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Nt <£^J’ - A‘ter^<ssX ? £g &7s * W ti ® if _ v 3 & u B KZ utK Aft , ‘-'-A 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