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®he 'jnviuinnli evitiunc
Published bv the Taiamra Publish twe 00. )
J. H. DKVEAU2L Hasso*» t
VOL. 111.
“A Brighter Day Tomorrow.”
When tossed upon the restless tide
Os trouble, care and sorrow;
When skies grow dark and all foretells
More trouble on the morrow;
When towering clouds o'ershadow us,
And, tempest-tossed, we wander
O’er unknown seas until we feel
Our little bark must founder.
When we despair of life itself,
And think the end is nearing;
When in the darkness we can see
The monster, Death, appearing,
Some little star of Hope will burst
From out the night of sorrow,
Cheering our hearts and whispering,
“A brighter day tomorrow. ”
Hope, thou blest toon to mortals'giyen,
What glory shines about thee;
How, when dull care and sorrow comes,
Could we bear up without thee?
Still shine upon us from on high,
Shedding a yellow lustre,
And ever, when the night comes on,
May lights around thee cluster.
PEDRO.
Nobody knew much about Pedro.
In fact he was a mystery and had
been for a great many years—for exact
ly how many years though nobody but
Pedro himself could tell you. Certain
it is that ho had been a mystery since
’39, for in that year the town was set
tled, and Pedro was living in Judge’s
Cliff when the first settlers came to
Beachton.
How he camo to be there nobody
knew. For that matter nobody knew
who built his house for him, or how it
camo to be where it was. though as to
the latter point the village Solons de
clared simply that some terrific storm
that happened long ago must have been
responsible for the. location. All of
which rather anticipates the statement
that Pedro’s home was the wreck of a
boat—a queer, lubberly old wreck that
was lyiag keel uppermost full twenty
feet above the water's edge. A nar
row ledge, not more than ten feet
wide, and running perfectly horizontal
for a distance of forty or fifty feet, was
all that Pedro could claim in the way of
a front or back yard, and outside that
limited range the old man ventured but
once a week. That was on Saturday
afternoon, when he would take his wil
low market basket on his arm, and
go to Beachton market.
But about his house.
There was about the old boat an air
of mystery that was quite in keeping
with the general character of Pedro
himself; and of Pedro's other belong
ings. The massive timbers and rude
finish proclaimed the semi-barbarian.
It was not even a Mexican boat; and, in
fact, the question as to its nationality
had long been a matter for Bsach
ton speculation. So completely
had the storm stripped the old
boat that it was impossible to determine
the purpose for which it had been used.
It certainly didn’t look like a merchant
man. Major Deal thought it was an
old war vessel, and Major Weed .main
tained always that it was an old-time
slaver. An objection to both these
theories was that the boat was only
about twenty-seven or twenty-eight feet
long and not exceeding nine feet in
width at the widest part, so it could
not have carried a great many men.
• But these, if not the most probable
theories, were at least the ones ad
vanced by the two leading men of the
town, and therefore generally accepted
by the townspeople.
The great antiquity of the boat was
indisputable. The sunshine and storms
of years—of centuries perhaps, had left
traces on the mouldering wreck.
‘ Where her hull had been dashed against
the rocks there was a great gaping
fracture, and Pedro, with a character
istic and shiftless simplicity, had util
ized fully the fracture aforesaid by mak
ing it serve the double purpose of door
and chimney—3 triangular hole where
old Pedro could get in and the smoke
could get out.
Pedro himself wis getting old—very
old, for few people could remember
when Pedro’s hair was other than scant
and gray, or his steps other than halt*
lug and feeble.
The even tenor of the old man’s way
had brought him ta contact with few
people. He had made no enemies, and
no friends, and people were content
that cld Pedro should remain a mys
tery.
Thus it happened that when the old
man came and went on market days,
there were no kind words for him, no
handshakes, no cheerful salutations.
He came and w’ent like a shadow, and
the school children hurried past him as
if his very silence frightened them.
Now, between the market and Pedro’s
home, and so situated therefore that
Pedro passed in going and coming was
Major Deal’s home—a beautiful old
fashioned homestead with a long shaded
walk that led down to the gate.
And the major had killed Pedro’s
dog.
Os course the major never did admit
that he had done wrong.
The little terrier had barked at hi
heels and he had struck at it with his
cane. He never intended to kill the
dog, but it was only a dog—and only
Pedro's dog at that. Os course Pedro
viewed matters a little differently, and
as a natural result of the difference, the
major forget all about it while Pedo
remembered it very distinctly. In fact
there can be no doubt that the major’s
baby saved a great deal of trouble about
that dog. When the weather was fair
the baby would be at the gate as Pedro
passed on Saturday afternoon, and
she had learned to recognize Pedro,
while on the other hand the lonely old
man had learned to love and yearn for
that baby welcome. Ho always paused
a moment in passing to raise his tatter
ed old hat and smile at baby Maud. So
while Pedro remembered very distinct
ly that the major had killed his dog,his
thoughts of revenge had given place to
other and better thoughts for all of
which the major's baby was entirely re
sponsible.
One beautiful Saturday afternoon in
the autumn of’79, a group of school
girls were gathered at the major’s gato
and in their midst was the major's baby.
Right royally the little queen was hold
ing her court. Pedro saw all that as he
came on with his basket.
Suddenly a shout of warning was
heard, and pistol shots were fired at
Mayor Weed’s house, just two doors
above the major’s.
“Mad dog! Mad dog!” shouted half
a drzen voices.
The frightened girls turned to see
the vicious brute only a few steps from
them, and ran screaming towards the
major's h use.
The major’s wife met them at the
door.
“Oh, Mrs. Deal—a mad dog!”
The young mother's face was deathly
pale, and without a word she ran toward
the gate.
Before reaching the gate, however,
she saw that her baby was safe, and she
recognized Pedro. He had placed the
child carefully upon the grass just in
side the gate, and thea closed the gate.
Then the dog had attacked Pedro,
The huge maddened brute was biting
savagely. The blood was flowing free
ly from the old man’s arms and hands,
and from an ugly wound in the cheek.
Pedro was nearly exhausted, and his
feeble blows with a knife availed but
little. The mother had picked up her
baby and was watching the contest in
an agony of suspense. Throwing all his
strength with his blow, the old man
drove his knife to the hilt in the dog’s
throat, and as the brute lay foaming and
writhing at his feet, the old man
dropped his knife and leaned wearily
against the gate. A group of people
soon gathered about him, and the
major's wife called his name, but the
old man paid no attention. As he rested
the baby’s hands were upon his bowed
head.
“Pedro,” again said the major's wife.
Slowly the old man raised his head.
He didn't see the young mother, or the
people around him: he saw only the
baby. He took the child's hands in hit
own a moment, and then turned away.
Picking up his empty basket, the old
man started toward his home. They
were all Pedro’• friends now, and one
offered to carry him home in a wagon,
and another to carry bis basket, but the
old man afioA hi* h-od. ho ha
SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY. JUNE 16.1888.
all alono, and they watched him until
he was lost to sight
Dead or alive he was never seen
again.
Before night everybody in Beachton
knew how Pedro had saved Baby
Maud's life, at what must inevitably be
the cost of his own.
The major was off at court, nnd was
to be home on the 12 o'clock train. The
night was dark and lowering, and the
major had barely reached his homo be
fore the storm came in all its fury. It
was a fearful storm. The heavens were
flashing continuously, and the thunder
rolled in quick, deafening peals. The
rain fell in floods, and unceasingly. The
wind howled and shrieked like a thing
of life; the houses rocked and tottered
upon their foundations, and all that
night not a soul slept in Beachton.
Next morning the storm slacked, and
gradually the wind died out. The ram
continued to fall for a few hours, but
by noon it had ceased. Soon after din
ner the major put on his rubber boots
and waded through the mud to the
mayor's home. Then the mayor put on
his rubber boots, and together they
went to Dr. Elder, the deacon’s. May
be the deacon didn’t have any rubber
boots, for he simply tucked his trousers
into his boots, and they all went to
gether to Pedro's home.
The major was a few steps in advance
where the path ended at the top of the
cliff as ho stopped and looked almost
straight down upon the ledge where
Pedro’s home had been since'39.
As he looked the major’s face paled,
and uttering an exclamation of surprise
he pointed downward to the ledge.
The parson and the major looked,
too, and not a word was spoken.
Pedro’s home was gone.
The waves had given and the waves
had taken away. [Atlanta Constitution.
A Chick’s Parentage.
The New York Sun, in answer to a
question as to which hen is the mother
of a chicken, the hen that lays the egg
or the hen that hatches it, replies truly:
“You must not approach this question
in the same state of mind as that in
which you approach similar questions of
humanity. A woman adopts a found
ling of a day, but she is not the mother.
Hens, in the minds of men, must be
judged by different standard’. The
first hen merely lays the egg. So far as
she is concerned the egg would remain
always an egg. It might be boiled and
eaten. Perhaps it might take up evil
courses and go to the bad. But the
second hen comes and sits on the egg as
a loving parent sits on an obstreperous
child. In due course of time the egg
becomes a chicken, full of aspirations
and of life far greater and nobler than
those of the raw, uncultivated egg. To
the second hen is this change due. The
second hen is the mother of the chicken
though the first hen is the mother of
the egg.”
A Queer Flounder.
In a lot of fish received from the
Sound yesterday was a flounder 5 inches
in length, which was the same on both
sides, that is, brown, and covered with
rough scales instead of being white on
one side, as flounders usually are. It is
well known that when flounders are
very small they swim on edge like or
dinary fish, and havj an eye on each
side of the head, but as they grow
larger they grow top-heavy and fall
over, an 1 the eye on the lower side
skews around to the upper side, where
it will do the most good. This fact is
shown by some of the flounders having
fallen to the right and some to the left,
as can be seen by the shapes of their
heads. The flounder above mentioned
must have been more level-headed than
the usual run, and had managed to
stand erect till his ex stance was put to
an end. —[Portland O egonian.
Accommodating.
Book Agent—How do you do, madam.
Will your dog Vite I
Mad am —Wat I, I reckon he will,
1/00 k Agent—Would you Lave the
goodueta to speak to him?
Madam—£«rteioiy. Hick 'm, Tige;
k a#** .
A Color Blind Florist.
Mr. James Orr, the manager of Mr.
R. C. Patterson's flower establishment
on Sixth avenue, is color-blind, and al
though he handles flowers of all colors
of the rainbow ho knosvs very little
about the difference of their shades and
hues. A reporter asked him a day or
two ago how he could distinguish be
tween the flowers, if ho didn’t know
their colors.
“Oh, I know tho flowers right
enough,’’ said he, “I have handled them
now so often that 1 know their names
almost as soon as I touch them.”
“But how do you distinguish between
tho different kinds of roses?’’ was
asked. “For instance, hero is a Magna
Charta and hero a Francis Bennett
—they aro both deep red. How do you
know one from tho other?”
“There is a difference in tho petal, in
the leaf and in tho blossom,” was tho
reply, “which you, perhaps, would
never look for and think of, because you
only look at tho color; but I know a
flower at once, although I may not know
of what color it is. There is also a
differonco between tho characteristic
fragrance of certain flowers, which is a
great guide to me.”
Mr. Patterson sai I that Orr never
made a mistake in distinguishing one
from another. “In fact,” ho stated,
“I believe that ho knows tho different
species of roses for instance, better
than a man who is not color-blind. And
why? Because ho docs not look at tho
color; and we will know that even peo
ple who aro not color-blind may some
times be deceived in simple colors.
“But one thing is very funny. Mr.
Orr cannot get along with the different
ribbons that aro often used to tie around
bouquets. All these ribbons aro made
of tho same material, and all are of the
same width, and theonly thing in which
they differ is their color. These rib
bons, if they arc properly matched with
the color of tho bouquet of flowers
around which they go, enhance tho
beauty of the wdiolo bouquet. It is here
tiiat Mr. Orr gets in his funny business,
and he has become so disgusted with
the mistakes he makes that he hates tho
sight of any ribbon, regardless of color
or anything else.”—[Pittsburg Dispatch.
The Lady’s Artificial Shoulders.
A beautiful lady in Paris belonging
to the diplomatic circle lately met with
a most peculiar accident at a reception,
to tho intense delight of her “bosom
friends’’ of the fair six. Tho lady in
question wore a dress of artistic design
which attracted general admiration, but
what most riveted the attention of the
Lail guests were her shoulders of daz
zling white. Suddenly her brooch, a
splendid cameo, became unfastened,
dropped to the ground and broke to
pieces. In her alarm tho fair owner
quickly stooped to pick up the frag
ments. But this rapid movement
caused something still more valuable to
fall to the ground, viz., a portion of tho
. charming white shoulders of tho lady, a
piece of a mass resembling porcelain
delicately touched up in blue and pink.
The gentlemen gazed in blank astonish
ment at the damaged beauty, while the
ladies giggled in their pocket handker
chiefs, and the husband ran for a shawl
to conceal the misfortune. Tableau!
A Dog’s Ride Down a Flume.
Barney Cusick, when he came down
from tho mountains about a month ago,
left his dog Nero at the mills. Tho dog
was tho constant companion of the chil
dren in tho summer during their ram
bles over tho hills, as well as at home,
and they missed their four-footed play
mate. Mr. Cusick accordingly wrote to
the boys at the mill, asking them to
send tho dog down as soon as possible.
Not wishing to wait a week or so for
the stage, the mon built a raft and on
top of it ma lo a largo box and placed
some hay in tho bottom. Nero was put
in, and tho raft started on Its forty mile
trip, Mr. Cusick "ns telephoned, und
throe hour* alter tho starting of the raft,
took tho dog safe and sou id from tho
fljwn, and last night ho was sgiin at ,
($1.25 Per Annnm; 75 cents for Six Mentha;
< 50 cents Threa Months; Single Copies
I I cents*-Ln Advanoe.
PEARLS OF THOIJGUX .1
Conscience is nt most times a verfl
faithful and prudent admonitor. ■ fe
It is tho greatest possible praiso to bw
praised by a man who is himself dell
serving of praise
Let this bo your constant maxim,
| no man can bo good enough to neglect
; tho rules of prudence.
In counsel it is good to soo dangers;
and in execution not to seo them, ex
cept they be very great.
Os all our infirmities, vanity is th?
dearest to us. A man will starve hit
other vices to keep that alive.
For every grain of wit there is a grail
of folly. For ev. rything you havj
missod you have gained something
else.
The way to euro our prejudices is thil
' —th.t every man should let alono thosy
that ho complains of in others, anq
examine his own.
It was a v.ry proper answer to hid®
who asked why any man should bo defl
lighted with beauty, that it was a qtiofl
tion that none but a blind man shoulfl
ask. ■
Charity itself commands us, wberfl
we km w no ill, to think well of all; btfl
friendship, that always goes a pitcjU
high r, gives a man a peculiar liglfl
aid claim to the goo I opinion of hfl
friend. ■
E location nnd instruction are thfl
means, tho one by use, the other isl
precept, to make our natural faculty (fl
reason both the better and the i>oon«fl
to ju Igo rightly between truth an™
error, good and evil.
A man is a bundle of tools. He fIL
born into this life without the
ledge of how to u»o them. Elucatiot’
is tho processor learning their use, auu
troubles aro whetstones with which tfl
keep them slurp. fl
Love not the man who can look withfl
out emotion upon ths sunset of lifefl
when the dusk of evening begins t<
gather over tho watery eye, and tIJ
shadows of twi ight grow broader an?
deeper upon the understanding.
Tho great difference between the rea
statesman and the pretender is, that th
ono secs into the future, while the otho
regards only tho present; tho ono live
by the day, and acts on expediency; tin
other acts on enduring principles an( 1
for immortality.
A Czar's Humble Bed room
There is a little room on tho groun
floor of the Winter Pakcc al St Pctert
burg which was occupied for thirtj
years by the great Emperor Nicholas
tho “iron czar,” as ho was known, wM
died heart-broken upon hearing of tt '
capture of Sebastopol. Itisthe smallcs
plainest room in the whole buildinf
and was at once his library and bed
room. Everything remains just us
was when he died, and a sentiael a
ways stands at tho door. Before th
window is a small writing desk, upftj
which are his portfolio, irons and papeq
exactly as he left them. The plain furl
niture i> worn and dilapi fated. Thi
iron bedstead, nothing but a camp cofj
on which he slept for years, is in the
corner of the room, with the great mil®
tary coat ho always used as a coverlid®
lying upon it. His patched slipper* at®
beside the bed, and upon nails drive®
in the w all hang his uniform. In S
chest of drawers near by are his coareS
underclothing, and his cane and sworJf
are hanging from a hook, with hu has,
above the n. Ou the walls arc portraits]
of some of his generals, and on his littlaM
table at the head of bis bed, with a can®®
diestick and a prayer book, well used®
are the pictures of his wife and ehilfl
dren. Adjoining the little chamber ia
an ante-room in which his minister®
awuite 1 an audience, and they had tfl
si. upon an ordinary wooden trench.
spiral st airway leads to the rooms of thfl
< inprcas above, 10 that ho and she covlfl
go back and forth without pas i ru
through any other room, and there wjfl
a concealed entrance by which be cou ’
reach the street and return without to
MS .lAntrrU !>*, w I cm™
NO. 35.