■ " ' ■*- <ls%.
I B B>>*'
T, L. MITCHELL, Publisher.
Vol. 23-No. 3.
For Woman’s Work.
©EAR, in a lonely hour, by rose-fram’d window dreaming,
I chanced upon a letter old. Methinks I must have paled—
My senses reeled—and, with the rose breath blending,
A subtle, sweet, half wild, entrancing spell!
Those wondrous yesterdays came back to prove your letter —
Came floating back, made vital with your smile,
And overwhelmed my soul with so great longing.
Dear heart! • • • j’j give the stars in heaven
To see those smiles again. • * * Ah, hope, how vain!
Sometimes I dream to hold your hand again,
As in that hour all charmed with summer dusk,
When, smiling there, above our broken vows—
Crush’d each the storm within, and wreck’d the rose!
And if you matchless were in passion’s glow,
The vision that my soul knows as its ghost
Were face and form and’eyes all eloquent
With fire repress’d, but beautiful in calm!
I sometimes dream to hold your hand again—
That lovely hand in sun-brown beautiful —
Just for the sweetness of the old, fair dream,
(Knowing the hope that thrill’d my heart is dead)
When I had held it just a year ago!
No man e’er knew a sweeter Nemesis,
Because no man lov’d maid so dear before,
Oh, if a voice should break, when next we meet,
With half the old time, golden, lilting joy!
Why blame the dream —how could the dreamer help?
And let the past come back for just a thoughtless day.
Yet there’s no miracle may mend a broken vow,
And shattered ideals may be built no more;
We'll watch the fireflies in the deeps of dusk
Again, and drink the far-faint coo of doves;
And at the parting of the ways, again,
We’ll smile adieu, the heart too full for words,
And I shall melt into life’s sea again,
And try with song to soothe men’s pain, and mine;
And you—but now the moon goes down
Behind the clouds, the page is dim. • • * Goodnight!
Albert Irving Mason.
For Woman’s Work.
FOR MARYLAND’S HONOR.
A Storjjof the War for Southern Independence.
BY AUSTIN RUST.
(Copyrighted 1910, by Lloyd T. Everett.)
'(Continued from last month.)
Crucifixion of the Soul.
■ MOMENT’S silence ensued. With
the decreasing sounds of the con
• * flict most of the throng had pass
ed on down the street, but four or five
.men, apparently of a kind with Phil’s
ATHENS, GEORGIA, MARCH, 1910.
antagonist, lingered near, while Han
cock, weak and helpless, leaned for
support against a shade tree, with
only the unarmed Elliott between
him and the angry giant. No police
man was in sight. The fellow took
all this in with a swift glance, and,
still burning for vengeance on those
who had shed his brother’s blood,
seemed disposed to disregard Elliott,
his threats, and his promises, by
NOT HOW LONG WE LIVE BUT HOW USEFULLY.
pressing his apparent advantage
“You are flying the right colors,
young man,” he said, indicating El
liott’s lapel decorations, “but I don’t
like your actions, nor the company
you keep, neither. Come on, boys;
let’s take them both prisoners—this
Yankee lieutenant and his Southern
guardian. There’s too many spies
runnin’ round here loose these days,
and we kin do a little answering to
Mayor Brown, ourselves.” The giant
took a half step forward and brand
ished his club menacingly, yet hesi
tated before the resolute attitude
and unflinching gaze of the young
student, who gave not an inch be
fore him, though the boy’s square
shoulders and sturdy athletic figure
—with its five feet, ten, of height—
seemed to fairly dwindle in the pres
ence of the huge form confronting
Phil had his right fist tightly
clenched at his side, ready to fly out
with lightning-like rapidity and force
at the proper moment. His expe
rienced eye measured the distance to
the massive chin and heavy jaw of
his antagonist, where he would land
his knockout blow should it become
necessary to follow diplomacy with
force. At the same time he took
watchful note, out of the corner of
his eye, of the cudgel grasped firmly
by the man’s right hand, and of the
possible necessity for eluding a blow
at the moment of delivering one.
With the preponderance of bulk and
brute force against him, he knew
he must be wary of his tactics, and
was determined that but one blow
should be struck—that one to be his
“I have told you who I am, and
that I shall hold myself responsible
for this, my prisoner,” he said, speak
ing deliberately. “My name is well
known in Patriot circles, here. We
have parleyed enough. If my assur
ances are not sufficient for you, then
come on and do your worst.”
“The name of Phil Elliott is all
right, too,” was the surly rejoinder,
accompanied by a vile oath, "but
that’s not saying that you are the
right chap to carry it —not by a jug
ful. And seeing you are so powerful
anxious for me to come on, well and
good. But I must say you are too
brave a lad for me to take any un
fair advantage of. ‘High Hiram’
alius b’lieves in totin’ fair.” There
was something of rude chivalry about
the fellow, and dropping his weapon,
it was his naked fist that he faised
for a murderous blow.
put that blow never descended.
This was the exact moment for which
Elliott had been waiting. Like a
veritable catapult his right shot out
and upward, catching his huge assail
ant squarely on the chin, and the
fellow went down like a log. Two
of his companions, seeing him fall,
started forward with oaths and cries
of rage, and Elliott, seizing the stick
dropped a moment before by the now
prostrate giant, awaited their on
A strong, hearty voice rang out
behind him: “Jim Simpson, Theo
Blanchard, go slow; this Mr. Elliott
is a friend of mine, and when you
aim a blow at him, you will have to
reckon with ‘Yours truly’ as well.
You fellows had better look out for
your pard, High Hiram, and me
and Mr. Elliott will look after this
lieutenant.” A brawny young fel
low with sleeves rolled up to the
elbow, and wearing a mechanic’s
apron, had come around the corner
and, sizing up the situation at a
glance, had planted himself beside
Elliott and uttered this determined
warning. Phil recognized in this
KATE QARLAND. Edltresr.
Price 10 cts- $1 per Year
timely reinforcement one Steve Meri
wether, son of his overseer and withal
a sturdy friend, who had left the
farm the summer before to learn
his trade in the city.
He was apparently well known to
the two men confronting Elliott. One
of these laughed good naturedly.
“All right, Steve,” he said, “I reckon
we have had enough fighting for one
day, anyhow. Big Hi alius was a
little speedy, and he was all worked
up over the death of Tim, who was
shot down by the Yankees before his
face. I am sorry we got into this
trouble with your friend. But,” he
added, dryly, “he seems well enough
able to take keer of hisself!”
The speaker and his friend pro
ceeded to look after the now reviving
Hiram, while Phil and Steve pro
cured an ambulance and soon had
Hancock fixed as comfortably as pos
sible at the hospital.
The young Lieutenant, still weak,
but improving, grasped Phil’s hand
as the latter was leaving. “You have
saved my life at the risk of your
own,” he said, simply. "I shall not
forget it. I heard your pledge to
your assailants, and shall hold my
self in all good faith your prisoner,
The Marylander made as light of
it as he could. “I can’t really say
how much danger either of us was
in,” he said. “I am glad we pulled
through together, thanks to the
timely arrival of my friend, Mr. Meri
wether, who has already taken his
departure. I hope you will be all
right again in a day or two, Lieuten
ant. And you need not regard your
self my prisoner, only for the next
sixty minutes. I shall turn you over
to Mayor Brown, immediately upon
Phil was as good as his word, and
it may be added that, after several
days’ sojourn at the Baltimore hos
pital, Lieutenant Hancock rejoined
his command at Washington.
Marshal Kane had done his duty
like a man in assisting Mayor Brown
to protect the Northern troops in
their passage through the mass of
infuriated citizens. But he had no
desire for a repetition of the disa
greeable duty, and that evening
Bradley Johnson, at Frederick, re
ceived by wire this stirring appeal
“Streets red with Maryland blood. .
Send expresses over the mountains of
Maryland and Virginia for the rifle
men to come without delay. Fresh
hordes will be down on us tomorrow.
We will fight them, and whip them
And with it came this telegram
from Phil Elliott, Johnson’s faithful
watcher in the City of Monuments:
“The spirit of ’Seventy-six is abroad
against the invaders. Now, if ever,
is the time to strike for Baltimore’s
and for Maryland’s deliverance. The
people are aroused, but we need your
help and leadership.”
Bradley T. Johnson was nothing
if not a man of action. Since hi»
return from the futile March con
ference in Baltimore, he had been
busy preparing for the inevitable by
organizing companies of minute men,
prepared to resist the impending tide
of invasion by every practicable
means. Now he was prompt to re
spond to the call from Maryland’s
queen city. Early on the morning
of April 20th, his Frederick com
pany was assembled and, taking
possession of a train on the Balti
more and Ohio railroad, by eleven
o’clock the men were marching down
Baltimore street to Monument
Square, the first of the reinforce
ments pouring in from the adjacent
counties —some even by water from
the Eastern Shore.
On this same day an appropriation