Newspaper Page Text
nioq
ecorder*
MlLLEDGEVILLE, M*taK 22, 1881.
For the Union A Recorder.
The Little Gothic Church.
i,X HAST FAITH FLOYD.
CHAFTEK I.
“I am glad yoti have returned, Arthur,”
wild a feeble, querulous voice.
“So am I Mary, though I had a pleasant
t ,„’ P ‘ M-e you feeling better?”
“Not much, but that is the way with you
men, always glad to bo away from home,”
sho said in the same fretiui tone.
“You are mistaken, dear. I love home,
hut when I do go away and everybody tries
to be so pleasant, it would bo churlish not to
f< tn thtatime Arthur had been washing
S* just atTivud horn U.o ml-
'"I'NowBtt’tlown, Artliur. and tell moalxuit
vour visit,” said the invalid wife.
“I saw everybody, 1 suppose, lie said
laughing, and sitting beside her. I dined
out every day, and was introduced to many
people that I shall never remember, I am
sure” , , ,,
“Did you preach ?’ asked Mary.
“Yes, on Sunday forenoon. Mr. Earnest
is quite feeble and glad to have his pulpit
filled. I promised to preach for him again
in six weeks.”
“Oh dear! another journey,” siglieu Ha-
r}\ “One consolation, I shall not last long
ro suffer these constant absences.’
“My dear,” said Arthur kindly, “you
must not be unreasonable. You know 1 was
studying for the ministry before 1 married
and it is best for me to go. I hope to get a
regular place soon and then 1 shall not go
away often.”
Mary sighed, and then said: ’lell me
about the church and the congregation., I
am shut up here and never see anything.
“The church is a pretty brown building
of Gothic structure. The chancel is quite
fine. The people seem hospitable and well
to do.”
“Didn't you see any ladies or get ac
quainted with them? Where they good
looking and well dressed?”
“Yes, I got acquainted with a few, but,
my dear, a minister is not expected to see
the ladies dresses, or their looks, either,”
ho said laughing, “however now you re
mind me, I did see the most beautiful girl I
ever looked at.”
“Always harping on beauty, Arthur. 1
am sure a minister ought not to admire
beauty as you do,” said Mary peevishly.
“1 could not help seeing this girl she sat
light in front of the pulpit. You asked me
yourself, Mary, or I should not have re
membered it. I will strive not to admire
beautiful things hereafter if you think it
wrong.”
“I don’t want you to stop admiring pret
ty things. I shan’t be in your way long,”
she said sadly.
“My dear, I will do anything to please
you, so do not disturb yourself with sad
thoughts,” answered the young man, while
a pained expression (fitted over his open
face.
Arthur Weldon was an only son. In per
son lie was tall, slender, and well made. He
had a mild, open counteauce, with a fair
forehead, dark bluo eyes, a large mouth
and fine teeth, with a goodly suit of
curly brown hair upon a massive head.
His nature was joyous and artless to ex
cess. Inordinate ambition and self-will
were his besetting sins. No wondc-r! He
had exercised ids own will all of his life.
Love of all that was beautiful and noble
were strong elements of his nature. He
had been reared under pious influences and
the very guilelessness cf his nature made
him accept the gospel truths with the sim
plicity of a little child.
Nevertheless the struggle for a higher
life cost him many a hard battle and lie
finally studied for the ministry as the best
means of seif conquest, and tiie attain
ment of that perfect peace which is prom
ised to the (laintin followers of Jesus.
(Oftentimes his mother had warned him
that his self-will and ambition would cause
him much misery, but his choice of a pro
fession, which was a surprise to iiis fami
ly, quieted her anxieties in some measure.
All these were again aroused when Arthur
in his twentietii year, sought and won
Miss Mary Horton, a young lady some
years his senior, with neither beauty or su
perior qualities to recommend her. She
was the niece of a wealthy merchant, liad
expectations and a long pedigree, but
whether or not Arthur weigtied these con
siderations in Ills mind were only matters
of surmise. When lie became of age lie
found himself the possessor of a jealous,
peevish wife, who soon became a hopeless
invalid. Whatever may be said of minis
ters’ judiciousness of choice in marrying it
is to be feared that they arc but men after
all, and are led in their selections by the
same caprices of fancy as their less relig
ious brethren arc.
Mary Horton was not at all pious. True
she was a regular attendant at all church
mootings until her health failed, but <>f the
genuine heart-worship she knew nothing.
The mistress of her uncle’s establishment
she had no cause for self-restraint and her
self-will was of a less tractable kind than
that of her husband; becauso like all wo
men, sho was controlled by every new
whim, whilst his was better balanced by
common sense.
A few months previous to our story Mrs.
Weldon had given birth to an infant which
lived only a few weeks. She had been dan
gerously ill at the time and had never re
covered her health. The death of her child
had been a keen grid to iter, and her time
was consumed in languishing sigiis, weak
complaints, and jealous murmurs at her
husband, whom to do her justice, sho lov-
edivery dearly. Poor Arthur, his daily life
was over anything but ilowery fields, cheer
ful, bright, true to every duty, ever strug
gling for the right, it was hard to be al
ways chidod in hie most genial feelings.
Ever kind at home, he felt the great want
of congenial companionship, and lie threw
himself with ail his ambitious fervor into
his work. Even in this ho was cramped
by his wife’s jealous fears, which grew more
oppressive as her healtli declined.
For six weeks the well oiled wheels of
time sped swiftly, and once again Ar
thur Weldon went to Stockton to preach
for Mr. Earnest. On his return He found
his wife more feeble than usual. The
spring weather was enervating, and final
ly a low fever set in. There is no greater
test or developer of a fine nature, than the
drudgery of a sick-room. Few men can
bear the toil, or indeed rouse enough for
titude to occupy tiie anomalous position of
sick-nurse, but Arthur seemed gifted with
super-human powers. For several weeks
he labored to mitigate Mary’s sufferings
to soothe her fretful nature, and to lead
her mind to the simple act of faitli requis
ite to make one an acceptable child of God.
And then the end came! Mary had had a
terrible night of agony. With her dying
physical powers, her mental attributes
seemed to grow to a premature size, her
spiritual nature to expand boyoud the lim
its of the finite. She had at last professed
to see and believe in the holy truths which
alone could waft her spirit to a safe refuge
by the throne of God, after its passage
over the Cold River.
It was near daybreak. The lights began
to glimmer a sickly bluo in the early sum
mer dawning. The watchers sat silently
waiting the dread moment when a soul set
free, should lift its wings to seek its crea
tor’* presence.
The patient slept uneasily, witli hurried
breathing. A faint motion of tin: hand,
then a faint voice said
“Water! Oh, Arthur lift me, I suffocate.”
The wearied man rose, lifted tiie frail
iorin, while the nurso handed a glass or
water which he held to Mary’s lips. Her
head fell forward.
“She faints, lay her down.”
“Quick, the camphor, nur-e.”
Arthur bathed her forehead with cam
phor and moistened her lips with brandy.
Only the compressed lips and deeply seam
ed brow told ld» sufferings. Presently he
fell on his knees. “Oh Mary speak tome!”
the reetof his thoughts went up to God
In a silent prayer as he held his wife*
hand. The stillness was oppressive. It was
silence that one feels rather than knows., sprang to the top of the hill. HeMng the
Only the faint motion or the chest told that
the sufferer lived. Whilst Arthur wrestled
in unspoken prayer he felt the frail hand
in his clasp move slightly. He raised his
head; Mary’s eyes were gazing upon him.
her lips moved. He rose, leaned over her,
and heard in scarce audible tones: “Ar
thur, I’ve loved you. Promise me never
” The rest of the sentence was not ut
tered. The patient relapsed into silence
and when the sun rose with his scarlet
plumes Hashing abroad, with one flutter
ing breath Mary slept the sleep that is
past waking.
Arthur left the room a childless wid
ower.
Mr. Weldon gave up bis house and en
gaged lodgings. The baptism of tiro
through which he had gone had scorched
his soul, and enclosed his heart into an
isolation near akin to the dismal gloom of
the charnel house. The tax upon his
strength during the latter weeks of his
wife’s illness had impaired his healtli. Hut
he plunged into study with the vigor of
despair, withdrawing himself entirely from
companionship, unless necessitated to
preach, or to minister to tiie distress of
others. He did not evon go to his mother.
His sisters were married and aftor kind
letters of condolonce, he was left to his
fate.
The melancholy monotony of his life was
only interrupted by a visit from his wife’s
uncle. Mr. Horton was surprised to find
Arthur looking so ill.
“Arthur, what can the matter be?” ask
ed the old gentleman in kindly sympathy.
“I have not, feltquite myself, since ”
"This will never do, my boy. It is wrong
to grieve in this manner. I am going to
Europe in a fortnight to bo absent until
autumn. You shall go with me.”
“Impossible, sir!”
“You have no regular ciiargo yet, and I
need you. Go with me. ©n your return
you will be in better health and spirits,
and can then settle in tho business of
life.”
“I must think of it,” said Arthur, “and
will give you an answer before you leave.”
“So be it, I shall take no refusal. I oft
en promised Mary a trip to Europe, and
tho time never came. You shall go in her
place.”
So it was arranged. Arthur went on a
brief visit to his mother and in a fortnight
was -ailing across tiie Atlantic.
CHAFTEK II.
We shall pass over tho European tour
which consumed more than a year. Mr.
Horton and Arthur returned in the spring
season. Arthur was much improved in
health and his joyous nature, although
much tempered, began to assume some of
its former sway. It is in vain we strive to
suppress <>ur individuality! It may be
modified by circumstances; it may be de
pressed by grief, but we are not changed
permanently. More than a year had pass
ed since Mrs. Weldon’s death, when Arthur
was summoned to officiate at the funeral
or Mr. Earnest. Soon after this event lie
found Himself a dweller at Stockton, tiie
pastor of the little Gothic church, and a
boarder in tiie family of tiie former incum
bent.
Arthur had found his married life full of
trials, ending in a wretched ordeal, but the
new existence needed a more careful steer
age to avoid falling upon the Sylla and
Carybdis of church factions. There is no
position which requires so much jesuitical
diplomacy as that of a popular minister.
There are a thousand shoals and shallows
to bo avoided, a million prejudices to
smooth over; countless opinions to please,
innumerable calls to make, and in short
tho pastor is expected to study tho pecul
iar temperament of each member of His
church, and strive to shape his course so
as to give no offence, and please and bene
fit everybody. There is but one way to
escape falling into a clerical network of
perplexities and disfavor, and this is found
by setting one’s face to the Great l’roto-
type with a determination to plcaso Him.
leaving the petty triviality or earthly pop
ularity far behind.
When Mr. Weldon had been iu charge of
his church a few months he was startled
one Sabbatli morning on entering the pul
pit, to see the same face lie had admired so
long ago, in the identical pew before him.
It was but a moment that his eye rested on
the face, yet it called up painful memories;
his wife’s nature, her subsequent death,
and her Half framed roquest. He thrust
aside all tiiese past recollections which
sounded as phantom belis to chide him,
and lie went on with the services. After
the worsliip,while speaking to some iriends,
Mrs. Earnest said
“Mr. Weldon, allow me to introduce you
to Miss Aikin.” Tho lady bowed and shook
hands with her new pastor. “Zilla, when
did you reach home?” asked Mrs. Earnest,
the two ladies having just met before tiie
introduction.
“Yesterday afternoon. I begged the chil
dren not to so say anything of my arrival.
I wished to surprise all of you,” and Miss
Zilla laughed showing a pretty set of white
teeth.
“IIow long weroyou absent?” asked tho
voluble old lady.
“Oh, four long months, but I had a de
lightful time.”
“Como soon to see me.”
“Thank you, but I shall lie overwhelmed
with work, I have had such a long holiday.”
“Mr. Weldon,” she said, witii a smiie, “I
heard of your beooming our pastor, I-con-
gratulatc Stockton on securing you, and
sho swept on as ho bowed iu acknowledge
ment of the compliment.
Zilla Aiken was of medium height, well
featured, with dark gray eyes, and a mod
erately fair skin. She was considered very
pretty, very affable, quite industrious, fair
ly intelligent; frank, generous, somewhat
coquettish and iracible. Hers was a tem
per of the gun-powder kind that the least
word of reproof, the slightest tone of jest
ing acted as a spark igniting it into Jexplo-
siou. Hut Zilla never bore malice, she re
covered her good humor almost as soon as
lost, and there was much hope that with
increasing experience this sparkling dispo
sition would glow with less Incandescence.
She was the eldest of several children.
Her father had been in California for some
years. He had gone thero to resuscitate
his decayed fortune. Rumor said lie never
intended to return and was a faithless
spouso, but he did manage to support his
family in comfort, which ho did not do be
fore he left. Rumor is many-tongued, and
each tongue is forked with a poisoned barb
which pierces its victiuj mercilessly without"
regard to facts.
ZUla’s education had been somewhat de
fective. She was slightly vain. What pret
ty girl is not? She was fond of dress, and
a little fond of admiration. Why not?
What would a woman be without these
prettinesses! She had been spending some
time iu a distant city with a relative.
There she had taken music and French les
sons. Strange to say she did not discourse
“like a native, or sing divinely.” She play
ed agreebly, sang pleasantly, and compre
hended any ordinary French sentence sho
saw in her reading. This was all, and all
she pretended to be.
One afternoon Zilla and her sister Dora, a
girl of fifteen, with big black eyes, and long
black hair, not so pretty as tho elder,
started for a walk. ThoyTnmbled into the
suburb on a picturesque hillside in search
of wild llowers. At the foot of this hill
crept a small stream which murmured
musicaily over tiie rocks and pebbles. The
hill was abrupt in some places, but adven
ture is the spice of young lives and the
girls crossed the brook and began tho steep
est ascent.
“Zilla, you begin to climb,’ said Dora.
“When I see your progress I shall fol
low.”
“Cowardly, eh? Here I go,” and Zilla
clambered up holding to the low bushes.
Dora stood below looking upward as Zil
la ascended.
"l)o come on, Dora or I shall reach the
top and have to wait for you.”
“And have to bito your tongue to keep
from scolding, "cried Dora. “Here I come!”
and sho began to climb.
Zilla was about to answer when her
words turned into a little scream as a large
Now Foundland dog sprang toward her.
Zilla was no coward, the sudden bound of
tho dog*«tartled her aud she came near
falling. She caught a projecting limb and
sat down. All of this occurred In a few _
moments, and before Dora could frame an company
enquiry, a gentleman called a dog which ‘ pretty fat
lady tho gentleman advanced rapidly,
was scon beside her.
Lifting his hat, ho asked, “at* you hurt
ills*?’’
Zilla raised her eyes and burst into a
merry peal of laughter at the undignified
contretemps.
“Excuse me, Mr. Weldon, I could not re
frain from laughing. I am not at all hurt.
I was only startled and came near losing
my balance.”
“Miss Aikin,” shaking her hand and aid
ing her to rise, “I did not recognize you.
“Allow mo to assist you up the hill.”
“Thank you. I must wait for my sister.
We were going for some azaleas on the hill
top. Come on, Dora,” she called.
“I fear vou will be disappointed,” said
he, “I saw none.”
“I think we can show them to you. What
a beautiful dog you have.”
“Yes. He was the girt of a friend. There
is some principle in us that makes us love
pets, but I should never have sought to
provide myself one by my own choice.”
Dora by this time reached them, was In
troduced, and tho three went together to a
place where tho azaleas bloomed. There
was a genial tiairete in these girls that was
pleasing. Just as a summer rain is reviv
ing to vegetation, so their girlish chat was
refreshing to Mr. Weldon after being so
long out of female society. Although oc
cupying the position of sage counselor, a
grave teacher, he was but twenty-three
years of ago and there was much of that
yish bouyancy in him, which became vis
ible in opportune circumstances. The dog
had gamboled off after his misdemeanor,
and now came frolicking up to his mas
ter.
“How handsome he is,” said Zilla.
“And equally rule, but I must not chide
him for 1 icing tho means of such charming
company,” said he smiling. “Be quiet
Echo,” as the dog jumped and fondled.
“Oli, I do wish thero was a river near,”
said Zilla, “I would be tempted to throw
myself in just to have tills beautiful creat
ure to rescue mo.”
“I suspect the cold water would cool
your enthusiasm, Zilla,” said Dora, “but
here are a few flowers,” and she ran away
to get them first.
“You are romantic 1 see, Miss Aikin.”
“No I am not. Mama says it is silly to
be romantic and I havo a horror of being
silly,” she said pouting a little, “but Mr.
Weldon you need not call me Miss Aikin.
Why 1 am only seventeen, aachool girl. You
are our pastor you know, and I never was
called Miss Aikin before. It sounds so for
mal—ever so old,” sho sung out tho old
slowly as if to cover the wholoarea of three
score years and ten.
Mr. Weldon laughed heartily. This
school girl was absolutely pert, but then
men like pretty pertness in pretty women,
and ministers do especially. It is a varia
tion from the everlasting monotony of
long-faced-ness which greets them at every
turn.
“I beg pardon, Miss Zilla, I did not
mean to offend. Perhaps you are only he
roic,' lie said with a curious smile, looking
at tiie girl’s flushed face.
“Thank you, I like heroism.” She look
ed up at him and seeing his smile, tho color
deepened in her face. You aro “laughing
at me.” Her temper was lighting up for a
eorruscation. Sho detested being laughed
til.
-I am not. I should not venture to bo so
rude. Ah! hero are the blossoms,” adroit
ly changing the subject.
“Do you like Stockton?" asked Ziila, as
she gathered tiie choicest sprays of llow
ers.
“I su^ose I do,” answered he absently.
“I have not been hero very long and do
not feel quite at home. I think I shall like
it,” he added, seeing a disappointed look
flit over Zilla’s expressive face.
••You must not say anything against
Stockton,” said Dora, “Zilla thinks it the
greatest place of all tho world.”
“I don’t mean to disparage the place.
It is well situated, but you know, Miss Do
ra people of my doth are to feel content
in any plaeo their work leads them.”
“How hard that must be to do,” answer
ed Dora, staring wide her big eyes.
“It is sometimes, unless we seek strength
from our Lord,” said the gentleman more
to himself than to ills hearers.
“I fee! as if 1 should like to travel ever so
far say to California where father is.
I never have been anywhere—never have
seen any sights yet," Dora said
“You may be a groat voyager sometime
You havo plenty of timo young lady for
sight-seeing, but oven that Is weariness
sometimes,” he said.
“You do not look as if you had been ever
weary in your fife, Mr. Weldon," laughing
ly said Zilla
“Here is tiio very prettiest bunch for you
Mr, Weldon," Dora, said. “Zilla I think we
ought to return now.”
“Thank you. Miss Dora. Do you often
walk tills way?”
“No, sir, we do not. I go to school. Us
ually I am tired when I get home. Zilla Is
lazy about walking. Tho flowers tempted
her out this afternoon."
“So you are fond of llowers, Miss Zilla, 1
as they turned homeward.
‘Yes, and I love all pretty things; even a
pretty sunset!”
“Ah! Then wo agree. Love of the beau
tiful is one or my weak points. 1
“I thought only girls had weak points.
When I want a new dress, I am told that Is
a weak point; a fancy neck tie, is another
weak point. If I wish to look pretty that Is
weakest of all,” said Zilla, merrily, “but I
am glad all weak points aro not mine. It
is a great relief to mo, and I mean to *ay
so, the next time I am chided."
“Pray don’t quote me, I was not mean
ing to offer a precedent when I expressed
my own weak point,” answered Mr.
Weldon.
Ail this, while they were descending the
lilil, tiie gentleman occasionally assisting
his fair companions.
“That is real selfish In you. Just think
what a quietus it would be to mamma's
lecturos, were I to say Mr. Weldon has, as
lie says himself, weak points, as well as I. 1
“Do no such thing, or I shall lose caste
as a sage .mentor,” ho replied, laughing.
“I see that I must be cautious what I say
before sharp young ladies.”
“Comfort yourself with the assurance
that I shall not take advantage of your un
guarded remark.” They had crossed the
brook and approached the streets.
“Our roads diverge here, Mr. Weldon.
1 am obliged to you for a pleasant adven
ture, and an acquaintance with your beau
tiful favorite.”
"Goodbye! Come to see mother,” said
Dora, and the gentleman walked on.
“How could you talk so pertly to him,
Zilla? You spoke to him just as if he were
school boy,” said Dora.
“Well, I couldn’t put on a grim face the
length of a yard stick, like old Mr. Bennet,
could I?”
“No; you wouldn’t look like him If you
did, Zilla, but you might havo been more
dignified and solemn.”
"Pshaw! Ministers will find themselves
mightily mistaken if they think every girl
is going to spoil her pretty face in long
drawn religious looks, just to please them.
If thoy like that they must visit the old
folks, and tiie ugly ones, that’s all!” said
Zilla, giving iier head a careless toss.
“You need not have told him about liking
pretty clothes and pretty looks,” said Dora
advisingly.
“Well, I do dearly like them. He ought
to like the truth, always.”
“I give it up, Ziila, but I know he thinks
us two pert girls.”
“I don’t care what he thinks! It is not
likely wo will meet him tele a Me again.
Tiie next time I see him I shall be—well
treezing to recovor my dignity. Wfll that
please you? Think of a school girl, being
dignified,” and Zilla opened the door and
ran into the house.
Mr. Weldon walked leisurely along t The
sun huug
“Like a ruby from the horizon's ring,”
lighting the treotops and the windows in a
blaze of rod gold. His thoughts were all
agreeable. “What a pleasant adventure!
‘A mere school girL’ Mettlesome «*""ghj
almost pert. Didn’t she loo$ pretty when
she avowed so frankly, that she liked pret
ty things—her own pretty face. I like
truth-even mixed with vaaitv it is More
tolerable than insincerity. Pshaw!" he
said to himself, and lighted a Cigar for
the rest of the way hows. The
face kept intruding upon bis studies
and turning his ideas from work the ensu
ing days.
Sunday after Sunday came and rested iu
the great silent bosom of the past. Each
week Zilla -h»d gone to her accustomed
place. The minister had glanced careless
ly at her and then become absorbed in his
work. He was not aware how helpful was
that vision of beauty. He only knew that
there was a pleasing sense of something
which charmed like the odor of a sweet
flower, or the flavor of luscious fruit. There
is nothing more absorbing than the lan
guishing delight of a love at first sight.
There is a deep melody; a delicious aroma;
a pleasing fullness, os if each sense was
gratified to Intense satisfaction. The soul
craves notlung more, it basks in an infini
ty of . bliss. Mr. Weldon experienced all
this undertone of harmony without realiz
ing it, until It made Itself felt by the ab
sence of its keynote from tho usual place.
All at once he became aware that a some
thing was wanting, a note had grown
dumb In the scale of his being. Ho was
restless. He might have gone on content
until months grew into years, had tho
glimpse of the lovely vision entered his soul
at the usual intervals. His was tho wor
ship of ail idealized charm.
One afternoon he throw on his hat and
called on Mrs. Aiken. His life was too stu
dious to visit much, but the restlessness
had grown too great for control.
She was not at home, and the girls had
gone in tho country to be absent several
weeks. There was hope in knowing that
absence would have an end. Indefinitoness
gnaws into the heart, and cannot lie endur
ed as well as actual pain, with a limit. To
the soul the last is tho “cloud with a silver
lining.” Tho cloud was passed and tho
silver glittered, when, after a few other
weary weeks, the pretty face appeared in
its place in front or tho pulpit.
Weldon was satisfied with the sense of
seeing. He had not reasoned out his sen
sations. Had any ono told him he loved,
lie would have been offended. Ho had
loved his wife, lie had willfully married
against the judgment of friends; every
phaso demanded constancy to her memo
ry, but there were depths of his soul that
slept; an ardency of affection that she had
not possesse<l tho power to touch.
Weldons hebdomadal instalment of
pleasure was intensified twice, accidentally.
Ono afternoon ho had gone out In a friend’s
phieton, some distance in the country, on
pastoral duty, and was returning. Ho ob
served some young people, on tho high
way ahead of him, who stepped aside to
permit the vehicle to pass. Ho did notTre-
cognize them, but touched his hat politely.
Just as the carriage rolled by a voice sung
out, “Let me ride!”
“Stop,” lie said to the coachman, descend
ing from the carriage.
“Why Lucy Manton! 1 would be asham
ed !” said Dora Aikin.
“The carriage is empty. Wc might as
well ride, Dora.”
“Yes you might. Mis* Dora,” said Wel
don, laughing and shaking hands. “There
Is room tor all of you, young ladies.”
Here Zilla turned round. She was look
ing very pretty with crimson cheeks.
True to her threat, she had sustained her
dignity by a distant bow at church. Now
as she shook the man’s proffered hand, she
said laughing:
“We seem destined never to meet except
witii some strange blunder. Lucy Man-
ton,” she said sharply, “you bogged for a
ride, get In the plueton and we shall follow
on foot.”
“I protest against any such arrange
ment,” said Weldon.
“She ought to bo punished for rudeness.”
“But I havo not been rude, Miss Zilla,
and you should not punish me,” said he.
“I don’t care to ride,” said Zilla, careless
ly pulling the leaves off a sprig of groan
she held.
“Then you can walk, Zilla,” exclaimed
Dora, “I don’t get a ride every day, and as
I did not beg for it, I’m invited, and mean
to accept.”
"I shall have to walk Urn,” said Weldon,
gallantly.
“Rather than sause you to do that I will
ride. Lucyget in, and you too Charlotte,”
she said, and soon they were snugly stow
ed; Zilla and Dora in tho back scat—Wel
don and the two smaller girls in the front.
“I had no idea who you were when I
passed, or should have insisted on your
riding. Miss Zilla.”
“No matter, Lucy’s mischief gives us tho
ride.’’
“I did not mean to be rude, I did not
think you would hear me. 1 shall promise
to lie more careful next time,” said Lucy,
deprecatlngly.
“You know very well you will do the
same way, Lucy,” said Dora, who was re
markably plain spoken.
“That is right, Miss Lucy," said Wel
don, “I give you leave always to ask me to
let you ride whenever I am in a carriage.”
Here ho gave the coach man orders to go
In another direction before they went
home.
“Had you been flower hunting. Miss
Dora?”
“No sir; I suspect the azaleas aro all
gone now. Wo havo never been on tho hiii
since our former meeting there.”
“Shall wo not make an excursion thither
soon? Other flowers may bo blooming there
now. Tills is Wednesday. I enn go next
Monday. Will that suit you, Miss Zilla?”
he asked turning to her, as if tier accep
tance was a foregone conclusion.
“I didn’t say I was going,” said Zilla,
looking into his eyes and smiling.
“But you will,” ho said eagerly—so ea
gerly that her eyes fell. Why, sho could
not tell. She was not versed in tho world’s
ways yet.
“Oh, I have no objection, if mother lias
nothing for me to do,” answered tho girl
carelessly.
Thus they chatted until they approached
near their home. Zilla and Dora insisted
on walking the rest of the way to avoid
giving trouble, and after mutual adieus,
and promises to go in search of flowers tho
next Monday, Ziiia and Dora went their
way.
“Zilla, I never saw any one stare a9 that
man did, at you. Actually lie must be in
love.”
“Nonsense, Dora, ho is married.”
“Nonsense indeed, ho is a widower.”
“I don’t like widowers. They are fussy,
and always sighing over their dead wires’
perfections.”
“I think ministers would be better look
ing If they didn’t wear white chokers,”
said Dora, wisely.
“This man is very good looking,” said
Zilla.
“He is vain too. I am sorry he hasn’t
black eyes. I never admired blue eye6.”
“He would be bettor looking if he wore a
black cravat. That’s what I havo to say.”
“Tell him so, Dora. Y’ou are heedless
enough to do so.”
“I wiii, If you wish, but I don’t soe what
that has to do with black eyes.”
“Nothing in tho world, Miss Pertness,”
said Zilla, going in by the front door and
slamming it behind her with a loud thud.
Her temper was invigorated by the idea of
black eyes.
Dora laughed and followed her sister.
ciiafteb iu.
Monday afternoon, Ziila, Dora, Lucy,
and Charlotte, started at tiie appointed
hour for their walk. At the cross street
loading to Mrs. Earnest’s home, they saw
nothing of Mr. Weldon. They waited a
Short time.
“Como on, girls,” said Dora. “Let us
not stop hero ail tho afternoon.”
“You asked him to walk, Miss Dora,”
Said Zilla, who had not forgotten the black
eyed imbroglio.
“Oh! I didn’t,” sung out Dora. “He ask
ed mo.”
We can walk slowly on. If he over
takes us well, if not, we can go alono. I
do not mean to be baikod after starting,”
said Zilla.
When the girls had reached the last
street leading to tho suburbs, Echo bound
ed toward thorn and soon after his master
came In view.
Ladies, 1 am sorry I am behind time. 1
was unavoidably detained. I hope I am
forgiven.”
Zilla found herself quite at home with
Mr. Weldon, who detailed to her many In
teresting incidents of his visit to Europe*
She bad not been an extensive reader, but
she was an apt listener, ami a ready ques
tioner about general information. By a
Sort of tacit consent, the two elder of this
youthful party were left to walk together,
Dora and the Mantons going a little ahead*
The climbing of the hill w*e a merry pro
ceeding with reminiscences of the former
meeting at that place. There were no m ore
azaleas but a few ripe berries, some Indif
ferent flowers, and a very pretty prospect
of the town to compensate for the absence
of azaleas.
“What a romantic place,” said Weldon,
as they came to an open space through
which a glimpse of the town ou tho one
side, and on tiie other, the far off fields,
witii their growing burden, were visible.
“Yes, if this hill was more abrupt on one
side with a rapid river lielow, it would be,”
said Zilla.
“And if some forlorn swain had only
sprung from the preeipico into tho Hood it
would havo given eclat to Stockton,” he
added.
“I don’t like that, for then the spot would
havo beon called Lover's Leap, which is
common. Every town has such a place.
I am glad ours has no river for that rea
son.”
“This is, at any rate, a nice placo for
meditating. Shall we name it Meditation
Peak?” asked Weldon.
“1 think Azalea Height is more appro
priate,” said Zilla.
“I don’t see any azaleas now,’’ said Dora,
“so Mr. Weldon’s namo for the spot is
more suitable. Girls don’t do much think
ing, they study, when they go to school.”
“I don’t. I miss my lesson sometimes,
and so do you, Dora,” said Lucy,
“Of course I do, Lucy. I wouldn’t go to
school long if I was perfect every day, be
cause I should soon know everything.”
“Do you write verses, Mr. Weldon?”
asked Zilla.
“No.”
“I am sorry. I was going to propose that
you write a sonnet on meditation,” sho
said.
“Do you, Miss Zilla, because you might
lavor us with some beautiful ideas on Aza-
loa Heights, after the manner of Ovid’s
metamorphoses?”
“Zilla, write an ode to black oyes,” said
Dora mischievously.
Zilla’s face grew crimson. When she
looked up tho minister’s eyes were upon
her. It was a look of gravity, surprise,
and inquiry mingled. Sho bit her lips, and
said coldly after a few moments, “I am
sorry, Mr. Weldon that I am not bright
enough to have beautiful ideas. Ministers
are well educated and I beg that you write
both pieces. Dora, I shall tell mother how
port you are.” She was angry.
“I am afraid I cannot do justice to the
subjects. Y'ou have a poetic face and can
write if you will. Allow me to act as tutor
tempoiarily, and require essays <>r poems
on tiieso subjects,” he said laughing, and
willing to divert the beautiful girl from
her vexation, although ho could not
help wondering, with a slight pang or jeal
ousy, what made black eyes call up such
deep blushes.
“Y’ou wiil only laugh at iny efforts.”
“On my honor, I shall not. Miss Ziila. I
should esteem it a great favor if you
would,” ho said eagerly.
“Wait until I go away to school, on my
return I shall endeavor to oblige you.”
“Do you expect to go?” he asked.
“I do not know, I hope so, but that is a
secrect just yet.” she said, observing Dora
listening.
On their return, as Zilla was crossing tho
brook, her foot slipped into tiie water. She
would have fallen but for Mr. Weldon’s at
tention.
“How careless of mo not to assist ynu
Letter, I am afraid you will suffer from wet
feet,” lie said.
“A wet foot is nothing. It gives adven
ture to our walk," she answered. Dora was
ahead with her companions.
“Can you tell me your secret, Miss Zilla?
I’m not impertinent to ask, am IV”
“No, I did not care to tell it at home yet,
awhile. I suppose you know that lather is
in Caliiornia. We all hope to go there to
live sometime.”
“I did not know.” Tho last part of her
sentence chilled like a douche bath.
“For years I have had a great desire to
go to boarding school. A girl is nothing
without a good education. Before father
went to California we were not situated to
give me the remotest hope. Now I do not
mean to como out into society until I am
twenty, that gives me there long years for
school.”
“Do you think boarding schools an essen
tial to good education!”
“Yes; Ido.”
“I have seen some very superficial young
ladies who had spent a great deal of time
and money at boarding schools. I never
fancied them specially."
“But a girl sees something beside tiie
l cramped monotony of her native town. If
one cares to learn, I think !warding school
tiie right place,” sho said.
“So you intend to go?” ho asked.
“That is just tiie secret. If I can, I cor-
tainly shall. I havo written to father and
used all of my persuasions to get him to
send me.”
“Does he like distant schools?” Weldon
did not relish tiie prospect of missing the
vision or the pretty face on the Sundays of
three long years.
“I do not know.- He has been away for
years and I do not remember bis opinions
on that subject. I shall soon know, I am
anxiously looking for a letter every day.
Oh dear! wont I be happy?” she said look
ing intensely into space as if she were al
ready at the goal of desire in imagina
tion.
“If you have finished your secret, Zilla,
come on,” said Dora as sno waited in ad
vance.
“Will you tell mo when you hear Miss
Zilla?” asked Weldon.
“Yes, Good bye!”
Zilla did catch cold, keeping on her wet
shoes so long. A summer cold is the most
distressing and hardest to endure of all
ailments known under that expansivo term.
For several days she felt almost obliged to
stay in bed. Sho did not go to church the
ensuing Sabbatli. The next day was cloudy
and gloomy. Her mother was absent on a
visit to a sick friend. Dora was at school.
Zilla had a letter from her father at last.
Stic had hoped for success so intensely that
sho never dreamed of failure. The day
wore a threatening look and she did not ex
pect company. Giving Johnnio, tho young
est boy, some molasses candy, she went in
to the parlor as the quietest place and least
likely to bo disturbed. In this room there
was a bay window, and then Zilla went
with her treasure to enjoy It all alone. A
heavy curtain partially looped aside served
as a secure screen. She opened tho letter
and began reading it eagerly. Tho quick
fluttering color in her cheeks told what in
tensified sensations wore moving her. Zil
la had long heavy brown hair which was
loosely secured by a comb for morning
Wear. In her intense interest she had not
felt tiie comb drop, nor was sho aware that
her hair had fallen around her much like a
nun’s veil. She read the letter through. It
was a refusal. She had not expected such
a letter. Tiie disappointment was bitter,
and bowing her head in her hands she
burst into weeping. She seemod to lose
consciousness of every thing around her
until sho heard a step beside her. She
stood up, her face grow pale, then bright
ened to deep rose color as she saw Mr. Wel
don. Somehow, he did not mean it, but his
ann went round her and she felt his lips
rest a moment on her cheek. The girl’s
tears moved him. How could ho JieJp it?
His province was to consolo the wretched,
comfort tho afilictod. Zilla looked aston
ished for a moment, and the angry blood
rising made her weep more. Weldon had
made matters worse. He had angered the
girl, ho knew note, ho loved. He had mado
a fool of himself, and all for a school girl!
He sat down and thero was silenco ex
cept a slight sound from the girl’s weep
ing. “Zilla, won’t you tell me why you are
distressed?” “hoasked after waiting for her
to look up. nis foot touched a paper. He
picked it up. It was a letter. Intu-
tively he know why the sorrow. His heart
gave a cruel bound of delight. Zilla was
his—that is whispered prudence, if she
loves you. Ho bad betrayed himself and
must go on.
“2311a, was it this letter?”
“Yes it was,’’ she said crossly.
“Are you very angry?” asked he, with
that remarkable amount of meekness which
men can assume under some circumstan
ces.
“Yes, I am,” looking up sulkily. PoAting
became her, he thought.
"Tell me about the letter, please."
She said nothing.
“You know you
“Read the letter, 1
her hair bat the
Weldon read the
sonaifle, and held
lag when enough
ford It.
'It Is not a refusal, yon may go yet.”
“Why I shall be ever so old In the long
future aud it will be eat of the question, I
shall use cratches and wear spectacles by
that time.”
Weldon laughed. The comicality of the
picture presented was irresistible.
“I owe you an apology for surprising
you. I did not know you were here.«I met
your little brother at the door. He sent
me in here."
“Did Johnny let you In with that molas
ses candy over him.”
He seemed to be enjoying it, and I am
not sure I shall regret it unless you make
me.”
Just then Johnny came in with molasses
streaked fantastically over his face. “Sis,
ma wants the keys,” and Mrs. Aikin fdllow-
ed closely. Zilla made her escape to get
the keys, and very soon Mr. Weldon took
his leave.
CHAPTOB IV.
Zilla did not understand herself. She
was not much developed in experience, es
pecially that pertaining to affaires du cecnr.
She had thoughtvery vaguely about beaux,
certainly never had given much reflection
to any one, In connexion with herself. She
could not reason out any of her sensations
regarding Mr. Weldon. He was very pleas
ant, but she did not miss his absence. His
conduct in their last meeting had angered
her at tho timo, and the more, when sho
remembered that she had been caught
wcoping like a baby, and had been petted
like a child. She was no egotist. She had
no idea that she was loved. Mr. Weldon
had been sorry for her, that was all. Sho
would tell her mother about it, and how
silly she had been. Sunday came, she went
to church, and maaaged to get out without
either seeing, or speaking to the minister.
The ensuing week had cares and occupa
tions enough to prevent Zllla’s free medita
tions, or walks until its end. She then
went in tho afternoon of Friday to the j
, *^ is ^j* la la garden, come o*," he
said with that strange precocity of conclu
sion children sometimes display
Tjie visitor, thus invited, followed his
SMfi escort around to the flower garden,
wnfoh was situated on the side of the house
UPW 1 ^Wch looked the bay window. Olla
was stooping, in the act of gathering some
ttovisitor HerbaCkWas tura «*> to
“Sis Zilla, hero’s somebody what wants
to see you. ZUla rose and found herself
face to face with Mr. Weldon. She uttered
Q.n exclamation of surprise.
T didn t mean to take you by storm," he
said seeing her quickly coloring face. “You
must blame Johnny,” shaking hands with
her.
“I thought you were ill, Mr. Waldon.”
And you never even enquired after mo?
B as that kind?” he asked.
“.How do you know that I did not ask af
ter you?” she said looking up into his face
“I do not know. Did you?”
“No I didn’t,” she answered in some con-
felon but I heard of you sometimes.”
This she uttered with an effort, remember
ing how much pain she had felt about his
Illness. After a moment’s pause, she said
come into the house. I have kept you
standing when you must be weak.” She
led tiie way into the parlor, excused her
self a moment to lay aside her bonnet and
arrange her hair, and then returned thither
with a glass of wine.
“Will you drink, this, and set in the
rockei ? she asked. “Then you can get
rested. I’m sorry mother is not in.” She
was beginning to foe! at ease in his compa
ny. In her desire to make him comforta
ble, she forgot all about herself. Ho said
nothing. It was so pleasant to be waited
on, cared for by a pretty girl. He drank
the wine.
I came to see you. Are you glad to see
me? It seems a dreary long time since I
saw you.”
About four Sundays since I saw you at
church,” sho answered purposely avoiding
notice of the rest of the sentence.
“And then I remember very well that
you did not speak to mo.
Did I not? Why you did not speak to
me.”
“But Miss Zilla, you have not yet told
mo you are glad to see me.”
“I am glad that you aro better. Were
shops for some merchandise. She had i - v,lli s 'ck long, Mr. Weldon?”
nearly finished her purchases when Mrs. , “About two weeks. I was slightly indis-
Earnest came in. i posed, whilst at my sister’s. Some fatigue
“Zilla, I have a real quarrel with you. It I Lhere aggravated this suffering, and I
is not right to serve old friends as you do. j lctt there before I recovered. I was caught
Do you know that you never have been
near us since you come home?”
“I always was lazy about visiting, Mrs.
Earnest. I never go if I can avoid it,
though I love my friends."
“How are they to know if you never
show them any attention? Mary Ann is vex
ed with you foi not coming to see her.”
“I am sure it is her place to come to see me.
in the rain and had a relapse, but you
know all this. My being called away at
that time was very tantalizing to me."
She looked up enquiringly,
lam not of a patient nature. Wilful-
nessis one of my failings. When I set my
iaee to attain an object I dislike being
thwarted.”
‘That is natural, is it not?” she ventured
I have been away from home,’’said Zilla j looking up. Stic did not under
disposed to lie on the high stilts or cti- 1 l ‘ a wliat be was talking about,
fjuotte. "lerhaps it is,” rising and placing a
“I shall tell MaryAnn. So wo are not to t!mil nean-i to her. “I desire to come here
have any preaching on Sunday in our
church.”
“Why not? asked Zilla. She was not sor
ry at the moment.
“Don’t you know Mr. Weldon has gone
away?”
“No; I did not know it. Will he stay
long?” She asked.
“It is quite uncertain. His sister is very |
ill and his stay will depend on her state. 1 ]
am very sorry he had to go, I dislike to go j
toother churches."
“I do not object to it. It gives variety.
Ono does not like to go to other churches
if their own is open. Good bye!”
Weldon’s absence was longer than he an
ticipated. He was much annoyed at being
called away at this particular time, as it
left his conduct in a dubious light to those
he most preferred should esteem him well.
All these thoughts were suppressed under
the grave anxieties of his sister’s illness,
and somowhat dulled by his own subse
quent indisposition which kept him away
from Stockton.
One day Zilla was washing some laces
when Dora came Into her room.
“Havo you heard the news, ZUla?”
“No; what Is it?”
“Didn't you know Mr. Weldon had gone
away to be married?”
Every drop of blood left Zllla's face.
“No, I did not, Dora. Will he bring his
brkls back when he comes?” she asked
slowly, with her forehead drawn in seams
as if in pain.
“I suppose not. I was only jesting, Zilla,
about that, but he is sick though,” she said
observing her sister's emotion.
“I thought his sister was ill.”
“She is better. I met MaryAnn Earnest,
and sho told me Mr. Weldon was sick, that
was the reason he had not returned.”
“Is he much 111?’’ asked Zilla.
“Don’t disturb yourself, only a bad cold,
I suppose, but ho hasn’t black eyes, Zilla,”
and Dora went away laughing.
Ziila did not flash out in her usual style.
Sho felt stunned Into quiet by the sud
denness of Dora’s “news. ”It was a reve
lation to herself in this, that she would not
relish tho idea of the pastor’s marriage.
That night she wept herself to sleep. She
could not decide whether it was mere weak
ness of character on her part, or anxietv
about her minister, for of course, all con
gregations are expected to fret intensely
when their shepherd Is in danger. She be
gan to wish for his return, thaj she could
once more look into his clear, open face,
and hear his oloquont exhortations.
When Mr. Weldon did return, her un
happiness was not mitigated. His sister
lived some miles from the railway, no
liad not entirely recovered when he left
thore, and was caught in tho rain on the
journey to meet the cars. When ho arriv
ed in Stockton he felt really 111, took a re
lapse and was very much indisposed for
two weeks. Rumor exaggerated his mala
dy which went through all the various
fluctuations from bad to worse that delight
that vocacious dame. Ziila awoke at last to
hoc true state of heart. She was absolute
ly wretched. She heard everything, she
dared ask nothing. Consciousness of a
peculiar interest made her shy of mani
festing any.
“Zilla, I declare you are the mo9t unfeel
ing girl I ever met. I don’t believe you
care whether Mr. Weldon dies or not. Y’ou
never ask anythingtobout him” said Dora.
‘■What is the use of asking when one
hears everything?” Zilla remarked pettish
ly-
“Oh! I didn’t mean to offend your lady
ship. All I know is that he is very sick.”
“O, Dora, how can you jest about such a
subject? How dreadful if he were to die?”
Zilla looked so pale when she said this—
her face was so pained that Pora regretted
having spoken.
“Don’t get up a scene! He won’t die yet,
for I heard to-day tfiat ho was sitting up
and likely to be out in a. few days. We can
look out for a sermon nett Sunday,”
“I am glad of that I get tired of going,
like a stray sheep, into other folds. Every
body stares as if to say “You’ve no busi
ness here!”
“I rather like going about I’m not so
devotional as you are, Ztlla.”
“I didn’t say I was. I do not pretend to
be devotional or anything else, but I do
strive to have politeness.”
“So do I,” drawled Dora. “Do go and
work in your flowers. Thoy really need
you care, and I think would give back some
of your color which they must have stolen.
Poor Zilla! you havo been too much of a
gho6t lately.”
Zilla vouchsafed no answer. She was
standing gazing idly out of the sitting-room
window. Had Dora looked into her face at
that moment she would have sees rases
enough. The angry blood was mottled all
over her brow and cheeks.
Zilla’s impressibility to teasing made her
a ready mark to Dora, whose besetting sin
was a pungent wit and love of playing
pranks on any easy victim. With.a genu
ine kind heart Dora looked reflection to
perceive that she often wounded when she
meant to be amusing. After Dora left the
room ZUla thought It would be a good idea
to work in the garden, or at any rate cull
what flowers could be found to adorn the
parlor. She had neglected her llowers of
of late. The weather waa worm and she
felt listless, with a sad mat of interest in
any occupation. Ike ne Mo her room
and bathed has tea* and then off into tho
garden* Whilst she was thorn a visitor
called. YM WflMk Johaffy. who
seemed ubiquitous was on hand as usher.
to ask you something. You won’t tell me
you are glad to see me, and I know you
have not forgiven mo.”
“For what?” she asked quite innocently,
looking up at him. fclio encountered his
eyes and her face colored.
“I have nothing to forgive,” dropping
her eves.
“I meant about making you angry the
last time I was here.”
“I am not angry,” she said sharply.
“I know you are not pleased. Won’t you
forgive me? Soe,” laughingly falling on
his knees. He was ueeustomed to kneel
ing, “I kneel at your feet. Dear Zilla, just
say you forgive me.”
“I forgive you,” she said crossly, remem
bering the whole past episode.
“No you do not in that tone. Is this
kind, when I’ve been ill, and you never en
quired at Mint me? If you really are glad
to see me, and forgive me, put your arms
around my neck and give me back what so
offended you. I can’t preach to-morrow,
unless I know, by positive proof, that I am
fully forgiven.”
“Mtrcel If you’ll just let me alone, I’ll
give you anything to get rid of you!”
“Yourself too?” lie asked rising with a
happy smile. “Your mother s*id I might
ask you.”
He preached a good sermon the next
day. How could lie help it with a beauti
ful sweet face before him, all his own too?
Zilla did not go to boarding school, but
sho went to a quiet wedding in Stockton’s
Gothic church, and iier temper improved
in the years when she strove to find favor
ill the sight of a pair of dark blue oyes.
Washington, March 11—George F. Ed -
munis, 6f Vermont, was sworn in as Sen
ator from that State.
There are 9000 Dutchmen in Chicago.
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expressing cordial sympathy for tho Boers
in their heroic struggle for independence
against the usurpation of England. Sev
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• Invalids who have lost hut are recovering
vital stamina, declare in grateful terms Uieir
appreciation of the merits as a tonic of llostet-
ter’s Stomach Bitters. Not only does it im
part strength to the weak, itcorrects an irreg
ular acid state of the stomach, makes the
bowels act at prop,
those who suffer fr
er intervsls, gives ease to
rom rheumatic and kidney
troubles, and conquers as well as prevents
lever end ague.
- For sale by all Drnggista and Dealers *
generally.
Feb. 15, 1881.
n to r m 31 ly.
$50 Saved!
TO PURCHASERS OF
Superior Pianos,
SAVED IN PURCHASING AN
Elegant Organ
-AT THE—
Music House of (he South
G HU
whllo
GENERAL NEWS.
France lias adopted a three psr cent Joan.
A rich coal mine has been discovered near
Covington, Ga. _
General Mahone is becoming as celebra
ted as I>e La Matyr.
The telegraph from Brownsville, Texas,
to Vera Cruz, Mexico, has been finished.
Tiie railroads are offering employment
at good wages to all the able-bodied labor
ers of tho country.
John T. Rich, a farmer, has been nomin
ated by the Republicans in Michigan to
succt'ci Conger in the House.
Chief Brooks or the secret service, caught
Berry Morgan at Winston, N. C„ in the
act of counterfeiting silver dollars.
The latest advices from Honolulu report
small pox abating. Ono thousand families
have been quarantined in their houses.
I u Louisville, Ky., the coffin makers gave
a banquet at tho Galt House. It was a pe
riod of solemn joy.
Miss Golds Furr, a beautiful and charm
ing little girl of 12 years, was burned to
death in Douglassville, last week
preparing dinner.
Jay Gould is five feet three inches tail,
and weighs 135 pounds. Has full black
beard and mustache. He wears cheap
clothing of gaudy colors.
The Governor reappointed Mr. Frank
Haralson, State Librarian. He is a line
officer, attending strictly to his duties, po
lite to ail and deservedly popular.
“Who will kiss our mamma now,” is a
new sentimental song. Don’t worry child
ren, leave that to your mother and get up
something about “who will spank u* when
ma's married.”
A man named Ilowell, in Atlanta.^ lost
thirty dollars at faro. When he informed
ids wife of it, she, in company with anoth
er lady, went to soe the winners. Thoy
refused to refund. A lawsuit is threatened.
Edison says his lamp is complete. He is
located on Firth Avenue, near Fourteenth
street, about tho centre of New York city.
His company is prepared to light whole
cities with the electric light and will after
awhile light singlo buildings.
Secretary Window, of the Treasury De
partment, decides that tho banks cannot
withdraw tho legal tender money deposited
by them to retire their circulation. He
says, however, thoy caa redeposit their
bonds which amounts to tho same thing
practically.
Washington, March 11th.—Rear Admiral
Wyman visited New Orleans with seveial
U. S. war vessels. He says, never in his
whole life, anil he has served in every part
of tho world, has ho over received eo mu<rh
attention and hospitality as he did from
tho New Orleans people.
Four negroes, implicated in the murder
of Miss Mattie Ishmaol near Jonesboro,
Craighead county, Arkansas, were token
from tho guard by 300 masked men and
kuiig. The mob quietly dispersed. It is
said tiie negroes confessed that they killed
tho young lady because she refused to tail
whore some money was hid.
Attorney Geneial, Clifford Andersen, ha*
gone to Washington, D -to fonltMW
suits of the State against the Ktchmoml'
Air Line, tho Atlanta and Charlotte A
Line, and tho Brunswick and Albany nil-
roads, for taxes. The two Air Line cases
are over $20,000 each, and the other more
t h.n $10,000. The eases are iu the Supreme
Court.
m. x. o. m,
Lowest Prices Established.
Special Reduction,
Great Variety of Styles
FROM
Ten of the Best Makers.
G. 0. ROBINSON & CO',
SHIP PIANOS and ORGANS TO ANY
POINT, on fifteen days trial. If not en
tirely satisfactory, returned at urexiiense.
GREAT REDUCTION
In prices of GUITARS, VIOLINS,
FLUTES, SMALL INSTRI MEN IS and
SHEET MUSIC.
T. M. II. 0. T. S.
EXTENDS A FRIENDLY Her TO ALL.
Purchasers will save from 20 to 30 per
cent, bv visiting or corresponding with the
Music House of the South, Augusta, Ga.
August 3rd, 1880. 3 ly.
■Professional notice.
D R J. N. SHINHOLSEE having asso
ciated himself with Dr. W. R. ROBI
SON they offer their professional services
to the citizens of the city and vicinity.
Millsdgeville, Ga., Jan. 31st, 1331. mi.
LAW CARD.
DuBIGNON XWHITFIELD,
Attorneys-At-Law.
Office — Waitzfelder Building, Milludgovillo
W 'lLL give their close attention to all
civil business entrusted to thorn.
Feb. 14,1SS1.
4**70 A WEEK. *12 a day at homo easj-
m 7 Jt\y made. Costly outfit free. Ad-
^ drees Tbcb A Co., Augusta, Maine.
Feb. Stb, 1881. ^
A CBNTM WANT*® for tho Best and
Fastest-Selling Pictorial Books and
Bibles. Prices reduced 33 per cent. Na
tional Publishing Co., Atlanta, Ga. [313m
rfb /?/? a Week in your own town. Temue
© O band *5 outfit free. Address H. Lal-
W Lett k Co., Portland. Marne.
Feb. 8th, 1881. 30 ^ -
Hugh Sisson & Sons,
Importers, Dealers, and Manufacturers of
BABBLE AUDIT
MANTELS.
altars,
tombs.
MONUMENTS,
FURNITURE SLABS,
TILE, _
\40 West Baltimore Street,
and Comer North and Monument Sts^
Drawings and Estimates Furnished Free.
BALTIMORE, MD.
Feb. 8th, 1881.
SO ly.
#5to
dress Stetson A Co., Portland, Mam< ■.
Feb. 8th, 1881. ^
NOTIOB
C OLLEGE students can 1 ^‘ 1 l ^''~r
Miss S. A. BockwRol, at
month, including ^ff^lf.’mmtxiated.
Twenty students can beacco 29 tf.
MUledgeville.. Ga., Jan.
Notice.
T HEREBY u£^e«l\>f
1 December. Isafclte**, 1 “Unor canhtfve
SiSadSta. the ^YTbOG0£
Jan. 27th, 1881.
near Stevens'