“Send it soon—­it’s addressed and all—­send it to her.  Maybe she will be glad to know I am—­gone—­at last—­out of her path—­out of the way—­and the world.  She sent it back to me—­would not have it—­or me.  Now—­” Then his mind seemed to wander, and he rambled incoherently, repeating over and over again a name that sounded like that on the envelope.  “You will do it, won’t you, Thompson?” said he, rallying suddenly.

Thompson’s voice was husky and thick as he answered impressively, “Damn me ef I don’t!” adding mentally, as he glanced at the package, “Damn her skin, whoever she is!  She’s at the bottom of all this here business, you bet.”

Gentleman Dick’s lips moved as if he were speaking, and as Thompson leaned over him he could hear, in a broken whisper, “Gold—­in old boot—­under bed—­Old Platte half.”

He heard no more.  The pressure of the wasted fingers relaxed, the weary head sunk slowly back on the pillow, and the tired eyelids drooped over the glazing eyes.

“Dick!” said Thompson—­“Dick, old man!”

Too late.  Away through the softly-falling snow, from the Blue with its stillness and solitude, from its heartaches and sorrows and troubles, the weary spirit had fled, and Gentleman Dick was at rest.

* * * * *

Spring had come again; the snow had melted from the valleys; the grass and the ferns and the green grass and bright lichens once more peeped out among the gray boulders and about the feet of the stately pines; and the Blue, freed from its wintry prison, sang merrily over the gravelly reaches.  And as the miners flocked down that spring from over the range, they saw near by the Chihuahua Claim and the deserted cabin, in a square formed by four gigantic pines, a neatly-built cairn of boulders.  One big gray boulder rested securely on top of all, and on it was hacked, in rough and simple letters, GENTLEMAN DICK.

     W. MACKAY LAFFAN.

A SINGULAR FAMILY.

Almost as far back as I can remember three brothers, Italians named Noele, were intimates and occasionally inmates of our home.  The youngest brother, Eugenio, had been imprisoned during the political disturbances of his country, but had escaped and made his way to England.  Here, at a lecture given by Mazzini in London under the auspices of the liberal Italians and those who espoused their cause, Eugenio, who to handsome features and aristocratic appearance added a modulated voice and persuasive manner, rose during the course of the evening, and in words that held the audience spellbound narrated his own sufferings and those of some of his friends under the yoke of Austria.  As he concluded with the utterance of the sentiment, “Liberta!  Equalita!  Fraternita!” a storm of applause burst from the assembly, and many were the high personages who at the close of the meeting requested an introduction to the fascinating young orator.  My father was