Newspaper Page Text
(Elberton §usuu#s Cavil,i
,J. A. WHEN,
PHOTOGRAPHIC ARTIST
Has located fora short time at
DR. EDMUNDS’ GALLERY,
ELBERTON. GA.
BRRR ' s prepared to execute every class
* V of work iq his line to the satisfac
tion of all who bestow their patronage. Confi
dent of his ability to please, he cordially iuvites
a test of his skill, with the guarantee that if he
does net pass a critical inspection it need not be
takes mch24.tf.
MAKES A SPECIALTY OP
Copying & Enlarging Old Pictures
J* M.JBARFJELD,
’
Fashionable Tailor,
Up-Statrs, over Swift & Arnold’s Store,
ELBERTON, GEORGIA.
BOOTS * SHOES.
FTUIIS UNDERSIGNED RESPECTFULLY AN
IL notinees to the . people of Elberton and
surrounding country that he has opened a first
class
Boot and Shoe
SHOT IN EEiBEEITON
Where he is prepared to make any style of Boot
or Shoe desired, at short notice and with prompt
ness.
REPAIRING NEATLY EXECUTED,
The patronage of the public is respectfully
solicited.
ap.2o-tf G. W. G.4RKGCIIT.
H. K. GAIRDINTER,
ELBERTON, GA„
DEALER IN
larNiKKßciiu
H ARB W ARE, CROCKER Y,
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS
Notions, &o
T. M. SWIFT. MACK ARNOLD
SWIFT & ARNOLD,
(Successors to T. \f. Swift,)
DEALERS IN
011 A GOODS,
GROCERIES, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND
SHOES, HARDWARE, &c.,
Pwblie Sqaare, G.4.
LIBHT GfiBiUAaCS & BUSBIES.
k--/a
J. If. AUT.D
ELUEEITON, GEORGIA.
BEST WORKMEN!
BEST WORK!
LOWEST PRICES!
Good Buggies, warranted, - $125 to SIOO
Common Buggies - SIOO.
HB PAIRING ANDBLACKS\TITIIING.
Work done in this line in the very best style.
The Best Harness
My22-1r
mins mbito
i>. J. SHANNON,
Saddler & Harness Maker
Is tally prepared to manufacture
HARNESS, Till TDI wq
liii DLhiO, SADDLES,
At the shortest notice, in the best manner, and
on reasonable terras.
Shop at John S. Brown’s Old Stand.
ORDERS SOLICITED.
F. A. F. KOULKTT,
BAGIiGAL MAMS,
ELBER T ON, GA.
Will contract for work in STONE and BRICK
anywhere in Elbert county [jel6 Cm
.1. §. BARNETT,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELBERTBN, GA.
MOSELEY HOUSE
DANIELSVILLG, GA-
D. R. MOSELY, . . . Proprietor.
Terms Reasonable. Special care given to Stock
PAPER Mflfl-XS.
JAMES ORMOND, Proprietor.
For Specimen of NE V\ SPA PEI., see tbi? issue ot
this paper.
T ~\i E (x \ 7 E jt
New Series.
TRYST,
“There is a willow grows ascaunt the hook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream,."
Under the willow, on a summer dhy,
He watched the breaking bubbles on the
stream,
Eager, impatient, chiding eve’s delay,
For one sott footstep list’ning tiil the gray
Cool twilight, falling, held him like a dream
The gentle stars came out, but she, of all,
The fairest star, shone not upon his bark ;
He felt the tender dew begin to fall,
He heard a nestliDg’s faint and sleepy call,
And saw the fire-fly light his radiant spark.
—0 haggard Fate ! the thread i3 cut you spun.
He sees a fair face in the shadows gleam •
Pale, pale, poor girl ! —her little day is done.
Kissed by the careless ripples as they run,
She comes to meet him, tossing in the stream.
-
THE CD MESTEE’S STAKE.
The Marquis Angelo Fosc&rini had
i been traveling throughout Europe for
several years, sanitary measures inducing
him to visit Paris. To the gay metrop
olis he v/as accompanied by his daughter,
the beautiful Olympia, sbe being the
only issue of three most unhappy mar
riages. ,
The disappointment of Fosearini’s life
had been in not having had an heir. He
would have given his fortune, almost his
life, for a son—one who could perpetuate
the noble name of Foscarini. His life
was passed in orgies and every sert of
dissipation. He loved Olympia, not as
a father should have loved his daughter,
but rather because she was beautiful
and one of the most precious of his pos
sessions He kept her always with him,
and bad refused her hand in marriage to
some of the most distinguished noble
men in Austria and Italy.
“Remain with me,” lie said ; “you will
have plenty of time to marry when I am
dead.”
After a night of excitement and dissi
pation it was his habit to take a bath in
the Seine, in order to revive hie exhaust
ed energies.
One day, white bathing, he was seized
with cramp, and had not someone
rushed to his rescue he would have been
drowned. In his preserver ho rtcog
nized an officer >f the Trahans, one
whom he had met first at Piedmont, afrth
afterwards ot Vienna, and whose assidui
ties to Olympia had given him some
uneasiness.
The young officer, on discovering that
the man whose life he hud saved was no
other than the Marquis Foscarini, at
once requested permission to call upon
himself and daughter.
To this request the Marquis most
coldly acquiesced, it being impossible,
under the circumstances, to venture a
refusal.
Stephen Le Roy at once embraced the
advantage afforded by the position, and
within a month after the accident the
Marquis and Le Itoy were inseparable.
Le Roy was deeply in love with
Olympia, but now wisely and cautiously
repressed any manifestation of his feel
ings—moreover, had expressed himself
to the Marquis as being entirely cured
of his very extravagant passion.
He addressed Olympia without any
apparent trembling or embarrassment,
paying her only the ordinary compliments
permitted by society The Marquis,
feeling entirely reassured, and having
perfect confidence, made Le Roy his
friend and confidant. "While the old
nobleman was misled, the young people
nevertheless understood each other, and
in all respects Olympia assisted her lover
in Lis scheme.
Thus Le Roy was enabled to pass
every evening at the hotel of the Mar
quis, and in order to humor the noble
man became a devoted gambler. In one
month lie bad lost two months’ pay and
all be could borrow.
Olympia had advised him to play in
order to ingratiate himself with her
father. She lent him gold which he lost,
and the more he lost the more fond the
old Marquis became, for he knew of no
emotion save in play, no happiness except
that which he derived from gain. At
length the luck turned in favor of Le
Roy—night after night ha won. The
Marquis was devoted to bouillotte; this
game he had taught Stephen, who,
although indifferent to its merits, never
tlieless expressed admiration for the
game.
One evening Le Roy came half an
hour earlier to the hotel than was his
custom. On this occasion he brought
with him tire sum of fifty louis. It was
the only money Olympia had still in her
possession. Le Roy was without means,
and was obliged to yield to circumstances,
as failure to play would have called forth
the ill-will of the Marquis and deprived
them of meeting.
“This is all that remains,” said Olym
pia sadly.
“Should I lose it, this life of deception
must end,” responded Le Roy. “I will
then go to the Marquis and request your
hand in marriage.”
“And if refused,” replied the young
girl.
“Then I will blow out my brains,” was
the quiet rejoinder.
Olympia shuddered at the words, for
she well knew that Le Roy would keep
his vow faithfully.
“There is happiness in life,” she mur
mured.
“Yes, there is happiness in life if that
life be shared by you,” lie responded.
“But deprived of that hope I refuse to
live.”
“And death! Have you no fear of
death ?”
ESTABLISHED 1859.
ELBERTON GEORGIA? AUGUST 13. 1375.
“No, Olympia,” he replied, thought
fully. “I do not fear. I believe in a
great power. We of this world are forced
into life, not of our own free will, but
through the will of others. This exist
ence, with its suffering, its hopes and
fears, is our punishment; its disappoint
ments our curse. This is the life of the
flesh, that which is corruptible; beyond
lies the life of the soiti.”
“But what may the soul not suffer in
the hereafter ? What may it not en
dure ?”
“Nothing except it be happiness,” re
sponded Le Roy. “Our misery is here,
our peace is beyond the grave.”
“And the grave ?” inquired the girl
with a shudder ; “the grave!”
“Is what we mortals most dread, be
cause it possesses horror. The hereafter
is an unknown land ; but let us forget
this for the present. Whether I lose or
win, this night I am determined to speak.
Wo have too long yielded to deception.
Let the issue be what it will, I am
resolved to solve it; if happiness is to
be ours, we will thank heaven for the
boon, if not, we will say farewell.”
At this instant the Marquis Foscarini
entered the room, and Le Roy accom
panied him to the table, where they
seated themselves to play, others being
assembled. At the gaming table there
was a Paris banker, a captain of an
English vessel, and two planters from
i Havana, all absorbed in the chances of
| the game. Le Roy commenced by
throwing down ten louis, then ten more,
and so on until he lost nearly all. As
he pushed the money aside ho shivered,
and his head sank upon his breast.
Foscarini laid his hand upon hi3 arm.
~-■ I
“Why, what i the matter, Le Roy ?”
he said in surprise.
“Nothing,” responded the young offi
cer, as he once more placed ten louis
upon the board. This time ho gained
one hundred, gradually the sum increased
and doubled. The banker won 130,000
francs, the captain 20,000, and the
planters 130,000. It was the Marquis
Foscarini who had lost all this money.
Much excited the gamesters drank to
gether, and then promised to meet again
in a few hours.
At the solicitation of Olympia, Le Boy
postponed speaking to her father, whose
lose had been very great.
- —The meeting of the party again took
place as arranged, and Foscarini lost jail
ho possessed in the world-—Li? pa 7 4as
in Florence and Naples, his villas at the
foot of Vesuvius and in the neighborhood
of Rome—there remained not a vestige
of his large fortune. He was ruined.
Through the closed shatters and crim
son curtains the day was piercing, and
made the dying candies look still more
pale. Of these six gamblers, four re
sembled statues. The immense losses
of their host amazed them, although
accustomed as they were to loss as a
result of gaming.
Two men alone among them seemed
to retain their self possession, and they
were Le Roy and Foscarini. The latter
was searching his pockets in t ; e vain
hope of finding something to stake, but
not even his watch Remained. His
countenance was terrible to behold.
“Gentlemen,” he at length said, “all I
once had is now yours, and you can with
authority bid me quit this house, which
is no longer mine.”
“Marquis!” exclaimed Le Roy.
“Nay listen to me,” continued Fos
carini, addressing Le Roy.
“You once loved my daughter, and I
refused you her hand.”
“You did.”
“Do you love her still ?”
“Yes, fervently.”
“Again, I repeat, are you sure that,
you love her as you once professed ?”
“I do.”
“What say you, then, to play for her?”
At these terrible words all the game
sters arose, but were incapable of speak
ing, so great was their excitement, in
gesture they implored Le Roy to refuse.
“Did you not hear mecontinued
Foscarini. “Will you play for the pos
session of my daughter ?”
“Will you not accept me as your son
in law, Monsieur le Marquis ? If so, I
beg to restore to you all that chance has
given, and that you have lost through
me.”
“I refuse most positively,” responded
the Marquis.
“Then I accept your proposition,”
replied Le Roy, coldly: “now listen to
mine.”
All present expressed horror at such
an arrangement. Foscarini returned
their gaze with one of sovereign con
tempt and indiffere ice. Then turning
to Le Roy, he said :
“Be it as you wish.”
“I play for your daughter,” replied
the young officer, “against all I possess
in the world, my name, my person and
my honor.”
“It is well,” responded the Marquis,
as he speedily threw three cards on the
table. They were three aces. Le Roy
a!ao threw three cards ; they were three
tens ; he drew a fourth card, it was a
ten. lie had won.
All arose, desiring to depart. As they
saluted the Marquis they saw that he
was weeping. Tlie loss of his child and
his millions had reduced him to a state
of wretchedness beyond even the misery
of mendicity.
Le Roy approached the Marquis. For
an instant he paused.
“Monsieur le Marquis,” he said, at
length, “This has been a horrible dream.
You have lost nothing and gained noth
ing.”
“What.do you mean?” inquired Fos
carini. “You say I have lost nothing.
Ask those who leave this house laden
with my gold if I have lost nothing.
Oh, no, my tears and emotion are naught
to you.”
Thus speaking he passed from the
room, and no orie attempted to prevent
him so doing, and soon Le Roy found
himself alone in the apartment.
The young officer was about to depart
when Foscarini suddenly re-entered the
apartment, accompanied by Olympia.
“Monsieur,” he said, addressing Le
Roy, “I am aware of my position, but
even now I tell you that you cannot be
my son-in-law.”
“Why ?” demanded Le Roy. “I have
!)ow not only the right of her preference
and my own, but the right cf honor—a
debt of honor on your part.”
“And yet I say it cannot be. You,
although an officer in the army, are of
humble birth—you are not noble. Olym
pia cannot be your wife, at least not
while I live. Your wife she cannot .bo,
your mistress she shall not become.
Nevertheless, as you say, in point of
honor she belongs to you, yet while I
hold my claim I still have something to
gamble for, and we have not done with
each other.”
These horrid words chilled his listener
to the soul. Having spoken, the Mar
quis locked the door and placed the key
in his pocket.
“And now for my revenge,” he con
tinued, drawing two pistols from his
pocket. “You see they are both alike,
and both unloaded. I will load one of
them. Olympia shall, while our backs
arc turned, place them both on the table.
You shall then choose, and we will fire
at the same moment. Should I kill you,
my daughter returns with me to Italy.
If you, on the contrary, kill me, Olympia
is at liberty to give you her hand. She
will care but little that you will have
been the assassin of her father.”
Le Roy would have spoken or left the
house, but reading* his design, the Mar
quis anticipated him.
“If you take one step,” he exclaimed,
or utter one word, I will fire upon you,
and then upon Olympia.”
At these words the young girl uttered
a wild cry and fell fainting at his feet.
“Have you no mercy ?" inquired Le
Roy %
“None,” responded Foscarini. “Since
I must act I will do so.” He at once
mingled the pistols, his back being
turned flora Le Roy. The young officer,
obedient to the order of the Marquis,
selected a pistol. Attaching* them to the
corner of a handkerchief they fired at
the same instant.
Le Roy had won; but Olympia Fos
carini lay dead beside her father.
THE BASIS OF WEALTH.
The basis of the wealth of the country
is agriculture. The legislation of the
country should, if it favored one class
more than another, favor the agricul
turists first. The mechanics, who are
producers from the raw material, should
next have the Government’s fostering
care. The usurers should be the last to
receive special favors and protection at
the hands of the Government. And yet
it receives all the favors, and enjoys a
monopoly of which the Government
crushes the other classes to maintain for
it.—Nashville Banner.
This is the doctrine we have been
preaching for some time Comparatively
speaking, there has been but little legis
lation in belr If of the agricultural class,
notwithstanding, as the Banner truthfully
remarks, agriculture is the basis of the
wealth of the country. There can be no
reasonable objection to ether classes
having the protection they deserve, but,
in the meantime, give- to the farmers
the protection which their numbers,
their wealth and their influence demand.
It is not right to set them out in the
cold and pay no attention to their wants.
The truth is, this class must take
more interest in securing suitable men
to make their laws. They are greatly to
blame for their indifference on the sub
ject.—Knoxville Age.
Mirage on the Ocean. —An ocean mir
age of a most sublime and awe inspiring
character was witnessed by over three
handred guests at the Atlantic Hotel,
Ocean City, on the 30th ult., at about 7
o’clock p m., exhibiting to the aston
ished gaze of the beholders not less
then thirty vessels of different descrip
tions in the atmosphere, above the hori
zon with an upper tier of inverted ships
corresponding to the lower ones, and
presenting an illusive ocean also, or in
other words, one upon another upside
down. The scene lasted for over half an
hour, and was felt to be the grandest
and most sublime spectacle imaginable.
The stories of phantom ships by nautical
fiction writers could not interest any in
comparison to the sight witnessed from
our beach as above. Mo obtained our
facts from Dr. H. R. Pitts and Gol. L. J.
Mapes, who enjoyed it.
[Snowhill (Md.) Shield.
Another one of those tenderly con
siderate mortals, whose humanitarian
sympathies win the hearts of all and
tend to smooth the ragged edges of life,
is receiving newspaper mention. He
saw a gentleman thrown from his dog
cart on the asphalt of the Champs
Elysees. “Oh, mon Dieu,” said he,
looking at the fainting man. “What a
dreadful sight! It is lucky that I al
ways carry a flask of brandy,” and he
drank off his flagon at a draught. “If it
had not been for that,” he said with
emotion, “I might myself have fainted
on the spot.”
01. IV o —lS’ o. 10.
HOY/ IT FEELS TO BE HANGED.
A Paris newspaper gives this extract
from the notes of a young felloe who
tried to commit suicide and was cut down
before suffocation was complete. He
was delighted to return to life, and it is
noted that would be suicides who are
rescued from their self sought fate rarely
renew their attempts to shuffle off this
mortal coil:
“When I stood on the chair the mil*
ror on the mantelpiece involuntarily at
tracted me, and I looked at myself as I
fastened the slip-knot around iny neck.
Blood flowed to my head for my face
was very red ; something took place at
the same time in my optic nerves, for it
seemed to me that my face suddenly be
gan to make grimaces. My eyes and
nose changed places incessantly, like the
pieces in a kaleidoscope. 1 kicked the
chaii from under me, and fell with the
sensation that I had been struck on top
of my head with a hammer. I did not
at first feel the rope around n y neck.
The only very clear impression which
followed the blow with the hammer on
my skull was that of great heaviness in the
head. It seemed to me that my shoulders
were heavier than the great' bell of Notre
Dame. At the same time I feft an im
mense night falling in and around me.
Then I felt extremely cold at my lower
extremities, and at the same time an
acute, ten-ibis pain in my neck, which was
produced by the rope, which cut my
skin and sawed my veins. Evidently
this was the moment when my good
aunt Cecil entered my roetn and cut me
down.”—[Boston Heruld.
FRIGHTENING CHILDREN.
Nothing Qan be worse for a child than
to be frightened. Tho effect of the
scare, it is slow to recover from ; it re
mains sometimes until maturity, as is
shown by many instances of morbid sen
sitiveness and excessive norvousness. Not
un frequently, fear is employed as a
means of discipline. Children are con
trolled by being made to believe that
something* terrible will happen to thain,
and punished by being shut up in dark
rooms, or by being put in places they
stand in dread of. No one, without vivid
memory of his own childhood, can com
prehend how entirely cruel such things
are. We have often heard grown per
sons tell of the suifermg* they have en
dured, as children, under such circum
stances, and recount the irreparable in
jury which they are sure they then re
ceived. No parent, no nurse, cajiable
of alarming the young, is fitted for her
position. Children, as near as possible,
should bo trained not to know the sense
of fear, while everything else, is to be
feared in their education, early and late.
[N Y. Freeman’s Journal.
The Griffin Star and Cultivator, says
the agent of the Direct Trade Union at
that place, received returns from the cot
ton of different parties during last week,
and that after “deducting every expense,
the cotton which was shipped in differ
ent lotis has netted the parties from $8
to sl2 per bale over and above what the
cotton w r ould have brought in Griffin on
the day of shipment. More than this,
the parties at the time of shipment drew
three-fourths of the Griffin value of the
cotton and have had the use of this mon
ey during the entire interval. Had they
deposited it in a Griffin warehouse, and
kept it until the day it was sold in Liv
erpool, they would, instead of making
have lost several dollars per bale. Now
had the 18,000 bales that have been
brought to Griffin during the past sea
son been shipped to Liverpool through
the same channel, the farmers in that
section would have made a gain of at
least $150,000. On the entire . .op of the
country the same operation would have
saved the South twenty-five or thirty
millions of dollars.
A Foot Lamp.— One of the most inter
esting things in the Holy land is the
fact that one meets everywhere, in daily
life, tho things that illustrate the Word
of the Lord. The streets of Jerusalem
are very narrow, and no one is allowed
to go out at night without a light.—
Throw open your lattice in the evening
and look out, you will see what seems
to be little stars twinkling on the pave
ment. You will hear the clatter of san
dais, as the late travelers rattle along.
As tbo party approaches, you will see
thafrhe has a little lamp fastened to his
foot, to make his step a safe one. In an
instant the verse comes to your memory,
written in tLat city three thousand years
ago—“ Thy word is a lamp to my feet,
and a light to my path.”
The Scientific American conveys the
startling intelligence that the Atlantic
Ocean is “gaining on us.” There can be
no doubt of the fact, because New York
city, New Jersey and Long Island “are
sinking at the rate of fifteen inches per
century.” And yet there are fools who
are buying lots and building fine houses
in New York, when they know that in a
couple of hundred years the ir property
will fall more than two feet.—Chronicle
and Senate.
In France cheap wood is now made to
perfectly imitate mahogany. The sur
face is treated with nitrous acid. Then
a mixture of an ounce and a half of
dragon’s blood, a pint of alcohol, and
some carbonate of soda, is put on with a
soft brush. Furniture thus prepared
cannot be distinguished from genuine
mahogany.
NACOOOHEE AND SAUTEE.
These two beautiful valleys, environed
by some of the most grand and pietnr
esquo scenery in the world, are associa
ted with a very thrilling legend, which
is related by Mr. Oeorgo W. Williams
of Charleston, in a little volume entitled
“Naeoochee and its surroundings.” In
Indian parlance, Naeoochee means “Ev
ening Star.” The writer thus tells the
story:
“Tradition has it, that Nicoochee, the
“Evening Star,” was the only daughter
of a noted Cherokee chief. She possess -
ed remarkable beauty and grace of man
ners. This lovely maid of the valley
was wooed by many a gallant youth,
but unfortunately was won by a bravo
young warrior of the Choctaw Nation, a
people at that time bitter enemies of the
Cherokees, and frequently engaged in
fierce warfare with them;
One dark night Naeoochee disappear
ed from her vine-clad wigwam ; she had
eloped with Santee, son of a Choctaw
chief. The father of Naeoochee sum
moned a hundred stout warriors to go
in pursuit of the erring* daughter. The
valleys and mountains echoed the ter
rifle war-whoop, as they were searching
every hill and dale.
Days and nights parsed, but Santee
and the bright eyed Indian girl could
nowhere be found.
The enraged father refused to eat or
sleep. He believed that the lovers had
sought refuge under tho Great Bear
(Yonah) of the valley. Renewed and
more diligent search was made. Santee
had selected a bridal chamber fur his
princess (which was amply supplied
with venison, and wild turkey,) amid
the rocky fastnesses of Mount Yonah.
Ho regarded the rugged cliffs rising in
their native grandeur around him as se
cure from the intrusion of friend or foe.
Nacoochee’s new home must have been
a second Eden. Before lior stood out a
wrid of mountains, rising ono above
another until their lofty peaks wore
lost in the blue sky, while at her feet
nestled the lovely valley of Naioochie
and Santee, covered with fragrant forest
flowering trees, and brilliant rhododen
drons and azaleas. From tho crevices
in her granite palace gushed forth pure,
perennial streams, which are joined by a
thousand mountain springs that conati-
tute the headwaters of the picturesque
Chattahoochee river, and which, like the
rivers that ran out of tho Carden of
Eden, abound in gold.
The cries of the wolf and night-hawk
disturbed not the slumbers of the youth
ful lovers. But Naeoochee and fclautee
could no more successfully conceal
themselves from the revengeful warri
ors, than could Adam and Eve hide
from tho presence of the Father of the
great human family, after having listen
el to tho beguiling serpent and eaten
of tho forbidden fruit. A savage shout
of victory announced the capture of the
foe, who had dared rob the old chief of
his daughter. Hasty iudirment wa.a
pronounced—Wan tee was to be thrown,
in the presence of Naeoochee, from the
highest precipice of Mount Yonah. Be
fore the sentence was exeentod, the
warriors engaged in a death song and a
war dance around the strongly guarded
prisoner. This was kept up until the
setting sun had dropped behind the
western mountains, and tho evening
star was looking down on the tragic
scene.
At a signal from the old chief, four
strong warriors seized Santee, and with
one terrific yell hurled him headlong in
to the deep chasm beneath. Quick as
thought, Nacoocliee sprang from the
strong embrace of her father, and, shout
ing “Sautee! Sautee!” threw herself
fram the overhanging precipice. Their
mangled remains were found side by
side in the valley. Tho terrible shock
well nigh broke the heart of the aged
father. He directed that Nacoocliee and
Sautee should be buried on the banks of
the Chattahoochee in one grave, and a
mound raised over them to mark the
spot. This has been planted in vines
and blue grass. The cypress, ivy and
rhododendron cover the grave of Nacoo
chee and Sautee.
The valleys of Nacoochce and Sau
tee, which unite just below the resi
dence of Col. E. P. Williams, were nam
ed to perpetuate the memories of the
young Cherokee girl and her Choctaw
lover.
SLIGHTS.
They are cheap. It costs nothing to
turn the face, to shut the mouth, to not
see a person who is not before the eyas,
and has expectations if not claims. It
is very easy to put oft’ the call long
overdue; to neglect sending an invita
tion to a party to one who is not of tmic.i
account; to pass a former friend on the
street without recognition; to go and
come, ignoring the existence of people
who have rights and feeling. And it is
as cowardly to do so as it is easy and
mean.
But the cheap, cowardly slight is as
hard to bear as it is contemptible. How
it rankles It stings like a nettle. It is
prussic acid on a wound. The very
cowardliness of it makes it wore painful.
If Miss Scornful had only hs.d the cour
age to frankly say she does not cars for
our friendship, and prefers our room to
our company, we coidd possibly reply
with an equally polite expression of
chilliness; but to be dropped out un
ceremoniously and cut direct, is like a
sab in the dark. Society is a set of
complex relations. People are bound
together. They have duties, obligations,
affiliations. Kindness and politeness
are parts of tlie unwritten law of social
commerce. A slight is a sort of robbery
—a mean, pick-pocketry sort of robbery,
too —of the notice one has a right to
expect. It may not cost anything just
to mind one’s own business, and let a
friend languish for want of notice and
sympathy and cheer ; but it shows what
he is made of, and what his friendship is
worth. The person who can slight an
other is too base to be slighted a second
time.
Naughty behavior of yachting men—.
Hugging the shor e-