Newspaper Page Text
ttitm <x n d
VOLUME XLVII.]
MILLED SEVILLE, GEORGIA, AUGUST 22, 1876.
IN U M II EK 5.
Union Recorder,
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY
In Milledgeville, Ga«,
BY
J30UGHT0N, ^AI\NES 8j JA.OORE,
Al $2 in A3race, or $3 a! end of the Year.
s. Iff. BOUQHTON, Editor.
The“FEDERAL UNION” and the “SOUTH
EUN KECOKDEU’* were consolidated Au^m-t
1st, 1872, tho Uuion being in its Forty-Third ,
Volume ami Lite Recorder in it’s Vi fty-Third
Volume.
ADVERTISING.
'f RAtfsiEKT.—One Dollar per square of ten line* tor
firat iunertiou, ami seventy-live cunts for eneh subsequent
continuance.
Liberal diacouut on these rates will be allowed on
advertisement* rmiuins Three months, «»r longer.
Tributes ot Reapeut, U,-solutions by S<H-.ieties, Obitua
ries exceeding six lines. Nominations lor othre and
Ctnmniinieetious ior individual benefit, e-lrargeii as tran
sient advertising.
LEGAL ADVERTISING.
$2
Sheriff** Sales, per levy of ien lines, or less.
44 Mortgage ti ta sale?, per square, ■>
Citatioustor Letters of Admiui^tratiou, o h
** “ “ Guardianship, 3
Apolieatioii for Dismission from Administration, 3
•* •• " “ Guardianship,.. 3 ftft
• 4 * Leave to Sell Laud, •*»
** for lioinesteadd, 2 00
Notiee to Debtors und Creditors, 3 00
Ales of Land, Ate.., pe r square, 5 Oft
“ perishable property, 10 days, p.-r square,.. 1 7-»
Kstray Notiees. 3o days
Iforecloanr* ot Mortgage, per square, earn time 1
LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Males of Land, Ate., by Administrators, Executors o*
Guardians, are required by law to be held on the first
Tuesday iu the month, between the hours of 10 in the
forenoon and 3 in tlic afernoou, at the Court House in
he county iu which the property is situated. Notice of
these sales must be given in a public gazette 30 days
previous te the day ot sale.
Notiees Tor the sale of personal property must be
given in like manner 10 days previous to sale day.
Notice to the debtors and creditors of ail estate must
he published 40 days.
Notiee that application will be made to tlie Court of
Ordinary for leave to sell Laud, Ate., must be published
for one month.
Citations for letters of Administration, Ouardtanship,
fee must be published 30 days—tor dismission from Ad
ministration monthly three mouths—for dismission Troin
Guardiauship 40 days.
Rules for foreclosure of Mortgage must be published
monthly for four mouths—for establishing lost papers Tor
the full spare of three mouths-Mor comp* lling titles troui
Executor* or Administrators, where b»Dd has been giv
en by the deceased, the full apaee of three mouths.
l*ublie,atlous will always be continued according to
these the legal requirements, unless otherwise ordered.
Baek and Job Work of all Kinds
mOMl-TLY AND NEATLY EXECUTED
AT THIS OFFICE.
[From tbe Chattanooga Times.
Editor Tunes-.—This poem was
found upon tho person of private
, of company —, — Georgia,
who died in Field Hospital, from
from wounds received at the battle
of Malvern Hill, in the “seven days
battle around Richmond.” I know
nothing more of it, than that I took
it to send to the family of the sol
dier. The sentiments are beautiful.
If you deem it worthy to preserve,
you can publish it. It would, per
haps, be best to preserve the text as
in the original.
'HjE DYING SOLDIER.
I.
1 want to nee my mother,
O, can’t you call her here !
It would not seem so hard to die,
To have my mother near.
II.
My home is on the mountains,
Up where the green tree waves,
*Twm there 1 heard the bugle
A calling tortile brave.
in.
Alut, I want to see any mother,
Her gentle loving eyes,
.Ami near her blessed, blessed voice
! by me when 1 die.
ALICE, OR THE MYSTERY OF
A BURIAL.
BY IIENTZ HEMAXS.
(Concluded.)
CHAPTER IV.
A New Love is Found—A Thrilling
Development while the Marriage
Ceremony was Progressing—Con
clusion.
The night that the bloody-mind
ed miscreant was captured and
taken to the house, the chief tenant
held a brief consultation with Mr.
Delorme and the latter said :
‘You may threaten even to take
| her a delicious cordial which revived
her.
“Now Alice,” observed Eugene,
| after he had again tenderly kissed
her, explain this wonderful myste-
! *y"
“Oh ! that horrid night! I became
■ concions and found myself in worse
I than midnight darkness and enclosed
! in a coffin. My strength for a mo-
! ment, was unnatnral. Making a sin
; gle effort the lid flew off and rolled
! npon the floor. The charnel sound
as it fell made me shiver with an ag
on} - of despair. I breathed the odor
of flowers and knew what it meant,
i They had been placed about me and
I was buried alive. I arose from the
OUR RADIX LETTER.
The Brooklyn Bridge—Throwing
Over the First Wire—Particulars
of The Great Enterprise—The
Long Shoremen's Strike—Trials of
The Workingmen—Mourners For
Tweed—Matters at Philadelphia
—The Centennial Outriggers—
Marvels in all Shapes—The Sor
rows of The Showmen.
on every hand. I wept incessantly
Oh*
IV.
1 long to hear her foot-steps,
To hoar her call my name.
And have her prayers beside me,
Sio other prayers the same.
V.
I want to clasp her dear hand
Amt hold it t<> my heart:
And any tied bless you mother,
< ilH-e more betore we part.
VI.
l’ray Hod, oil Chaplain bear me.
For Heaven will give me giace
To still this dying longing
To see my mother's face.
VII.
It’, now 1 turn to Jenna,
IL, never will complain,
lie caine to save his eountry,
And Jesus too was slain.
VIII.
My tender darling sister,
I dreamed of her all day,
I think I hear her pratling.
Lisping, “brother's far away.’"
IX.
<1, mother ! mother ! cO'ne to me,
■ can not die alone,
•Come quickly angel mother,
<), don't you hear me groan.
X-
O no she does not hear me,
Nlie doe. not know iny pain,
She’ll never, never see me
Iu my old seat again.
' help. I called for you, Eugene, and
I for mother, until I was nearly ox-,
i hausted. No one came to my aid.
. ... , . ' Groping about in the impenetrable
his life to obtain a full confession, , d#rkne £ lovv% close wa Hs met me
but no personal violence must be
used. The law must prescribe the
penalty.”
For some time the man refused to
give his name, or make any confes
sion whatever. At last the chief
tenant said to him.
“The penalty for your crime and
obstinacy, will be, this night, yea,
in a few minutes, the forfeiture of
your life.”
The assassin maintained a sullen
silence. The chief then ordered a
rope to be brought and several torch
lights. All things being ready the
man was led to the place of pretend
ed execution.
“It is growing late,” said the chief,
“and short work must be made of
what is to be done.” The rope hav
ing been adjusted around the man's
neck the chief asked him if he wish*
ed to pray, or had any thing to say
before his execution.
“One question I would ask,” said
he. “Will a full confession savo my
life.”
“This night it will,” answered the
chief, “but you will be taken to jail
to await the decision of the courts
upon your crime and fate.”
“Then,” said he, “my name is Him-
bal. A man in London who calls
himself Jack Ryan, proffered me a
a thousand dollars to take the life of
Eugene Warton. Ho paid me three
hundred dollars in advance."
“You know then,” asked the chief
tenant, “where Ryan lives ?”
“Yes,” said Himbal, “I can point
out the room he occupies.”
The chief and four others were
soon ready and occupying the same
wagon with llimbal they hastened to
the city. The facts were made
known to the chief officer of the po
lice, a warrant was procured and
guided by Himbal they went to
Ryan’s place of residence, arrested
him and convoyed both him and
Himbal to prison.
Previous to his incarceration the
latter gavo up two hundred and sev*
enty-five dollars which Ryan had
advanced to him averring that ho had
spent the remaining twenty-five.
Eugene so rapidly recovered that,
in three weeks he was able to go to
London. As soon as he saw Ryan
he recognized him to be Edson. The
latter proffered to pay to Eugene
forty-five thousand dollars, all the
funds he had left of the fifty thous
and he had embezzled, if he wonld
[.frrom Our Otrn Correspondent.]
I New Yoke, August 11, 1876.
j To the Editor or the Union &
i Recorder.
By the time this comes before your
I readers a notable step will have been
coffin and screamed and^ called for j taken j n [be progress of our big
T bridge to Brooklyn. Both of the
when this bridge is opened. To show
of what importance she considers it,
it need only be stated that she pays
two-thirds of the bill against New
York’s one-third. The present sys
tem of ferriage is uncertain and really
dangerous in winter, and at all times
is so objectionable to many people
! as to deter them from making Brook
lyn their residence. The new avenne
i of communication will remove that
j objection and will repay the city its
! share of the expense many times
j over.
! Our workiDgmen are having jan-
i other season of discontent-
■ longshoremen, who form “
enormous piers being at last com
pleted and the last injunction against
its continuance dissolved, the first of
the week will witness the spinning of
the first threads across the stream,
until I could weep no more. Though '■ f ronl oue d j ZZ y height to the other.
alive I felt that my doom was sealed.
My strength being gone I could
stand no longer. My breath was
fast being stifled. Where could I
rest! In my despair I crawled and
groped about to find the coffin, that
I might lie down in that and die.
With difficulty I placed myself with
in it stretched out my limbs and fold
ed my hands upon my breast. Must
I die, oh God! said I, and thus die
in my early youth. Am I thus to
leave thee Eugene ! must I thus
leave thee mother ! What will you
both think ? How will you feel when
perhaps, ere long, you will see this
coffin lid upon the floor and know
the struggles I made and the agonies
I endured. My breath became short
er and weaker. I felt that I was dy
ing of suffocation. Hope sank dead
upon my heart. I was still in life,
but life was circled with despair.
Farewell Eugene ! farewell mother !
brother! sister! These were the last
words I whispered, yet in my mind,
wandering as it was, I offered my
last mental prayer and closed my
eyes to die. At this moment of ex
tremity I still had some remaining
consciousness, enough to attract my
attention to a noise at the door of
the vault. It opened and never shall
I forget the agonizing shriek of my
mother when she saw the coffin lid
and the flowers scattered over the
floor of the vault. I was too weak
to speak, to move, or even open my
eyes. In a moment she was at my
side. I know that she kissed me. I
heard hei passionate words of love,
but they seemed to float to my ears
as if they were distant and feeble
echoes. She took my right hand in
her s and I must have given some
evidence of sensibility to her touch,
for she thanked God that her child
still lived.
With the aid of a servant and Wil
liam, the coffin, with my person in it,
was taken from the vault and placed
in the open air. Mother had brought
some water in a pitchor and fresh
flowers for a vase that had been
placed near me in the vault. She
bathed my faco and moistened my
lips and poured a few drops between
my teeth. All this I knew, bnt I
I was still too weak to give signs of
and from that point the work will go
rapidly forward to completion. Some
of the grandeur of this enterprise
may be gathered from a few statis
tics.
The work was commenced in Jan.
1870, so that the laying of the foun
dation and building the piers alone
has been the work of over five years.
The foundations rest on the solid
rock 78 feet below high water mark.
A description of the laying of these
foundations would in itself make a
very interesting letter—the launch
ing and sinking of the great caissons,
weighing 3,000 tons apiece, the con
dition of the workmen working away
down under the river, in air sufficient
ly condensed to hold back the mud
and water and consequently so dense
as to almost intoxicate those who
breathed it and to make the lamps
blaze with dangerous fierceness—
those and many other details would
possess great interest, but space for
bids more than a mention of the
salient points. The bridge being a
suspension one the strain comes en
tirely upon the “anchorages” on
either side, and the two piers. These
anchorages are great masses of
masonry bolted together and to a
heavy foundation with heavy iron
bars and clamps running in every
direction. To these will be fastened
the ends of the four main cables which
are to bear the weight of the bridge
proper. These cables seem to me
the most stupendous feature of the
whole structure. Each one will be
composed of 6,300 small steel wires,
twisted together. Perhaps it may
strike some reader that such a cable
will be pretty heavy. Let us see.
The wire to be used weighs one
pound for every fourteen feet in
length and as there are to be 6,300
strands in each cable, every fourteen
feet will weigh 6,300 pounds, or 450
pounds to the foot, as the distance
between the anchorages is 3,500 feet,
or more than twice the distance be
tween the piers, a cable reaching
straight across from one to the oth
er would weigh about 1,570,000
pounds. But as they have got to be
longer to go up over the piers and
as there are four of them instead of
one, the total weight will be 6,800,-
matrasses in it,
ami lit) I1»U UlULK3Z.Zlt.-U, II lit) WLIU1U | 1 * I . „„ 1 •
. i i * • it. it yt *i i , lintel been sent* cudio soou, &qu in
not take mm back to the United i ,, . T v ^ 0
. . T-i j i i • . that 1 wfts taken liome a Grain. Xiic
States. Eugene accepted his terms
and received that sum. Such,
again
Doctor met us at the gate and by
. ,, ., , . . | the use of the restoratives he pre-
however was the enormity of his j 8Cribed j improvcd eo fast that in
crime m England that the proseent- , three hourp j^ ould see and rfcCO g-
mg officer insisted upon bringing n5ze those about me and whisper that
him to tnal. He was found guilty ^ word mother . when \ could
recognition. An open carriage with j 0 Oo’pounds or 3,400 tons. Bat how
” for whlch William are 8Uch magses Qf metal g 0in g to
be put up over the towers ? That
question, I confess, would be apt to I
bother any one of us if we had the j
matter in charge, but the engineer, j
I Mr. Roebling, obviates this serious I
! difficulty by arranging to take the !
small strands up, one by one, and |
and sentenced to twenty years in a l T'lVw'fnr rnn n.l ! ma ^ e ca ^ es P ro P er !
same fate. bu j. wou j d |j e back presently. By de-
j highly respectable in point of nuni*. ; plause.
bers, and who perform duties of quite
I an important character in the load
| ing and unloading of the thousands
of cargoes which cross onr wharves,
, becoming despeiate at the “little
; work and less pay” as they put it,
i struck a few days since, and hang a
; round the dock in numbers, endenv-
! oring to prevent the ship agents from
| tilling their places That effort be
j ing unsuccessful, many of their num-
j ber, rather than absolutely starve,
have gone to work again; but the
majority still hold out, saying that
they can’t live at the present rates,
and if they must die it might as well
be now as later. Their condition is
a hard one, it is natural that they
should feel in a blind way that some
thing ought to be done; bnt in times
of depression it is useless to try and
force payments from employers which
sooner of later rain the latter. That,
however, is a fact that strikers gener
ally can only be taught by the stem
logic of events. Besides this class,
to whom attention has been drawn
by their recent action, there aro nn
numbered artisans and laboring men
idle, but having done nothing as a
body besides marching to the City
Hall, some six hundred of them, ask
ing for work and then dispersing, lit
tle is known of their condition. That
a feeling of sullen despair pervades
them, liable at any time to be fanned
into flame by the first demagogue
who addresses them is more than
probable, and if the city gets through
the season without trouble we shall
do well.
Walking through the City Hall
Park yesterday, I saw hundreds of
the various laboring classes lounging
idly about, filling all the benches and
the shadows of the trees. Most of
them had on their Sunday clothes,
and were either sitting silent and
moody or else in little knots, were
earnestly discussing the situation.
Occasionally I could see in the ges
tures of clenched fists, the outcrop
ping of strong feeling. Many glanced
from time at the Ring Court House,
and I could fancy them longing for
the return to power of the man who
built it. Tweed was their prophet.
So long as he remained there were
“lively times.” Little did they care
where the money came from that paid
for their labor, their whiskey and
their votes. The coal which warmed
their miserable homes was just as
good to them as though the Boss
had come by it honestly instead of
stealing it to buy his popularity
amongst them. And thus they cher
ish his memory, unable to carry
their reasoning far enough to see
that their present condition is large
ly the direct cause of those few
feverish years.
Philadelphia, August 12.
to render any further services “till he
gits dem wages”—such reflections I
maintain are sufficient to cause the
most callous to blush for our boasted
civilization.
It is now, I fear, too late to do jus
tice to these unhappy Barnnms this
season. The iron has enteied their
souls and they feel destined to fade
away like the flowei’s, blighted by the
neglect of a thankless nation. But
they are sure to come up smiling at
the next Centennial, by which time,
I trust, we shall all have repented of
our shameful apathy on these impor
The i taut subjects, and be ready to 6hower
body ; upon them our quarters and our ap-
Radix.
THE DIAMOND RING.
“Roxie, Roxie, child !”
A young girl, lovely as the morn
ing, disentagled herself from the
laughing group about her to reply
to the lady who called her.
“Well, auntie?” she said, with a
backward toss of the softest, bright
est curls, and a look of saucy defi
ance out of arch, bazel-brown eyest
“What was that I heard you say
just now?”
Roxie colored, but looked saucy
still, and laughed. “I don’t care,”
she said, pouting very becomingly
the next moment; “I do like Frank
Thorley, although he is papa’s clerk.
I shouldn’t have said so, only Ellen
Richmond was making fun of Vbat
she calls his assurance in dancing
with me so often to-night
“I wouldn’t dance with him again,
my dear. 1 ’
“Why not, pray ?” Roxie exclaim
ed, elevating her eyebrows.
“Because you are a very pretty
girl, and he is very handsome, im
pressionable young man. You may
do much harm.”
“I ?”
“Such flattering preference as you
are evincing for young Thorley’s so
ciety is enough to turn any young
man’s head; and, coming from a girl
in yonr position to a man in his, is
calculated to do harm. Take my ad
vice, Roxie; he already sees no one
in the room but you. Lavish your
witcheries on some one less liable
to lose his wits in consequence of
them.”
Roxie turned away from her aunt
a little pettishly, and stole from un
der her thick lashes a furtive glance
in young Thorley’s direction. He
was indeed watching her, with his
heart in his handsome eyes; and tbe
vain little beauty flushed with pleas
ure.
It was not long before Frank
Thorley asked her to dance with him
again.
“He is so handsome and graceful,
and so entertaining.” Roxie mnsed
during the instant’s hesitation be
fore she put her little white gloved
hand in his; “I will dance with him
—there!”
And away she floated in airy cir
cles.
“It can’t do any harm,” she contin
ued, with some inward misgiving, as
her eyes met auntie’s midly disap*
proving look, or fell beneath the im
passioned and almost too frankly ad
miring glance of her companion; “of
course he knows I am particularly
kind to him, because he’s papa’s
clerk; and he cannot be so ridiculous
as to fall in love with me really, and
it isn’t likely we shall ever be to-
No considerable description of the j gether in thi« way again.”
Exposition can bo called at all satis- j Miss Roxie, however, was mistake
factory that ignores the sights and | en in her calculations. She had in
wonders outside the magic circle, 1 dulged in a momentary whim, and
EXCERPTS FROM Slj^KSPEARE.
“Conquer fortune’s spite,
By living low, where fortune can
not hurt you.”
“See that you come not to woo hon
or, but to wed it.”
“For my means, I'll husband them
so well
They shall go far with little.”
“A golden mind stoops not to shows
of dress.”
“We must take the current when
it serves,
Or lose our ventures.”
“Blessed he those,
How mean soe’er, that liaye their
honest wills,
Which seasons comfort.”
“As tedious as a twice told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.’
“Gentle, hut unfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest.’
“False of heart, light of ear,
bloody of hand, hog in sloth, fox in
stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in
madness, lion in prey.’’
“A heart unspotted is not easily
daunted.”
“A madman’s cnistles are no gos
pels.”
“A hypocrite is good in nothing but
sight.”
■“A scar nobly got, or a noble scar is
a good livery of honor.”
-“A friend should liear a friend’s in
firmities.”
During Eugene’s illness Miss Del
orme saw him often. Sitting by
his bedside she relieved him of ma
ny tedious hours with sprightly
and charming converse. At other
times she cheered his spirits by
reading from the choicest English
magazines, and interesting books.
A mutual affection ripened in their
hearts and with the consent of Mary
Delorme's parents, their vows were
exchanged, Six weeks after he had
been shot, Eugene was as well and
sound as before it occurred, An
early day was appointed for their
marriage. The night had come and
Mr. Delorme’s gorgeous saloons were
brilliantly lighted. The bride and
bridegroom 6tood in the presence
of the minister and the select com*
pany who had been invited to at
tend.
The minister annoan ced: “If any
one can show just cause why this
man and woman may not lawfully
be joined together, let him now
speak, or else hereafter, forever hold
his peace.”
grees my strength increased and when
your letter from New York was re*
ceived, I read it with streaming eyes-
We received your letters from time
to time, but in no one did you ac
knowledge one from mother, or my
self. Finally, almost broken in heart,
I resolved to travel in search of you,
taking William with me, you already
how, as it was to Columbus friends
to make an egg stand on end after he
: had done it for them ; but it isn't
| every one who’could have suggested
the plan.
; The piers, which have thus far
I been the only visible evidence of
progress, now tower aloft in grand
completeness, looking like the op
posing fronts of two mighty cathe
drals, the double roadway openings
know. Accidentally I hoard of you in - Q standing for Gothic windows.
London and could scarcely stand,
when I was told you were to be mar
ried this night. I reached here in
time to hear the words of the cler
gyman which I answered. This ex*
plains all the leading facts which you
desire to know.”
After a brief recital of all that had
occurred to Eugene and his associa
tion with Mary Delorme, tho latter
observed :
“Oh ! dear Mrs. Warton ! how re*
joiced I am that yon came in time.
How fatal a mistake a little more de
lay would have caused. Eugene is
yours by divine and human right, I
rejoice with you and him at your
s peace. I happy re-union and may your lives
I A beautiful female, pale ^and trem- j be j on g eD j Q y eac h other’s love.”
“Great-hearted lady,” observed
Eugene, “pure, generous, noble, this
world has no happiness commensu
rable with thy merits,”
“If I had not lived,” said Alice, “I
to
too.
Sheep Husbandry seems to be
largely on the increase in almost
every part of the United States, but
more especially in tho northeast,
and south. This may be ow
png jo some measure to tho high
nrioe of wool for the last few years,
Gat it must Also bo owing largely
‘ 3 universal demand for mut-
There is no healthier food for
»nd this indicates an improved |
We can produce as good j
matt on here as can be done in Eng
land, not excepting even their boast
ed Southdown. j
It is rumored that Edwin Bpoth
trill play » whole week in Atlantia in
|>seember.
bling, who had just entered the room
and heard these words of the minis
ter, said in a tremulous bat audible
voice :
“Eugene Warton is my husband.”
Overcome with emotion she immedi
ately swooned. Parties near pre
vented her falling, and placed her
upon a sofa. Eugene reeled and
staggered and was supported by an
attendant to a chair. In a few mo
ments he rallied and hastened to the
nnconcious lady npon the sofa.
“My Alice !” he exclaimed, “art
thou dead or alive ! Is this a dream
or a reality! Has God given thee
tho power in death, to return to
earth in the flesh! Thou lookest now
as when I saw thee the last time in
thy coffin in the vault.”
A physician present felt her pulse
and said: “She is still in life*”
Pale and trembling, Mary Del
orme, in her bridal attire, stepped
to the sofa, knelt by the unconcious
l^dy and kissed her pale lips. The
whole company were thrown into a
state of bewildering excitement. In
a few moments more Alice opened
her eyes and they first met those of
the intended bride.
“I knew not,” said Mary, “that
you were living, nor did Eugene, I
solemly believe.”
“No, my Alice, I swear before God
and these people I thought your
spirit wos in heaven.”
“No letter of mother’s' or mine
reached you Eugene!”
“Not one, my Alice. I received
no letter.”
“Your room is arranged Mrs. ,
Warton,” said Mary, “let me con- i
duct you to it.”
“Thank yon,” she answered, “I
will be pleased to see you and Eu
gene alone.”
There was no wedding ceremony |
that night at Mr. Delorme's, When j
Alice was taken to the elgant apart- !
raent provided for her, Mary Do
should have rejoiced in Heaven to
know that in you, my Eugene would
have found a treasure superior to
that he found in me.”
Gracefully acknowledging these
compliments, Miss Delorme retired a
few moments and returned with a
servant, who brought to Alice the
most delectable dishes and the
choicest confections, wines and cor
dials, and then after kissing Alice,
she left her and Eugene to the sweet
and holy heart-communion which
their happy souls conld feel, but no
pen can describe.
She had begged her company to
await her return. With charming
good humor she thanked them for
honoring her with their presence to
see her married and hoped they
would now unite with her in cele-
barting Mr. Wart on’s re-union with
his beautiful and accomplished wife,
who for nearly twelve months he had
supposed was resting quietly in her
grave.
The company mot her wishes in
reciprocal good humor, and had a
delightful timo until a late he ur at
night The writer must add, that a
noble and gallant young gentleman,
From the river to the topmost piece I
of iron work is 275 feet, and the j
structures themselves are about 50
by 150 feet at the base, tapering j
slightly toward the top. The road- i
ways will be 135 feet above high
water mark. To stand at the bottom
of one of these giant piles and look
upward will make giddy any but the
steadiest head. From this position
the top seems actually to pierce the
clouds. The staging upon which the
workmen travel np and down its end
less sides narrow down to a point in
the vast perspective and the work
men themselves, when they can be
discerned at all, look like ants—as,
doubtless, we of the earth appear to
them. On the top of each are the
“saddles,” as the grooved irons are
called on which the big cables ride.
These saddles are in proportion to
the rest of the work, weighing 13
tons apiece. They have got to have
some solidity to sustain the weight
which will rest on them when all is
finished, a weight estimated at nearly
10,000 tons, one half of which will be
the bridge proper or part between
the towers.
The wires which are now about to
be thrown across will be light ones,
used only for drawing over the small
cables that are to support the tem
porary foot bridge for the workmen,
bat their stretching will be an inter
esting sight, as being the first act
of the final section of the work.
Three years from the day on which
that occurs, if all goes well, the
bridge will be ready for the crowding
travel which will thenceforward pos
sess it.
The cost of this magnificent bond
of union between the two great cities
which are possibly destined, through
its influence, to become ultimately
one, was originally estimated to be
eleven and a half millions, including
the valne of the land to be condemned
for the approaches. Up to the first
of this year, however, very nearly six
millions bad been expended, and
neither tower even, was finished. So
. _ - .a new estimate was then made, ak
who had recently been chosen to fill I [owing over a million and a half more
a seat in Parliament, was enchanted ; ji^a the original one, and this, it is
that night, no less by Mary Del* ; bop^ will not have to be farther in-
orrno’s greatness of soul than her ex- i creaged .
ceeding beauty This led to a real ' To reach the hei ht of the road .
wedding, which toek place at an ear- . , water’s ed^e bv a snfs
ly day, that Engene and his Alice ! A 7 .. . ?. ^ , .
fn narfiz>inftfzt In i *** ascent it WOS found ,
which marvels, if one is disposed to
take the word of their own labels for
it, clearly prove themselves to be the
grand central attractions of Phila
delphia and reduce tbe collection
within the Centennial grounds to the
rank of a very modest side show.
But people must have been cruelly
incredulous, judging from the num
ber of these affairs which have “fold
ed their tents like tho Arabs, etc.”
One by one the roses fall and I fear
that before the end of the Exposition
tbe phenomena of nature will all have
passed away from this unappreciative
public, and that tho edifying specta
cles of the learned pig, the mammoth
ox and the equally fascinating “fat
woman ’ can no longer be witnessed
for love or money. And lest this
state of things should come suddenly
upon us and I no longer have the op
portunity of chronicling these great
things let me enumerate a few which
yet remain to us. First in impor
tance, perhaps, is a small frame shanty
on which is reverentially inscribed a
legend setting forth that within that
humble structure the patriot may
view the identical coach used by the
Father of his country. Barring the
fact that the vehicle has a look of
suspicions newness, it is beyond
question a relic second only in inter
est to Mount YeiDon.
Not far from this “Mecca of the
free” is a tent nearly covered with a
most recklessly gorgeous sign, set
ting forth that witlun its precincts,
for the insignificant snm of twenty-
five cents, the gaping Granger may
feast his eyas upon “Asophigerous,”
the great wonder of creation, the
only living thing which, nnaided by
Noab, traces its lineage back of the
flood; for the showman npon his
knightly honor swears that the di
rect ancestor of this animal was the
only creature which refused to go in
to the Ark bat swam the waters on
his own account, a statement which
seldoms fails to impress the most
hardened auditors.
Beside these crowning glories of
what may be called the extra-Centen-
nial Exhibition there are myriad
minor attractions. For instance,
there is the- renowned horned Afri
can, the three legged baby, the two-
headed calf, the living skeleton, the
great original sword swallower, and
enough more monstrosities, human
and otherwise, to almost warrant the
belief that nature had for years been
reversing or changing her operations
with the sole purpose of providing
these nn paralleled curiosities for our
national festival.
And to think that Centennial visi
tors, foreign Snd domestic, shonld be j muttering:
insisted upon his attending her par-
i ty*
As a consequence, somebody else
i iuvited him, and then somebody else,
i and he was so handsome and enter-
j taining—such a graceful addition to
; any circle—that before the winter
; was over he had become very popu-
! lar, and received more invitations
I than he was able to accept. Roxie
was surprised, but secretly pleased
j at this, and at the continuance of his
; undisguised and almost romantic de-
I votion .to herself. Roxie accepted
this devotion with occasional reluc
tance, occasional misgivings of where
it was to end; but she liked it too
well to lose this attention, and was
perhaps more interested at heart
than she realized herself.
Imagine her consternation when
Frank Thorley asked her to marry
him.
“I—I’m sorry, Frank,” she mur
mured, almost incoherently, as she
dropped into a seat.
Thorley’s eyes flashed momentari-
•y*
“You have done a wicked thing.
Miss Roxie Lyle,” he said, “If ever
woman led a man to believe she lov
ed him, you did me.”
Roxie stopped him there with a
haughty gesture, and an angry, “You
forget yourself, Mr. Thorley;” and
she swept imperially past him back
to the drawing room she had quitted
but a moment before on his arm-
Mr. Vincent Lyle was at the head
of one of the oldest firms in the city.
He was a man of sterling integrity
and uprightness himself, and stems
ly severe upon any dereliction in an
other. His clerks were all liberally
paid; and a young man who could ob
tain a situation, be it ever so subor
dinate, with Lyle & Co., was consid
ered to have secured an uncommon
ly good start in life. Dishonesty or
unfaithfulness among the clerks was
rare; partly because of the discrimi
nation exercised in engaging them,
and partly because of the severe and
summary reckoning exacted from
the few offenders.
Mr. Vincent Lyle was not inclined
therefore to deal leniently with the
author of some small but daring
speculation that had been going on
of late. Woe to the guilty one when
he discovered him, and from the
searching investigation he was mak
ing he was likely to do that soon.
The matter worried him so long as
it baffled him; and he was sitting in
his luxurious library at home, pon
dering it, when Frank Thorley sent
a note to him
The merchant stated, as he read,
might be present to participate in
the joyous festivities previous
their departure from England to re
turn to their happy home in the
United States.
Col. R. A. Alston announces him
self as a candidate for the Legisla-
lorme, with her own hands, brought 1 ture in DeKalb county.
, I necessary to go back half a mile on
the New York 6ide and more than one
third of a mile in Brooklyn to com
mence building the approaches. By
this means the declivity on either
side will be made so gentle as to pre
sent no obstacle to the passage of
teams or horse cats.
It will be a gala day for Brooklyn
so ungrateful and so oblivious of
their duty to support these peripa
tetic museums, is sad, very sad. To
think that the proprietor of the Great
South American Chimpanzee, after
wearing oat his larynx in vain ap
peals to the patriotism and benevo
lence of the pnblic, should be com
pelled, in sheer, despair, to order
“the only specimen of this untamab’e
animal ever captured alive” to “git
into his clo’es mighty sudden and
help pack up them things,” and that
the Chimpanzee should flattly refuse
“Sharp fellow, Thorley. 1 wasn’t
deceived in him! Show him up,
John.”
Mr. Lyle shook hands with him
warmly when he came in; bat Thor
ley Beemed strangely reluctant, and
not noticing the seat the merchant of
fered him, remaining standing on the
hearth opposite, his face ashy pale,
and in his eyes an unwonted glitter.
“Glad to see jon, Thorley, glad to
see yon. Shan't forget it if yon give
mo any clue to tho author of this
scandalous business.”
“Behold him!” Frank said, getting
whiter yet
Mr. Lyle started.
“It was I who stole your money,"
Frank repeated, placing a half des
perate emphasis on the obnoxious
word in the sentence.
Mr. Lyle stared incredulously a
few moments still. l>efore he could
realize the stnp-mlousness of the
fact. He was terribly angry then.
The very fact that he had been so
ready to vouch for young Thorley
made his unfaithfulness doubly eul
pable. He remembered suddenly
the gay life the young man had been
leading of late, vague rumors of
which had reached his ears, and said
sternly, as soon as he could master
his voice enough. “If you come
here thinking to move me to thoughts
of clemency, you will find yourself
mistaken."
“Not for myself, Mr. Lyle," lie
said, at last, speaking with difficulty,
“but for my mother e sake I do ask
your clemency; not to retain me in
your employment, but to give me a
chance to begin again somewhere
else.”
“And serve some one else as you
have me?” the merchant exclaimed,
with ironical anger; “it is rather too
late to think of your mother, young
man.”
“I know it, sir. If I had suffered
no other love to enter my heart but
love for her I should not stand
here the guilty wretch I am. Yet
for her sake spare me. I am her
only sou—her only support. If you
expose me, you strike her to the
heart”
Mr. Lyle made an impatient move
ment.
“I tell you you should have thought
of this before. It is too late now; you
have had your chance, and abused it
wickedly. You must take the con
sequences.”
Thorley was trembling, he could
hardly stand.
“Mr. Lyle," he said huskily, “do
you know how old I am ? I am nine
teen, sir, and I never touched a farth
ing that was not my own before.”
“It is time to end this,” Mr. Lyle
said, rising and approaching tbe
bell.
“Wait a moment, sir,” Frank Thor
ley said, passing between him and
the bell pull, and his desperate, an
guished looked stayed Mr. Lyle for
an instant; “shall I tell yon who
tempted me to this—whose beautifnl
face came between me and right, and
lnred me on to my ruin ? As you
hope for mercy hereafter, sir, hear
me! Hear how I came to fall, and
then refuse to bo merciful if yon can.”
“I am listening,” said the mer
chant.
“I never saw London ’till two
years ago, and you yourself have
commended me for withstanding its
temptations. You know, sir, that I
neither drink nor gamble. The
Bmallness of the amount I have taken
must prove that your money was
not spent in that way. You have
pleased to be very kind to me, sir.
Do you remember urging npon me
the acceptance of an invitation to a
party given by your daughter? I
was reluctant, but went, and from
that hour my fate was sealed. The
most fascinating as well as the most
heartless of coqnettes did not scorn
to set her snare for me, to dazzle me
with her loveliness, and lure me with
her stniles. There is no intoxica
tion like the first love of youth, sir ;
don’t you know that ? There is no
frenzy like that inspired by a woman
who makes you love her. I lived in
a delirium ; I was mad on account j
of this woman whom I loved, and ;
seemed to love me, and I incurred a
debt for her—a debt which in a I
wild moment, a moment when I had
jnst been scornfully cast off by her,
I paid your money.”
“What was your debt ?” Mr. Lyle
asked briefly.
“It was for a ring.”
“A ring with a diamond set in a
cluster of rubies?” the merchant ask
ed with a flash of remembrance.
“Yes, sir," Thorley said relnctant-
!y-
The merchant sat down, and mo
tioned Thorley to a seat, remained
some moments thoughtful, with his
face averted. Then touching the
bell, he waited, while Frank Thorley
covered his face with his hands.
“Tell Miss Roxie I wish to see
her here,” he said to the servant
who answered his summons.
Roxie was going out; and she
came dressed as she was for the par
ty, fleecy white floating abont her
like cloud wreaths, her lips red,
her cheeks aglow and her eyes spark
ling.
She reddened some what at the
sight of Frank Thorley’s ghastly
face.
“Did yon send for me, papa?” she
asked of her father, who sat with his
face in a shadow.
For reply he reached and took her
ungloved hand in his. It was a
dainty hand, slender, small and white,
and glittering with rings. He pat
his finger upon a small diamond sur
rounded by rabies, and lifted his
glance to hers.
Boxie shrank a little, and looked
as though she was going fo cry.
Taming toward Frank Thorley,
Mr. Lyle said:
“Upon one condition I will forgive
yon. Repeat what you have said to
me, in the presence of this poor mis
guided girl.”
Poor Frank Thorleyl Perhaps he
thought even exposure would be
preferable to such humiliation before
her whom he loved. Perhaps a se*
cond thought of his mother came and
nerved him. He hesitated only a
moment, and told the story, with a
half desperate, half sarcastic elos
quence that shook the vivid color
oat of Roxie’s brilliant face, and left
it white and scared.
“Won’t you forgive me, Frank?”
she cried and dang to ber father with
a burst of tears.
“Will you forgive her, Frank
Thorley, or not?” demanded Mr.
Lyle.
“Heaven knows I forgive her, sir,
as I hope to be forgiven.”
“Thank you, sir. I think she has
wronged yon more than you have
wronged me, and I will show yon,
yonng man, how I can forgive to*
morrow."
Bat when the morrow came Frank
Thorley had left London with his
mother, and vain were all Mr. Lyle's
efforts to discover him.
Years passed. There came a finan
cial eraali; and though everybody
supposed Lyle & Co., to be establish
sd pn too ftnn a basis to be shaken,
they were not able to out ridn the
storm. :*.
ScrupulouBh* honest Bow as gfor,
i ^ r ' U P evei-ytUingj Diada
; E ? cffi’ri to save «o ranch"as Roxie’s
piano from uudt-r the hammer.
‘ Never mind, papa, she said soft
ly to Dim -that last night belbip the
sale, “we have still each other, and I
am young. Perhaps I may find some
use now of thoso accomplishments
you have lavished upon me so freely
! ’‘ You think," she added, with
an attempt of gayety, “that yon were
l Pitting money by when you were
j spending it on me, did yon?”
I “Hcavon knows what is to bocome
i of us!” moaned the unhappy mer-
; chant. “To-morrow, at this time,
! we shall have no right even to the
! roof that shelters our heads. But
i heaven bless yon, iny child, for this
' sweet courage. It is something to
! have so brave a child. Yon have
• been used to such freedom and care,
though Roxie—I wish you had mar-
I ried, dear, and you would have had a
! home now.”
“I have got you, papa, and there's
nobody I like better ,’
“Nobody, Roxie?”
The soft cheek Hushed a little, and
the red lips trembled.
“Don t ask me, papa,- there’s no.*
body now,” she said, hiding her face
on his shoulder.
“W as it some one who went away?”
‘Yes,” faintly.
“I thought bo deai’. It’s liks you
women to love the men they have
wronged the most?”
Tho two hid away in the roughest
comer of the house while the auction
was going on next day, and Roxie
exerted herself incredably to sustain
her father’s heavy heart He grew
old fast in those few hours. This
losing his homo seemed to hurt him
cruelly.
The sale was over, and they still
sat there alone, waiting, perhaps, to
see if some friend would not come to
speak a word of comfort or counsel
in this trying hour.
There was a hesitating knock at
the door presently, and a gentleman
came in.
Mr. Lyle, seeing that it was a
stranger, said: “You are, perhaps,
the new proprietor?”
The stranger bowed and said: “I
bought everything in trust for s
friend of Mr. Lyle’s who requested
me to say to him that his home was
as much his now as it ever was.”
Mr. Lyle lifted liis head and look
ed at the man, and from him to Roxie,
in a sort of bewilderment.
“What does he mean, Roxie?”
Roxie had come forward breath
less, her face red and white in sudden
changes.
“Papa,’ she said, running to him
and sobbing upon his neck, “it’s
Frank Thorley.”
“No, no, Roxie,” the merchant
said incredulously.
“It is Frank Thorley, sir,” Frank
said, now coming nearer; “and ha
fervently wishes that he had 'come
sooner. I am a rich man, Mr. Lylo,
thanks to you for giving me another
chance in life, and I have come ready
to discharge my obligation to you
with my all. I have nothing, sir, that
is not yours also.”
“Don’t Frank! I was only just,
scarcely that: it seems good to see
you though, like the face of an old
friend. We haven’t many friends
now, you know.”
Roxie had not spoken. It seemed
she could not lift her face from her
father's arm. Bnt when Frank asked
gently—
“Have you no welcome for me,
Roxie?”
“Have you forgiven me yet?” sho
asked, looking up suddenly.
“I have never married,” he said, in
a low voice: “said you ”
“Nor I,” flushing nDd trembling.
“Roxie,”—with sudden heat and
eagerness—“I have loved you all
these years.”
“And I yon.”
The new firm is Lyle & Thorley,
Frank wonld have it so.
HUMOROUS.
A Sayixu Misapplied.—
One wlio, wlien ask'd, could not comply,
Replied, I've other fish to fry !
A Frenchman chanced to hear the
saying, and oddly misapplied it in
this wise :
“I fain voud do vot you do wish.
But I must go and fry aome fish.’*
A Legal Claim.---Jack Ketch be
ing asked on what ground he claimed
the clothes of those he hanged, an
swered : “As their e.<-ecvtor."
Johnsonian Compliment.—The great
actress, Mrs. Siddons, who was con
sidered the handsomest woman of
her times, once called to pay her
respects to the great lexicographer.
When Frank, the Doctor’s servant,
could not immediately provide her
with a chair, he very handsomely
said:
“You see, Madam, wherever you
go there are no seats to be got.”
Felo de se.—A man aboard a ship,
accidentally tipped overboard and
was drowned. One of the jurymen
at the Coroner’s inquest, was asked
what verdict they brought in, and
whether they found it felo de se t
‘Aye, aye.’ the juryman gravely an-
werd, “he fell into the sea sure
enough.”
Bad is Best.—
“My wife’s eo very bad,” cried Will,
. *1 fear she ne'ei will bold it,—
hhe keeps her bed !’—‘Jlinea worse,’Mid
Phil.
‘The jado has juzt now sold ill’
Eggs.—There is an objection to
the common way of boiliDg eggs,
which people do not understand. It
is this: The white, under three min
utes’ rapid cooking, becomes tpt
and indigestible, while tbe
left out. When properly cooked,
eggs are done evenly through like
any other food. This result may be
obtained by putting the eggs into a
dish with a cover’, as a tin pail, and
then pouring npon them boiling wa
ter, two quarts tr more to a dozen
eggs, and cover and set them away
from the stove- for fifteen minutes.—
The heat of the water cooks the
eggs’slowly and evenly arid sufficient
ly, and to a jelly-like consistency,
leaving the centre or yolk harder
than tho white, and the egg tastes
as much richer and nicer as a fresh
egg is nicer than a stale egg, and no
person will want to cat them boiled
after trying this method once.
If every woman would only take
tho advice sho gives to others sh^
would be happy.
