"Gentlemen, you may remember our conversation on the subject of benevolence, and that I was requested when any money devoted to charitable purposes pays tangibly, to report. I have such a report to make at this time,"—proceeding to repeat the story of my two interviews with the stranger, then showed the bank-bill that my grateful beneficiary forced into my hand. There was not a dry eye present. "Well," said my mercantile friend, warmly, "you've got the case, and I frankly own that I envy you your happiness." A FRONTIER TRAGEDY. "MR. PETERSON, the Norwegian, wishes to see you," said the lady with whom I was boarding. "Something dreadful has happened, I know," she added, earnestly, "he looks so pale." Going to the door, I was struck with the appearance of the caller. His cheeks blanched to a deathly hue, his eyes glancing apprehensively about, as he said, in a low voice,— "You know Callahan, the one-armed Englishman, living near me?" "Yes." "He has disappeared; has been murdered, I fear." "When did you first miss him?" I asked. "Three days ago," he replied. "He lived alone in the cabin he was building on his claim—which joins mine. Being a single man, my wife had done his baking, for which he always came regularly. She had his bread ready for him last Wednesday, but he didn't come for it. Supposing some unusual business had detained him, she gave herself no uneasiness. But Thursday and Friday passed without bringing him, so she mentioned the circumstance to me. To-day I went over to see what the matter might be, but he was not there. Near his shanty, however, was a great deal of blood, and his hat and coat lying by." "Did you make inquiries concerning him of the neighbors?" "I did not dare to, but came away as quickly as possible. I knew he had had trouble with old Ringe. Only last week, he said he was afraid the old man would put him out of the way, and I advised him not to stay alone on his claim. I have no doubt his fears have been realized, poor fellow! I scarcely dared leave home to tell you about it, for if old Ringe, or any of his tribe, suspected my errand, they would serve me in the same manner. Hadn't something ought to be done?" "Yes. We must call the neighbors together, and search for the missing man." "When shall we do so?" he asked. "It is now nightfall, and to-morrow will be the Sabbath. Would it be right to attend to it then?" "Certainly. Human life is sacred. And here, on the frontier, it is necessary to take prompt measures in such a case, or no person will be safe. We do not yet know that the Englishman is dead. Perhaps he is lingering in agony in some place to which, after being assaulted, he was borne for concealment. At any rate, this is, emphatically, 'a work of necessity' and 'mercy,' and steps must be taken at once to ascertain the facts, and if your suspicions are confirmed, secure the person or persons guilty of the deed."