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VOLUME XXVI.
Ins. M. DWIXELL,
Proprietor.
. i n v krtisements.
r.; ■ u • , inrotors. Electors c
‘ Cl j i, v law to be held o
are requ* nlout h, between th
fartdJJ. orcnoo n ami three in tl
li.i^^VrtHons.in.he
tvs. at - tv is situated.
W 1 n., nroi ,c ^.■ , mu st be given
county in
pub-
must
gaz-
:tate,
of personal property
„cr. through a public
i ....cile day.
rj;", „ n ,! Creditors of an c:
til Java. ,
•*F ul ’ *.,!icutions will be made to
k-tKP’f'. far leave to sell land
by.lrliasc 1 ‘ , h3 _
«*f Administration, ~
r 'V.at be publishod 30 days
I ration, three months
‘ s :ralJ f A ‘ Guardianship. 40 lays.
r f lire oloseurc of Mortgages mu
for for four months—for -
•i>- : m ^ er s*' f„ r the full space of tl.
: ' ' 1 , lling titles Irom Executors
.f.irce^PJ, ^ r ®, joa j j ia3 been giv
: Y fo; t 'h-fu’' 1 ?P :l = e of three rr"
:il always be continued
t l ° r V .‘..j requirements, unless
the
must be
Guar
three
i or
„ by
months,
accord-
oth
RATES.
E 1rv0 f ten lines or less S3 1
Https''6 'ia.-les. per levy, 5
3;
f.rlettc'S'd Guardianship- -1
.nliMti'.n for dismission from
, .it upP" u .. 0 i
fro “ 6 ,
...,p f t ll -r f sa.l C,uh.o 5 ,
, u ,l, per o , ,
; "Y"V-... : -i '
e. per square,
rife, (in achan
.... 4
e) 10
OS it NOVF.I-.
CHAP- XXVIII.
VI- >•.A*S WEIiMNO.
|, (i more days were pleasantly spent
T«- *t, n. when the time came for
threader. Hiram and Viola to return
1 ‘ ** .Mi.*? Wall 'll accompanied them as
V--^ York t} assist Viola in the
r. 00 an( i arrangement of her trousseau.
ci: was agreed that Miss Walton
; i;.-,vv.ii with Wiuthrop when he
l'airficld alter Viola, aud she was
do uf the bride’s maids.
,ly want three Miss Walton, you
Ljjgj Km:ua Kustace, and Miss Carrie
,1said Viola with a charming little
to! the great iuiportaucc of the affair.
Kuldbc glad tha r you could "O on
.. hut no; it is best that )ou should
take care of po *r Hob. the poor fel-
IxiH be so i iiic-oUiC when we go. See
isolate he looks even now, you
.roue cate ot him Miss Walton,'
l coaiiaacd with a serio-ludicrous cx-
|\; c * Walton laughed and promised to
• 1 care of Hob, and bring him on
oiailly to the 3d day of August.
File important matter of the trousseau bc-
.•iriitu'od. the materials selected, Viola’s
•::r.lull, well formed figure measured iu
b conceivable direction known to the
|Binary, and a check to settle the bills
pi by Hiram to be filled at Miss Wai
fs pleasure, who was to bring the duck
^se?. love of bonnets rtc. etc., when
came on. the party seperated. Win-
; joking disconsolately as fiir down
lira?his eye could reach at the fading
Jizes of the Norfolk Steamer, aud Viola
T-ng back kisses from the rosy tips of
'fibers as long as a spire of the city
.j Ic seen.
i;Norfolk they rested a lew days, Viola
ing amid the rose? of the villa like
j bird shut in by an April shower,
Iked by the sunshine, yet scarcely fa-
t. and charmed by the beams that were
[ready to burst out again,
brain /Talked the grounds with a quiet
l:-g of repose and lasitude. The patent
j nobility so far as human authority
I confer such a patent was now in his
Vr.the degree of* L.L. D. worthly earned
I Honorably bestowed was his, and he now
dupon the verge of active life, armed
|iready to commence its hard struggle.
4 now iu the interim between his readi
ed hi-; action his mind was relaxed
I-all thoughts of study or care, and in
airs of his lordly home he drank a
? sense ot ease, a seusc so calm and
that he was reluctant to quit it,
once in his life he became so selfish
’iuk from the impatience of V iola,
: --ry on, that all might be ready for the
huttl 3rd.
I.lodeclare Hiram, you arc down right
-ib,’ said Viola half pettishly, in reply
protestation that she was a provo-
:case.
-ail you think about is your weddin
gr. I dare say tl at Winthrop is not
often thought of, as the diamonds
spect to sparkle iu your hair/ he an-
with a snap.
•Vi why should not I. The dress I
^ar but once, and liobert T can have
time. So Mr. J j. L D., there i3 a
•ssopfcy in my vanity/ she laughed,
--r heart was too full of loving sun-
to pet long.
I wish it was over, and I could
d my days in peace/ he said,
es and become an old bachelor mis-
r5 p. all black with the dust of old
aud rusty with the vinegar of self-
I think I see you now, as you go
;png about your premises with no com-
l 'xsavean ugly stump tail cur snarlt lg
“Hproval while you throw dirl at the
*ittle boys who are peeping at you
-y' the fence. Fie Iliram, you are
"*•; 3 better fate/ she answered with a
• r ‘d 1 too can sec in the future, nod
Wiuthrop with : n anxious care
•'oce aud tangled hair, with one of
7;V C little dirty faced carroty head-
' A '■ 'p sprawled across her lap, and
-.“psnV'nsr him for playing in the gut
- answered with a vicn of his old
" ,r Murniug.
Utrthat than wasting your life upon
1 l l| w! cur.’ >he said.
ic --c me, I prefer the cur,’ he retort-
'■ fft 'h that all depends upon ones na-
• ut I mas. confess that I had a better
/ l0 ° Vein instincts,’ she answered
-t e least possible bit of vinegar.
as lie said.
e| Haai [dad that you can look your
cheerfully in the face, and I sup-
l u >ast reserve my surliness
, - st aaip tailed eur, and set about
to Ptepare you for the altar.’
°.j l * lat is more like yourself lliratu,’
( .' rputting him on the check. ‘And
*iil t It s P an * £ that bad little bay,
i«i,. r m lhat be must never again
J s “J 1 at poor uncle Iliram.’
5, 60 l “ e natter was settled, and Hi-
3' !e delicious quiet of bis
Attest rvl" t *' e P rc P er ation and ex-
w 0 ' 10 ' a s wedding, and two days
* dost j r i C a " t ' lree whirling through
of the piny woods of
ifairfinM 1 ? 1 00 tkeir way to the dear
Mr \ • hoiEe '
te M ‘l dd!et °? ^l u ="leion went into
1 over the radiant looks of Viola,
it.-55 ief k it '■ ;
“WISDOM, JUSTICE AND MODERATION.
ROME, GA., FRIDAY MORNING. DEC. 1, 1871.
NEW SERIES-NO. 13.
declaring that she had . never before ap
peared so pretty, while Viola blessed her
for a dear good nrima. the best mama in
all the world.
And then Viola had to tell her of all
that had been seen, said or done, wind
ing np with a beaming panegyric upon the
sweetness and goodness of Hubert’s mother,
whom she already loved next to her own
dear mama. And then the wedding was
discussed.
'Only think mama,’ she said, ‘the time
is so short, only a lew short weeks. I do
not want a grand wedding. I prefer a sim
ple private affair; of course I want to lot. k
very fine, very nice, and very pretty, all
for dear Robert’s sake, but I do not want a
grand display, 1 feel that too much glitter
is a mockery, and liapp ness cannot be
bought with such a pageant.’
‘You must have it as you like Viola,’
answered the mother as her heart sunk at
the thought of parting from her iarlio"
baby.
‘Then mother we will only have a few
dear fri nds, we have already arranged
my bride’s maids. Miss Walton is coming
with Robert. She will wait with Iliram,
Miss Emuia Eustace, vvi'll Mr. Hollins,
and Miss Carrie Yosnge with a College
friend of Robert and Iliram, a Mr. Col
bert. Ilad’nt 1 better write to Miss Em
ma at once, and ask her and Miss Cariie
to come and see me, aud lei us make all
the arrangements. I have not said a word
to her yet about it, but I know that she
will not deny my request.’ Ail this the
aitle.-s girl rattled off without pausing for
hicath, and ouly stopped beeause her lungs
could hold out no longer.
•Yes you should certainly apprise Miss
Emma of your wishes as early as possible,’
answered ‘lie mother.
•Well I will go at once, and write; look
here mama, what a dear good thoughtful
fellow Iliram is, he has the wedding cards
already printed, had it done in New York,
are they not pretty. I will send Miss Em-
mu handful to distribute among her
friends.’
And then Viola sat down and wrote.
Home Ac.pin, July 16th.
Mj Dear Miss Emma ; Papa can stand
me no longer, so he har given me away to
a horrid old Yankee, who will be here on
the 3d proximo to tie me and carry me away.
Will you he so good as to support me on
that occasion. You and Mr. John Hollins.
I shall expect Miss Carrie Younge, and a
Mr. C ilhert from Alabama to assist also,
d Miss Kate Walton of Connecticut
will also he presett, to sec that the knot
is secuicly fastened. It is a horrid e-ii-
piracy, but you know what an innocent lit-
tie lamb I am. and cannot help utyself.
I send you a hand full of ear 's which I
beg you to distribute with n:y very best
compliments to such of your friends as you
would like to .-eo present.
It will net he a very gland affair, hut. 1
i alia flutter with ilio thought, and uni ss
you eati attend mo. I greatly fear tint I
could not possibly go through with it.
Please come to see me at once, and say
that you will help me,
Your loving Viola.
P. S. As I am no v an interesting young
lady, I suppose that i must put on any
manner of sober air«. and this is why I had
to write this note instead of running over
to see you in person. Please come, /
Viola.
Here Jake,’ she called after she had
scaled and directed the note, ‘carry this
over to Miss Emma Eustace, Hop, skip,
jump, fly, you villiau you,’ she cr.ed, im
itating good old father Wcetnes in his
little episode oi Sergeant McDonald and
the Tory.
Jake did not jump, nor skip, nor run,
hut he lost no time on the way, aud as he
handed the note to Nettie he said.
Y'oung Miss Viola,and Mass IPram and
ole Miss Lavender hab got back, an Miss
Viola is looking ever so pretty, and Mass
Iliram is looking monstrus well too, only
I heare Miss Viola and ole Missa talkcn,
and they did say that he has a dubUe ell de,
but what dc debble a duhble ell de is, I
don’t knows.
Poor Mass Iliram, 1 alleis fcard dat
some bad disease would take him off, re
plied the sympathising Nettie, ‘you jis
wait in the kitchen Jake fur an answer.’
Emma reeieved the note with a glad ex
pectation. She had heard of their return,
and was anxious to hear directly from
Viola. She hastily opened the envelope,
and as the wedding cards fell in her lap,
she started w ith an uneasy surprise, one
glance sent the blood hounding like a tur
bulent flood through her veins.
Mr. anti Mns. Midt.leton- Meogleton,
At home Tuesday August, 3rd,
85 P. M„
and en its complement,
Mr. Robert Wintiirop,
Miss Viola MuGGLEroN.
This she read with a glisting eye, and
then with a cry of glad relief, sue ran to
her mothers room.
*Ob mother’ she cried,‘at last at last-.’
‘Why Emma my child, what has happen
ed,’ said the mother inamaze at the strange
excitement of her daughter.
‘See hero, Viola is to be married, hut.
not to Iliram,’ and she threw the cards in
her mothers lap, and then turned to Viola’s
note.
Never before in all her life had she
read words half so tremulous with gladness
toiler heart as the light words of Viola,
and when she had finished reading them
for tho fourth time, she arose and said.
‘I will go at once, ut ither will you tell
John to bring out the cairiage, hut no I
will ride horseback.’
A few moments sufficed for her toilet,
and Emma was excitedly cantering down
the park.
Viola received her with any number of
little 1'eniiuine uh’s and uiy’s; interluded
with kisses and happy blushes, and then
the too irirls ran tc Viola’s room, airy aud
hriuht in the Summer as it was cosy aud
warm in the Winter.
‘And Viola, you are realy goiug to be
married,’ asked Emma, all impatient *.o
solve the mystery of her own fate.
‘Hush Miss Emma, dou’t speak of it, ;t is
too bad,’ blushingly said Viola.
‘And I wish you very great joy Vitla,’
continued Emma.
‘Oh, I am happy in hope, you cannot
imagine how happy I am,’ replied Viola,
the buhl ng love in her heart. over
coming the shyness of her maidenly-
nature.
•I am glad to know it,’ and now Viola,
tell me of Hiram, of Mr. Lavender,
I mean’ said Emma confused with her
eagerness to know that which lay dearest
to her soul.
‘Oh Hiram has become as cold and as
hard as a Greenland Bear, ho has been
amoog those old Putitans so long that he
actually talks through his nose, and I am
afraid to practice the least bit of witchery,
fur fear that he would have me burnt at
once for a witch. I really think Miss Em
ma, that you will have to take him in band
again, for ever since you—you”—but here
the little chatterbox perceived her mistake,
and had to break down in blushing con
fusion.
Emma perceived her .embarrassment, aud
she answered softly.
‘Go on Viola. I am perhaps more deeply
interested than you think, ever since I did
what—
Viola gathered courage from the soft
voice, and she perceived that Emma was in
earnest, so she continued.
"Ever since you discarded him he has not
been himself at all.’
Emma's emotions could scarcely he
controlled, but «ith a desperate effort the
c-hoked it hack and said.
‘And do you know Viola why I dis-dts
discarded him.’
Oh no, I only thought it very cruel in
you to do so, anddiduot love to think about
it,’ answered Viola.
V iola it was far your sake I did it, Em
ma said.
‘For my sake Miss Emma you surprise
me, what had 1 done,’ almost sobbed
Viola.
It was Emma’s turn now to he surprised,
and the surprise was a tremulous, almost
sickning one.
‘Did you never love him Viola.’ She
stammered.
‘Yes’ I loved him as l love him
now, as a dear good brother, one that 1
could die for, hut not as a lover, not to
marry,’ auswered Viola in a voice full of its
tender earnest feeling.
‘And you were never engaged to be mar
ried to him, asked Emma, with a thick
ening voice.
•Never.’
‘Then I have been the victim of a terrible
mistake, a fatal delusion, aud have done
you Viola, and Hiram, a great wrong,’
answered Emma, and then her voice was
choked with a heart burst of sobs.
The tears of Viola were ready to flow in
sympathy, and drawing close to the weep
ing girl she laid ner beau upon hcrshoulder
and wept a-' freely.
At length lie weeping hushed, and their
hearts felt all the better for it, aud then
Emma said.
‘It is a gladuess to know, that cruelly as
I have bccu imposed upon by others, aod
by false appearances, Iliram was at least
true.’
•Yes Miss Emma, Iliram loved you with
all the truth of his manly heart,’ answered
Viola, and then she continued. ‘And it
may he that cold and hard as his uature
now seems, and sadly altered as he is, that
he can again love you Miss Emma.
•No I may u it hope for that, it is joy
enough to feel, to kuow, that my own loud
heart was not deceived, that the love for
which I gave my soul was a true and
honest love, and that it was lost through
my own act, rather than his unworthiuess,
answered Emma, feeling a great gladness
suffusing her being.
‘Then von do rot love him still Mtss
Emma,’ Viola asked in a demure soit of
tone. Emma blushed scarlet, and her voice
was excited as she answered.*
‘I have been tried by a teriibb ordeal,
Viola, and have learned to subdue my
feelings, I cannot permit them to sway my
sense of duty.’
Vida thought this expression a very
cold one, and she was silent for a moment,
and then she said, as if speaking to her
self.
■I cannot endure for Hiram to marry
Miss Walton.’
Gone iu a morneut was Emma’s boasted
self discipline, as impotent to control the
feelings ot lief soul, as a dam of bullrushes
to shut back the waters of the Gulf-
stream.
‘Marry Miss Walton, my God, my God,’
was the wailing cry that hurst from her
lips.
Viola was touched by her emotions, and
she stoiped to console her.
‘Is it so terrible, Miss Emma. I fell that
way myself, it would grieve me so much for
him to do it.’
Emma with an effort rallied, and then
she asked.
‘Does he contemplate this.’
‘I fear that he does, I do not beleive that
lie loves her I know that he does not love
her as lie loved you, but her’s is the only
society lie appears to enjoy, and Miss Em
ma, site is a splcudid woman, a wonder of
intelligence, and her tastes arc so refined,
and her manners so ellegaut, and withal),
I beleive that she loves him.’ This Viola
answered, not knowiog that each word was
as a two edged swotd, cutting deep into tile
heart of the listener.
‘Robert is quite proud of her, and is
anxious to encourage Hiram's attachment,’
she continued,’ aud she will soon be here,
and you can then see her, she is wonderfully
like you Miss Emma.
Emma listened to this with a slight shud
der, but she could not repily, and Viola
coutinued.
‘I snmtimcs think that it is this resetn-
blonco to you Miss Emma that is attracting
Iliram, her manners are like yours too, only
she does not seem so much like a Queen,
but for all that, I cannot reeoncile my
thoughts to the idea of Hiram marrying
her.’
Emma shook off the weakness of her
feelings, and raising her head she said.
•Oh; well Viola, we must not talk about
it, it is wrong to interfere in others affairs,
come tell me all about your own self, and
about your plans.
And then Viola launched out into quite
a little ocean of pleasant details, includ
ing of course the wonderful dresses, bon
nets. gloves, boots, slippers, etc. etc., that
Miss Walton was to bring on, when she
came.
When she had Guislied more for want of
breath than of ideas, Emma said.
Well Viola, I am glad to see you so happy,
and I willdo all I cm to assist you, and now I
Aust go tack, only you must let me kuow
when you want anything.
‘Well then I will tell you now what I
want, I want you to comeback in the morn-
ini’; and to stay with me all the time, until-
until—hut a happy blush had to suffice for,
a wheu—-You can arrange your dresses
here, and I will bo eo lonely without you,
lor I cud not be seen now by profane eyes,
even Hiram is so shy of me that I do not
expect to see him again untill Miss Kate
comes.’
Emma promised to come, and then with
a heart not knowing whether to laugh or to
cry, she galloped back home.
The few weeks glided swiftly by, and in
their cloistered"seclusion, the busy fingers
of the girls kept time to the busy rattle of
Viola’s tungue. The happy day came at
last, preceded by the no less joyful arrival
of Robert Winthrop and Miss Kate Wal-
ton, not to mention the large trunks all
bursting with the wonderful etes.
Miss Walton remained the guestof Viola,
while Winthrop after an hours delicious
billing and cooing, tore himself away, and
with a hippy heart, sought the society of
Iliram, where he found George Colbert, as
jovial and kind as ever.
The wedding was a reciter die affair, bnt as
we have no taste for 6uch description, we
will refer the reader to some modern Jenk-
ins for a full detail of all the particnlars,
only saying this much that no prettier
hride ever trembled with enaffible hap
piness before tile a’lar, and no pr.’UileE
truer husband ever responded with i richer
deeper sense of joy to the impressive
ceremonies of the Episcopal marriage- ritual.’
The bride’s maid’s were resplendent in
their beauty, the wonderful resemblance
between Emma and Miss Walton, ftriking
all beholders with a pleasant force.
The walks and grounds of Stella-Aiden
were brilliantly lighted up, lights blue and
red and green twinkled, amid the leaves of
the trees, and from the windows.
After the ceremony had ended, and the
customary kissing aud crying "had been
performed, the large parlor was cleared, and
the social route began.
The dance was as merry and fairy like as
ever, hut somehow or other, the bewitch
ing grace of hie partner did not nearly so
confuse his brain as it had done under the
brilliant light of Mrs. Winthrop’s chan
deliers. It may have been that the proud
sweep of Emma Eustace’s grace, divided
the charm, and flitting from one to the
other, the thoughts of Hiram ciuld not
rest long enough to become enthused with
either.
Be this as it may, when he lead Miss
Walton out into the fresh coo! air, it was to
inhale its refreshing breath and to cool his
flushed brow, rather than toreleive the tur
bulent bcatiug of his heart by breathing
into her ear the sweeter breath oflove.
‘A stroll in the fresh air is much pleas-
anter than the crowded room, he said.
‘Y’es,’ she replied, your Southern even
ings are so cool and pleasant, I had not ex
pected to find them so.’
And there followed a rather drv and
awkward dessertation upon the weather,
interupted at least by Hiram who said.
‘I fear Miss Walton that my selfishness
has betrayed me in o an unpardonable
rudeness. I should not, seek to monopolize
so much of your society, let us return, my
friend Mr. Colbert of Alabama, is very
auxious to make your better acquaintance,
may I present him.’
‘Oh yes certiinly,’ she answered rathir
dryly, and they returned to the room.
Mr. Colbert was impatiently waiting their
return, and eagerly engaged her hand for
the next Set.
Mr. John Hollins had after the first set,
relinquished Emma to her own self, ah 2 de
ciariug that ihe warmth was too oppresive
to dance, aud was now leading Miss Carrie
m ige to the floor.
li iram was without a partner, aud wl at
was consoling to the bereavement was with
out the slightest inclination to dance at all.
He gazed for a moment upon the wavy
mass of beauty and grace, aud then with a
little sigh, but for what he could not tell,
he turned irom the room and vr liked out
into the porch.
Here he found a group of his.old young
friends, and soon in the vemiueseeuse of
their old senool boy days lie forgot the gav-
eties that were sparkling within. The
hours tripped as lightly by, as tripped the
merry dancers, and ere few had thought it
so late the chime of the great hall clock
rung out the hour ol 12.
Supper was now anounced, and the par
ty was led to the long dining room by tho
bridal party. Winthrop aud Vio'a in ad
vance, Colbert and Miss Younge next, Hol
lins and Emma next, and Iliram and Miss
Walton next.
On the table was spread the bridal
presents, presenting quite a handsome dis
play. A splendid silver tea set, bearing
the uionogramc of V. W., was the offoriug of
Mrs. Winthrop. A case of jewelry from
Mr. Winthrop; hooks, pictures, and other
valuable and grateful tributes were pro
fuse. A small rose wood writing ease with
the card of Hiram was seemingly the least
valuable of all, and yet Viola whispered to
Emma as they gathered around the table.
‘See that is just like Iliram, simple hut
useful. I would not give it for all the
ballance.’
‘Le’ me open it,’ said Emma, and she
applied the little key and the case flew
open.
A package of grim red ruled paper hear
ing great red. star shaped, seals caught their
eyes, and Viola with a little wonder, what il
all meant, reached out her hand for it.
The little wonder increased to a stupe
fying amaze, as the papers one by oue,
were glanced at and laid down, and when
she had put down the last, she turned
an inquiring glance to Hiram.
‘Those are deeds, and conveyances of
the Walnut Hi!! plantation together with
the negroes, stock, and appurtenances be
longing thereto.’ he said.
And so in fact they were amounting iu
value to the sum of two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars. So the grim red sealed
papers said in the plainest matter of fact
words, clinched and confirmed by the
usual wiidernessof whereases, aforesaids and
therefores.
Viola’s senses reeled for a moment as the
magnitude of the matter gradually opened
upon her, and then with a sudden burst of
feeling, all forgetful of propriety, she
threw her arms around Hiram’s neck aud
sobbed.
‘Oh Iliram, my dear, generous,good boy,
you must not do this, it is too much, you
are too generous, I cannot accept it.’
Hiram was not altogether oblivious ‘o
propriety, hut be could not resist the im
pulse to stoop his own. to the lips of the
beautiful bride, and impress upon their
coral ripeness a thrilling kiss, for which he
quickly atoned by quietly releasing the fair
rounded arms from his neck, and handing
her back to Winthrop, as he said.
‘No Viola, you must not thus reject my
present; scorn my gift.’
‘Oh I do not seorn it, I appreciate it
ever so g*ratefull ', but it is too great, I
may not take it,’ she said with a pleading
tone.
‘I offer it Viola as a brother’s, sincere of
fering, please accept it,’ he answered,
‘there now, you are a dear good girl,’ he
continued, as he replaced the papers in the
box, and turning the key, he put it in her
hand.
A devoute grace wa3 said, and thesplen-
did supper was attacked, and how the re
sistless profusion of good things was vanquish
ed and vanished, we leave the. reader if he
has ever danced until 12 o’clock without
supper, to imagine.
After supper the dance was renewed,
and the
‘AVe sma boars ayant tho iwal/
were made merry w ith its snatches of glad*
ness -
Iliram danced once with Emma, and
every time his hand touched hers an elec
tric thrill went shouting through his brain.
Bnt it was notaturbulentbumpinglike that
which so drunkenly confused him at Mrs.
Winthrop’s, but rather a sweet soft some
thing, an cscence rather than a presence,
an echo rather than a note.
But after awhile the dancing ceased, the
company dispersed, the lights grow dim,
and the silence of night fell upon the
scene.
Of course the next day Winthrop and
Viola had do life, nojoy, no thooghtexeeptin
each others presence. George Colbert- was
not so i ntirely absorbed, bathe thought
often aod pleasantly of the splendid beauty
*md grace ot Miss Kate Walton, but as-fbr
Hir i m he spent almost the entire day in
►sleeping c-ff the nights excitement.
And then the next again, Viola was to
leave her dear dear old home, and go out
in the world hand in hand with Win-
thrup. No not ont in the worlJ, bat to
his own proud, but warm and loviig home
tc be to it a perpetual joy, and a well
spring of gladuess.
they were to take a little brill tl tonr
up through the West and back to the East
by the lakes. Miss Walton was to go with
them, aud George Colbert asked her with
a slight anxiousness, if he too might
And to this deffereutial request Miss
Kate Walton graciously returned a smil
ing ‘yes’.
Hiram had no sentiment for such dusty
travel, and preferred the quiet shades and
cooling ai:s of Lavender Cottage to all the
whizzing and whistlings of the trains ortho
boats.
llisbc-st wishes went with them though,
and he held Viola long and closely to his
heart as he hid iier adieu, at the depot.
And then the train whizzed away and
soon he could see no more, the flutter of
Viola’s handkerchief as she waved it from
the coach window and heturned sadly away
‘Wy hello Iliram, old feller howdy you
do,’ gladly hailed Mr. Thomas Hoggins as
he caught his hand and held it with the
grip ot a vise.
‘Very well Mr. Hoggins, well I thank
you,’he answered.
‘And I spose yon let that Yankee cut
you out of that, pretty little kitty puss, after
all,’ said Mr. Thomas Hoggins.
‘Oil yes, I had to give her np, but he : s a
capital fellow alter all Mr. Hoggins,’ Hi
ram answered.
•Oh I don’t know, I was so allfired ont
with myself for letting that old Bnmbustus
Fuzee get off without punching his nose
that I can’t bear the thought of a Yankee
since-.’
There is a great difference between
them Mr. Hoggins, this Mr. Winthrop is
quite a gentleman, and Ian sure that Viola
will he happy.’
‘Well I hope so, for she is the gladest
hearted little kitty puss in all the world,’
said Mr. Thomas Hoggins.
‘And what ever become cf old Frazoe,’
Mr. Thomas nogginsasked,after a minutes
pause.
‘Oh I know nothing of hiat,’ answered
Hiram.
‘Tliats a fact shore, I liked to forget,
but didn’t ho come in a gnats lieelof getting
old Eustace’s, gal,’ continued Mr. Thomas
lioggiu3.
Hiram’s brow lowered, aud Ills eve flash
ed.
‘Y'ou must nut sneak of Miss Eustace in
that connection,’ he said.
‘Tliats a fact, I oughl’ut to, least wise as
you do not like it,’ answered Mr. Thomas
Hoggins in a slightly embarrassed tone
Sol beg your pardon Hiram, for I for
got that you were once leaning in that di
rection,’ he continued.
You ysill please make no allusion to her
at all,’ said Iliram.
‘Is that a fact, well I reckon that I had
better hush my mouth altogether hey,’
sharply spoke Mr. Thomas Hoggins, with
his nose punching proclivities slightly
aroused.
‘Perhaps it would be best,’ quietly an
swered iliram, who was io no humor for
gossip.
‘Tliats a fact, thats so, I had better
hush my mouth, and how would you like lo
have your own month hushed with a chunk
of lightning about the size of my fist,’
said Mr. Thomas Hoggins, with a cloud
gathering on his brow, dark enough to
supply any amount of lightning.
Iliram looked at the gathering brow for
an instant, and then a sense of the ludi
crous overcame him and he laughed.
‘Oh that would not be at all pleasant.
‘Tliats a fact, and for that reason you
had better be particular wlioes elses mouth
you want shut,’ said Mr. Thomas Hog
gins.
‘Well then Mr. Hoggins I beg your par
don, but you must not realy talk so lightly
about Miss Eustace, she is a lady, remem
ber.’
Thats a tact, and I am sorry! said it,
hut then Major Thompson has been telling
it so much that I "thought you wouldn’t
mind it,’ answered Mr. Thomas Hoggins,
considerably mollified by the laughing tone
of Hiram’s voice.
‘Major Thompson is an impertinent fel
low, and you ought not to notice him,’
said Hiram.
‘Thats a fact, shore, and I doubt very
much if he didn’t tela lie from thebe-
ginning, even if Miss Dcbby did say too
that you done il,’ continued Mr. Thomas
Hoggins.
‘I did what,’ asked Iliram betrayed by
liis surprise into a curiosity.
‘Oh haiut you heard it, that you we-1
it spoony on both gals at once, Miss Viola
and Miss Eustace,’ answered Mr. Thomas
Hoggins.
‘I do not understand yon,’ said Iliram
in sad perplexity whether to listen further
to the fellow, or to silence him.
‘Oh be and Miss Debby tells it that they
heard yon mrking love to one, the little
kitty puss one day at the old mill, and
then the next day at the picnic, they
heard y -u going it agin to the tothcr,
Miss Eustace, and then when Miss Emma
heard it, she gave yon yonr walking pa
pers and pitched into old Bnmbnstns Fuzee.
an thats all I know about the fight,’ an
swered Mr. Thomas Hoggins quite well
satisfied with the extent of hio knowledge.
‘And that is quite enough sorely, good
morning Mr. Hoggins,’ said Hiram turn
ing away mid walling hastily home
ward.
‘Yes my dear old home, I love thee,’
ho said as he paused in the little piazza,
that shaded his mothers door, ‘bnrnble and
lowly as youare, I would not give you for
all the splendors of my Norfolk Villa.’
•Iam glad to hear you speak so my son,’
said his mother who liad unpcceived step
ped to his side, and you are content to
Btill live here.’
Yes mother this is my home, und now
we can be happy with each other. I am
really glad to be at home again, this time
to stay,’ he answered.
‘You need rest Hiram, you have studied
too hard,’ said his mother with a mother’s
sweet solicitude.
‘Oh uo, a few days will set me all right,
aud tbeu I will be ready for business,
come now mother aud play me one of your
old tunes again, something to make me a
boy again.’
And the mother went in and with a
touch unenervated by age, she played some
of the old tunes which used to so gladden
his boyish ears.
‘Come mother,’ he said that afternoon,
‘we will try onr new horses and the phae
ton, it will be an exercise quite pleasant
to yon I know.’
‘Yes a luxury Hiram that I never
dreamed of ever enjoying again,’she said.
The new phaeton was an‘ elegant one,
and the Uorse3 ’ere perfect beauties, such
as eus. noble President would have given
at least a collcetorship for, and they be
haved themselves splendidly, and the drive
was so delig -tful line Mrs. Lavender was
impatient to icpeat it again t.i-;uo:row.
Only we must drive by aa i take Airs.
Maggie!on in, Hiram. »e must not forget
her in her loneliness.
And th y drove by and t>-ok Mrs. Mid
dleton Muggleton in, and the drive was all
the more pleasant for tlie accession, and
evening after evening the lrive was re
peated, with a fresh glow of health and en
joyment brightening their cheeks upon
every return.
Hiram’s mornings were spent in his li
brary, which he had enlarg d by the addi
tion o! a number of rare and elegant works,
inelu-iug a complete library cflaw.
The rpeuing of the fall courts engaged
his earnest attention for although he had
not yet opened an office and formaly enter
ed the pnfession.he determined to attend
the courts and watch their proceedings with
a vigilant eye.
Ho entered no society, and save an occa
sional drive with Miss Carie Younge, he
was never to be seen in the preseuco o!
ladies, save that of Mrs. Middleton Mug-
gl 'ten a.id his mother.
It was November before the fail circuit
was comnlcted, and lie returned to the seclu
sion of his cottage home.
It was a soft bal uy evening, the loveliest
of all Indian Summer, and the next after
his return from Laurence, Hiram and his
mother were sitting in the parlor, Iliram
reading Keat’s Endymion, and Mrs Laven
der busily knitting.
‘Misses’ said Dolly, dars Miss Eustace
and Miss Emma at do gate.’
‘Oh well, Hiram go meet them,’ said the
widow, with a little flutter.
Iliram arose with a flash of confusion,
it was the first time that he had seen Em
ma since Viola’s wedding, and the studied
manner in which he had held In inseit aloof,
was now unpleasantly remembered. He
gathered composure however, and walked'
lorward to meet then:.
Tho confusion of Mrs. Eustace, as well
as Emma, showed him very plainly t.iat he
was not expected to be at home, but they
had too much breeding to show any sign of
annoyance,and his greetings were pleasantly
reciprocated.
Y’ou have become such a stranger Mr.
Lavender, that one may not expect to meet
you at home, aud this surprise is quite a
pleasure to me,’said Mrs. Eustace, as she
entered the room.
Thank y iu Mrs. Eustace, I hope to be
more at home in future,’ lie answered some
what awkwardly.
Then I hope that yon will allow your
friends to see more of you. I believe that
you have heretofore confined 1 ourselt too
closely at home.’ said the lady.
Yes, my mornings have been devoted to
my library, and mother has appropriated
me afternoons to driving her, which I must
confess, was quite as pleasant to myself as
it conld he to her,’ he answered, half apolc-
;eticaly.
'Your mother must not be so selfish in
future,’ smilingly answered the lady.
Oh the cold wintry evenings will soon
put an end to our drives, and then I fear
that I shall bo puzzled to know what to
do with my bear,’ answered Mrs. Lavender,
with a smile.
Oh, when he becomes so intolerable at
to be unmanagable seod him over to me, and
I can possibly keep him out of n ischief,’said
Mrs Eustace.
Mother is varying her discipline already
to guard against the outdoor deprivations,
she has had me readingall the afternoon for
her,’ answered Iliram.
Ah, that was pleasant, and what have
you been reading,’ asked the lady.
Oh quite a uiedly, the last Canto ot
Falconer’s Shipwreck, Tennysou’s Lotus
Eaters, the Ancient Mariner, Shellv’s
Adomas, which last naturally suggested
Keats, and we were on Endymion when
we were so pleasantly interupted,’ he
answered, bowing as he spoke the last.
Then put Mr. Keats and poor Eody-
mion aside, and now tell us all about your
self,’ playfully replied Mrs..Eustace. deter
mined to unbend all formality and to make
Hiram pleasant iu spite of himself.
I fear the dulness of the story could only
he equaled by the insignificance of the hero,’
he suuiiii gly answered.
Oh you must not have too exalted an
opinion of your audience,’ replied the
lady.
I should certainly have to suLIimate my
subject if I did,’ (he laughed, ) but canoot
you offer me a better subject Mrs. Eustace,
Miss Eustace please suggest some other to
your mother.’
Emma flushed, Miss Eustace sounded
harshly, and rather stiff, Miss Emma would
have appeared les3 affected if not more
polite, but she ouly sighed away down in her
heart, and a quiet smile wreathed her lips,
as she said.
It would only he fair mother to
allow Mr. Lavender ta select his own
subject.’
Yes you are rielit Eaima, so Iliram se
lect your theme, and mount the rostrum,’
aid Mrs. Eustace.
‘Realy Mrs. Eustace. I find it quite as
embarassing to choose a subject as 1 fear't
will be to discuss it after found,’ he laughed,
and I protest that it is hardly fair to im
pose the whole turden cf the discussion
upon me, you ought in defforence to the
proclivities of yonr sex to resume a share of
the speech for yourselves.’
Oh. never trouble about that, we will be
bound to have our words,’ she said laugh
ingly.
And you suggested, that I have the floor
first, as a generous measure of defence,’ he
asked.
Yes, I was auxious to see ycu protected,
and therefore gave you the advantage of a
start,’ she answered.
But it seems that I am not to start.’ You
will have to touch me off if I go.’ lie
langbcd.
Then you were reading Keats when we
came in, tell ns what ycu think of his
Lamia,’ laughingly said the lady by way
of a touch off.
Oh it is a weired slrjnge production,
blending the enchanting with the disgust
ing’ and the horrible. I hardly know
whether to admireor to .bborit,’ beanswer-
cd, and then he added. The same idea is
paten* in Coleridge’s ‘Christabel.’
'Something of the same nature, but dif
ferently combined,’ criticised Emma un
thinkingly, betrayed into the conversation.
‘Geraldine is a serpent weaving her subtle
charms, and singing her siren songs only
for hate, and to betray, while poor
Lamia, writhes in agony because she loves.
I read Lamia with a tender pity, softening
my disgust, while I read of Geraldine with
indigDant horror curdling my blood.’
‘True,’ replied Hiram, ‘but then Miss
Emma,’ be bad forgoten the formal Miss
Eustace, ‘they both woo only to destroy;
the one because she bates, the other because
she loves ’
‘And do you see no difference between
them,’ asked Emma.
‘A difference iu the e-sencc, but net in
the budy,’ he answered.
And is it not ol the essence wc onght to
jud-ae. The ut live, the moral, and not the
substance, the material, the consequence.’
Emma again asked with a more than ordi
nary interest enthusing her voice.
‘That at least would be the charitable
view to rake of the matter, but when the
consequences are death, the motives weigh
but lightly with the victim.’
‘I fear Mr Lavender, that your philoso
phy is too harsh tube u arlv just, the tender
thought that uuwittingly destroys is not so
bad as the rough arm that undesignedly
saves,’ she answered.
‘On you carry my theery too far; Lamia
impelled as she was by her Lve, well knew
that it would destroy, and though we may
pity th ■ wretched wail of the despairing
heart, yet we cannot tolerate its deliberate
though gentle purpose to seize its victim,
and suffocate it with love. Death is ail the
same whether one is smothered with roses,
or choked by a halter,’ he answered with
a grim earnestness that grated harshly
upon Emma’s feelings.
•Yes but acts themselves, to say nothing
of motives, are sometimes right and proper,
and yet they lead to unpleasant results,
are such acts to be condemned, she asked.
‘Not if innocently perpertrated, but if
done with a full knowledge of the conse
quences that must ensue, they are to be con
demned,’ he answered.
‘For instance’ she said, ‘we sometimes
cherish a friendship, and by that friend
ship are betrayed and bereaved, is such a
friendship to be deplore!.
‘Deplored hut not despised, he answeicd,
you kpow that Young has said.
“Alas how oft doth goodness wound itself,
Aud sweet atTection prove the source of bitterest
griet.”
But the affection of the Lamia was not
such, i: was a selfish affection that wooed
its idol, even though it knew it would des
troy. Sueh an aflection was unnatural, such
as we might • suppose a plague smitten
mother to feel, who would insist upon cm-
biacing her infant, with the conviction that
in the dying embrace the icy hand of death
would be clasped to theheait of her darling
as well,’
‘And you do not pity the poor Lamia,’
she asked.
‘You understand the moral of the poem,
the Lamia is that principle which,
loving, can destroy. Are we to telerate its
mischiefs because of its tender affections.
\re wc to drink a deadly poison because it
is delicious to the taste. No Miss Emma,
I think the wretched Lamia as bidions as
the lady Geraldine.
‘Then I am sorry that you think so,’
she answered with a lowering of the
voice.’
• tVby so! he asked with a little sur
prise.’
‘Because you ought to allow the love
of the poor Lamia to plead for her, she
could not res raiu her love/ answered
Emma.
‘And perhaps the lady Geraldine conld
not restrain her hatred,’ he replied, ‘hatred
they say is far more terrible than love, and
as wild and as uncontrolable, onght we not to
pity the one as well as the other.’
‘I had hardly t ought of it thus,’ she
answered with a softening of the voice,' yes
I suppose that we ought to pity them
both.
‘Of course Miss Emma,’ he said rather
thoughtfully, ‘both characters are but the
impersonation of a principle, and it is the
loveliness of the figures, rather than the
admiration of the principle that excites our
sympathy. Strip the serpent love of the
Lamia, of the beautiful form with which it
is invested and her passion softened by the
tender name of love, becomes indeed as
hidious as the elder, bnt no more danger
ous hate of the lady Geraldine.
‘Then you think that it is the beautiful
form, rather than the gentle heart, that in
spires love and pity,’ Emma asked, glanc
ing up at his face.
•It is the beautiful form certainly that
gives to a passion its power. The win
ning witching beauty of a siren is more
dangerous than the fierce strCDgthcfa
Satyr, and this poets well know, when they
always clothe their subjects with all the
charms of beauty and grace,’ he quietly
answered.
•Then to be ugly is a crime,’ she asked.
‘Not a crime but a great misfortune, a
misfortune that requires an extra amount
of human goodness to overcome, even in
childhood, the vicious little beauty is petted
and laughed at, while the little sallow faced
fright is teased and punished,’ answered
Hiram.
‘People have different ideas cf the
beautiful,’ E ama said.
‘True, hat when the bean ideal is found,
its lovely form softens tho heart, and opens
the sympathies,’ he replied.
‘I had ascribed our tender and better
feelings to a more worthy source than the
mere gratification of an artistic taste,’ said
Emma.
‘Our passions are hut human Miss Em
ma, and however disinterested we may
imagine oar impulse to be, if we will but
carefully analyse them, we will find that,
they have their springs in a secret selfish
ness, we love even goodness itself because
iu goodness we find an auxiliary to onr own
happiness,’ Hiram answered with a tone of
stiff philosophy.
‘I am sorry to see you so cynical, Hi
ram,’ said Airs. Enstace, ‘yon divest our
virtues of half their sweetness, while you
take away their sentiment.’
‘Yes 1 know, but we were discussing the
question upon philosophical principles, aud
philosophy you know has no possible toller-
anee of sentiment,’ he smilingly replied.
‘Then let us dismiss the philosophy, we
get enough of it in our sober solitude, and
onght not to let its incisive presence pene-
ttatc the circle of friendship,’ answered
Mrs. Eustace,
‘Then I must yield the floor to yon,’ be
laughed, ‘which I very readily do.’
'Oh I am in a merry enough mood surely,
but my good spirits areallahsorbant, drink
ing in without flowing out, and to attempt to
entertain others, would be only to discon
cert myself.’ she laughingly answered.
Which illnstrates the correctness of my
theory,’ Hiram laughed.
‘No, hardly,’ she answerd, ‘I am not so
selfish.as to wish to enjoy myself without
imparting a pleasure to others, but when
the ability to impart that pleasure it so very
limited, and involves the certainty of my
own embarrassment, I think that iu deffer-
ence to my friends I should refrain.’
Then Miss Emma, we most appeal to
you ?’ he said, turning to Emma.
‘As a denier retort,’ she smilingly an
swered, ‘and to show you how much I appre
ciate the compliment of beipg last, if you
trill accompany me with the violin, I trill
try what , charm music has to soothe yonr
savage breast.’
‘More poteot than the witching glitter of
the Lamia’s serpent eye,’ he said as he led
her to the piano and adjusted the music.
Hiram touched the violin with a master's
skill,and the soul of music seemed to ripple
from the beautiful fingers of Emma, as sb
ran them ovqrtho keys of the piano.
The evening was delightfully spent and
wheu the carriage rolled array from the
cottage, diratn felt as if time had been
rolled back io its flight, at least a decade,
and he was a hoy again.
Tlie Atlantic and Great Western Canal.
A memorial addressed to the Congress of
the United States, has been laid before
both Houses of tho Legislature, by oar Rep
resentatives from this city, Messrs. Hillyer
and Jackson. It asks the aid of the Gen
eral Government iu the construction of this
great National work.
This matter was brought to the atten
tion of Congress ot its last session, and a
bill prepared and passed to its third read
ing, granting certain aid from the Govern
ment to this great enterprise The bill was
referred to tho Committee on Commerce,
and the War Department was directed to
make a report upon the possibility and cost
of the work. The uecc sary surveys are
now being made, and the reports will be
ready at an early day, during the coming
session. Congress will then be prepared to
acL-
The success of the enterprise so far. has
been dne almost cntirly to the unaided
efforts of Coloael Wm. P. Price, the able
and energetic Representative from the 6tli
District, and Col. B. W. Frobel, the Super
intendent el Public Works. These gentlr-
rnen spent the greater portion of last winter
in urging the importance of this work—( s-
pccially to the West and South) —upon the
attentii ii of the Government, and have suc
ceeded as far as it was possible under the
circumstances The State is now asked to
assist them in their very important under
taking of securing the aid of ihe United
States Government.
The project ot connecting the Valley of
the Mississippi with the Atlantic is no new
thiDg. It was ally discussed during the
administration of General Washington, and
its importance, to both East and West, felt
and acknowledged by all tha great states
men, and all the great minds of theconntry
who have succeeded him. Foremost among
these was John 0. Oalhonn, who, in aDable
address, delivered at Memphis, declared
that it was a work which merited and should
receive the aid of the General Government.
Washington, too, urged its importance, and
proposed that it be built by way of the
Kanawha and James Rivers, through Vir
ginia. The State of Virginia undertook to
open this route and has built a canal over
two hundred miles in length.
But the natural obstacles in the way,
involving a tunnel some nine miles lobg,
together with the financial troubles of the
Southern States since the war, has retarded
the work and made its early completion
douLtful. But Yirgiuia has, by no means,
abandoned her great enterprise, knowing
full well tho wonderful prosperity which
the opening of such a line would bring to
her people —a prosperity only equalled by
that o.’ New York and other portions of the
North and West.
Innumerable surveys have been made,
through the Norther i and Middle States,
looking for a route lor water communication
between the Mississippi and Atlantic. The
Dominion of Canada has been invaded to
find water transportation for the vast grain
trade of the Western States, which is rapid
ly accnmulating beyond the means of ship
ment, on account of its quantity. For
this trade it is now seriously contemplated
to cut a canal from North Georgian Bay
into the Gulf of St Lawrence, at a cost of
some hundreds of millions of dollars—the
Eric canal beiDg found inadequate to the
wants ot the We3t, and altogether insuflL
cient to the trade which seeks this outlet.
Until recently, public attention has not
been directly to any point South of Vir
ginia, for a route for this great enterprise;
but the diligent investigations made by
our State Engineer, Col. B. W. Frobel, has
unfolded the fact that Georgia offers to the
United States, and the commercial world,
the shortest, safest and cheapest rente from
the great West to the Atlantic, whose cost
is insignificant compared with other routes,
or the gigantic results which it will
achieve.
A Revolution in the Provision Trade.
The Cincinnati Prices Current, under
the heading of Prevision Trade Revolution,
gives some interesting information concern
ing the growth of a new industry —the ice
curing of pork in the summer— which it
says is making “great breaches” in the old
packing trade. According to this trade
jonrnal, it may almost be said that it is no
longer necessary to salt and lay aside meat
in winter al ail. any more than at any other
season ; there being, however, a few weeks
in the heated term of summer when it is
not necessary nor desirable to handle or
use such meat. Swine are fattened more
conveniently and more economically in fall
weather, and then transportation can be
done twenty per cent, cheaper Fresh ice
cured meat is brighter, sweeter,' and sells
higher for several of the leading qualities,
than the dry, highly salted winter cured.
Ice houses have been constructed at many
Western points where packing continnes
constantly and safely all the summer. The
extra cost of cold air from ice is being rap
idly reduced, and is already costing less
than the expense of holding meat over
from winter to summer. This state of af
fairs has completely upset tho old business
by which the wealth of the pork packing
business has been required. And the ar
ticle concludes with the remark that “the
last winter’s packing stock has lately been
selling at a loss of some forty per cent.
Whether the in lifferent success which,
according to this authority, has lately at
tended what was once the greatest single
interest in Cincinnati is wholly due to ice
packing may he questioned. The Cincin
nati Enquirer contains a copy of an agree
ment entered into by the packers thsrc,
dated November 1st, in which th-y formal
ly covenant with each other “that they
will, id the purchase of gross hogs, during
the packing season of 1871 and 1872, only
weigh as merchantable bogs such os will
walk without assistance to the scales.” It
is comforting t • the’ general consumer to
know that her packers have “struck hands”
over a bargain cot to salt away any more
“broken-down or diseased” pigs,
Jefferson’s Ten Rules.
Jefferson’s ten rules are good yet, especi
ally so for those who have the training of
the pupils io our public schools. They arc
so short and concise, and embody so much
of valae, that it would be well if they were
clipped and pnt where we could see them
often. They read ns follows:
1. Never pat off till tomorrow what you
can do to-day.
2. Never trouble another for what you
can do yourself.
3. Never spend your money before you
have it.
4. Never buy what you do not Want be
cause it is cheap.
5. Pride costs more than hunger, thirst,
and cold.
6. IVe seldom repent of haviog eaten too’
little.
7. Nothing is troublesome that we do"
willingly.
8. How much pain the evils have cost us
that have never happened.
9. Take things always, by the smooth
liar die.
10. When angry, count ten before ycu
speak; if very augry, connt a hundred.
The scent, of flowers dees not travel '
against the wind, nor that of sandal-wood
or of a bottle of Tagara oil; but the odor
of good people travels even against the"
wind; a good man pervades every place.