riations, to the three journals of which he
was the indefatigable "special." In a few days, the nearly murdered man
was out of danger. On learning that the news of his death had already
been sent to the papers, the singular idea came into his mind to let the
report go uncontradicted, change his name, give up drinking, move away
to some place where he was not known, and begin his miner's life over
again. The special correspondent, on being consulted by him, assured Mr.
Frump that he could depend on his (the correspondent's) silence, since
it was his invariable practice never to take back or qualify any
statement made by him--such a course being obviously fatal to his
hard-earned reputation for accuracy. The correspondent also very
obligingly supplied him with copies of the papers containing the
circumstantial accounts of his death, which he directed in a disguised
hand, and sent through the mail to his wife. He had then assumed another
name, gone into Benicia County, was successful in gold digging, and,
after making about two thousand dollars, had taken up his residence in
the nearest village (undesignated), and had invested his money in
speculations (kind not particularized). Fortune followed him, but he
found it convenient, for certain reasons (not given), to move away to
another village, in a few months. In fact, he had, within four years,
made the entire circuit of California, never staying in one place more
than a quarter of a year.

"I don't want to brag," said Mr. Frump, "but it is well enough to have
it understood that I made my pile."

Mr. Frump nodded his head quietly, as one who does not lie.

Old Van Quintem had hitherto hesitated to congratulate Mrs. Frump upon
the reacquisition of her husband. He now advanced, and shook her warmly
by the hand.

"I wish you joy," said he. "And you too, Mr. Frump. I never had the
pleasure of meeting you often, though I had frequently heard of you.
With regard to those unpleasant family difficulties in which you became
involved, they are now at an end; for Gusty's parents are both dead, and
the old house and farm are sold. Let bygones be bygones."

"So say I, Mr. Van Quintem," said Mr. Frump, grasping the extended hand.
"As for my wife's relatives, I'm sure I allers forgave 'em. As for the
old house and farm, if you like, Gusty, we'll buy it back agin."

Mrs. Frump, still resting on her husband's shoulder, sobbed a little,
and clung closer about him.

"Here is one frie