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CONTINUED.
"All right, ” returned Hugh cheerily,
Was soon as I can bring the buckboard
round”—
‘‘Let me go for the team, Mr. El
lery,” put in Brown eagerly, hurrying
toward the barn. But his effort failed
in its main purpose, for although he
E-as allowed to assist at their departure,
olding back Miss Ellery’s soft silk
from contact with the wheel as her
brother helped her to place, the young
lady denied him even a passing glance.
CHAPTER VI.
With a curious zeal in contributing
as much as might be to her own dis
comfort, Edith Ellery for the next few
days shut herself persistently indoors,
devoting herself to certain mending of
Nelsine’s, long laid upon the shelf for
its especial disagreeableness. She was
acutely miserable, her sensibilities seem
ing compacted of nerves all a-quiver
with anger and chagrin. To her morbid
imagination now the glance of invita
tion she had directed at Paul Brown on
the night of the dance had become dis
torted to a gesture which all the world
might have understood. She could fancy
those simple women, so starved for gos
sip, snatching at the episode as a god
send. She pictured them together, wag
ging their virtuous heads over her in
discretion—hers—when but the other
day she must have laughed at the idea
of any indiscretion being imputed to
her. She hated Paul Brown with a
fierce vindictive anger, that interest in
him should have betrayed her to such a
step—in him, Artalissa’s lover! And
therein lay the most poignant sting of
fll —that she should have seemed even
l.r a moment to pose as the rival of that
dark faced girl who served in her broth
er’s kitchen. With an ingenuity of tor
ture, possible only to a woman with
nerves who! ly unstrung, she even fan
cied him comparing them in his mind,
holding them up side by side while he
smiled in masculine vanity, pluming
himself with the fancy that his conquest
had extended from kitchen to parlor.
But in truth Paul Brown had never
been in a more unsmiling mood. Ho
could not but see in the chill repellence
of Miss Ellery’s manner, when they
chanced to meet, that he was hopelessly
out of favor, and he interpreted it all to
mean that she had repented her impul
sive kindness of the other Sunday and
would relegate him to his proper place.
In particular he fancied that her purpose
might be to punish him for that auda
cious glance at parting which his heart
beats quickened even now to remem uer.
He grimly told himself that he had
fittingly rounded out a career of wasted
effort by his senseless infatuation for a
woman as far removed from him in ac
tual fact as if she had belonged to an
other planet. If ho had racked his brain
to discover the most irrational thi:
left him to do, it seemed to him now it
could have been only this, and yet it had
come about so without any smallest vo
lition on his part that he felt he should
rail at fate rather than at himself. She
was the first woman of her class, of Lis
own class, as he liked to remember, that
he had chanced to meet in friendly inti
macy since his old home had been left
behind. There was that in her pronun
ciation of certain words—little tricks of
New England speech—in the dainty re
finement of her manner, even in the per
fume which subtly emanated from her
garments, which spoke to him of his
past as nothing had done in all the long
years of his frontier life. He was always
longing to be speaking to her, simply to
hear her answering voice. He delighted
to see her eyes deepen and darken as she
talked, to watch for the smile which
was really her greatest charm. Lie would
have been indignantly amazed had any
body suggested that she was only an or
dinarily pretty girl, with a distinct
sprinkle of freckles across her nose, as
was, in truth, the case. To him her
beauty was beyond question, and he
simply marveled that the other boys on
the place could be satisfied with saying
so little about it. The fact that his own
tongue was tied by excess of feeling fill
ed him with dumb longing always to be
hearing others speak of her. He could
almost have pinned sonnets to the trees
for the joy of seeing her praises in ac
tual words.
But now for one mad moment he had
forfeited all her favor, as it seemed, and
his heart was sore within him. He
scarce had guessed himself the message
ihis eager eyes were telling until he
caught her answering glance, alarmed,
imploring, with a certain sweet help
lessness that had somehow thrilled him
with unreasoning exultation even while
it stirred all the chivalry of his nature
to repent his precipitancy. With all
their frightened forbidding there had
been no anger in her eyes that day, be
reflected, arguing in savage protest
within himself that, for very consisten
cy’s sake, she might have been kinder
now.
Man learns with ill grace the lessons
of pain, and no one can be so ruthlessly
cruel as he whose sensibilities are blunt
ed by the egotism of his own suffering.
Paul Brown, never so ill humored in
his life as now, instinctively turned
upon Jim Kittery as a scapegoat at hand
for the venting of his spleen. He could
even find a sort of grim amusement, al
most sufficient now and then to divert
him from his own grievance, in goading
this fellow sufferqy to the verge of mad-
uvnn uj uninuiatlUUS uuvuilUu cm uaiu
willing Artalisha. Jim, with the keen
eyes of a lover, guessing from the first
the bent of the girl’s fickle fancy, had
made a point of behaving with a sullen
rudeness toward his rival, which Paul,
too proud and too indifferent at first to
notice, now found a certain vicious sat
isfaction in avenging. It was this, no
less than a sort of desperate ennui lead
ing him to seek any kind of diversion,
which impelled him now when the fam
ily dinner hour was past, the men’s sup
per having occurred at the same time, to
seat himself in the kitchen doorway,
listlessly smoking, while Artalissa, in
her own phrase, was ‘‘doing” the great
piles of greasy dishes emanating from
the dual tables of the establishment.
It was a tribute to her charms for
which the girl paid a price, for it had
been Jim’s office to assist her in the
kitchen, a duty which, for obvious rea
sons, he had taken upon himself so will
ingly that the other boys, always de
testing “women’s work, ” had come t<
consider themselves wholly excused.
But now in a dungeon Jim had deserted
his post, and Artalissa found her work
fairly doubled, while too proud, if not
too discreet, to complain to Mrs. Ellery,
knowing full well that, without em
barrassing explanation on her part, it
could be only Jim who would be deputed
again to assist her.
“If Jim Kittery was sittin round like
you are, he’d take hold and do these
dishes himself, ’ ’ she tentatively remark
ed one evening, the blunt hint rounded
off with a coquettish laugh.
“Was that the way he used to do?”
Paul Brown returned, with entire non
chalance, settling himself yet more com-
I
I >'
4 .Hot JirfSfiSaKgjagM
-
n-
"If Jim, Kittery was sittin round like you
are, he’d do these dishes himself."
fortably on the doorstep. ‘ ‘Then I would
better be warned by his example and
leave such work alone, for you don’t
think much of Jim, you know, Artalis
sa. ”
. “How do you know I don’t?” she
cried, tossing her head, wholly pleased
with his cool audacity. She would have
made him wash the dishes if she might,
but womanlike she would have admired
him the less had he stooped to the work.
“Oh, I don’t know, of course, but I
am Yankee enough to be pretty good
at guessing,” imperturbably blowing
smoke rings over his head. “Don’t you
think you ought to be rather ashamed of
yourself to snub him so cruelly? Serious
ly now, Artalissa?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” the
girl declared, darting an oblique little
glance at him from her sloe black eyes,
her strong teeth gleaming in that smile
which always seemed to light her face
with a certain glow of evil. “Some
times girls play off and treat the worst
the fellows they really like the best.”
“Do they?” he asked, with dull in
difference, as if his mind had already
wandered to other topics. He generally
left the burden of their conversation to
her, rarely troubling himself to respond
beyond the demands of mere civility,
yet Artalissa, piqued and puzzled, with
strange perversity found herself far
more interested in this strange follower
than in any of the others who, with
mistaken assiduity, had paid her court.
Her swift glance of impatience softened
now as she looked at him, something in
the unconscious arrogance of his strong
masculinity irresistibly swaying her sen
suous, animal nature. In the unreason
ing polity of a woman’s heart the king
can do no wrong.
“I’ll have one less to wash dishes for
next week, thank fortune!” she ex
claimed after a little. “Miss Ellery is
going.”
Brown, occupied with cleaning the
ashes from his pipe, said nothing for a
moment. “And where is she going?” he
slowly asked at length, with a show of
desultory interest.
“I d’ know’s I know, and d’ know’s
I care,” replied the girl, with a care
less laugh. “But I know what she is
goin to do. I heard them jokin her
about it at dinner tonight. She’s goin
to bo married. ”
She was decidedly disappointed that
this bit of news, to her woman’s soul
of such vital interest, seemed to fall so
flat. There was absolutely no response
from the motionless figure in the door
way. But that was just his way, she
petulantly remarked to herself. One
might as well talk to a stump.
“She’s goin to have a kitchen of her
own to try her high toned ways of doin
in,” she resumed after a moment, with
rather less animation, talking merely
for the comfort of expressing her
THE ROME TRIBUNE, THURSDAY, JANUARY 10, 3 895
mougnis aioua. "sne uaea to be comm
out here ’most every day, hennin round,
offerin to make the dessert or somethin
or ’nother, sayin that she’d been to
cookin school and lettin on that she
knew how to do it all better than any
body. But I jus’ went to Mrs. Ellery
and says I, ‘I ain’t been to cookin school
so much as I’ve been to district school, ’
says I, ‘but if my cookin ain’t good
enough for this ranch I can just go
where it is. I ain’t above bein helped
with my work,’ says I, ‘in a place
where there’s as much to do as there is
here, but I ain’t askin for cookin les
sons from anybody. ’ I talked right up
to her, just like that. Mrs. Ellery
blushed and was dreadfully out up. She
said I was quite mistaken, Miss Edith
—she’s always callin her Miss Edith to
me, emphasizin the words bo’s to hint
ihat’s what I’d ought to call her—as if
I ever would! —me, that’s an educated
woman and as good as her any day!
That’s one reason I hate to have her
round. She puts on too— Why I” break
ing off in sharp vexation as she turned
about to find herself alone and wrath
fully strode to the door to see whither
the truant had strayed. “Well, if that
ain’t polite! That man makes me tired
from head to foot with his ways. He
just naturally does, but then”—the ex
tenuating afterthought cut short with a
sigh.
Hurrying aimlessly down toward the
bridge, Brown met Mr. Ellery climbing
the path, a pair of small shoes and
stockings in one hand, while with the
other he led along his reluctant first
born, the urchin picking his steps with
a whimpering care which told how lit
tle the small pink feet were hardened
to contact with mother earth. “What
do you think of a young fellow who pre
fers going barefoot to good
shoes and storking..?’’ho called out tc
Brown as they met, his eyes twinkling
with appreciation cf his practical joke
in the line of discipline. He had toe
imperfectly outgrown his own boyhood
for entire success in the role of the stern
parent. “A boy who never thinks of
snakes hiding in the grass, all ready to
bite him, to say nothing of the danger
'of becoming web footed. ”
“I m not web footed yet,” protested
the small sinner, wriggling his rosy toes
in anxious experiment.
“But you are taking chances—■chances
of several sorts, young r-r.n. Ask Mr.
Brown if you’re not. ” Then, catching
sight of Drown’s face, he added, “But
you may run to your mamma now and
tell her what you've been doing,”
laughing softly as he watched the un
happy youngster gingerly picking his
steps over the bristling stems of newly
mown grass. “But’what is it, Brown;
Anything in particular?’’
“I believe I ought to be getting back
to my own place, Mr. Ellery,” the
young man said, with a certain brusque
decisiveness. “I had a letter from my
partner yesterday. He tells me that
somebody has been cutting the fences
again, and things are at loose ends; gen
erally. I ought to be there. ”
“These fence cutters ought to be
strung up without quarter for all the
trouble they make,” returned Ellery
slowly, his face frankly clouded as he
thoughtfully stroked his beard. “I was
hoping that you would bo here a couple
of weeks longer at least.”
“Why, if I could spare the time”—
Brown faltered, nervously sinking his
hands to the depths of his trousers
pockets. “But it is hardly necessary,
Mr. Ellery. All the bunch we planned
to handle this time is pretty well broken
in already, and that fellow Kittery can
finish them off. He’s a consummate ass
about some things, but all the same he
can ride a horse better than most, and
if it wasn’t for his temper and his. fool
ways he’d do well enough.”
Ellery laughed amusedly. “He ought
to thank you fotr such a recommendation.
If he had been running for the legisla
ture, you could hardly have given him
a worse send off. But there happens to
be one job I hardly like to trust to Kit
tery anyhow. How long have you been
here? Three weeks Wednesday, was it
not? Well, this is Friday. Don’t you
think you’d better stay till next Wednes
day and make it even weeks?” he urged,
with offhand persuasiveness. “Tuesday
is the Fourth of July, you know, and a
few days one way or the other don’t
count for much.
“The fact is, there is that Lothair colt
—the bay filly you were riding today.
It is simply wonderful the way that colt
has come to the front since she was
driven in from the field. I believe she is
going to make a perfect beauty, while
you can’t point out another on the place
with equal promise for speed. Kittery,
with all his ‘fool ways, ’ had the sense to
say, when you were riding across the
bridge today, that the colt ought to
fetch SSOO anywhere. Now, it has oc
curred to me, Brown, that I would par
ticularly like to send that filly to my
sister by and by for a—er —a present.
TO BE CONTINUED.
sweet as a rose the
g woman who tones
er system with Doctor
■e’s Favorite Prescrip-
It is a certain cure
11 the ailments peculiar
le delicate organization
vomen. It is perfectly
fe in any condition of
e system and always
reliable, regulating the
delicate organs to pre
form their work pain
lessly. Women have
sallow faces, dull eyes,
hollow cheeks, ana
low spirits, when
they are made miserable with disorders, de
rangements and weaknesses peculiar to their
sex. Health is regained, after periods of
dizziness, nervous prostration, pain and ex
citability, or other manifestations of de
rangement or displacement of the womanly
organs, when the “Prescription" is used.
PIERCE \ CURE
OB MONEY RETURNED.
WANT MORE MONEY
Five of Our Famous Ambassadors Kick
ing Because Their Salary.
IS NOT MORE THAN $17,000 A YEAR.
Mr. Bayard Came to Washington With
Letters That Contained Some Very
Unpleasant Facts.
[COPYBIGHT. 18V4. |
c HATEVER may
A have been un-
derstood in a
' gene ral way
jTTtcFs - .3.- about our diplo
pjxZgßffi iff/ ma service,
80 as
hig h er ranks
are concerned,
’ n °f being in a
» flourishing con-
dition, it will
be news to everybody that a crisis has
been reached in the affairs of the five
ambassadors now stationed in Euro
pean capitals by the government of the
United States.
Secretary Gresham has intimated to
the president, and this can bn atn.tnd
' / rr S 3
I / Sy JwX
JA&. B v YA RD -S
on me autnorlty of a letter written by
the secretary himself, that the position
of the ambassadors is such as to war
rant immediate action by congress.
Should no action be taken by that
body it is almost certain that Clifton
R. Breckenridge, our ambassador to
Russia, and Theodore Runyon, who
holds the same post in Germany, will
resign. There has been circulated a
statement to the effect that Mr. Breck
enridge has already announced his in
tention of abandoning his post. That
statement, however, is premature.
The whole trouble is the result of
the long standing salary grievance.
As everybodj 7 knows, our ambassadors
receive a very inadequate stipend.
Their salary is seventeen thousand five
hundred dollars a year each, but fifty
thousand dollars is pronounced barely
sufficient to maintain the dignity of the
position.
Mr. Runyon in Germany and Mr.
Eustis in France, have, even with the
exercise of the closest economy, spent
twice their respective salaries and
more in expenses connected with the
posts they till. These details will sur
prise no one. But it.will be news' to
announce that the ambassadors have
held two conferences abroad, one in
London and another in Paris, for the
purpose of making unanimous repre
sentation to the state department
that their usefulness is almost nominal.
On his way to St. Petersburg, Mr.
Breckenridge saw both Mr. Runyon
and Mr. Eustis. Mr. Breckenridge
had heard that his expenses in
Europe would be very heavy —far
more than his salary. As he is a man
of very moderate means he felt the
necessity of getting their advice. He
expressed his feelings with candor
when he was informed of the humil
iating straits to which his fellow dip
lomats were reduced. Then it was that
a premature rumor of the resignation
of the ambassador to Russia was cir
culated.
Meanwhile, however, Mr. Thomas F.
Bayard, ambassador to the court of St.
James, has been in the United States,
and one of the express objects of his
visits here was to impress upon the
state department the manner in which
our national dignity is being compro
mised abroad. Nothing leaked out in
this connection, however, as it was felt
to be in judicious and a violation of the
ethics of diplomacy to make any rev
elation of the “conjuncture facheuse,”
to employ the term invented by Met
ternich for the condition which, in
anyone less exalted than an ambas
sador, is known as hard upi But Mr.
Bayard had three conferences with the
secretary of state on the subject of am
bassadorial salaries. Mr. Gresham, dur
ing these interviews, had opportunity
to read letters from Mr. Wayne Mac-
Veagh, Mr. Eustis and Mr. Runyon, all
setting forth the fact that their posi
tions were little short of ridiculous.
Their own wish had been to resign,
but as the demission, to use another
diplomatic term. c.f all our ambas
sadors at once might create an un
pleasant impression, it was deemed
best that the retirements should take
place at intervals of a few months.
As an illustration of the position in
which our ambassadors are placed, the
following itemized statement of Mr.
Eustis’ expenses is interesting;
.r;oase rent it, raris, per year. |l2 000
Ambassador's coach and livery 6,000
Diplomatic dinners and entertainments. 80 X)
One ball per annum 2 000
Entertaining American naval officers. ” 2 000
Attending state department functions 1000
Official presentations 2.000
Total 1)7,000
In reality, however, Mr. Eustis has
spent a good deal more than twenty
seven thousand -dollars a year since he
went to Paris. lie is out of pocket
about fifty thousand dollars as a result
of being American ambassador to
France. It might be observed that Mr.
Eustis has chosen a rather expensive
house. But were he to go out of the
expensive quarter of Paris his useful
ness as a diplomat would be gone. And
house rent in fashionable Paris is highv
The ambassadorial- coach is also a ne
cessity and the entertaining must be'
kept up or the diplomat will loose caste.
Were Mr. Eustis, for example, to de
cline an invitation tto a state 'unction
or a minister’s entertainment, it would
be deemed a grave breach of etiquette.
Were the offense repeated the minister
would find himself without influence
and might even be reported to Wash
ington as persona non grata. Having
once accepted the courtesies, he is
bound to reciprocate them.
In the holiday and vacation season
his post is even more trying. He must
go where the powers go. He- is obliged
to lease a chateau or at the humblest a
villa. There are ulwavs American in-
AMBASSADORS ON STRIKE.
verests neeaing tne support of an am
bassador at a foreign power. Were the
social side of diplomatic life neglected,
American interests would be deprived
of all protection. A conspicuous in
stance of this is the manner in which
American beef and hams were allowed
entry into Germany for years in spite
of domestic agitation, solely owing to
the personal influence of our- minister
to Berlin.
The other ambassadors are in an
equally sorry plight. Mr. Bayard is
out, so far, about $25,000 on his mission.
Mr. MacVeagh spent $20,000 in Rome
during the first three months of his
stay. The money question has reached
a crisis owing to the recent elevation
of our ministers to the capitals of
Great Britain, France, Germany, Italy
and Russia to the rank of ambassadors.
When we had ministers I only, the situ
ation was bad enough, but now it has
become well-nigh intolerable.
At the same time our ambassadors
have, urged their claims with great
moderation. It is well known to them
all that the administration concurs fully
in their view of the matter, but Secre
tary Gresham made a personal plea to
Mr. Bayard to use his influence with
his colleagues in Europe to remain pa
tient until the time when tlwte
tion can be made known to congress.
This Mr. Bayard has already done, for
on his arrival in London he sent let
ters, which he had previously written
in this country and shown t<s his offi
cial superior, ih which the hope of
amendment of their situation was held
out.
At the present time Mr.' Gresham has
received communications from the am
bassadors setting forth that their posi
tions are absolutely untenable. At
their conference, the American diplo
mats agreed upon a representation to
the state department that in their opin
ion it would be advisable in the inter
ests of our national dignity to reduce,
at once the grade of our foreign estab
lishment to its former level. This
would save each diplomat SIO,OOO a year,
since a minister is saved coach ex
penses and the cost of entertaining
other ambassadors. Unfortunately,
however, such a proceeding would leave
the ambassadors from, the five foreign
powers in Washington in a very un
dignified position.
it is well known to our state de
partment that Mr. Runyon would cer
tainly have succeeded'in bringing about
a satisfactory settlement of the meat
exclusion affair in Germany had he
been allowed more ample funds. The
need of a few thousand dollars at a
critical moment has. thus cost one great
American industry hundreds of thou
sands of dollars a year and thrown
many men in the west out of employ
ment. And besides that Mr. Runyon
is about twenty thousand dollars poor
er now than on the day of his appoint
ment as ambassador.
The situation, to sum up, is this:
Our ambassadors are slowly ruining
themselves abroad, and they want to
come home. One by one they propose
to come home, and Mr. Breckenridge
wants to come first. But Mr. Gresham
will make an urgent representation of
the difficulty to congress through the
president, and the country will then
learn whether we shall do without am
bassadors or stop making them the
laughing stock of Europe.
Daniel Cleykrton.
WAY
BELOW
ZERO.
I
Not < n'y do the above words
refer to the register of the weather
in some parts of the country, but it
also has reference to the condition
of our prices. If the world wants
bargains let it call on Thomas Fahy
this week.
Cloaks and Capes
Never have we been in a position;
to offer such fine bargains in Cloaks
and Capes. They are beauties, too.
Going at your price. See them by
all means.
Blankets
Let those talk who will, but we
know that our bargains in Blankets
are hard to beat, sure. No shoddy’
goods at all.
Underwear J
You know winter is not over by a fl
long shot. We are offering big in- fl
ducements in Underwear.
Remnants 1
fl
Almost something for nothing. , fl
We can save you big money 7 in rem- fl
nants of Dress goo Is. Fine quali- fl
ties and lovely designs at great „ 1
reductions- You know we carry 7
the largest and finest stoek of dress
goods in North Georgia, hence we A
offer fine bargains in lovely odds fl
and ends.
Carpets and Rugs ]
Here we can save you many a
dollar, for we are letting these goods B
go almost at loss prices. fl
Every Day ■ J
We will give a big group of bar- M
gains, and those who take advantage H
of them will win the prize. A fl
departments are full of great in- fl
ducements. fl
A HAPPY NEW YEAR I
We wish for our many friends aiAfl
patrons a most joyous and
new year, and we most
thank you for your past patronage
and solicit a continuance of the
same.
THUS FAHY’J