ope he isn't in for a
swindle. He'd be just game for a sharper to-day."

At noon Peckham sold his ten thousand shares of B. C. for five thousand
dollars. He could have got six thousand the next morning, but then, as
he reflected, what good would it have done him? His first act after
depositing the check received for his stock, was to send the following
telegram:

"Leitmann Orchestra engaged for Springtown, May 19th. Five thousand
dollars deposited in First National Bank. Particulars by letter.

(Signed) "LEWIS PECKHAM."

It is not a usual thing for an impecunious young man to invest five
thousand dollars in a single symphony concert, but there was one feature
of the affair which was more unusual still; namely, the fact that the
consummation of that same young man's hopes was complete. For two
beatific hours on the evening of the memorable 19th of May, Lewis
Peckham's cup was full. He sat among the people in the balcony, quiet
and intent, taking no part in the applause, looking neither to the right
nor to the left. But if he gave no outward sign, perhaps it was because
his spirit was so far uplifted as to be out of touch with his body.

The money which he had expended in the gratification of what the
uninitiated would call a whim, seemed to him the paltriest detail, quite
unworthy of consideration. When he thought of it at all it was to recall
the story of the gaunt customer who paid so handsomely for his whisky,
and to note the confirmation of his theory, that "if you only want
anything bad enough no price is too high to pay for it."

And in still another particular Lewis Peckham's experience was unique.
He never gambled again. He had a feeling that he had got all he was
entitled to from the fickle goddess. When pressed to try his luck once
more he would only say, with his old, indifferent shrug: "No, thanks.
I've had my fling and now I've got through."

X.

A ROCKY MOUNTAIN SHIPWRECK.

"Bixby's Art Emporium" was a temple of such modest exterior that
visitors were conscious of no special disappointment upon finding that
there was, if possible, less of "art" than of "emporium" within. A
couple of show-cases filled with agate and tiger-eye articles,
questionable looking "gems," and the like; a table in the centre of the
shop piled high with Colorado views of every description; here and there
on the walls a poor water-color or a worse oil-painting;