meeting two more distinguished Ranger officers-more modern types-Captains Lea Hall and Joseph Shely. Both of them big, forceful men, and loath to talk about themselves. It was difficult to associate the quiet gentlemen who sat smoking in the Deacon's rooms with what men say; for the tales of their prowess in Texas always ends, "and that don't count Mexicans, either." The bandit never laid down his gun but with his life; so the "la ley de fuga was in force in the chaparral, and the good people of Texas were satisfied with a very short account of a Ranger's fight.

The most distinguished predecessor of these two men was a Captain McNally, who was so bent on carrying his raids to an issue that he paid no heed to national boundary-lines. He followed a band of Mexican bandits to the town of La Cueva, below Ringgold, once, and surrounding it, demanded the surrender of the cattle which they had stolen. He had but ten men, and yet this redoubtable warrior surrounded a town full of bandits and Mexican soldiers. The Mexican soldiers attacked the Rangers, and forced them back *Mexican law of shooting escaped or resisting prisoners.

under the river-banks, but during the fight the jefe politico was killed. The Rangers were in a fair way to be overcome by the Mexicans, when Lieutenant Clendenin turned a Gatling loose from the American side and covered their position. A parley ensued, but McNally refused to go back without the cattle, which the Mexicans had finally to surrender.

At another time McNally received word through spies of an intended raid of Mexican cattle thieves under the leadership of Cammelo Lerma. At Resaca de la Palma, McNally struck the depredators with but sixteen men. They had seventeen men and five hundred head of stolen cattle. In a running fight for miles McNally's men killed sixteen bandits, while only one escaped. A young Ranger by the name of Smith was shot dead by Cammelo Lerma as he dismounted to look at the dying bandit. The dead bodies were piled in ox-carts and dumped in the public square at Brownsville. McNally also captured King Fisher's band in an old log house in Dimmit County, but they were not convicted.

Showing the nature of Ranger work, an incident which occurred to my acquaintance Captain Lea Hall will illus

trate. In De Witt County there was a feud. One dark night sixteen masked men took a sick man, one Dr. Brazel, and two of his boys, from their beds, and, despite the imploring mother and daughter, hanged the doctor and one son to a tree. The other boy escaped in the green corn. Nothing was done to punish the crime, as the lynchers were men of property and influence in the country. No man dared speak above his breath about the affair.

Captain Hall, by secret-service men, discovered the perpetrators, and also that they were to be gathered at a wedding on a certain night. He surrounded the house and demanded their surrender, at the same time saying that he did not want to kill the women and children. Word returned that they would kill him and all his Rangers. Hall told them to allow their women and children to depart, which was done; then, springing on the gallery of the house, he shouted, "Now, gentlemen, you can go to killing Rangers; but if you don't surrender, the Rangers will go to killing you." This was too frank a willingness for midnight assassins, and they gave up.

Spies had informed him that robbers intended sacking Campbell's store in Wolfe City. Hall and his men lay behind the counters to receive them on the designated night. They were allowed to enter, when Hall's men, rising, opened fire -the robbers replying. Smoke filled the room, which was fairly illuminated by the flashes of the guns-but the robbers were all killed, much to the disgust of the lawyers, no doubt, though I could never hear that honest people mourned.

The man Hall was himself a gentleman of the romantic Southern soldier type, and he entertained the highest ideals, with which it would be extremely unsafe to trifle, if I may judge. Captain Shely, our other visitor, was a herculean black eyed man, fairly fizzing with nervous

energy. He is also exceedingly shrewd, as befits the greater concreteness of the modern Texas law, albeit he too has trailed bandits in the chaparral, and rushed in on their camp-fires at night, as two big bullet-holes in his skin will attest. He it was who arrested Polk, the defaulting treasurer of Tennessee. He rode a Spanish pony sixty-two miles in six hours, and arrested Polk, his guide, and two private detectives, whom Polk had bribed to set him over the Rio Grande.

When the land of Texas was bought up and fenced with wire, the old settlers who had used the land did not readily recognize the new régime. They raised the rallying-cry of "free grass and free water "-said they had fought the Indians off, and the land belonged to them. Taking nippers, they rode by night and cut down miles of fencing. Shely took the keys of a county jail from the frightened sheriff, made arrests by the score, and lodged them in the big new jail. The country-side rose in arms, surrounded the building, and threatened to tear it down. The big Ranger was not deterred by this outburst, but quietly went out into the mob, and with mock politeness delivered himself as follows:

"Do not tear down the jail, gentlemen -you have been taxed for years to build this fine structure-it is yours-do not tear it down. I will open the doors wide -you can all come in-do not tear down the jail; but there are twelve Rangers in there, with orders to kill as long as they can see. Come right in, gentlemen-but

come fixed."

The mob was overcome by his civility. Texas is to-day the only State in the Union where pistol-carrying is attended with great chances of arrest and fine. The law is supreme even in the lonely jacails out in the rolling waste of chaparral, and it was made so by the tireless riding, the deadly shooting, and the indomitable courage of the Texas Rangers.

establishment rejoiced over the circumstance, for it meant less work for everybody, with an opportunity to enjoy Christmas eve on his own account.

Mrs. Bonnet, the lady's-maid, with the plans she had in mind for the evening, was scarcely annoyed at all when her mistress scolded because the corset-lace had got itself in a knot.

The chamber was full of a delicate odor of iris. The gas-globes at the ends of their jointed golden arms looked like splendid yellow pearls; on the dressingtable under them glittered a quantity of highly embossed silver-ware, out of all reasonable proportion with the little person owning it, who sat before the mirror beautifying her finger- nails while Mrs. Bonnet did her hair.

"Mind what you are about," the mistress murmured, diligently polishing.

Mrs. Bonnet instantly removed the hot silver tongs from the tress she was twisting, and caught it again with greater pre

caution.

"Mind what you are about," warned Mrs. Darling, somewhat louder, a beginning of acid in her voice.

Mrs. Bonnet again disengaged the hair from the tongs, and after a little pause, during which to make firm her nerve, with infinite solicitude took hold again of the golden strand, and would have waved it, but

"Mind what you are about!" almost screamed little Mrs. Darling. "Didn't I tell you to be careful? You have been pulling right along at the same hair! Do consider that it is a human scalp, and not a wig you are dealing with! Bonny, you are not a bad woman, but you will wear me out. Come, go on with it; it is getting late."

Before the hair-dressing was accomplished Mrs. Darling rolled up her eyes -her blue eyes, round and angelic as they could sometimes be-at the reflection of Mrs. Bonnet's face in the mirror, and said, meekly: "Bonny, do you think that black moiré of mine would make over nicely for you? I am going to give it to you. No, don't thank me-it makes me look old. Now my slippers."

foot, Mrs. Darling's glance

rested, perhaps by chance, on a photograph that leaned against the clock over the mantel-piece. It was that of a still young well-looking man, whose face wore an unmistakable look of goodness, of the kind that made it rather what one expected to read under it in print - the Rev. Dorel Goodhue. There was another more conspicuous man-photograph in the room, on the dressing-table, in a massive frame that matched the toilet accessories. It stood there always, airing a photographic smile, among the brushes and hand-glasses and pin-boxes.

"I suppose," said Mrs. Darling, while she braced herself against Bonnet to help get the small shoe on-"I suppose I have a very bad temper!" and she laughed in such a sensible, natural, good-natured way any one must have felt that her exhibition of a moment before had been a sort of joke. "Tell the truth, Bonny: if every mistress had to have a certificate from her maid, you would give me a pretty bad one, wouldn't you? But I was abominably brought up. I used to slap my governesses. And I have had all sorts of illnesses; trouble too. And I mostly don't mean anything by it. It is just nerves. Poor Bonny! I treat you shamefully, don't I?"

"Oh, ma'am," said the lady's-maid, expanding in the light of this uncommon familiarity, "I would give you a character as would make it no difficulty in you getting a first-class situation right away; you may depend upon it, ma'am, I would. Don't this shoe seem a bit tight, ma'am?"

"Not at all. It is a whole size larger than I wear. If you would just be so good as to hold the shoe-horn properly. There, that is it."

She stood before the bed, on which were spread two long evening dresses. A little King Charles spaniel had made himself comfortable in the softest spot. His mistress pounced on him with a cry, first cuffed, then kissed and put him down. "Which shall I wear?" she asked.

Bonnet drew back for a critical view, but dared not suggest unprompted.

"The black and white is more becoming, but the violet crape is prettier. Oh,

Bonny, decide quickly for me, like a tossed-up penny!"

"Well, I think now I should say the violet, ma'am."

"Should you?" Mrs. Darling mused, with a finger against her lip. "But I look less well in it. Surely I had rather look pretty myself than have my dress look pretty, hadn't I? Give me the black and white, and hurry. Mr. Goodhue will be here in a second. Bonnet!" she burst forth, in quite another tone. "You try ing creature! Didn't I tell you to put a draw-string through that lace? Didn't I tell you? Where are your ears? Where are your senses? What on earth do you spend your time thinking about, I should like to know, anyway? I wouldn't wear that thing as it is, not for-not for- Oh, I am tired of living surrounded by fools! Take it away-take it away! Bring the violet!"

At last she was encased in the fluffy violet crape, and at sight of the sweet picture she made in the mirror her brow cleared a little ; she looked baby-eyed and angelic again, with her wavy hair meekly parted in the middle. While she

looked at herself she let Bonnet have one of her arms to button the long glove.

"Ouch! Go softly; you pinch!" she murmured.

Bonnet changed her method with the silver hook, adjusted it anew, and pulled at it ever so gently.

"Ouch! You pinch me!" said Mrs. Darling, a little louder.

Bonnet stopped short, and looked helplessly at the glove, that could not be made to meet without a strain over the plump white wrist. After a breathing - while, with stealthy gentleness, again she fitted the silver loop over the button, and with a devout inward appeal to Heaven, tried to induce it through the button-hole. She had almost succeeded when Mrs. Darling screamed, "Ouch, ouch, ouch! You pinch like anything! I am black and blue!" And tearing her arm from the quaking servant, began fidgeting with the button herself, soon pulling it off.

"Bonnet, how many times must I tell you to sew the buttons fast on my gloves before you give them me to put on?" she asked, severely. "No, they were not!" she stormed, indignantly, and peeled off

the glove, throwing it far from her, inside

out.

There was a knock, and a respectful voice saying, outside the door, "Mr. Good hue is below, ma'am."

"Get a needle," Mrs. Darling said, humbly, like a child reminded of its promise to behave, and waited patiently while the button was sewed on, and held out her arm again, letting Bonnet pinch without a murmur.

A final bunch of violets was tucked in the bosom of her gown, and she was leaving the bedroom, when, as if at a sudden thought, she turned back, went to the door of a little room leading from it, and stood looking in a moment.

"Aren't they lovely, the hundred of them?" she gushed. "Did you ever see such a sight? One prettier than the other! I almost wish I were one of the little girls myself!"

"Them that gets them will be made happy, sure, ma'am. I suppose it's for some Christmas-tree?"

"They are for my cousin Dorel's orphans. Pick up, Bonny. Open the win dows. Mind you keep Jetty with you. Don't let him go into the kitchen. I am sure they feed him. I shall not be very late-not later than twelve."

Mrs. Darling went down the stairs, followed by Bonnet with her mantle and fan, and Jetty, who leaped and yapped in the delusion that he was going to be taken for a walk.

The gentleman waiting below came forward to take Mrs. Darling's hand.

Mrs. Bonnet listened to the exchange of polite expressions between them with no small degree of impatience; it seemed to her they might as well have made these communications later, in the carriage.

At last and at last they were gone; and with the clap of the door behind them the whole atmosphere of the house changed as by enchantment. A door slammed somewhere; a voice burst out singing below-stairs; the man in livery who had held the door for Mrs. Darling and her reverend cousin leaned over the banisters and shouted, heartily, "Catherine! I say, Catherine!" Mrs. Bonnet fairly scampered up stairs, with the mistaken Jetty, who thought this was the beginning of a romp, hard after her, trying to catch her by the heels.

no affectation of soft-stepping, threw up the window-the sharp outer air cut into the scented warmth like a silver axe-and began pushing things briskly into their places. She digressed from her labors a moment to get from the closet a black moiré, which she examined, then replaced.

Now came a rap at the door, and a voice only a shade less respectful than before, saying, "Miss Pittock is waiting below, ma'am."

"Very well, I will be down directly," said Mrs. Bonnet. "Come here, Jetty!"

Jetty, instead of coming, ran round and round among the chair legs, waving his tail in a graceful circle, eluding Mrs. Bonnet's hand not by swiftness, but craft.

"Come here, you little fool," muttered Bonnet; and as her bidding, however severe, availed nothing, she cast Mrs. Darling's wrapper over the little beast, and got him entangled like a black-andtan butterfly in a pocket-handkerchief. She snatched him up squirming a little, tucked him tightly under her arm, and ran up stairs to her own chamber on the third floor. There she dropped him, wondering very much; and when she had donned her black coat and bonnet, gloves and galoshes, during which preparations Jetty was leaping and yapping like crazy in the supposition again that they were going for a walk together, she turned out the light and shut the door against his wet black nose. His reproachful barks followed her down the passage. "Welcome to keep that up," she said to herself, hurrying over the stairs.

And here, at the foot, was Miss Pittock, looking quite more than the lady in her mistress's last year's cape.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting, Miss Pittock."

"Quite the contrary; don't mention it, Mrs. Bonnet. Oh, the shops is a sight to behold, Mrs. Bonnet! I never seen anything like it this year. It do seem as if people made more to-do than they used about Christmas, don't it? Are we ready, Mrs. Bonnet?"

"I am if you are, Miss Pittock." "Now what kind of shops do you fancy most, so we'll go and look into their show-windows first?"

"I'm sure I don't know. What do you prefer yourself, Miss Pittock? We've time to see most everything of any account, anyhow. She's not coming home