The day had been a cold one; towards the close, just as the; sun was receding beyond the western horizon, casting its last rays demurely upon the surface of the water of Lake Erie, our attention was called to a ship which at anchor lay in the port at Buffalo. It was there that the lovers and the seekers of beautiful scenery, came to embark in ships that ply the Great Lakes from Buffalo, N. Y. to Duluth, Minnesota. The city of Buffalo is a great railroad center. It seems that the interminable chain of railroads leading from all sections of our country have chosen that city as a terminal. Many travelers, wishing to reach middle and extreme western points, go as far as the city of Buffalo by train, and thence by boat to the end of the steamship company's line, where they must again mount trains in order to come farther westward.

       Shortly after sunset the cold became more piercing and the latent heat, beginning to subside, left nothing that could defy the chilly assaults of the cold December weather.

       At six-thirty the attendant removed the rope that served as cross-bar to prevent the entrance of passengers until some official arrived to inspect the tickets for proper designation.

       Passengers were filing in thick and fast. Everyone complained of the cold, but on reaching the spacious salons of the Steamer "Juniata" they were forced to remark how pleasant and comfortable everything was. Steam heat sizzed through the lattice plates of the radiators; electric lights flared throughout the full extent of the steamer. On the library table the leading periodicals, newspapers and magazines of the country had been arranged for the entertainment and instruction of fastidious readers of literature and current topics. In the dining hall twenty-five Colored waiters, who at the signal from their chief had stationed themselves at their post, stood like ebony statues. With immaculate white shirts and collars, a port-au-soir tie in bow fashion and a tuxedo suit, the height of fashion for an evening’s entertainment, these twenty-five men presented a scene that added greatly to the impressions of the guests of the Juniata. In the main salon, on port side of the ship, a string orchestra of eight pieces was playing excerpts from that then most popular light opera, "My Hero."

       The last persons to reach the salon were the Bradshaws, a family that had come from New York City and, who were making the trip up the Great Lakes for the first time. In company with Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw there were two daughters, Margaret and Catherine.

       The orchestra was just finishing the last period of the celebrated waltz refrain, "I Love You Only, Hero Mine," and Margaret with her deep dramatic contralto voice joined in with the music and sang the little strain with such intense, pathetic expression that the attention of everybody around her was attracted.

       She was a winsome girl, her face round and full, gave expression to a deep-seated emotion and love for the true and the beautiful in life and in love, and around a pair of blue eyes hung a soft penetrating expression. Though taller than average, her height did not detract from the charming grace and dignity of carriage. She was full of those presture virtues that emphasized her aloof in the spirit of independent womanhood.

       Seven o'clock the gang plank had been pulled in and the Juniata set out which promised to be a stormy trip.

(To be continued)

DIDO THE HERO

       Everything passed quietly on board the first night; no unusual or exciting events took place; the peace and happiness of the travelers was marked by scenes of jovial and at times, hilarious carousing.

       The Juniata was scheduled to arrive at Detroit at four o'clock in the afternoon, but owing to the fast gathering storm her speed was cut down while passing the dangerous rocks and crags near Detroit Harbor. All passengers sighed for relief when the steamer dropped anchor in the harbor.

       As soon as the boat was made fast to the dock, deck hands began loading her with minerals and merchandise bound for Duluth. Everything, to one not acquainted with shipping, seemed to be in a state of confusion. The wheels of the heavy tracks rolling over the thick boards that formed the floors of the pier reminded one of the roar of distant thunder.

       It was just ten minutes to eight when the last man rolled his truck out of the freight hole. Ten minutes more and they would be ready to sail.

       "Up anchor," shouted the captain; "we have a heavy load of grain and steel that must be in Duluth by Saturday morning."

       "Captain,"asked one of the members of his crew, "you don't intend to leave in the face of this great storm, do you? Why the lightning is so fierce that it seemed a minute ago that the heavens themselves had been rent asunder by its sudden flash. And, too there was a peal of thunder so violent and sudden that I thought heaven and earth had come together."

       "I am surprised, at you, Dido. I thought you were a seaman. You have been with me these ten years and never have you known me to fail in leaving or arriving on time."

       "Yes, I know, Captain, but never during those ten years have I seen the lakes, with all their just claims to treachery, more boisterous than tonight."

       "What are you men waiting for," shrieked the captain to the other members of his crew who stood near, their looks and silence agreeing with everything Dido had spoken.

       "Never! Captain," murmured one of the sailors. "I love the sea life and I honor and respect you even in face of danger, but where your own life and safety are at hazard, we would not be wise to encourage our noble captain to put out to sea."

       "If any man had told me that Dido was a coward I would have called that man a liar," continued the captain.

       At these words Dido's face grew red, while the sardonic smile and the peculiar twitching of his lips told of an inward feeling of resentment.

       Leaving the hurricane deck where the quarrel between Dido and the captain had taken place, the former came down the salon stairs muttering away to himself.

       The captain followed a few minutes later, and on reaching the purser's office was approached by a passenger, who asked:

       "Surely you won't sail from this port tonight, Captain?"

       "Oh, no," was the prompt reply.

       "I am glad to hear you say 'no.' My wife and our two daughters are on board and had we known beforehand that the lakes are so violent in December, we would have waited until a later date."

       "Rest assured that you and your family will be perfectly safe," added the captain.

       The gentleman who had just spoken to the captain was Mr. Michael Bradshaw, president of the New York Stock Exchange and who, having been called away to Duluth on business, had decided to take along his family. Mr. Bradshaw lost no time in locating his wife and daughters to inform them of the captain's decision.

       "Good!" exclaimed the three in a single breath.

       Mr. Bradshaw stood near the balcony that overlooked the main salon; he saw the dim outline of a person pass by on the deck and stepped forward to see who it was. He placed himself so as to see and not be seen, and straining his ears, he heard these words.

       "He called me a coward. I am not a coward. A man would be a fool to rush madly and headstrong out to sea tonight when everything is so dark and dismal that one can't see his hand before him. Besides, I've been with Captain Jaunka about ten years. Never before have I disobeyed one of his orders. Many times I have injured myself, endangered my health and even risked my life because of some hazardous or foolhardy adventure of his. He wants to be called a brave man. I must be called a coward. Yes, I instructed all the men, deck hands, cooks the crew, to refuse to sail unless the storm abated sufficiently to warrant our departure."

       As soon as Dido had ended his soliloquy Mr. Bradshaw quietly turned away so as not to be observed by either Dido or the other passengers.

       In the meanwhile Captain Jaunka had located the first and second mate with whom he agreed to start a Black Jack game in the officer's cabin. They seated themselves around a green covered table. Jaunka took from his pocket a handful of silver coins. The sight of so much money gave inspiration and hope to the two mates and they began betting with a vengeance. The captain doubled every bet. He was very much enthused over the game but did not forget that he was to play a doublecross before daybreak.

       The mates were making rapid inroads into Jaunka's pile of money. There remained only two coins of small denomination before him. They hit him going and coming; they Black Jacked him right and left. Things got so hot that Jaunka asked to be excused that he might go to borrow some money from the Purser.

       On the way to the Purser's office Jaunka paused, scratched his head, thought awhile then rushed to the phone and talking to Mike, the engineer, gave instructions to keep up steam all night. The berths on the Hurricane Deck, being exposed to the North from which direction the wind was blowing, would therefore be made very uncomfortable for the sleeping passengers. With a bang, Jaunka slammed the receiver back on the hook. He withdrew from his pocket a wallet and pulled out five ten-dollar bills.

       "If I lose this, we go; if I win, we stay," ejaculated Jaunka, and re-entered the room to take up where he had left off.

       All passengers on board the Juniata had gone to bed. Everyone felt safe and secure abiding in the Captain's promise to remain in port. All lights had been extinguished except a few red ones which according to fire and maritime regulations, must be left burning all night. The impromptu cabaret party had sung and played until they seemed intoxicated with ecstasy. The end came when they sang "Home Sweet Home" and closed the piano for the night.

       Shortly after midnight a bell rang. Returning from the boiler room where he had overheard the conversation between Mike the engineer and Captain Jaunka, Dido reached the salon in good time to hear the bell. He rushed over to the annunciator.

       "It's compartment number seven," exclaimed Dido, "I wonder who is ringing this time of night. He certainly ought to know that the bell boys are gone off duty. The fellow who never does any more than he's paid to do never gets paid for any more than he does. I'll go."

       Dido was a man of thirty years. He had traveled in the principal countries of the world, and could address himself to the natives of Europe, Asia and Africa in the vernacular. His father had been a sea captain, and it was on one of his trips to Greece that a son was born, and to him the name of Dido was given, because of the fathers admiration for the original Dido who was the daughter of a Tyrian King. Dido, our hero, often heard his father relate the history of how Dido, or Elissa, her proper name, fled from Greece with many Tyrians and founded the city of Carthage. In statue he resembled a Roman Gladiator. It is true that he did not follow athletic sports, either as a profession or pastime, but they had formed the counterpart of his early training. He was pastmaster in the art of self-defense, and having been graduated from the University of New York State, he chose to travel incognito to collect material and acquire experiences which can only be had and told by those who have lived the life.

       It was this same Dido that knocked at the door of compartment number seven.

       "Did you ring, Miss?" gallantly inquired the young man.

       "Yes, thank you, I am so nervous I can't sleep. Whenever I travel by water I become either sick or very nervous."

       "If you would like something to take I can, perhaps, procure a remedy at the news stand," proffered Dido.

       "You are very kind, sir, but I fear it's too late. Suntz, the news butcher is in bed by this time."

       "Wait here, Miss," continued Dido, "I will go and get his keys."

(To be continued)

       Dido hastily descended to the room in which the news agents were sleeping, and after a little parleying, returned with the keys and a suit of clothes, the property of one of the news boys. Gaining the news stand Dido opened the door and set about changing his sailor's suit for that of the news agent. A wonderful change was made between the appearance of Dido the sailor, and that of Dido the agent.

       "My," exclaimed the young lady on his return, "you found two remedies, one for me and the other for yourself."

       "Yes, Miss, this preparation if taken according to directions, will cure your nervous headache."

       "I hope it will make me feel as good as those new clothes make you look," playfully said the little lady.

       "You see what a difference clothes make in a man's appearance," smilingly he added.

       "But clothes don't make men."

       "I know they don't, but men make clothes and women make trouble about clothes."

       "You would infer, sir, that I should not have troubled you for this headache powder, or would you insinuate that I have nothing to do with your clothing?"

       "Far be it from me to become angry at anything that you might say: I am too well disposed for that: and besides, you have only acted within the province of a woman, and that wisely. The greater injury would have been not to have noticed me or my appearance. The headache powder was not difficult to find; that which I devoutly seek, yea, that which my soul yearns to know — that will be hard to find; and, once, having found it, its keeping may prove a task beyond me."

       "My, but you are interesting. When have I listened to such deep, intense, pathetic expressions," continued the young lady. "You speak as one who have grown weary; like unto the reaper who, having grown tired, reposes among the gathered corn. Perhaps you are restive; it may be that you are beginning to think things over; if you are disquieted, if you are tired of the struggle, if the future promises, no more than the past, and if the present pales at the thoughts of the past and of future, just remember there is a place where you can bury your sorrow; thank God for a garden of love, the heart bf a rose, the lilt of a song in which we hide our sorrows."

       "But, little lady," added Dido, "this garden of which you speak, is it situated within human reach; is it akin to nature; or, is it simply something romantic, illusive, beyond the limits of real life? Methinks it must be at the brink of a cliff, the edge of a steep, where adventurer are lured only to be hurled from its heights to the fathomless depths below."

       "Strange! Isn't it?" sweetly, whispered the lady.

       "Strange beyond a doubt, but no more strange than the fact that you and I are here together at this hour of the night. All other passengers on board this steamer are asleep. I am growing in the belief that 'truth is stranger than fiction.' Just think! I am up for the same reason that you are; I did not go to bed fearing that something might befall our ship ere morn; you went to bed, but could not sleep, apprehensive of some unforseen danger. I saw the rats leave our ship tonight, and, according to the superstitious notions of seamen, that's a bad omen."

       "Ah!" exclaimed the young lady. "I see it. You fear some calamity?"

       "Yes, Miss, I do," came Didos reply.

       "I do also. We must watch and pray. Now, if you will do! the watching, I'll do the praying, then whatever befalls our ship, we will have taken hope and consolation in the knowledge that we are not hypocrites, nor are we too presumptuous; for, it must be remembered, that calamity has a wholesome and unifying effect, whether it be the union of two hearts, or the melting of two nations into one, we are forced to accept the consequences. I thank God that it is so. Calamity is Gods sythe. Just as the reaper sweeps right and left in his efforts to gather the grain from his fields, even so God wields the sythe of impartial, intelligence and, with mathematical precision, separates the sheaves of good from the tares of evil."

       "You are quite a philosopher, added Dido, who for three minutes stood gazing intently into the face of the young lady, unable to speak or move until she had finished her recitation.

       "That's neither here nor there with regard to what Captain Jaunka would say should he find you at my door this late hour of night."

       "There's only one thing that he could do; that would be to fire me," jestingly added Dido.

       "If he ever discharges you for doing good unto others, you tell him you don't want his old job. It's not the right kind of job for you, anyway. My dad could give you a better job than this."

       "Who is your father, pray?"

       "Michael Bradshaw, president of the New York Stock Exchange. His address is 1510 West Thirty-fifth street, New York City, New York."

       "And what might be your name?"

       "Why! I must be Miss Bradshaw."

       "Your given name, I mean."

       "Now, that's you you—–"

       "Never mind. I'll find out."

       "Listen!" exclaimed the young lady. "I hear footsteps. Away! We must not be caught here together."

       Dido leaned over the balcony and discerned the outline of Captain Jaunka as he was mounting the stairs and talking to himself.

       "Those seacrooks robbed me of all my money. They 'hit me' going and coming, right and left, and they 'took it.' I'll get even! Watch me!"

       Dido, fearing that Jaunka might cast his searching glance around for strollers, hastened to hide behind the piano. From there he heard Jaunka swear as he passed:

       "I'll scale the watery heights of Old Huron tonight, or die in the attempt."

       Captain Jaunka was five feet in height; he had been in the early part of his life a very strong, stalwart man, but the salt air, winds, rains and storms had beat his robust frame until now it resembles that of a youth. His hair was crisp and red and long; his face that had known every degree of temperature from the Sahara Desert to the Frozen Hebrides, was as freckeled as a speckled wild lily, with lines and wrinkles that seemed to correspond to those on a thermometer.

       Though sixty years of age, he suffered none of the ills that naturally accompany old age. When only a young man of twenty-five he manned a fishing schooner for one of the fish firms of Gloucester, Mass. His education had run neglected, but he had experiences so vast and various that they easily filled the place of an orderly arranged schooling. Jaunka knew nothing of the scientific principles which men employ to direct the course of a ship on the ocean; geometry was as foreign to him as Latin and Greek. It was only his brute strength and ferocity that enabled him to defy the waters of the deep and to give the devil the dare.

       He had navigated the principal rivers and lakes of America, and on several occasions had crossed both the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans. In disposition and character Jaunka was true to the type of Caliban: always quick to prescribe punishment for others, but never ready to apologize for wrongs inflicted upon others. To cheat was his delight; he has been known to become brutal to others and many times to inflict wounds upon himself, enraged at being defeated in his attempts to cheat others; evil was his passion; pain, his greatest pleasure; fear his chief sport, and hate, his greatest moral notion. Jaunka hated his superiors and lived constantly in fear that his inferiors might become his superiors.

Gaslight Note: This instal­ment does not end with the cus­tomary "To be continued", and it is evident that a portion of the story has been missed when the serial resumes in the next issue. Despite the editorial praise for Greer's literary sub­mis­sion, it is not uncommon for small newspapers of the era to treat stories irrever­ently.

DIDO THE HERO

       Mastering his emotions and trying to hide the little tremor that was affecting his speech. Dido continued talking in tones soft and low:

       At a short distance away to the east, there rises, in graceful pity, a white cross, marking out the spot from which an angry enraged lover hurled his sweetheart into the chasm below. With his brutal fingers clutching her slender neck, in his maddened effort to strangle her, while fierce convulsions shook her little frame, she was hurled from those high cliffs into the depths below, crushing out her life. As she was falling from cliff to cliff she was heard moaning a sad farewell. Her inarticulate groans co-mingled with the sound of the dashing water as it rushed onward into the recesses that had been made in the giant boulders."

       "And he killed her?" exclaimed the little lady.

       "Yes! her lifeless form was transported upon the waves and carried out to sea."

       "What of the brute?" interrogated the listener.

       "Bereft of mind, he wandered to and fro in the neighboring woods. The shades of night o'er took him. He perished."

       "And where is that place?"

       "On the wild New England shore; just about fifty miles from the center of gravity — Boston."

       "I hope, some day, to be able to visit the scene of that double tragedy," pathetically continued the lady.

       "I hope you will," said Dido.

       "Did you ever read a little poem that runs like this," she asked:

"When this heart does cease all motion, And ye spread the sombre pall, Let me rest by grand old ocean Where the blue waves rise and fall; Where the wild birds ever floating, Sporting gaily kiss the wave, Where the deep-toned surf is sighing Nature's requiem o'er my grave."

       "No! I have not heard it before now. I know a little poem; it might interest you. Listen!"

"In seasons of great stress and strain, We sail earth's mart or ocean's main, With chart and compass guide our views, But never from nature take our clues; With human hopes on human bent, Life's ship itself will soon be sent Into the fathomless depths below. There to await divine implore."

       "Hark!" she cried. "I hear a roaring."

       "We are in the danger zone," added Dido. "The noise that you hear is only waves being dashed upon the decks."

       "I can trust you," added the lady. "I believe you really know what you are saying."

       "Ha! Ha!" he said, while a smile playfully radiated his face, "I could tell you something else — if I dared."

       "Why say 'if I dared.' Did I not hear Captain Jaunka call you a 'coward' the day I came aboard this steamer?"

       "Yes, Miss, you did."

       "Then must I too, call you a coward?"

       "No! Don't do it. Cowards die many times before their deaths. I've ever had a resurrection."

       "Remember, young man, 'a cat has nine lives.'"

       "I know, Miss, but this is my first time on earth."

       "Then what is it you would have me know?"

       "I want to tell you how much I like you."

       "You like me?" said she.

       "I really think I could learn to love you; I know, I could, and because I like you I would not like to see you suffer; for as surely as my name is Dido and your —"

       "My name is Margaret, go on."

       "Yes, Miss, thank you; as surely as my name is Dido and your name is Miss Margaret —"

       "Never mind the 'Miss,'" peremptorily added the lady.

       "Well, Margaret, unless something miraculous happens, we will be shipwrecked off the coast of Mackinaw Island. Unless your father goes into the pilot house and at the point of a revolver, forces this stubborn, old captain to return to Detroit, we must all be destroyed."

       "Why do you want my father to do it? Aren't you a man? What woman would love a mail who always sends some one else to perform his feats of heroism, to conquer his foes, to fight his battles and win his laurels. Some there are who stay at home burdened by the luxury of their own effeminancy, too lazy to fight for their own freedom, too weak to breast the storm of oppression. If you want me to love you, if you want, any woman to love you — be a hero."

       Rushing into her compartment she drew from her suitcase a revolver, which she handed to Dido.

       "Go!" she cried. "Now is the time to prove whether you are a man or a coward. Place this gun to the head of that captain and command him to return to the port of Detroit at once."

       "What if he refuses?" queried Dido. "I —, I —."

       "I — I have spoken," said Margaret, "I am she who must not be denied. Go!"

       In the final glance which Dido directed over his left shoulder, he saw in the eyes of his imperial enchantress a peculiar admixture of fire and anger. Had he been able to read her heart there he would have learned love's soft confession.

       "Onward! Away!" shouted Dido, leaping over three stairs at a time. Two minutes more and he would be standing at the wheel with expressed orders.

       Straightway Margaret entered her compartment. Thoughts were crowding in upon her thick and fast.

       "Just think," she said, "in this little time I've fallen in love with that man. Of course he doesn't know it. What will my parents say? They will never consent to a marriage. Those old questions of society, inheritance, wealth, family tradition, and the like would bar me from him and debar him from the society of my family and friends. Funny world this! Society insists that I marry a man of my social rank and standing. Can I disobey without punishment? I know that a wholly dispro­por­tion­ate value is set upon some social habits and customs which have found admission into the fabric of every community. The social sanction is one of the strongest in the series of moral sanctions; to defy this law is to transgress against public opinion — for after all, public opinion is the law. If Dido, is my inferior socially, certainly he is not my inferior intellectually; spiritually, I believe he is my superior. If I marry him he must be raised to my social standing or the transaction savors of social octracism. Should we defy public opinion we will be forced to breast the storm of social oppression. I believe the law of nature is the law that should rule the universe, and as long as God legislates in His majestic way I shall abide by His divine decree. My parents must be brought to see this proposition in its true light, for marry him — I will."

       "Hey there!" "Whats going on around here!" "Where's that captain?" These and various other shouts were heard from the passengers who had been thrown from their beds, tossed against the walls of their state-rooms and some thrown headlong from their hammocks were looking for old Jaunka.

       "Throw that captain over board," shouted one of the angry passengers. This last cry was mingled with the shouts and cries of women and children who could not even maintain their balance in the places where they were standing. Confusion reigned supreme. Hundreds of passengers were scrambling for life preservers. Many, half clothed, had gone out upon the hurricane deck in a frantic effort to launch life boats, but fearing that they would be blown overboard lost no time returning midship. Not one of the crew was in sight. Every plunge seemed as though it were the last. Deeper, deeper became the furrows! Higher, higher dashed the waves! Louder, louder cracked the sagging beams of the Juniata.

       It was the women's woes and the children's woes that recalled Margaret to her senses. She started as though pushed by unseen hands. Straightway she fled to the pilot house. There she witnessed the scenes that startled her. Dido, the coward, was at the wheel. He was piloting the ship back into the port. Margaret returned to acquaint the horror-stricken passengers with the news.

       "Calm your fears," she cried to the surging crowds, "there's a man at the helm, I say, there's a man at the helm. I saw the hand-to-hand fight between the Captain and the young man who is now at the wheel. On seeing the young man approach, the Captain raised the lever that had been placed in the pilot wheel, and with bestial strength, delivered a blow upon his head. The young man seemed stunned for a few minutes. He fell upon the floor, turning from side to side and gasping for breath. I believed him to be dead. The old Captain returned again to the wheel. I lost no time in gaining my room and taking my bottle of smelling salts rushed to aid the young man. After a few inhalations of the ammonium compound, the young man began breathing freely. I wanted to bring him in out of the cold, but his body was so heavy that I could not budge with it. For some seconds I stood in a maze, wondering what could be done. Suddenly he began raising, himself upon his elbows. He stared around wildly; gaining his footing he raised himself upon his knees and with catlike stealth, moved onward until he reached the door of the pilot house. And what do you think happened? With his herculean strength returning he seized the old man around the waist, brought him out upon the deck and tied him to the flag pole, then the young man stationed himself at the helm and began to change the direction of our ship. I could not resist any longer. I felt so proud of his efforts. I went into the pilot house to cheer and comfort him. Not more than five minutes had elapsed when we discovered that Jaunka had loosed himself and with the same pistol that I had given to the young man and which had been lost in the first struggle, Jaunka now held to Dido's head, demanding that he leave the pilot house. We left the pilot house. Dido seemed nonplussed. His splendid wits of which he had been bereft were gradually returning. As suddenly and as swiftly as a boreal light flies through the air, Dido darted away leaving me in my quandary. In a few minutes later he returned with a Winchester rifle, the magazine of which was loaded to the breach. Out again he darted for the pilot house. I followed closely behind him. Dark presentments began clouding my brow. Dido was about to fire upon the old Captain when a few hurried words, rather a welcome to death than a plea for mercy, told Dido that the end was near. The gun dropped from his hands. Dido lifted the frozen form of Jaunka from the wheel to which he held with a death grip. It was with great difficulty that he released the great icicles that had bound him to the pilot-wheel."

       "Three cheers for Miss Margaret," shouted the crowd. "Hurrah for the little heroine," yelled a voice among them.

       "Who is the young man that outwitted the old sea captain and saved, the lives of three hundred and fifty passengers," asked Mr. Bradshaw.

       "His name is Dido," replied Margaret. "This young man sat up all night keeping watch over the sleeping passengers of this steamer. He is so thoroughly acquainted with the evil ways of Captain Jaunka, that he suspicioned last night that Jaunka would attempt to steal out of the harbor without word or warning. He shadowed the Captain in the early part of the evening and kept the lone vigil till the wee hours of night."

       "I heard the Captain call the young man a coward because he refused to raise the anchor in face of the storm," said Mr. Bradshaw.

       "Ah! Here he comes now," exclaimed one of the passengers.

       Amid, cheers, salutes and hurrahs, Dido strode forward until he reached the place where surged the anxious crowd. They showered him with hugs and kisses and hand shakes

       "Hail the hero of Erie, shrieked a voice from the rear.

       "All hail," shouted the crowd.

       "Where is the Captain," inquired Mr. Bradshaw.

       "Sir, he is dead," was Dido's reply.

       "Dead," whispered the passengers one to the other.

       "Yes," continued Dido. "In two pitched battles old Jaunka foiled me. When I reached the pilot house the third and last time, he was shivering and shaking like a leaf in gale. I was about to shoot him, but a few short words told me the battle was over. On his face the pallor of death had started. I lifted the dying man from the wheel. His body was covered with ice. I placed him in a nearby chair, and hoping to save the lives of the passengers on board, I at once began heading the ship portward. As he sat there freezing I heard him say: 'Yes, I promised if I lost my money I would sail. I lost it. I said I would scale the watery heights of Old Huron or die in the attempt. I failed so die I must.' I then saw him draw a knife from his pocket and before I could interfere, he had opened a vein in his left arm."

(To be continued)

DIDO THE HERO

       We are running herewith the last chapter of "Dido the Hero," a thrilling story born in the imagination of our own Prof. H. D. Greer.

       Many persons read Dido with a great deal of interest, and have expressed themselves to us as being pleased with the superior talent exhibited by Prof. Greer as a writer of fiction. The Eagle, too, thanks Mr. Greer for this splendid effort.

       "You deserve a reward young man," declared Mr. Bradshaw.

       "Let's make it up right here," added an enthusiastic traveler.

       "I''ll start it with one thousand dollars," said another.

       "Double it," shouted someone.

       "Triple it," came a cry.

       "Well," exclaimed Mr. Bradshaw. "I'll make you a present of five thousand dollars for having saved my life together with the lives of my wife, our two daughters and the rest of the passengers on board the Juniata."

       "Many thanks, Mr. Bradshaw," said Dido, bowing courteously to the gentleman whose generosity startled as well as o'erwhelmed him. I also thank the other friends who have contributed, seeking to honor by their splendid gifts."

       Turning to Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, Dido continued, talking in a loud voice: "I say, Mr. Bradshaw, also to you, Mrs. Bradshaw, there is one gift besides which all others that have been made here so lately fade into nothingness; there is a reward which I have not merited, perhaps, but one for which I would gladly stake my own life, risk the perils of the sea, or defy any form of man or beast. This bravery seems but child's play compared to the dangers which I would cheerfully go forth to meet could I but cherish the hope of winning your consent and approval to for my fearlessness, you surely will respect the source from which this inspiration comes; to accept the one reject the other is inconsistent with the life of both. It was love that fired my heart with vigilance, and my keeping watch over you all through the night, it enabled me to stand guard over the deep and preserve your ship from a great disaster. It was your daughter's womanly courage that compelled me to fly to the pilot house with determination in one hand and blue-steel in the other in order to check Captain Jaunka in his madness.

       "She's his," shouted the throng that had gathered around the purser's office. "He has won her."

       "He's worthy," shouted the crowd.

       "What think you, Mrs. Bradshaw," said Mr. Bradshaw.

       "Is he a real hero?" asked Mrs. Bradshaw, after a few minutes hesitation.

       "Time will prove that to your satisfaction I think," said the sister of Margaret in answer to her mother's question.

       "It would be unkind to oppose them if they love each other," added Mrs. Bradshaw.

       "Then what have you to say, Margaret," quizzed her father.

       "Any woman could learn to love a hero. He is my hero. We are going to be married with your consent, your blessing."

       "Papers! Papers! Read all about the shipwreck," yelled the news butcher passing up and down the aisles of the salons.

       Every one was eager to buy copies in order tor read of the fate of the other steamers that had battled all night with the terrible storm.

       "Here, boy," said Mr. Bradshaw, "give me a copy."

       "Listen folks!" cried Mr. Bradshaw. "Let me read about it to you. 'Five ships were totally destroyed last night off the coast of Mackinaw Island. Not a single passenger, or member of a crew from any of the ships escaped. All passengers, crews and captains perished with the sinking of the ships. No news has been received from the Juniata, the twin steamer to the Tienesta. The Tienesta was destroyed last night near the Island of Mackinaw. The fate of the belated steamer, Juniata, depends upon whether or not she sailed from the port of Detroit last evening. These two steamers were scheduled to meet at Mackinaw Island. The Juniata has not been heard from.'"

       Every one grew sad at the thoughts of the ill-fated ships, but remembering how Dido had been instrumental in saving there lives they threw their hats and hands into the air with a wild yell of "three cheers for Dido."

       "Come, Dido!" said Mr. Bradshaw, "we will go from here to Duluth by train. You have our consent and our blessing in taking our daughter Margaret to wed."

       On these words Dido drew Margaret close to him, pressed a kiss upon her lips and said, "Come! I love you only."

       She blushed and softly murmured "Hero mine."

The End.

H. DOUGLASS GREER.