r seated in their "bank
parlors," shrewd, sharp-tongued, honest as the sunlight from most points
of view, but in a horse trade much inclined to follow the rule laid down
by Mr. Harum himself for such transactions: "Do unto the other feller
the way he'd like to do unto you--an' do it fust."

The genial humor and sunny atmosphere which pervade these pages are in
dramatic contrast with the circumstances under which they were written.
The book was finished while the author lay upon his deathbed, but,
happily for the reader, no trace of his sufferings appears here. It was
not granted that he should live to see his work in its present completed
form, a consummation he most earnestly desired; but it seems not
unreasonable to hope that the result of his labors will be appreciated,
and that David Harum will endure.

FORBES HEERMANS.

SYRACUSE, N.Y., _August 20, 1898._

DAVID HARUM.

CHAPTER I.

David poured half of his second cup of tea into his saucer to lower its
temperature to the drinking point, and helped himself to a second cut of
ham and a third egg. Whatever was on his mind to have kept him unusually
silent during the evening meal, and to cause certain wrinkles in his
forehead suggestive of perplexity or misgiving, had not impaired his
appetite. David was what he called "a good feeder."

Mrs. Bixbee, known to most of those who enjoyed the privilege of her
acquaintance as "Aunt Polly," though nieces and nephews of her blood
there were none in Homeville, Freeland County, looked curiously at her
brother, as, in fact, she had done at intervals during the repast; and
concluding at last that further forbearance was uncalled for, relieved
the pressure of her curiosity thus:

"Guess ye got somethin' on your mind, hain't ye? You hain't hardly said
aye, yes, ner no sence you set down. Anythin' gone 'skew?"

David lifted his saucer, gave the contents a precautionary blow, and
emptied it with sundry windy suspirations.

"No," he said, "nothin' hain't gone exac'ly wrong, 's ye might say--not
yet; but I done that thing I was tellin' ye of to-day."

"Done what thing?" she asked perplexedly.

"I telegraphed to New York," he replied, "fer that young feller to come
on--the young man General Wolsey wrote me about. I got a letter from him
to-day, an' I made up my mind 'the sooner the quicker,' an' I
telegraphed him to come 's soon 's he could."

"I forgit what you said his name was," said Aunt Polly.

"There'