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Published br the Tnratnni Pnbliablwc 00. 1
J. H DKVEAUZ. KawP
VOL. 111.
Love’s Errand.
Swift through the ocean of Silence go,
Sprite unseen!
Dive to the echoless realms below;
Kindle the depths with a radiance kwu;
Then like an arrowy pulse of fire,
Throb to the quivering stars and higher
Into the vault serene!
Glide through the mystical orb of Sleep;
Pause to see,
Born of the amorous twilight deep,
Dreams from their chrysalis slumber free,
Thronging the shadowy close of day;
Wed with the loveliest steal away,
Speeding again to me!
—[Johiiß. Tabbin Independent.
Ruth Byrne's Experience.
BY Miss ANNE AYEKB.
“It’s (lyin', mother is I Ochonc, what
will I dot” Ruth Byrne, thus lament
ing, is a sweet faced Irish girl of eight
een. She and her mother have been all
in all to each other. Iler father, an old
man of exacting temper, is not a com
fort. The dear mother has been long
ailing and to-day has lain without
speaking or stirring for hours. Ruth is
alone in her distress. A heavy storm
shuts in the cottage.
Towards evening the rain ceased and
suddenly, from a rift in the clouds west
ward, a flood of sunshine Itroke’ gem
ming the dripping trees with myriad
diamonds. One golden ray streamed
through the narrow casement and illu
mined the face of the suffer, r. Then,
either from the atmospheric change or
some subtler influence, she stirred,
opened her eyes, and murmured, •• fh<
presence o’ His glory.”
At the sound of her mother’s voice
Ruth sprang to the. bed, trying to win
attention. At length, exhausted bv the
strain of the day, the poor girl flung her
self passionately upon her knees, and
wept aloud.
The daughter’s grief recalled the
mother to earth. Rousing, as from sleep,
she said: “I’ve been forgettin’ meself;
I thought I was in heaven! Ruth,
daughter, don’t fret. Heaven’s nearer
earth than ye think. Put your dear
arm roun’ me. sweetheart, and lift me a
little—so. Be a good daughter to old
father when I’m gone, dear, ami when
God takes father be a good wife to I
Peter.”
“Mother!" interrupted Ruth, drop
ping her face into her mother’s neck.
It was the first' time such a thought had
been put into words. The mother eon
tinned: “Do what’s pleasin’ to God.
Use your privilege o’ prayer. It’s past
tellin’ the power God allows to pleadiu’
prayer. Trust God—-trust.’’ Her eyes
closed. It was the end.
Peter Moors was the young coachman
of the Ballymore stage-coach, lie and
Ruth had been schoolfellows. The
boy was three years older than the girl.
Orphaned at fourteen, Peter left his
native village and became stable boy at
the inn from which the stage started.
He loved horses and was earl v pro
tfounced a “master han”’ with them,
and this repute increasing, procured
him, at eighteen, his present position.
His holidays were usually spent near
Ruth.
* * *
L’wo years hare pa-sed. It is Sunday
afternoon in the fall of 1847. “Old
lather” is sunning himself on the door
step. Ruth and her bachelor, Peter, no
longer undeclared lovers, at.: talking
earnestly within.
There is great distress in the laud. A
wide-spread famine is destroying the
.people, .Except for aid from England
and ship loads of food material, gen
erously sent over by the United States,
many more must have perished.
Whole districts, at the best, were but
half-fed, and the change in Ruth’s ap
. pearance, from Sunday to Sunday, tore
Peter’s heart. He is determined to re
main passive no longer. “Ruth, me
heart’s jewel,” he urged, “let us wed
at once, and then I’ll have a man’* right
to carry you and father where we. < an
eat our fill."
The color mounted to her brow. Her
heart throbbed tumultu uslj
great temptation. She covered her face
with her hands for a minute, then said,
. calmly: “I must do what mother
Peter, t would vex father, past bearin’,
for me to give any man but himself first
right to me,”
Peter’s face flushed angrily: “If that’s
• your will, Ruth, I’ll take me passage
[ alone for the States this week, nnd send
; you, month about, what’ll keep you and
j father comfortable.’’
Ruth swooned and would have fallen
•but that Peter caught her. Lifting her
in his arms, he strained her to his breast
tn agony of self-reproach.
“Beyant the sea,’’ she moaned, begin
| ning to revive. Peter hastened to re-
I assure her: “No, me darlin’, 111 stay.
1 We’ll starve and die together.” Ruth
was herself now: “That would not be
pleasin' to God, I doubt. We must trust
one another wi’ him.”
The next Sunday Peter was gone. At
the moment of parting he slipped a little
package into Ruth’s hand, saying: “A
true-love token for me dear.’’
It was a roll of money; the savings of
the past two years, hoarded for the set
: ting up of their home.
Six weeks after Peter’s departure old
[ John Byrne died of .apoplexy. Ruth’s
i faith staggered for a moment. “If
I Peter had waited a little, or if father had
‘ only—” she cheeked herself. “What
sim I saying’? God forgive me. His
time's the right time."
On the. day of the funeral came Peter’s
first letter, written from Castle Garden
an hour from landing. He wanted she
should know he was safe over, without
delay. AVould write again in a day o:
two, etc. Ruth had not mastered all he
: said wh n her mind was made up to
; join him forthwith Her neighbors.
Jame- Dowries and lii- sister, Norah,
i were going to Ohio, byway of New
York; she would sail with-them.
The voyage was uneventful, but .as
they landed at the Battery Ruth read,
f with a great heart beat, the words
' “Castle Garden’’on a flag floating over
I a large building. “There, James, look!
[ That’s where Peter stays. Do you go
1 first,” she added shyly, “and tell him
I'm here.” She supposed Castle Garden
was the name of an inn.
James complied, but returned immedi
I ately with a rueful face nnd explained
i the mistake. Ruth was stunned. James
■ stood perplexed. Norah. as her
| way was, plunged into the midst of
i things; “Seein’as Peter's lost himself
I entirely, it's Ruth's dooty to go to Ohier
; ami wait bi tter luck.”
This advice proved a helpful tonic to
Ruth's benumbed faculties. “Your
meanin’.-' kind, Norah, but it’s other
than that I’ll do. If James and you
will bide till the morrow I’ll thank ye
and set ye free."
The day was declining. James found
a decent lodging house where they
I could stay the night. They must eat
! out ide, the housekeeper said, indicat
in'* a suitable restaurant near bv, where
o *
they took supper.
The girls roomed together. Long af
ter Norah slept, Ruth kneeled in the
moonlight supplicating to be guided to
Peter; nor did she rise from her knees
until a conviction that she was heard
soothed her anxiety.
She shrank from a second meal in
public. 'l'he plainest breakfast at their
lodgings would be a favor. The nous
keeper was inflexible.
They repaired again to the restaurant.
■ and were barely seated when Riuh-
I attention was arrested bv a conversation
[ Between two respectable looking men
opposite. “What have you done,” said
one, “with that handsome black mare
of yours?”
“Vixen? 1 sold her to Dawson. He
wouldn’t have bought her, though, if he
ba I not cured a young man as coach
man who masters her perfectly.’
“Sure, an’ that's Peter,” said Ruth,
half aloud; “I'll see." Norah retnon
-1 fated, but Ruth WM Hf idy <■ W,-S .he
floor.
“An’ wasn't the young man Peter
Moore, sir, then?"
“Peter Moon- it was, young woman.
' Are you a relation of his?”
“Yes that G--James P turning en
treatingly towards him.
James came to her relief, made it brief
i explanation, and asked if the gentleman
j could direct them to Mr. Moore.
SAVANNAH. GA.. SATURDAY. JANUARY 7, 1888
“Certainly. I’ll write it down. At
Mr. Samuel Dawson’s, No. • Broad
way.
They postponed breakfast and left
immediately. The stranger accompanied
them to the street to start, them right
Returning to his companion, he re
marked: “Moore’s sweetheart is a real
Irish beauty, with that dark, wavy hair
shading her modest*face, ami those danc
ing blue eyes.”
The party were within six doors of
the house when Ruth, touching James’
arm, excitedly said: “There he is! Sec!
Call
James saw, and darted forward. “Ho!
Peter, Peter Moore!” Norah followed.
Ruth, whose agitation prevented an
other leaned against a convenient
t roe.
Peter, reins in hand, was just about
to mount the coach box and drive off,
when James hailed him. Ruth saw his
start of surprise, then the hearty greet
ing, then the reins hastily put into
James’ hand, mid then Peter was at her j
side.
“Me. own darlin’! How did ye know
t.o seek me here?”
“I’ll tell you the story later, Peter;
but sure it’s God himself that’s brought
me to you?” Then remembering her
[objection to the restaurant, “Oh! if
I lift’d gi’en me my own blind will this
[ very moruin” I’d not be claspin’your
hand now. dear. I’ve proved mother’s
■ words: ‘’l’he power God allows tn
[ prayer’s past fellin’.' ”
I “\Ye must thank him together all our
t lives," rejoined Peter.
James and Norah took their train for
the west that night, but not until they
had seen Peter and Ruth made man mid
wife.
Happiness needs no chronicler. !• is
the heart's music. “He hath put a new
-ong into my mouth, ” wits henceforth
the refrain of Ruth’s life, and Peter’s
manly godliness made the chorus.—.
New York Observer,
L»ce Made of Sheet Steel.
“Very handsome, is it not?”
A dealer in laces was exhibiting to an
inquisitive reporter a remarkably taste
ful specimen of lace of an extremely
delicate pattern, and so light that it
could almost bo blown away by a
breath of air. Had it been woven of
spider webs it could not have been much
j ighter.
“Very handsome, indeed. What is
; H made of ?"
“Os steel rolled :e fine as the point ot
a cambric needle.”
“How was it woven?" ,
“It wasn't woven. It was stamped
out of a sheet of low grade steel, so
Thai it would not be too brittle.
“What can it be used for?"
“This is only an experiment. It was
turned out of a small Pittsburg mill i
mid sent to me to show what, can be
done in that line. In the course of
time other patterns will be made, heav
ier. perhaps, bu certainly more ten
acious than this piece. They can be
used for children’s mid* rwear and hats
very nicely. There is rm question as to
its durability and its cheapness makes
it the most salable of all laces in the
market. 1 am. looking for its perfection
with great interest. It will create a
small revolution in the market.—[Mail
and Express.
Something Pleasant.
“Can’t you say .something plea-ant to
rm- ?" said a husband to hi- wife as he
w i- about to start for hi- oflicr.
They h id had a litt'c quarrel. mid he
was willing to “make up.
“Ah, John.’’ responded th<- penitent
lady, throwing her arm- aroundbis neck,
“forgive my foolishness. We were both
in the wrong. And don't forget the
baby’s shoes, dear, ami the ton of coal,
and we arc out of jsitatoes; and John,
love, you must leave me some money for
the gas man.” --[New York Sun.
Com folding.
Telegram of Poet to Editor -Send me
check for my poem “The Mystery of the
Stars,” or I shall starve to death.
Telegram of Editor to Pott-- If y»u
starve to death you won’t need' heck •-
[Yankee Blade. 1
Indian Mouthiers.
Os all the different kinds of people
among whom I have lived, the Indians
of northern California carry the mem
ory of their dead the longest, and I
had almost written, feel their loss the
most. 1 have often thought, ns the
wails of the women came to me in the
night, casting a chill and a shudder,
something like a sense of indefinable
dread over me, for the sounds arc ex
ceedingly mournful —that the life ot
these people, was a constant Giorno dei
Morfi. 1 have seen old women, lent
w ith age, rocking their bodies to and
fro with grief in some dry, grass-cov
ered ditch, moaning as if their hearts
were breaking, and upon inquiry have
been told that they wen moaning for a
husband or children dead perhaps for
vears, the thought of whom had struck
sharply upon them while going about
their occupation. Ah! they are mourn
ers indeed, these children of the moun
tains- mourners fortheir people, mourn
ers for their lost homes, mourners for
their fast dying race. —[Overland
Monthly.
Remark aide Pistol Shoot ing
In a shooting-gallery in Louisville
hangs a ’ valuable pistol, one worth
about SIOO, which is the property of
whoever will come and take it after
fulfilling one trifling condition. The
condition is that he shall equal a feat
in pistol shooting once performed in this
same gallery. A target was sot up the
usual distance, for pistol practice, and
about the white a moderately large ring
was drawn about as wide at any point
on the circumference as a quarter of a
dollar. On this ring fifty marks were
made, so that the .centre of the target
was surrounded by a circle, composed of
fifty vhit< spots. These were marks,
competitors having fifty shots each.
William Hanlon, oneof the famous acro
bats, is a great pistol shot, and, some
year- ago, stieceeded in making the re
markable score of forty-nine out of fifty
possible hits. This score has never
been equalled, and the beautiful pistol
offered as a prize still hangs in the gal
lery awaiting an .owner, -[Chicage
Tribune.
()neer George Francis Train.
George Francis Train is about the
queerest mortal that ever lived. It is
more than likely that he is right when
he says he isn't mad. George Francis
sometimes sits down with a friend and
talks about himself and his carryings on
is rationally as an actor talks about his
own performance on the stage, and with
a good deal of the same study of method
and of the • fla ts upon his audience. At
such times Train forgets all about
J’yscho and his vow never to talk to a
man, and gives one the impression that
he is a very clever actor taking a brief
rest from the role which he has chosen
to play as a life-job. When, at such
times, he drops Psycho and, in so far as
possible, himself. Train is as shrewd
and entertaining a conversationalist as
one would care to spend an idle hour
with; a man of brains, keen perceptions,
marvellous assimilation of facts, phe
nomenal memory and epigrammatic ex
pression -just such a man as Phil
Armour delights in. -[('hicago Herald.
t oons in < (innecHcut.
Connecticut has loni* be n famous for
raising very big crop-, of big, fat coons,
but the magnitude of the yield this sea
son causes even the veteran coon burners
to open their eyes in astonishment and
to comment: “I never saw th> lik' of it
afore."
Coons are everywhere. A patch of
woods big enough to support one gray
squirrel and family is compelled this
year to sustain one coon and family, too.
There is something the matter with the
dog, or the tracking is phenomenally
poor, if the hunter cannot bag a coon
any night within a mile end a half of
this city ; and a doz< n miles to th west*
ward, in th rrr./. valley- of >alern,
the Lymes, and in East Haddam a dog
that shows his mader less than four ot
fivecoorm after a night's hunt is thrashed
and seriously informed that he is » cur.
J New York Sun
lfl .58 Per Annum: 75 esnts for Bii Months;
50 eents Three Months; Single Copies
5 oents- -In Advance.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
Good will, like a good name, w got
by many actions and lost by one.
Loyalty is the highest, noblest and
most generous of human virtues.
A miser grows rich l»y seeming poor;
an extravagant man grows poor by seem
ing rich.
Education is the leading of human
souls to what is best, and making what
is best out of them.
There can bo no great men for lack
eys, since lackeys insist on measuring all
men by their own standard.
Frugal and industrious men are
friendly to the established government,
as the idle and expensive are dangerous.
Joy, like a ray of the sun, reflect*
with a greater ardor and quickness
when it rebounds upon a nun from ths
oreast of a friend
Keep your promise to the letter, be
prompt and exact, and it will save you
1 much trouble and care through life, and
win you the respect and trust of your
friends.
Poverty is very good in poems, but it
is very bad in a house. It is very good
in maxims and in sermons, but it is very
bad in practical life.
Hope is the ruddy morning of joy,
recollection is its golden tinge; but the
latter is wont to sink amid the dews
and dusky shades of twilight ; and the
bright blue day which the former
promises breaks indeed, but in another
world, nnd with another sun.
An Invalid’s Appetite.
In the matter of food, it is important
to please the eye of invalids. They
should eat from delicate, china aiidglas*. ,
Ono expert nurse .'d ways serves beef-tea
and milk in a wine-glass, one of the
thin, bell shaped glasses that hold more ‘
than they look to hold. A sick person
will turn away from a bowl of soup, and
be pleased with a pretty cupful. Sick
children, especially, are amused and
pleased with the color and pattern of
the cups and dishes, and there is a trace
of the fretful child in every invalid.
There is something very tempting in a
small quantity. It does not tax the eye.
Therefore, always present just as little
as you judge the invalid wants to sec,
A coarse, white dinner plate, heaped
with food, will take away all appetite,
while a small plate or saucer, especially
if it is a pretty, dainty one, will
.be successfully cleared. A mauve
saucer or a pink plate will coax a fever
ish patient to eat rice pudding or orange
cream, or a few grapes when nil other
arts have failed. There seems to be an
appetite of the eyes as well as the
stomach, and it must not be offended.
Very often invalids are disinclined te
the exertion pf lifting the head to par
take of a nourishing drink. Let them
have their way. A bent glass tube,sold
for five cents at the ajmthecary's, is not
a signal of extreme illness or lowness,
except that the head may rest low. It
simply means comfort, and the invalid
need not be disturbed in a sick head
ache or extreme fatigue, but can take
; the beverage provided without a change
of position. The art of comfort is not
cure but it goes a great way toward it,
1 When the nerves are not fretted, the
body ha- a far better chance of recuper
ating. American Housekeeping.
■
The First Greenback Paper.
'l’he bank-note paper used for the
United States “grc- nback” was made j
under the Wilcox patent, at the mill* of
that old Pennsylvania firm, whoscftiilb,
curiously enough, had also made the
paper for the ccmtinentak currency of
revolutionary days. It wr<s rendurod
distinctive by the use of silk fibrea' as
red and blue, the red being mixed with
the pulp in the engine, so that it wi
scatter' d throughout the eubatanc<Lof N
the pup'r, while the blue wav ingenious
ly sfiowred upon the web on the “wirfH 4
so that it appeared only in stre 4“*-
combination was sodifficuit to <#>py, tad
requir' d such expensive machinery, gw
to call for a skill, patience and capi'isi
not at the disposal of counterfeitornM*
[Harper's Magazine.
NO. 12.