manufactured, but under difficulties owing to the want of material.

In the mountains of Camaguey are to be found the headquarters of Cespedes and those of the republican army, and here too the Cuban House of Representatives holds its sessions when occasion demands. The patriot army is subdivided into divisions, with headquarters at such localities in the respective departments as the exigencies of the service will permit. The policy of the Cubans is the same as that adopted by the Dominicans upon the last invasion of their island by the Spaniards and by the Mexican Liberals under Juarez during the French intervention; that is, of keeping out of the way of their enemy and allowing him to wear himself out in a hostile country, and in a climate deadly to Europeans. But though the insurgents adopt this course in the main, they are constantly attacking the Spanish columns when opportunity offers, and often inflict heavy loss upon them.

The plan of operating with small detachments, adopted by the Spaniards after the futile march of Goyeneche upon Guaimaro, has been continued for two years; military posts have been established at various points throughout the departments, and expeditionary columns have been sent out. These have given the war its peculiarly bloody and desolating character. The orders are to kill every man in the country, whether armed or otherwise. When an ignorant peasant, a Chinaman, or a negro is captured, he is brought into the presence of the commanding officer, who questions him in reference to the whereabouts of the insurgents, and then gives a signal to an officer in attendance, who takes the victim out in advance of the column and shoots him, leaving the body to the vultures. If the prisoner is of any prominence, he is taken to Havana, there to perish on the garrote for the delectation of the volunteers, as in the case of Goicuria, the brothers Aguero and Ayesturan. The women and children, when captured, are sent to the cities, where they are ostensibly provided for, but are in reality exposed to the greatest suffering. Every house is burned, fruits and growing crops destroyed, cattle and horses driven off, all small stock killed, and, in a word, the country over which the troops are operating is rendered a desert, bare of animal life and of aught that can contribute to sustain it.

From the first the Cubans protested against these horrible barbarities, but in vain. At an early stage of the war General Quesada sent a Spanish officer, whom he had made

prisoner, to the commanding general in Puerto Principe, inviting him to carry on the war in accordance with the usages of civilization, and the response was: "Tell General Quesada that I will settle our accounts by bullets." Retaliation was threatened, and the answer was, "Kill all you have; our men will surrender with so much greater reluctance, and we can afford to lose those who do." Notwithstanding this, the Cubans for a long time spared their prisoners, and many were sent back to the Spanish lines. It is much to be feared that in later days the cruelties practiced by the troops meet at times with a bloody vengeance.

The changes of administration which have taken place in Havana during the past two years have made but little change in the conduct of the war. De Rodas, disgusted with the arrogance and insubordination of the Spanish volunteers, who assumed a power incompatible with his own, and constantly interfered with his efforts for the good of the Island and the restoration of peace, returned to Spain in the winter of 1870-71, and Count Valmaseda was appointed to succeed him. As this officer had been from the start the especial favorite of the volunteers, it was supposed that entire concord would result in the Spanish party. But unfortunate is he who leads a mob, no matter how popular he may be with it, and Valmaseda soon discovered this. In consequence of that conservative tendency which is the natural consequence of authority, Valmaseda, like his predecessor, opposed those sanguinary and radical measures which found their advocacy in the Casino Español or Spanish Club of Habana. Additional troops were sent to him from Spain as they could be spared for that purpose, but still the insurrection continued, a fact which was attributed to his leniency. The murmurs became louder and deeper as the months passed on, and it was not long before the once favorite Count followed De Rodas to Spain. His successor distinguished his accession by an attempt to bring the volunteers into submission. As he succeeds or fails in this, so is his government likely to prove a success or a failure.

Up to this time the nations of both hemispheres have looked upon the struggle in Cuba with almost indifference. The Cubans have been recognized as belligerents by Peru and one or two of the lesser South American States, and the Mexican Congress authorized such recognition by the president whenever in his opinion there was good reason for giving it. But these nations, from their

geographical position or internal weakness, have been incapable of affording any material aid to the struggling patriots.

To the credit of the Great Republic be it said, that she at one time interested herself to change the character of the warfare in Cuba and to stop the horrible barbarities which were

disgracing civilization. Under date of August

roth, 1869, General Sickles, American Minister in Madrid, was instructed solemnly to protest in the name of the President against any longer prosecuting the war in Cuba in this barbarous manner. The protest was apparently received in a proper spirit, and response was made that orders had been given to pre

THE heroine was not beautiful, to begin with, not queenly, nor in any wise remarkable. She was just a plump, winsome little maiden, and she stood at the garden gate, that moonlit Sunday evening, with an air the very reverse of stateliness and composure, pulling leaves from the rose-bush near by with nervous, fluttering fingers that did not even know when the thorns pricked them. Outside the gate was a tall figure, a face bronzed and bearded, and a low voice uttering words half pleading, half resentful. There was a moment's pause, then the voice questioned, with a dash of bitterness

"Shall I go, Maggie?"

"Just as you please, Mr. Clifford ;" whereupon the questioner turned suddenly about and strode rapidly down the country road, crushing the glittering sand under his feet, while Maggie sped into the house, up to her room, and bolted her door as if afraid of being pursued. She peeped through a window, from behind the curtain, until the lonely pedestrian on the quiet road had vanished from sight; then she assured herself that "if Tom chose to act so-so-she didn't care!" and proved her utter indifference by burying her face in her pillow with a burst of sobs, and entire forgetfulness of the pansies in her pretty hat.

They had quarreled about nothing,-at least she couldn't remember what it began with,-but, of course, it was all over between them now, and he would go away as he had said. She wondered, as she lay with her flushed, tearful face turned toward the stars, how it would seem to die that night, and go away from it all. Wouldn't somebody be sorry then? She almost wished she could do it,— not quite, because one doesn't like to stop in the middle of a story, even if it is one's own; and, beside, what good would his remorse do her if she never could know anything about it? Tom, on his homeward walk, discoursed furiously to himself upon the fickleness and perversity of all woman-kind. "Not one of the whole race worth breaking a fellow's heart for," he remarked savagely, though with a queer little quiver about his lips the while. One thing was certain, he would not stay moping there. The world was wide, and there was nothing now to hold him back. He would resign his place in the village store, and join the party for Arizona. Yes, he would take the first morning train for the city, and tell Colter he would go; there was fortunately time enough for that yet, and if it left brief

space for preparation, so much the better. He should not wait for people to change their opinion, he thought, fancying that by "people" he meant Miss Maggie, but, in reality, fearing more a faltering of purpose in a nearer party.

Let the Sunday night be what it may, Monday morning follows it all the same. Maggie was glad that it was Monday morning, since it left her at liberty to sit with her sewing in a quiet corner by a window, unquestioned and undisturbed, while busy Aunt Polly, who would allow no inexperienced fingers to intermeddle in her washing, and lame Aunt Becky, who always would stay where Polly was, were in the kitchen adjoining. No ordinary kitchen was this, steaming, soapy and disconsolate, but a large, pleasant, tidy room, where aunt Becky could enjoy her arm-chair and her knitting together with Aunt Polly's discourse. The latter lady was unusually talkative on wash-day. Possibly being surrounded by tubs and piles of linen suggested, vaguely, a pulpit or speaker's stand, or perhaps, having had all Sunday to think in, her opinions needed shaking out and smoothing before they were laid away for the week. At any rate, Miss Polly had a way of doing up the world and her washing together.

"Most through, Polly?" questioned Miss Becky, as she always did every half-hour.

"Can't say I am," responded Miss Polly with a snap that shook out a pair of wet hose and her words at the same time; "not unless I view my washin' the same way these new style poets do the robe of righteousness, and think a mighty little is the whole on't. One clean stockin' is enough 'cordin' to them. No matter how much mud a body has gone into, so he's managed to keep one foot out! I don't b'lieve no such!"

"Why, of course; to be sure!" admitted Miss Becky, with mild indefiniteness.

You must do this,

"Curious what kinds of folks this world does hold, anyhow!" pursued Miss Polly, gazing meditatively into the depths of her tub. "There's them that has health on the brain, now-not that their brains is so partic❜lar healthy neither, that I know of; but they're always a talkin' about it. and you mustn't do t'other, for fear you'll spile your constitution and all your by-laws. Some of 'em says it's a sin to be sick. 'Pears to me, if that's so, the sicker you get the wickeder you must be, and dyin' would seem fitter to send folks to the penitentiary than to heaven. makes things look considerable mixed."

It

"There's the railroad smash-ups, Polly," suggested Miss Becky, alleviatingly.

Humph! Well, I should think there was. But everybody can't expect to get killed that way, though the companies offer great inducements,' "muttered Miss Polly.

"Say, Aunt Polly, can't I sail ships in your tub?" interposed a small voice; and a pair of blue eyes and a head of tangled yellow curls appeared in the door-way.

But Miss Polly was too busy to notice, even when the little navigator took silence for consent, and plunged into her rinse-water with his treasures. In this general straightening up of her mental pantry, she had just found another article to be labeled and put away.

"All sorts to make a world! I should think so! There's them reformin' women what go about lecturin' and wantin' laws fixed, and men to give 'em their rights. Landsakes! why don't they jest take their rights? If there's anything they want to do, and can do, why don't they stop talkin' and do it? Who's goin' to hinder 'em? They're just like Mrs. Jones when she wants to cross the field where the cows are. She'll stand on the fence and 'shoo,' and swing her work-bag, and flap her parasol, and cry, Get out there!' when the critters are so busy eatin' grass that they never notice her no way, and she might cross a dozen times if she'd a mind to."

"And me too; yes, I think so," observed Miss Becky, counting her stitches.

"But then I don't say some folks haven't as good a right to vote as anybody, and more too, for all I know, if they be women," pursued Miss Polly, frisking around to the other side of her tub, and surveying the suds from that point. "Puts me clear out of patience to hear all this talk about its spilin' women,'sif we was a lot of eggs that must be kept cool and not be shook up much,-and callin' us 'ministerin' angels' all the time. Do I look much like an angel, Becky Murray?"

The resemblance was not very striking as she stood there with her sleeves rolled up, her bare arms akimbo, a wet check apron pinned about her, and her nose decorated with a streak of blueing. Conscientious Miss Becky surveyed the stout form rather doubtfully.

"Well-to be sure! That is, you're as good as the most, Polly-better'n most, Polly; but then there's the wings and things; they'd make-well, I must say for't, considerable difference, I do s'pose!" she admitted hesitatingly.

"Guess you'll get wings sometime, Aunt Polly. Wish I had some now," reflected Billy,

with a plashing of his hands in the water that at once recalled Miss Polly to matters terrestrial.

66

Mercy! what is the young one up to now? Got my best spice-box for a boat, and punched a hole clear through the bottom of it to stick a mast in, as sure as I'm alive!"

"Well, Maggie wouldn't tell me stories, an' my top's broke, an' I didn't know nothin' else to do," affirmed Billy, defensively.

"Nothin' else? Well, it's lucky you didn't, for it would like as anyway have been something worse instead of better! There, there, child!" with a softening light in her eye whereby the angel in her flashed into sight for an instant, "all the splashin' in the world can't make an ocean in a wash-tub; older folks than you have tried it. Run out in the yard and play, there's a good boy."

The June sunshine fell soft and bright upon the quaint, homely old garden, and Billy was quite reconciled to his banishment the moment he caught the rustle of the lilac leaves, and met the familiar nodding of the tall goodnatured sunflowers. He seated himself on the grass, dug his bare toes into the warm earth of a poppy-bed, and leaning his small elbows upon the patched knees of his small trowsers, settled his round chin between his palms, and dropped into a fit of childish meditation. With no past to remember, no cares to make anxious, and small knowledge of possibilities to curb him, his dreams and plans had a wild free range; and he had quite decided where he would go when he came into possession of his coveted wings, besides selecting a particularly soft fleecy cloud, in the far-off blue, to serve as his bed at night, "after it got too dark to fly," when a voice interrupted him.

"Why don't you play with me, Billy Murray?" A little blue dress was crushed against the fence, a pair of tiny hands grasped the pickets, and from under a white sun-bonnet merry brown eyes laughed at Billy.

"'Cause I guess I'm thinkin' what I'll do," he responded with slow gravity, neither disturbed nor astonished by her sudden pres

in a carriage, and I did see it my own self. You have a gate clear across the road, so folks can't get through, and then they pay you to open it; and you don't have anything to do but just live in a nice funny little house, and get lots of money."

Billy's blue eyes brightened. Down from his airy heights, at the prospect of gaining earth's shining dust, he came as readily as though he had been older.

"I guess I'll do that too," he announced. "Long of me?"

"Yes," said Billy, accepting the partnership as condescendingly as though the patent-right for the invention had not belonged to the other party.

"Well, let's do it now," proposed the vivacious small lady, anxious to be making her fortune at once. "I guess lots of folks go 'long the road down by the end of the lane, and if we have it there then they'll have to pay us."

"Yes," said Billy once more, and lifting the latch of the gate, he slipped out.

Maggie had ears for nothing that morning but a footstep that did not come, and Aunt Polly was too busy in looking after the whole of creation to pay any special attention to her own small corner of it; so there was nobody to observe the new firm, as they trudged off to seek a favorable locality for their enterprise. It was no long search, how. ever, since the road at the end of the lane was the only one they knew anything about; moreover it was narrow, and well suited to their purpose in that way.

"I don't know how we'll stop it up, though," Billy remarked, surveying it doubtfully. But Carlie was fertile in expedients. Her quick eyes rested upon an old unused cart standing a little distance up the lane, and she proposed that they should draw that down across the road, to begin with. It was hard work, with all their united strength and most vigorous efforts, but they persevered until the task was accomplished.

"I thought it was big enough to reach ever so far, and it don't," said Carlie disappointedly. "Anybody could just go around the side of it if they wanted to, and never pay a cent."

Billy expressed a valiant determination to "knock any feller down that tried it," but Carlie was unsatisfied. Presently a pile of bean-poles in a neighboring lot suggested an idea of relief, and the children, in high spirits once more, proceeded to appropriate them. They could carry but one at once, but gradually they piled them up, with one end up

on the fence and the other resting upon the cart, quite forgetting, in their zeal for a thorough barricade, to make any arrangement for opening their gate when the required toll should be paid. It was slow, toilsome building; but the two little faces, though flushed and perspiring, were also triumphant as they gazed upon the completed structure, with its last pole standing nearly upright against the cart. Partly for coolness to herself, partly by way of ornament to the edifice, Carlie removed her sun-bonnet from her head and hung it upon this highest point.

ex

"Bet nobody can't get through that!" claimed Billy pantingly. "How much do you s'pose we'll make ?”

"Dollar, may be," replied the sanguine Carlie, her eyes growing round with the stupendous prospect. "I'm too tired to build any little house to live in to-day; let's stay out-doors."

Out of doors was very pleasant. They sat down on the soft grass that edged the road, and curled the long stems of dandelion while they waited for their fortune to come; growing so interested in their occupation at last, that they had almost forgotten that they were waiting for anything, when a horse and rider came dashing down the road, and Tom Clifford, with barely time to reach the village in season for the city-bound train, rode full upon the barricade. For a gloomy and desperate suitor, bent upon rushing to the ends of the earth, to be stayed in his course by an old cart loaded with bean-poles was certainly exasperating. Nevertheless he could not go on; and as the two beaming and satisfied young faces peered out at him, he demanded in vexed astonishment:

،، What on earth have you got here ? " "We're a toll-gate," explained Miss Carlie with dignity. "Me and Billy made it, and we'll let you through if"

But the statement of terms was cut short. The horse at that moment espied the fluttering white sun-bonnet, and seizing so favorable an opportunity to be frightened, sprang suddenly to one side, flung his unsuspecting rider to the ground, and sped away up the road again. Tom rolled over and sat up in a bewildered sort of way, got upon his feet slowly, brushed the dust from his clothes, and looked after his retreating steed with a long whistle.