fectly harmless." 
 
 "Harmless!" she repeated. 
 
 "Perfectly so," I answered. " He's 
 been that way for years. When quite 
 a young man a thoroughbred horse 
 belonging to my Uncle Owen kicked 
 Murf on the head and ever since that 
 day the poor fellow is always arriving 
 in the East with a string of seven 
 horses for the big Casino on the East 
 ern tracks. He's what we call ' colt-
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 6l 
 
 crazy ' in medical circles. As soon as 
 I meet him he'll tell me the horses are 
 well, see if he doesn't." 
 
 The only thing that kept me from 
 hating myself was the thought that 
 some of those horses might win me 
 enough to keep Clara J. in luxury all 
 the rest of her life. 
 
 "We must humor him, that's all," 
 I continued; "he won't stay long 
 poor old Murf!" 
 
 Clara J. began to walk slowly up 
 to the straight goods counter and I 
 felt that a catastrophe had been 
 averted. 
 
 "Let's go and see Murf," I sug 
 gested, "but let me handle him. So 
 long as I don't deny what he says 
 about horses you'll find him the quiet 
 boy with the gentle gaze; and if he 
 does insist that I'm a horse owner, give 
 him the belief smile and pass it up."
 
 62 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 On the veranda Murf and Uncle 
 Peter were conversing earnestly, but 
 directly we appeared Murf arose and 
 said, "Yo' colts are doing fuss class, 
 suh; but I reckon yo' all best come 
 down and look them ovah, suh! 
 We are qua'ted only about three 
 miles away from here, suh!" 
 
 "Didn't I call the turn?" I whis 
 pered to Clara J. "Put Uncle Peter 
 wise to Murf's condition and tell him 
 not to make any breaks." 
 
 Uncle Peter scowled fiercely at me 
 and joined Clara J., while I shook 
 Murf's hand and lied how glad I was 
 to see him. 
 
 "This here old man is yo' uncle, 
 suh?" Murf inquired. 
 
 "My wife's uncle," I replied. 
 
 "That's some bettah, suh; being 
 no blood relation, it won't hu't yo' 
 pride so much when I tell yo' all that
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 63 
 
 he has lightning bugs in his hayloft," 
 Murf said, earnestly. 
 
 "What has the old gentleman done 
 to you, Murf?" I inquired. 
 
 "Done, suh!" sniffed Murf, con 
 temptuously; "when I info 'med him, 
 suh, that I had brought seven hosses 
 on from Kaintucky for yo' all he be 
 gan to froth at the mouth, suh! And 
 when I told him that yo' Uncle Owen 
 went ovah the final and full co'se be 
 lieving that yo' all was big Casino on 
 the Eastern tracks, suh, that old 
 truck hoss laughed in my face, suh. 
 I permit some few people to use their 
 laugh on me, pussonally, but I allow 
 no one, suh, to laugh at yo' Uncle 
 Owen's beliefs, now that it is too ever 
 lasting late to change them, suh!" 
 
 "Good old Mtirf, you mustn't mind 
 Uncle Peter; he's sun-touched," I
 
 64 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 said, tapping my forehead signifi 
 cantly. 
 
 "Oh!" said Murf; "locoed?" 
 
 "Plum, on the horse question," I 
 answered; "but otherwise as harm 
 less as a kitten. He was kicked on 
 the forehead some years ago by a 
 roadster, and now even the mention 
 of a horse puts him up in the air. 
 Talk automobiles to him, Murf, and 
 be on the safe side." 
 
 "I reckon yo' all best excuse me 
 from any automobile talk," said Murf, 
 earnestly. "I nevah hope to see the 
 day, suh, when one of them foolish 
 wagons can rise high enough in my 
 esteem to be talked about. I'm a 
 hossman, and from Kaintucky, suh!" 
 
 At that moment, Clara J., Aunt 
 Martha, Uncle Peter and Tacks ap 
 peared, and it was evident from their 
 actions that a family council with re-
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 65 
 
 gard to Murf 's supposed mental con 
 dition had just adjourned pending 
 further investigation. 
 
 The two ladies remained at a safe 
 distance and whispered together sym 
 pathetically from time to time, while 
 Tacks armed himself with a rock and 
 prepared for the worst. 
 
 But the hit of the show was Uncle 
 Peter. He danced around Murf with 
 a broad grin on his face and bowed 
 extravagantly. 
 
 Murf sidled up to me. "Did yo' 
 all say he's harmless?" he whispered, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 "Perfectly so!" I answered; "hu 
 mor him, though." 
 
 Uncle Peter called me aside. "Sure 
 he's harmless?" he asked, eagerly. 
 . "Perfectly so," I told him; "but 
 humor him." 
 
 The two eyed each other and began
 
 66 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 to grin foolishly. It was my cue to 
 crack a rib, but I had to keep a straight 
 face or lose the fight. 
 
 Presently Uncle Peter and Murf 
 were strolling around the lawn to 
 gether, the former laying himself out 
 trying to be pleasant, while the latter 
 kept watching his companion out of 
 the corner of his eye. 
 
 I joined Clara J. and Aunt Martha 
 to tell them that the visitor was as 
 docile as a pet lamb, when suddenly 
 an awful yell caused us to turn quick 
 ly, and we beheld Uncle Peter down 
 on the lawn kicking furiously, while 
 Murf sat on his chest and swatted him 
 in the ribs. 
 
 In a moment I had pulled them 
 apart and Murf exclaimed, "When 
 the gentleman info'med me, suh, that 
 he used to be a brokah in Wall Street, 
 I fo'got for the moment that he is off
 
 Murf sat on Uncle 
 Peter's Chest. Page 66.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 67 
 
 his dip, suh, and I plugged him one 
 for yo' Uncle Owen's sake, suh, ac 
 cording to certain promises made to 
 myself, suh! I'll be glad to see yo' all 
 at ouah training quatahs to-morrow, 
 suh!" and with this Murf politely 
 doffed his hat to the alarmed ladies 
 and strode off majestically down the 
 road. 
 
 "I beg pardon, Uncle Peter," I 
 said, "but on the level, I forgot to tell 
 you not to mention Wall Street to 
 poor old Murf." 
 
 "Confound you and poor old 
 Murf!" spluttered my surprised and 
 bewildered relative, feeling the dis 
 turbed portions of his anatomy care 
 fully for breakages. "The man is a 
 lunatic. Harmless, indeed! It's my 
 belief he ought to be in an asylum. 
 Oh! my chest! my chest! I believe 
 it's crushed in!"
 
 68 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 Aunt Martha, in tears, ran hither 
 and back in wild alarm. "Oh, 
 Peter!" she cried; "you must put on 
 a mustard plaster at once. Tacks, 
 dear, run and get the mustard! Come 
 in the house, Peter, and lie down. 
 Oh, John, don't let that horrid man 
 come here again ! " and with this they 
 all rushed in to spring the first aid to 
 the injured gag on Uncle Peter. 
 
 I knew the old gentleman was more 
 frightened than hurt, so I sat down on 
 the wheelbarrow and treated myself 
 to a hearty laugh. 
 
 Presently a wild war whoop issued 
 from the interior of the house and 
 Uncle Peter came running out, claw 
 ing at his manly bosom. 
 
 ' ' Take it off ! take it off ! " he yelled ; 
 "it isn't mustard. Mustard only 
 burns; this is biting clean through to 
 my backbone ! Take it off ! " and with
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 69 
 
 this he threw the offending plaster 
 out on the lawn and rushed off up 
 stairs like one pursued by dogs. 
 
 I picked up the cause of the riot and 
 looked it over just as Tacks drew nigh. 
 
 "You said the other day that Uncle 
 Peter was bughouse, so when Aunt 
 Martha wanted to make the mustard 
 plaster I gave her the can of insect 
 powder," he said, softly. 
 
 Isn't that boy the limit?
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE ORPHAN SKATES. 
 
 DURING the following week I 
 spent most of my time at the 
 training quarters, and it wasn't 
 long before the colts would nose 
 around my pockets for the lumps of 
 sugar I brought them. 
 
 The ponies soon tumbled to the fact 
 that I was their meal ticket. 
 
 The things Murf knew about horse 
 flesh were scandalous. He had the 
 racing business tied up in a knot in 
 his handkerchief. Murf was one of 
 those gamey little men that wouldn't 
 take a dare from any nag that ever 
 chewed a halter. 
 
 "That there little light bay filly
 
 The Ponies soon tumbled that I 
 was their Meal Ticket. -Page 70.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 71 
 
 with the fo' white feet for mine!" he 
 observed sententiously, after the 
 seven had been tried out thoroughly. 
 
 "Make mine the same, Murf," I 
 answered; "she's all the goods, for 
 sure." 
 
 "Whoa, little girl, steady! Yo' 
 Uncle Owen would delight in that par 
 cel of hossflesh, suh; have yo' all 
 procu'd a name?" he asked. 
 
 "Call her Peaches," I answered 
 quickly. 
 
 "Peaches!" Murf repeated. 
 
 "Sure as you live," I said; "we'll 
 name her for the best girl that ever 
 took a hurdle like me for a husband. 
 Here's to Peaches! may she always 
 have a place at the table when For 
 tune passes the cream!" 
 
 "I drink to yo' health, suh, and to 
 Peaches!" Murf said, drawing a flask 
 of his beloved Bourbon from his pock-
 
 72 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 et and tipping it slightly; "this here 
 youngster promises well, and no Kain- 
 tucky hoss evah yet broke a promise 
 to me, suh!" 
 
 I gave all the money I possessed to 
 Murf and told him to go ahead and 
 see the thing through to a finish. 
 
 "You have full authority, Murf," 
 I said, "and all the money I can raise 
 without resorting to the use of dizzy- 
 drops. If you win out, the glory will 
 be yours." 
 
 "Yo' Uncle Owen considered yo' 
 all big Casino on the Eastern tracks, 
 suh; it is my duty to prove it, seeing 
 that it ain't possible now to convince 
 yo' Uncle Owen othahwise," he an 
 swered, slowly, and that settled it. 
 
 "I've been watching that black one 
 yonder, Murf!" I said, pointing to 
 little sad-eyes, the laziest looking 
 skate in the string.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 73 
 
 "Yes!" Murf answered, question- 
 ingly. 
 
 "I christen that one Shoemaker," 
 I said. 
 
 ' ' Shoemaker ! ' ' Murf echoed. 
 
 "Shoemaker," I continued, "be 
 cause he'll be near the last all his 
 life." 
 
 I didn't get a smile from Murf, so 
 I got mad and went home. 
 
 The next morning while in the sit 
 ting room reading the papers I heard 
 an argument started on the veranda, 
 and looking out I beheld a weazened- 
 face kid, not much larger than Tacks, 
 holding a free-for-all with Uncle 
 Peter. 
 
 "Does Mr. John Henry live here?" 
 the visitor asked. 
 
 "He does," Uncle Peter replied, 
 somewhat shortly; "what do you 
 want with him?"
 
 74 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 "I want him to gi'me de gaze!" 
 the youth answered. 
 
 "To give you what?" Uncle Peter 
 asked. 
 
 "De look-over, see! I'm for him 
 if he warms to me on the peep!" 
 
 Uncle Peter was too mystified to 
 speak. 
 
 To tell the honest, I was a bit to the 
 daze myself. I'm considered a fairly 
 wise guy on the figure of speech prop 
 osition, but that kid had me whim 
 pering. 
 
 "Haven't you made a mistake in 
 the house?" the old gentleman finally 
 inquired. 
 
 "Aw, choke up! choke up!" the 
 stranger advised. "What do you 
 t'ink I am a wax works? My nut 
 ain't no empty shell, see! I've got a 
 bunch of machinery behind my map 
 for to steer me straight, and I ain't
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 75 
 
 making no bum starts! Put me wise 
 to de real Captain, will'e?" 
 
 "Have you something to sell?" 
 Uncle Peter asked, suddenly struck 
 with the idea that the stranger might 
 be a peddler. 
 
 "Aw, say, Foxy Gran', ring de 
 tinkler on yourself!" he answered, 
 scornfully; "I ain't out doing no 
 lecture for a living. Me t'roat is too 
 busy to talk to you pass my name 
 up to de Main Squash, wiU'e?" 
 
 "What is your name?" Uncle Peter 
 inquired. 
 
 "Spuds!" came the answer. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " Uncle Peter cried, 
 in astonishment; "what a remarka 
 ble name; did you say Spuds?" 
 
 "I said Spuds, didn't I?" was the 
 somewhat sharp rejoinder. "What 
 do you want to call me, Percival?" 
 
 "I don't want to call you any-
 
 76 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 thing, you impertinent young rascal," 
 Uncle Peter said, hotly. "I'll call 
 the dog presently." 
 
 "Don't you call no bow-wow on 
 me or I'll bite him," the irrepressible 
 Spuds retorted. "Say! what is dis > 
 a chin-chin to a show down? Can't 
 youse bow yourself out and chase de 
 Boss Carpenter to me?" 
 
 Clara J., attracted by the loud 
 tones, strolled over from the garden 
 to see what was doing, and as for me, 
 I was enjoying the affair too much to 
 break it up by butting in. 
 
 "You wish to see somebody?" 
 Clara J. asked, sweetly. 
 
 "Yes, lady," the youth answered, 
 dragging a reluctant lid from his top- 
 piece and shuffling nervously from 
 one foot to another. "I was trying 
 to cook up a chance to hand a line of
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 77 
 
 talk to de Main Stake, but old Santa 
 Claus gave me de ice." 
 
 Clara J. looked at Uncle Peter in 
 astonishment, and he scowled silently 
 at the intruder. 
 
 "Come now, young man, state your 
 business, or be off !" the old gentleman 
 commanded. 
 
 "Aw, get used to yourself," the 
 Spuds lad muttered. " I don't do no 
 sneak till I pull off a meeting with the 
 High Card, and dat goes, see!" 
 
 "Don't you know the name of the 
 party you wish to see?" Clara J. in 
 quired. 
 
 "Sure I do," Spuds responded; 
 "it's Mr. John Henry." 
 
 "Oh!" she said; "he'll be here 
 presently, I'm sure. Who sent you? " 
 
 "Mr. Murf," Spuds answered, 
 whereupon I jumped quickly to my
 
 78 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 feet. The affair had assumed a se 
 rious turn. 
 
 "Mr. Murf," she repeated, just as I 
 stepped out. 
 
 "That's the infernal bandit who 
 was here the other day," thundered 
 Uncle Peter. "I'm black and blue 
 all over from thinking about him. 
 Drive this person off the premises; 
 very likely he's crazy, too!" 
 
 "Easy," I whispered; "this is 
 Murf's valet, no doubt." 
 
 "Valet!" snorted the old gentle 
 man; "keeper, you mean. I must 
 say, John, that I don't admire your 
 selection of friends; when they aren't 
 foolish, they are idiotic!" and with 
 this he flew in the house. 
 
 " This is the gentleman you wished 
 to see," I heard Clara J. saying to the 
 caller as I turned. 
 
 "Mr. Murf sent me down to tell
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 79 
 
 youse, sir, dat de little goil is doin' 
 fine!" was the first upper-cut I got 
 from Spuds. 
 
 "Poor Murf!" I said to Clara J.; 
 "isn't it wonderful how he can make 
 people believe that there isn't any 
 furniture broken in his garret. This 
 young man, no doubt, is under the 
 impression that " 
 
 "Say!" Spuds broke in, "Mr. Murf 
 is willing to let me wear the colors if 
 you'll give him the ticket for me to 
 ride, see!" 
 
 Then like a flash it dawned upon 
 me. Spuds the jockey! Murf had 
 sent him up to me for a final look- 
 over. Clara J. must not be permitted 
 to suspect what ho! 
 
 "Go back to Mr. Murf," I said, 
 quickly to Spuds, "and tell him he's 
 on!" 
 
 Spuds let one yell out of him and
 
 80 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 started to do a series of joyous art- 
 wheels all over the lawn. 
 
 " What in the world does it all 
 mean?" Clara J. asked. 
 
 "The ticket," I explained; "didn't 
 you hear him say ticket? Poor old 
 Murf is tired of the East and wants to 
 go home. For dear Uncle Owen's 
 sake I must buy Murf 's railroad ticket ; 
 don't you think so?" 
 
 "Good, generous John!" she an 
 swered, kissing me, and I felt as manly 
 as a chair with one leg off. 
 
 " Hasn't that annoying person gone 
 yet?" demanded Uncle Peter, ap 
 pearing in the doorway suddenly. 
 
 "Aw, choke up! choke up, Bill 
 Bailey, and de cosy corner for yours!" 
 the young scoundrel got back; then 
 to me, "Say, you're aces wit' me, Mr. 
 Henry, and I'll grab dat wire foist if
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 8l 
 
 ever de little goil goes out, or spoil me 
 map, see!" 
 
 With a wild yell of delight Spuds 
 danced off in the direction of the 
 training quarters, and just then Tacks 
 rushed breathlessly around the corner. 
 
 "See that kid," Tacks gasped; "I 
 saw him yesterday down the road 
 about two miles on the finest little 
 horse you ever see, and the crazy 
 man that was here the other day was 
 with him, but I wasn't frightened!" 
 
 "Then your friend, Murf, really 
 has a horse," Clara J. said, slowly and 
 with signs of a gathering storm. 
 
 "He has," I answered; "but I did 
 it for old time's sake. It cost me 
 only a few dollars to rent the horse 
 from a livery stable, and you can't 
 imagine how it soothes and comforts 
 poor old Murf!" 
 
 "Forgive me, John!" Clara J. said,
 
 82 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 almost tearfully, and again she kissed 
 me. 
 
 I felt that I was beginning to show 
 the first faint symptoms of being a 
 liar!
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE BIG RACE. 
 
 IN ABOUT fo' weeks this here 
 Peaches filly will show us how 
 a Kaintucky hoss can get real 
 busy, suh!" Murf chuckled one morn 
 ing when I dropped in to see him. 
 
 " I catch your words, Murf, but the 
 meaning is away to the fritz," I an 
 swered; "what's doing?" 
 
 "I have entered this here Peaches 
 filly for the Culmination Stakes, to 
 be run ovah the Futurity co'se, suh!" 
 Murf replied. 
 
 "Are you handing me a line of 
 bogus conversation?" I asked in sur 
 prise. 
 
 "Yo' all left these here matters in
 
 84 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 my hands, suh!" Murf went on. 
 calmly, "and I certainly have to 
 prove that yo' Uncle Owen knew 
 something about hossflesh. I only 
 ask you, suh, to stand by and pre 
 pare to see the dust move that's all, 
 suh!" 
 
 "Count me in, Murf; I'll follow the 
 band wagon till the bass drum springs 
 a 'leak!" I chipped in. 
 
 "Only two of these have worked 
 out to my liking, suh, and I'm for 
 selling the othah five, if it suits yo 
 all." 
 
 " Do so, Murf," I said, "and use the 
 money just as though it were handed 
 to you by Uncle Owen. Which colt 
 shall you keep besides Peaches?" 
 
 "The one yo' all fastened to that 
 there fool name Shoemaker, suh," 
 he answered so earnestly that I 
 laughed for ten minutes.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 85 
 
 The days rolling by found me con 
 stantly with Murf and the two colts. 
 Wall Street knew me no more, despite 
 the long dissertations I was handed 
 daily by voluble Uncle Peter. Every 
 blessed tip he had given me on the 
 market proved to be the real goods, 
 and simply by following his schedule 
 I should have been many thousands 
 to the good. 
 
 Instead, however, I was down to 
 the little bundle of small bills other 
 wise known as my income, sufficient 
 in itself to keep the wolf from eating 
 the knob off the door, and no more. 
 
 In the morning of the day on which 
 the "Culmination" was to be run, 
 Clara J. said, "John, Aunt Martha 
 and I are going to town to-day. We're 
 going to meet Alice Gray and some of 
 my girl friends and we'll all take
 
 86 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 luncheon at the Waldorf. Please, do 
 join us there, won't you?" 
 
 "Impossible, little woman," I said; 
 "I simply must attend a very im 
 portant stockholders' meeting roll 
 ing stock, you know!" 
 
 "I'm beginning to hate that old 
 Wall Street," she pouted; "you've 
 been so quiet and so preoccupied of 
 late. Really, John, you should take 
 a day off!" 
 
 "Soon," I answered; "but not too 
 soon," and we parted good friends. 
 
 At the track I found Murf , anxious 
 but not excited. 
 
 "That there little Peaches filly may 
 give some of these Eastern hoss 
 ownahs bad dreams to-night, suh!" 
 Murf said slowly, as he went back to 
 the stables. 
 
 I couldn't dig up nerve enough to 
 dope Peaches to win. Even if she
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 87 
 
 looked an oil-painted cinch I wouldn't 
 have bet a dollar. Clara J. had my 
 promise not to spend another case- 
 note on a horse, and I wouldn't break 
 my promise to the best girl of all 
 no, not even for her namesake. 
 
 I roamed around like an uneasy 
 spirit. Just to show how popular 
 I was with myself, I determined not 
 to flash my presense near the grand 
 stand the far field for mine. 
 
 Just before the great event I edged 
 up close to the fence, with every nerve 
 in my system bobbing around and 
 carrying weight for age. 
 
 In the person of the rail-bird next 
 to me I discovered a friend, old Uncle 
 Harry Carroll, late of Carroll County, 
 Maryland; highly colored, but one of 
 the best cooks that ever peeled a ter 
 rapin. 
 
 Old Uncle Carroll worked for a
 
 88 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 neighbor of ours near Ruraldene, and 
 he managed to get down to our train 
 ing quarters often enough to become 
 interested in the colts. 
 
 "I done dreamed dat Whitefoot 
 lady cern'ly gwine'r get busy dishyer 
 day!" he informed me. 
 
 "Oh! you mean Peaches!" I an 
 swered. 
 
 "Yath, dat Whitefoot lady," he 
 went on, repulsing the suggestion of 
 a more formal title. "Cern'ly do 
 find some foolish pussons handlin' 
 money down dishyer way. Dat 
 Whitefoot lady gwiner go to de post 
 at 100 to i to win." 
 
 "A hundred to one to win!" I 
 gasped; for, to be frank, I didn't 
 trust myself any too well and took 
 no chances by mixing with the push 
 in the betting ring. 
 
 "Yath," he grinned, "and I done
 
 Then suddenly the shout, 
 " They're off ! "Page 89.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 89 
 
 bet foah bones on dat Whitefoot lady 
 to win cern'ly did. If mah dream 
 doan' tu'n out to be a liar I won't 
 cook no mo' fo' a year!" 
 
 Peaches a rank outsider 100 to i 
 to win post odds! It was not yet 
 too late no; get thee behind me, 
 Sate! Not a dollar up, and then no 
 matter what might happen I could 
 go home to Clara J. with a more or 
 less quiet conscience. 
 
 They were long dropping the flag 
 for the great race, and I began to 
 sprout a fine crop of freckles under 
 that broiling sky. 
 
 Then suddenly the shout, "They're 
 off!" 
 
 Out of the chute in to the straight 
 away course they foamed, that heav 
 ing, seething mass of horseflesh. The 
 sunlight seemed to rush after them, 
 eager to dance on their glossy backs,
 
 90 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 while all the world stood still, listen 
 ing, listening to the musical thunder 
 of the hoofbeats. 
 
 A hundred thousand eyes were 
 fixed intently on the living river of 
 racers an army of eyes watching 
 eagerly for the horse which would 
 first give token that it was being 
 piloted by the god Success. 
 
 But where was Peaches! There! 
 there in the centre of the storm- 
 tossed mass, her pretty head straight 
 out toward the goal, her eyes darting 
 forth the fire of a hundred famous 
 ancestors; she seemed a sea-bird dip 
 ping to the wave and rising all foam- 
 bedecked to meet the next. 
 
 Leaning far over her arched neck 
 was Spuds, whispering kindly cheer 
 into ears that hearkened well: "Go 
 on, Peaches! keep to de hot-foot; 
 youse has de bunch lookin' like dey's
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 91 
 
 nailed to de grass! Go on, little goil! 
 Dey's no one here but your old col 
 lege chum, Spuds! Steady, Peaches! 
 Save your pipes for de wind up! 
 Easy, good Peaches! They ain't a 
 soul watchin' youse except everybody 
 on earth! Steady, Peaches!" 
 
 On they flew, while now from fifty 
 thousand throats hoarse cries of en 
 couragement were flung upon the 
 winds of evening to be carried echoing 
 away on the clouds of dust" which 
 arose lazily from the track. 
 
 By my side old Uncle Carroll rode 
 an imaginary horse with all the vigor 
 of youth. The frenzy of the moment 
 was in his blood, and his age-dimmed 
 eyes, screwed into little points of 
 sight, followed the every undulation 
 of his choice! 
 
 "Oh, Lordy! brung dat Whitefoot 
 lady home, brung her home! Oh,
 
 92 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 Lordy! doan' yo' heerd what I said, 
 brush her on, brush her on! Yo' 
 brack devil hoss, keep out'n mah 
 Whitefoot lady's way, yo' hyar me! 
 Go on, may Whitefoot chile, go on! 
 I'se tremblin' fo' yo' all, I'se sho'ly 
 tremblin'! Oh, good Lordy! make 
 dat jockey h'ist dat cat'tails "dess 
 once dess tetch her one teeney tap 
 on de ham bone! T'won't hu't yo', 
 Whitefoot chile; no indeedy; on'y 
 make yo' narvous ! Oh, Lordy ! brung 
 dat frien' o' mine out'n dat bunch of 
 wicked hosses! Brush her on, Lordy, 
 brush her on! She's goin'! she's 
 goin'! an' I'se still livin' to see it 
 oh, halleloo! halleloo!" 
 
 With the rush of an angry wind 
 across a starless night the horses 
 roared by the outposts where we 
 stood, and through the clouds of dust
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 93 
 
 I could see the jockeys preparing 
 swiftly for the fury of the finish. 
 
 The beautiful black horse was still 
 in the lead, but there, creeping slowly 
 up on him, inch by inch, was another 
 no, surely, it isn't 
 
 At this moment the fifty thousand 
 throats united to shriek the name of 
 a horse that sounded like "Peaches!', 
 but, no, it couldn't be possible? She 
 hadn't a single chance, not one in a 
 what! is that "Peaches," there 
 near the leader? I could feel the 
 light of day fading, fading away 
 while my heart seemed to stand still. 
 
 Poor Uncle Carroll, his dim old eyes 
 strained to the point of bursting from 
 their sockets, yet seeing only vaguely 
 a confused and tossing sea of thor 
 oughbreds, gave free rein to the hope 
 he was riding to win: 
 
 "Oh, Lordy, how come I kaint see
 
 94 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 my Whitefoot lady! Get out'n de 
 way yo' brack devil boss, ain't yo' 
 got no manners ! Is you gettin' home, 
 honey? Yes, yo' is! yes, yo' is! Go 
 on, Whitefoot lady; it ain't fur now, 
 an' dey's de bestest bucket of oats yo' 
 all evah tasted waitin' fo' yo', honey! 
 Oh, Lordy, brush her on! brush her 
 on!" 
 
 "Peaches! Peaches!" how I yelled 
 and cheered her. Inch by inch she 
 crept up on the black. Now her head 
 is at his flank; at the girth but the 
 wire is so near, so very near! Go on, 
 good Peaches! Her nose is at his 
 shoulder can she fight him to the 
 finish! Can she look! look! they 
 are neck and neck, and the multitude 
 is mad with watching ! 
 
 In that instant Spuds brought the 
 cruel whip down wickedly, and stung 
 with the surprise and shame of it,
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 95 
 
 Peaches leaped forward yes, God! 
 she wins! 
 
 There is a bedlam of huzzas in the 
 stands, and when the sobbing Spuds 
 was dragged from his saddle to be 
 seated in triumph in the floral horse 
 shoe a shout went up such as must 
 have startled the nervous heavens. 
 
 Peaches won. 
 
 I crawled away into a corner, weak 
 from the excitement, and if there 
 were tears in my eyes it's nobody's 
 damn business.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE STRONG FINISH. 
 
 AFTER the big race was run, I 
 got up and ran myself. There 
 was something in the air that 
 frightened me, so I climbed a car and 
 hiked it for home! 
 
 When I reached Dove's Nest Villa 
 I found Uncle Peter on the veranda, 
 fanning himself and telling Mother 
 Goose rhymes to the tame mosquitoes. 
 
 "What in the world is the matter, 
 John?" he asked in alarm; "you look 
 positively ill; go in and pour your 
 self out a glass of sherry." 
 
 "Nix on the pour," I answered; 
 "it's nothing; I've been pacemaker 
 for a nightmare, but I'll wake up 
 presently. Where's Clara J.?"
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 97 
 
 ' ' She and your Aunt Martha went 
 to town ; I suppose they'll be out on 
 the next train. Try a tumbler of 
 whiskey, John; there's some good 
 Bourbon in the sideboard," he ad 
 vised. 
 
 "Not me," I answered; "I've had 
 a dose of Kentucky spirits this after 
 noon that will last me a lifetime," 
 and with this I left the old gentleman 
 flat and struck for the sofa to do a 
 lullaby. 
 
 An hour or so later I awoke from 
 troubled dreams to hear voices out 
 side the window. 
 
 ' ' Why, Clara J. , what on earth is the 
 matter?" Uncle Peter was saying; 
 "you look paler than John did when 
 he came home. Are you ill ? What's 
 the matter, Martha ? You are trem 
 bling all over. How d'you do, Miss 
 Gray! Sit down, won't you?"
 
 98 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 "Where is John?" I heard Clara J. 
 ask in the most mournful of tones. 
 
 Before any one could answer, Alice 
 Gray's voice floated in, "Oh, I've 
 been telling them all the way out here 
 that there's really nothing to be so 
 dreadfully worried about. Why, I'm 
 sure Clara J. simply couldn't help it 
 when she saw " 
 
 "Hush! please do hush, Alice!" 
 Clara J. broke in, and I began to won 
 der what it was all about. 
 
 Clara J. couldn't help it when she 
 saw saw what ? Weouw ! my name 
 must have crept into the news 
 papers that must be it. Me for the 
 Morgue ! She would never forgive me 
 for such long-continued and pic 
 turesque deception. 
 
 As I arose, quite prepared to grab 
 my finish by the elbow, Clara J. came 
 slowly through the door.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 99 
 
 Seeing me, she lit her lamps with 
 pleasure for a moment and then put 
 them out with a burst of tears. 
 
 "Oh, John! John!" she moaned, 
 bitterly. 
 
 It was all off. I had been caught 
 with the goods and the delivery wagon 
 was at the door. 
 
 "Oh, it's too terrible!" she sobbed. 
 
 I didn't know what to say. I felt 
 as hopeless as a piece of soap in the 
 ocean. "Don't cry," I soothed her; 
 "come on, now, be a good fellow and 
 brace up, Peaches!" 
 
 "Oh! don't call me that never, 
 never again!" she howled, and then 
 I knew that my name was Pipestem. 
 
 "Tell me all about it!" I begged 
 her; foxy boy me, eager to know just 
 how much she had heard. 
 
 "Alice Gray and Aunt Martha and 
 Bunch Jefferson drew my attention to
 
 100 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 it, "she said, between sobs; and I im 
 mediately picked out three people I 
 didn't like. 
 
 "Oh, John! will you ever forgive 
 me?" she wailed. 
 
 "Forgive you! " I repeated, and so 
 surprised was I that a tap from a 
 feather would have been my death 
 blow. 
 
 "Promise to forgive me and I'll 
 confess all," she sobbed, burying her 
 head in a sofa pillow. 
 
 "It's a cinch!" I answered; "why, 
 I'm the best little forgiver that ever 
 signed a pardon. Mention the crime 
 and I'll prove an alibi. I'll take my 
 affidavit that you were not there at 
 the time specified." 
 
 "But I was there, John!" she 
 groaned, and the mystery grew so 
 deep I nearly fell in it. 
 
 "I went to town" sob "with
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN IOI 
 
 Aunt Martha to do some shopping" 
 sob "but we went to luncheon first " 
 sob "with Bunch and Alice" 
 sob "and they dared me" sob 
 " I mean they coaxed me " sob "to 
 go to the races with them" sob 
 "and I went" long series of sobs. 
 
 "Fidge!" I said, airily; "what's 
 that amount to ? Lots of people go to 
 the races. I saw several there I 
 mean, I'm glad you did go. The ex 
 citement will do you good. It did 
 me good; that is, it used to do me 
 good!" 
 
 "But, John, I made you promise 
 me never, never to bet again on a 
 horse race," she continued, solemnly. 
 
 "And I've kept my promise faith 
 fully," I answered, whereupon she 
 started crying as though her heart 
 would break. 
 
 Finally she controlled herself and
 
 IO2 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 said, " Bunch showed me a program, 
 and when I saw a horse named 
 Peaches in a race I became so excited 
 I didn't know what to do. Nobody 
 ever called me that but you, John, 
 and and, well, I just couldn't help 
 it!" 
 
 "Couldn't help what?" I laughed; 
 " did you take a flying leap out of the 
 stand?" 
 
 "No, but Bunch told me it would 
 be simply criminal if I didn't bet on 
 my namesake, so when Aunt Martha 
 wasn't looking I pulled a bill hastily 
 from my purse and told him to bet it 
 on Peaches to win." 
 
 Say! I had a grin on my face the 
 size of a barn door. 
 
 "After Bunch had gone I looked in 
 my purse and found I had given him 
 the wrong bill. I meant to give him 
 $10, but by mistake I gave him the
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 103 
 
 hundred dollars you gave me to buy 
 that summer suit." 
 
 "And Bunch played a hundred 
 dollars for you on Peaches? " I gasped. 
 
 "Ah-huh!" she nodded. 
 
 "At 100 to i," I shrieked. 
 
 "I don't know what it was at," she 
 answered through her tears; "for 
 after I realized what I had done I 
 nearly fainted. I was so frightened 
 I couldn't even watch the race. When 
 it was over, Bunch screamed like an 
 Indian and rushed away. Presently 
 he came back and threw a bundle of 
 bills in my lap and I stuffed them in 
 Aunt Martha's purse and and 
 cried so they had to take me home. 
 Can you ever forgive me, John?" 
 
 "Forgive you! Why, say! you are 
 the most thoroughly forgiven girl 
 that ever brought home money to a 
 lazy husband. A hundred dollars on
 
 104 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 Peaches at a 100 to i well, say! 
 Where's Aunt Martha? That's too 
 much money for a reckless old lady to 
 lug around lock all the gates!" 
 
 Then and there I 'fessed up every 
 thing from Alpha to Omaha, and I 
 wish you could have seen the expres 
 sion on Clara J.'s face when I came to 
 the finish and told her that "Peaches '' 
 was our horse! 
 
 She forgave me and I forgave her. 
 and then we both forgave each other, 
 and wound up by dancing around the 
 room and kicking the meaning out of 
 all the furniture. 
 
 When presently we strolled out on 
 the lawn we found Bunch there, and 
 Alice broke away long enough to say, 
 "Didn't I tell you he'd forgive you!" 
 
 "Why, Alice," I answered, "for 
 ten thousand dollars I'd open a fac-
 
 Look out ! I took the hinges 
 off that gate to-day." Page 105.
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 105 
 
 tory and turn out forgiveness by the 
 barrel." 
 
 Presently it was noised around the 
 household that I owned the colt which 
 had won a swell race and the change 
 of sentiment in favor of horses was so 
 sudden that the grass got frightened 
 and stopped growing. 
 
 Uncle Peter offered to back me for 
 any amount of money and said that 
 he was delighted to know we had a 
 horse in the family that was such a 
 credit to us. 
 
 After dinner Clara J. and I strolled 
 down to the gate to talk matters over, 
 and presently Tacks yelled at us, 
 "Say, don't lean too heavy on that 
 gate, 'cause I took the hinges off to 
 day so's I could get through quicker 
 if that crazy man came along!" 
 
 At that very moment who should
 
 106 OUT FOR THE COIN 
 
 come plodding up to the gate but Murf 
 and the hero of the day, Spuds! 
 
 Clara J.'s welcome included a kiss 
 for them both, to their intense em 
 barrassment. For the next half hour 
 Uncle Peter was so busy apologizing 
 to Murf and Spuds that nobody had a 
 chance to congratulate them. 
 
 Then we had a glorification for sure, 
 and Murf succeeded in getting his 
 ancient enemy so full of Bourbon that 
 finally loving hands had to lead Uncle 
 Peter out to the pump and hand him 
 the deluge in order to keep him from 
 telling all the family secrets. 
 
 "Peaches" was the toast of the 
 evening, and if the game little colt had 
 been there, a seat on top of the piano 
 for hers, with a bottle of Ruinart in 
 each hoof. 
 
 When, finally, Murf was ready to 
 take the count he turned to me and
 
 OUT FOR THE COIN 107 
 
 said, "Yo' Uncle Owen's judgment 
 sho'ly made good, suh; and it is 
 proved that Hank Peters ain't no 
 Hah, suh, for right now yo' all are big 
 Casino on the Eastern tracks, suh; 
 good night!"
 
 JOHN HENRY, Hugh McHugh's 
 first book, reached the 25,000 
 mark two weeks after it was 
 published. It's popularity since 
 then has been unprecedented. 
 
 " John Henry's philosophy is of the most 
 approved up-to-date brand. He is by all 
 odds a young man of the period; he is a 
 man about town. He is a slang artist; a 
 painter of recherche phrases; a maker of 
 tart Americanisms. 
 
 In this book it is "little, but oh my !" 
 John Henry recounts some of his adven 
 tures about town, and he interlards his des 
 criptive passages with impressive comments 
 on the men, women, institutions, and places, 
 brought within his observant notice. We 
 need not say that his comments are highly- 
 colored; nor that his descriptions are re 
 markable for expressiveness and colloquial 
 piquancy. Mr. Henry is a sort of refined 
 and sublimated type of "Chimmie Fadden," 
 though there is by no means anything of the 
 gamin about him. He doesn't speak in rich 
 coster dialect such as is used by Mr. Town- 
 send's famous character, nor is he a mem-
 
 ber of the same social set as the popular 
 hero of the New York slums. Mr. Henry 
 moves on a higher plane, he uses good 
 English mostly in tart superlatives and 
 his associates are of a high social scale. 
 
 Mr. Henry's adventures as he describes 
 them here will make you wonder and make 
 you laugh. 
 
 His book abounds in bon-mots of slang; 
 of the kind you hear in the theatres when 
 the end-men, comedians and monologuists 
 are at their wittiest and best, when they 
 revel in mad and merry extravagances of 
 speech and experience. 
 
 It is an art to use street-talk with force 
 and terseness, and although it isn't the most 
 elegant phase of the Queen's English it 
 nevertheless impresses to the Queen's taste. 
 Hugh McHugh has this art." Philadelphia 
 Item. 
 
 " John Henry " is only one of the numer 
 ous young men who are treating the public 
 to the latest slang through the medium of 
 print nowadays, but he, unlike most of the 
 others, is original in his phrases, has the 
 strong support of the unexpected in his hu 
 mor and causes many a good laugh. For 
 one thing, he merely tries to make fun, 
 wisely avoiding the dangers of tediousness 
 ii
 
 fn endeavoring to utter immature wisdom in 
 the language of the brainless. 
 
 " The author, Hugh McHugh, is thought 
 to be Mr. George V. Hobart. Certain it is 
 that the writer is a Baltimorean, past or 
 present; the local references evidence that. 
 In some places the expressions have the 
 Hobart ring to them. But if Mr. Hobart 
 did write the stories, he has done his best 
 work of the kind yet." Baltimore Herald. 
 
 " The humor is of the spontaneous sort 
 that runs close to truth, and it affords many 
 a hearty laugh." Cleveland World. 
 
 "As a study in slang it surpasses any 
 thing since the days of ' Artie.' " The 
 Rocky Mountain News. 
 
 " Written in the choicest slang." Detroit 
 Free Press. 
 
 " John Henry." A regular side-splitter, 
 and as good as " Billy Baxter." New York 
 Press. 
 
 " It is as good as any of the books of its 
 kind, better than most of them, and is 
 funny without being coarse." Portage 
 Register. 
 
 iii
 
 11 Down The Line With John Henry" 
 is the second of the "John Henry" 
 books and quickly followed its pre 
 decessor along the highroad of 
 success. 
 
 The story of "John Henry at the 
 Races " in " Down The Line " has 
 already grown to be a Classic in 
 Slang. It is brimful of human 
 nature and is amusing in the high* 
 est degree. 
 
 CONTENTS OF "DOWN THE 
 LINE." 
 
 JOHN HENRY AT THE RACES. 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE DRUMMERS. 
 JOHN HENRY IN BOHEMIA. 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE HOTEL CLERK. 
 JOHN HENRY AND THE BENZINE BUGGYc 
 JOHN HENRY AT THE MUSICALS, 
 JOHN HENRY PLAYS GOLF, 
 iv
 
 Down the Line is one good laugb iron, 
 tc cover, and some of the experiences o* 
 ifais clever man are both amusing and interest 
 ing. The book is illustrated with some clews 
 sketches DV McKee Barclay." St, Low; Star, 
 
 A* in the former voiume, the present t>, 
 'Action of stories is concerned with adventures tf 
 * man about town. It abounds in the weirdest 
 fend newest slang, rechercht expressions and tart 
 Americanisms. There is much clever satire Oft 
 tbe manners and habits of Americans, Tbt 
 down-to-date * man who is fond of slang wSC 
 Snd m the volume a new supply for hM 
 i" Lot Angelet Exprttt, 
 
 In order to enjoy fe you have go? :c 
 'd Jke Wagner and chain yourself down tot thre* 
 m four sittings, and then you are en rapport, re 
 * peatu Come again Tonathao \
 
 It's Up to You !" is the third book 
 in the John Henry series. This 
 story of domestic bliss relates 
 the adventures of John Henrydur- 
 ing his courtship and marriage. 
 
 "It's Up to You!" has been pro 
 nounced by critics everywhere 
 the funniest book of the year. 
 
 It is no exaggeration to say there 
 is a laugh in every line for this 
 fact is amply demonstrated by the 
 enormous demand for the book. 
 
 CONTENTS OF "IT'S UP TO 
 YOU !" 
 
 JOHN HENRY'S COURTSHIP. 
 JOHN HENRY'S WEDDING. 
 JOHN HENRY'S HONEYMOON TRIP. 
 JOHN HENRY'S SEASHORE VISIT. 
 JOHN HENRY HUNTS A FLAT. 
 JOHN HENRY ENTERTAINS FRIENDS 
 JOHN HENRY PLAYS PING POVG.
 
 " 'It's Up to You' stares out from the 
 yellow cover. From a mere passing sight 
 at the familiar cheese-cloth binding and the 
 portrait of the faultless gentleman in the 
 choker, one might easily think it was an 
 old wandering copy of the original 'John 
 Henry '; one hardly dares hope it is a new 
 edition of that worthy's confidence. But 
 it is. And John Henry stabs us with his 
 sentiment. He commences : ' Seven of us 
 were entered in the race for Clara J.'s 
 affections.' Then he delightfully tells us 
 how he won out from the ' other six society 
 shines. ' The chapter explaining his method 
 of dragging papa's and mama's consent 
 away from them is clogged with many 
 smiles, and before the finish of the honey 
 moon trip, the ' holler ' is certainly ' Up to 
 You ! ' After a bit John Henry hunts a flat. 
 The finding of the flat is the richest slice 
 of the book. He does more he lives in 
 it with the consent of the folks above and 
 below; he entertains and concludes the 
 third little volume of his spicy adventures 
 with a game of ping-pong. Now, never 
 mind All men make mistakes. 
 
 "We have not heard near so much about 
 John Henry as we have of ping-pong ; we 
 rely hope to learn more of the former,
 
 and we fervently pray to be delivered from 
 the latter. However, in the midst of the 
 plague, the half million special newspaper 
 scribes who issue a column of unintelligible 
 rot daily concerning the silly game should 
 each secure a copy of ' Its Up to You ' and 
 learn how to write descriptions of ping- 
 pong. It is there with all the lucidity of a 
 press prize fight story. If you must ring in 
 an old subject do it well and perhaps you 
 will be forgiven. 
 
 "There is nothing very long, or broad, 
 or deep in the John Henry books. A man 
 who attempts to criticise a hearty laugh 
 wastes his time, besides betraying his lack 
 of a good dinner. We have heard the tales 
 of John Henry were often written in a 
 single night, and that their first mission 
 was to advertise certain other things, but 
 we will gladly say nothing about it. They 
 are a decided success ; they are not copies 
 of things we have read before ; they are the 
 cleverest bits of writing yet received from 
 the pen of George V. Hobart. Let us hope 
 that the train boys will not stop selling 
 them." Baltimore Herald. 
 
 vui
 
 " Back to the Woods," the 
 fourth of the John Henry 
 series, is without exag 
 geration one hearty laugh 
 from cover to cover. The 
 cleverly conceived plot and 
 the extremely comic inci 
 dents in this book form 
 the basis of the "John 
 Henry " play now so 
 successfully touring the 
 United States. 
 
 CONTENTS OF "BACK TO THE 
 WOODS." 
 
 JOHN HENRY'S LUCKY DAYS. 
 JOHN HENRY'S GHOST STORY. 
 JOHN HENRY'S BURGLAR. 
 JOHN HENRY'S COUNTRY COP. 
 JOHN HENRY'S TELEGRAM. 
 JOHN HENRY'S TWO QUEENS. 
 JOHN HENRY S HAPPY HOME.
 
 " This new 'John Henry' book is really 
 the best of the four written and further por 
 trays the fortunes and misfortunes of John 
 Henry, Clara Jane, Uncle Peter, Bunch, 
 Aunt Martha and Tacks." New England 
 Stationer. 
 
 " The many friends of John Henry will 
 warmly welcome his reappearance in the 
 pages of Hugh McHugh's latest yarn, " Back 
 to the Woods." His thoroughly up-to-date 
 slang and infectious humor have lost nothing 
 of their freshness since this breezy man 
 about town was last with us." Newark 
 News. 
 
 "We will wager that over the whole story 
 the reader will laugh his money's worth. A 
 small, well charged, effective book." Eve 
 ning Sun. 
 
 " Back to the Woods," the story of a fall 
 from grace, which for effervescent humor 
 and sparkling wit, quaint and original twists 
 of satire and ludicrous situations is so far 
 superior to like late books as to justly merit 
 being regarded as a classic in up-to-date 
 slang." N. Y. American.
 
 HUGH McHUGH'S 
 
 FIVE FAMOUS BOOKS 
 
 320,000 Copies Sold 
 
 "OUT FOR THE COIN" 
 
 FIRST EDITION so ooo COPIES 
 
 "BACK TO THE WOODS" 
 
 50,000 COPIES SOLD 
 
 "IT'S UP TO YOU!" 
 
 60,000 COPIES SOLD 
 
 "DOWN THE LINE 
 
 WITH JOHN HENRY' 8 
 
 70,000 COPIES SOLD 
 
 "JOHN HENRY" 
 
 110,000 COPIES SOLD 
 
 The Five Books are Illustrated. Goth Bound, 
 Gilt Top, 75 Cents Each 
 
 For sale by all Booksellers or seat by mail, 
 POSTAGE FREE, on receipt of price by 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM CO., Publishers 
 119-121 West 23d St., New York
 
 POPULAR BOOKS, 
 
 A SPECKLED BIRD, By Augusta 
 Evans Wilson, 
 
 This new novel by the author of "St. Elmo" 
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 ENOCH STRONE, By E, Phillips 
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 bound, $1.50. 
 
 xti
 
 DENSLOW'S NIGHT BEFORE 
 CHRISTMAS, The old classic story, 
 illustrated by W, W, Denslow, 
 
 Here is the best Christmas story ever told. 
 The man is yet to be born who can write 
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 Embellished, as it is, with the whimsical 
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 THE PAGAN'S CUP, By Fergus 
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 THE STORY OF THE ROUGH 
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 The most intensely interesting book of 
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 drawings. 1 2mo, Illustrated, cloth bound. 
 $1.50.
 
 THE KISS OF GLORY, By Grace 
 Duffie Boylan. 
 
 A narrative of the life of Joseph, the son of 
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 life. 
 
 Love as it murmurs in the heart of the boy 
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 This novel, which is as simple as it is schol 
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 LIONEL AEDON, By Malcolm Dear 
 born, 
 
 A brilliant story of love and chivalry, the 
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 created great interest and comment among 
 many readers. I2mo, handsomely bound 
 in cloth, $1.50.
 
 THE IKON BRIGADE, A Story of 
 the Army of the Potomac, By Gen 
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 In choosing the subject of this story General 
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 woven around it many intensely interesting 
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 THE FOOL, By Wm, H, Carson, 
 Author of "Hester Blair," 
 
 "The Fool" is really a man of parts; cul 
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 possessed of legal knowledge, together with 
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 trated, 12mo, Cloth bound, $1.50. 
 
 King, 
 
 "In 'Norman Holt,' the newest historical 
 romance by General Chas. King, the Amer 
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 work. If he had done nothing but this one 
 work he would live long in the history of 
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 bound, Illustrated, $1.25.
 
 THE ROLE OF THE UNCON- 
 QUERED, By. Test Dalton, 
 
 A thrilling historical narrative, abounding 
 with life and action, of the courtship cf 
 Henry of Navarre and Marie de Medici. 
 "One has only to open the book anywhere 
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 agree with General Lew Wallace that the 
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 bound, $1.50. 
 
 NEW ENGLAND FOLKS, By Eu 
 gene W, Presbrey, 
 
 " A sunshine and shadow novel which 
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 breath of roadside flowers to the delighted 
 senses of the reader." Albany Times- 
 Union. Cloth bound, $1.25; paper 
 covers, 50c. 
 
 THE KING OF HONEY ISLAND, 
 By Maurice Thompson, Author of 
 "Alice of Old Yincennes," 
 
 "It bears quite as many marks of the genius 
 of the author as does ' Alice of Old Vin- 
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 perhaps, of more buoyancy and beauty of 
 thought and expression." Topeka Capital, 
 Cloth bound. Illustrated, $1.50.
 
 ECCENTRICITIES OF GENIUS, 
 
 Memories of Famous Men and Women 
 of the Platform and Stage, By 
 Major J, B, Pond, 
 
 " Every consideration bids one characterize 
 this as a remarkable book. It has a thousand 
 charms and a thousand points of interest. It 
 is full of striking gems of thought, rare 
 descriptions of men and places ; biographical 
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 the distinction of those alluded to. From a 
 literary view it is as interesting as Disraeli's 
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 adelphia Item. 8vo, cloth bound, gilt 
 top, $3.50. 
 
 By 
 
 Containing stories from the Archives of the 
 Pinkertons. Thrilling accounts of The 
 Northampton Bank Robbery, The Susque- 
 hanna Express Robbery, The Pollock Dia 
 mond Robbery, The Rock Island Express, 
 The Destruction of the Renos, and The 
 American Exchange Bank Robbery. 1 6mo, 
 cloth bound, 75c. 
 
 UNDER A LUCKY STAE, By Char 
 lotte Abell Walker, 
 
 Tells what occupation to adopt and what 
 line of life to follow, what associates and 
 partners to choose, how to recognize the 
 possibilities and limitations of our friends 
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 government of children, being mainly culled 
 from the minds of ancient and modern phi 
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 THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A 
 MAID, By Frances Gordon Fane, 
 
 "A clever, well- written story, full of love 
 and pathos, and thrilling with dramatic 
 crises. Each step of the domestic tragedy 
 is skilfully portrayed, until the final climax 
 is reached. Its author has made it a power 
 ful, telling story to read." N. Y. World. 
 " The author's ability as a story writer is 
 unquestioned. The book is thoroughly read 
 able." Indianapolis Sentinel. 
 12mo, cloth bound, $1.50. 
 
 THE FUNNY SIDE OF POLITICS, 
 By George S, Hilton, 
 
 Nothing has ever been written like this 
 book. It gives many amusing stories told 
 in the House and Senate in Washington. 
 The book is replete with anecdotes of many 
 living politicians. Their names are given, 
 as well as the occasions which called forth 
 the stories. 12mo, cloth bound, $1.25. 
 
 JOHN WINSLOW, By Henry D, 
 Northrup, 
 
 "Country life at its best is admirably 
 treated, and there is a wealth of incident 
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 Journal. Cloth bound, Illustrated, $1.50. 
 
 OLD JED PEOUTY, By Richard 
 Golden and Mary E, Francis, 
 
 "A novel that is worthy to become a New 
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 'Old Jed' to be as widely known in the 
 book-loving world as it is on the stage." 
 N. Y. Journal. Cloth bound, $1.50.
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN 
 KETTLE, By Gutliffe Hyne, 
 
 12mo, cloth bound, illustrated, $1.50. 
 
 A MASTER OF FORTUNE, Being 
 Further Adventures of "Captain 
 Kettle," By Cutliffe Hyne, 
 
 " Nobody who has followed the gallant 
 
 sailor diminutive, but oh, my! in his 
 
 previous adventures around the earth, is go 
 
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 exploits." N. Y. World. 
 
 "It has the dash and tinge of reality that 
 
 makes you feel as if you were in the midst 
 
 of it all." Detroit Free Press. 
 
 12mo, cloth bound, Illustrated, $1.50. 
 
 A reproduction of the Famous Comic All- 
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 of copies were sold, and for ten years it was 
 the most popular of all comic books. The con 
 tinuous demand since it has been out of print 
 justifies the present unique reproduction. 
 Cloth bound, Profusely illustrated, $1.50. 
 
 THE PERVERTS, By W, L, Howard, 
 
 This remarkable work is a romance in which 
 are graphically described the many morbid 
 mental conditions existing in society to-day. 
 *'The style is clear, brisk and straightfor 
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 and astonishing close." Albany Times- 
 Union. Cloth bound, $ 1 .50.
 
 A SLEEPING MEMOEY, By E, 
 Phillips Oppenheim, Author of 
 "Enoch Strone," etc, 
 
 This story might be taken as a plea for the 
 feasibility of the doctrine of reincarnation, 
 or a succession of totally different lives here 
 on earth. In the present widespread taste 
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 THE SONG OF THE SWOED, A 
 Eomance of 1796, By Leo Ditrich- 
 stein, 
 
 "The scenes and characters of this stirring 
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 few writers have presented its romantic 
 features and its critical situations more 
 vividly or more dramatically than they are 
 presented in this story." Bookseller, News 
 dealer and Stationer. 1 2mo, cloth bound, 
 gilt top, Illustrated, $1.50. 
 
 THE DAY OF PSOSPEEITY, A 
 
 Vision of the Century to Come, By 
 Paul Devinne, 
 
 A vivid, startling and original picture of a 
 reconstructed world, a novel with an ingen 
 ious plot, and a sparkling and fantastic story 
 of life in the year 2000. A solution of to 
 day's most mooted problems ; differing from 
 Bellamy and kindred thinkers though fol 
 lowing somewhat similar lines. A very 
 engrossing novel, with humanly sympathetic 
 characters. Cloth bound, $1.50.
 
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