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®ht .Ciniumnnh Sriboe.
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J. a DKVKAUX. Euums
vol in.
Two.
Bflenfly, swiftly, riding with me,
Stirrup to stirrup, stride for stride,
• If I stretch out my hand in the night, by my
side,
him, steadily, sullenly,
With his withered face and his misery,
By the firmest and bitterest bond allied,
That never a love nor a hate can divide,
Riding with me.
Across the land and from sea to sea.
Plashing and plunging through many rivers,
Recklessly, wearily, desperately.
Ban nor blessing, nor thing that severs
Can sever the tie ’twixt him and me,
Out of the night and into the day,
From season to season, from year to year,
What does it matter where leads the way?
There is nothing further to heed nor fear;
There is nothing to hope in the time to be;
As I gallop in silence tonight, by my side,
Stirrup to stirrup, and stride for stride,
He rides with me.
As I ride with thee, shall I ride with thee,
With my w.thered face and my misery,
Stirrup to stirrup, and stride for stride,
The Cross and the Book and the Priest de
fied.
Through time and death and eternity,
To days that breed, nor years that kill,
Nor prayer, nor tears of souls that be
Past the swift river gocd or ill,
Shall sever the bonds that hold mo, tied
By deed and by will of my own to thy side,
■ Stirrup to stirrup, and stride for stride,
Steadily, sternly, silently,
I shall ride with thee.
Jack Dayton’s Fortune.
i.
Jack Dayton was twenty-four years of
age. He was handsome, as that term
applies to man; ho was studious in an
extraordinary sense, he was as sober as
a cold water advocate; he was a lawyer,
and ho was as poor as a church mouse
and prouder than Lucifer before he was
exiled from heaven.
Jack Dayton was as brave as a Bengal
tiger, and his poverty never seemed a
burden and a reproach to him before he
met Gussie Vandorn. After that mo
mentous meeting at Saratoga he felt that
. he could hang himself because he had
not been born with a silver spoon in his
mouth.
The fact of the matter is Jack Dayton
was in love from the soles of his feet to
the crown of his head, and because he
was poor his pride stood between him
and the rich woman who had stolen his
heart in an unguarded moment
He had been practically raised in a
lawyer’s office. He had entered at the
age of twelve as general utility boy and
he had left it at the age of twenty-two
a finished lawyer, with a few hun red
dollars saved up during the long years.
4 ‘Go somewhere, Jack,” said the fond
mother, 4 ‘and stay all the summer. You
never had a vacation in your life, and
you should celebrate your admission to
the bar by taking one. You have been
a hard student; you have been a loving
and devoted son. Go take a vacation.
Jack kissed her and took himself off
to Saratoga, the worst place on earth,
except Newport, for a poor man to go.
But Jack was bent upon celebrating his
admission in grand stylo and within the
limits of S3OO. So he went to Saratoga
and took a modest room at one of the
best hotels and started in for solid cn
. joyment and profitable review of his
law books.
;■ But the Var.dorns were at Saratoga,
too, and at the same hotel with J.icx.
V He got acquainted with them in no
time. He and Gussie got on famously
in an easy, procrastinating way. She
>as a dashing, brilliant woman with a
sober side the world seldom saw. She
began by studying Jack. He was a so
cial phenomenon. He was the most
Sta nonchalant, self-possessed and dignified
• young man at the Springs; a thoughtful
but yet often humorous conversationalist.
Everybody wondered what a brilliant
f, and fashionable woman like Gussie
„ Vandorn could find to admire in a stud
ious, self-possessed and undemonstrative
man like Jackson Dayton. They were
much together about the hotel “talking
literature” some would say.
When Jack’s S3OO began to get down
to a fine point he set about returning
to New York. Instead him
through the summer it had just taken
six weeks of Saratoga in a very quiet
way to eat the life out of it. There is
nothing like a summer hotel for eating
SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY. JULY 21, 1888
up money. Jack had to go but he
wanted to stay.
While the twe were out for a quiet
walk one afternoon about the middle of
August, Jack said ;
“Miss Vandorn, Igo to New York
tomorrow. My vacation is at an end.”
Miss Vandorn was as silent as a tomb
stone. Jack was surprised thereby and
cast a hasty glance into h r face. He
was startled. He could not mistake the
surprise and bewildered expression on
her countenance his abrupt declaration
had provoked. His heart gave a great
leap and then stood still.
“If I say I go with regret it isbecau'-c
you have made my stay so very pleas
ant,” he managed to say.
“Must you go? ’ asked Gussie.
4 ‘l must go. lam but a poor young
lawyer with a loving mother to support.
My dream hour is ever. It seems like a
dream.”
‘What seems like a dream?”
“The few weeks I have been here and
privileged to have so much of your
society.”
“I shall be p’cased to see you at our
home in New York, Mr. Dayton.”
“Miss Vandorn,” said he solemnly,
“we have always been frank with each
other; let me be so now, Why? lam
too poor to be numbered among your
New York friends.”
“I shouldn’t mind your poverty, Mr.
Dayton; ‘worth makes the man, and
want of it the fellow,’ you know.”
“Yes; but the world does not look at
it that way; neither do L I have got
to struggle for a place to stand. Some
day wo may meet again. I pray that
we may. And it will seem a long time
before that day comes.”
They parted.
When she reached her room, where
the luxuries which wealth alone com
mands were scattered everywhere, she
sank into an easy chair and there was a
sweet smile upon her lips.
“He will return to me,” she mur
mured to herself, “and I shall wait un
til he does.”
TL
All this passed through Jack Day
ton’s mind two years after it had oc
curred. Ho had had a hard struggle.
With all his brilliant talents he had a
hard time of it to make ends meet. Ha
was brave and hopeful and he nurtured
these by thinking of the brilliant wo
man he had not met since he parted
with her at Saratoga. He heard of her
often, but he purposely avoided meet
ing her.
“What’s the use?’ he would ask him
self.
“Jack,” sail his mother as ho went
home one night, 4 I have never spoken
to you about your father because the
subject is a painful one to me. But I
have heard news today through his
lather’s lawyer that you should know.”
“Well, mother, what’s the news? I
have never taken any stock in my
father, because you never told me
anything about him, and I concluded
that he must have wronged you very
deep.”
“He did, Jack. He thought he
loved me, but he did not. He married
me, and when he found that his rich
father would not sanction the marriage
ho deserted me. For twenty-five years
he has lived in Europe. He drank
very hard, so I have heard. He never
wrote to me, but his lawyers [rave paid
me a small sum every quarter, as you
know.”
‘ Well, yes,” said Jack; “I knew you
drew the money, but I didn’t know
he was living and that he is rich. I
shall institute action to recover your
rightful share of his money.”
“But he is now dead, Jack.”
“Dead?’’
“Yes; he died in Paris a month ago.”
When Jack entered his office the next
morning his head was full of the news
his mother had told him, and projects
to look into his father’s affairs to pro
tect his own and his mother’s interests.
Ha had hardly got settled down to his
work before a spruce young man, in a
footman's livery, presented himself and
handed him a sealed letter. He read
the letter with mingled emotions. He
put on his cost and hat and followed
the servant to the pavement and entqjed
the magnificent carriage in waiting
The carriage stopped before a rich house
in one of tho fashionable up-town
streets,, and the doors flew open as Jack
approached them.
He was led to a large bedroom. He
walked to tho side of tho bed, around
which two physicians and one or two
servants were congregated. Everybody
made way for him. A shrunken hand
was extended to him, and ho grasped
it
4 ‘Young man,” said a faint voice, “1
am your grandfather. 1 wronged your
mother when she was young. Your
father is now dead. He was a rascal.
I have kept track of you through the
years since you were born. I have not
long to live. I want you to forgive me
before I die. I will not ask your mother
to forgive me, because I have occa
sioned her too much sorrow. All my
wealth is yours. You have only to see
my lawyers, Jenks & Jenks, You will
find everything in shape, for my house
has been in order a great many years
against this hour.”
Jack sank down by the side of tho
bed thoroughly unnerved. He was a
strong man, but in this hour, when the
past was to bo atoned for and death
hovered about tho grandfather who had
wronged him, but whom he had never
seen before, ho was weak as a child.
“Forgive—” and tho spirit of James
Dayton left the frail and wasted body,
where it had lodged for seventy years,
before he could finish the sentence.
tn.
Three months after the mortal re
mains of James Dayton had been con
signed to the earth from which they
came Jack Dayton presented himself at
the Fifth avenue residence of Gussie
Vanborn.
After a short time, which seemed an
age to him, the young woman entered
the parlor. He arose to his feet and ad
vanced to meet her.
“Miss Vandorn, will you pardon the
liberty I take in calling upon you?”
“Mr. Dayton, you have been free to
call upon me, by invitation, for the past
two years.”
“But I thought you may have forgot
ten.”
“I have not forge tt n.”
Jack gazed into her eyes a moment
with all the earnestness of tho days
since they had parted. Her eyes had
dropped beneath hi’, and her face was
suffused with blushes. She had not for
gotten. He said with simple eloquence:
“I have not forgotten. I never could
forget. Your face has been with me; I
have heard your voice ever since wo
parted two years ago. I have come
here tonight to toll you that li f o is no
longer endurable if you don’t share it
with me. I have waited two years to
tell you this.”
“You need not have waited two years,
Mr. Dayton,” she said with a roguish
smile.
And Jack’s fortune was not in the
money his grandfather left him, but in
the love of the woman that money had
secured to him.—[Chicago Mail.
Pineapples.
The pineapple season has begun in
New York. Merchants there are re
ceiving 3800 barrels a week, ani when
the season is at its height, tho quantity
will reach 10,000 barrels a week. Tho
barrels contain from twenty-five to
thirty extra large “pine’,” or forty to
sixty small ones. The season lasts
until August, and about 5,000,000
pineapples are imported each year.
A Point on Lace.
The word “point” in lace is so fre
quently misunderstood that we may be
excused for explaining that it is simply
the French word for “stitch,” and the
various kinds of lace are distinguished
by the varieties of stitch. Hence it is
that the word “point” comes into sc
much prominence.— [Dry Goods Chron
icle.
We can never see this world in its
true light unless wo consider cur life in
it as a state of discipline, a condition
through which we are passing to pre
pare us for another state beyond.
Children In Algiers.
The boys, when running about, weat
nothing but a long white chemise and
dark blue vrot, but of all bewitching
creatures in the world the little girls
can scarcely bo surpassed, says F. A.
Bridgeman, in writing about Algiers in
Harper’s Magazine. They are every
where, and must strike a stranger, cer
tainly an artist, as a prominent feature
of interest. Some are going to tho ba
ker’s, carrying unbaked loaves piled on
a plank on tho head; others with littls
brass-bound buckets brimming with
milk; singly, in crowds, always fasci
nating; not only pretty, but arrayed
in an infinite variety of costumes, they
dart from shadow into sunlight, and
disappear in a twinkling round a corner
or through a doorway. They wear, first,
a white chemise with gauze sleeves, over
it a gandoura, or chemise without
sleeves, and reaching nearly to tho
ankles, usually of printed calico, glar
ing in color, and with spots, stripes,
bird’, branches, and leaves; this gan
doura is sometimes of rich brocade or
light silk. Over tho first they often
wear a second gandoura of tulle with a
design in it, ordinarily nothing moro
nor less than common white curtain
stuff. All tho materials hang limp and
flutter when they run; round the waist
a broad ceinture, and over tho shoul
ders a little bodice. On the head a coni
cal cap, always of crimson velvet, moro
or less ornamented with gold thread;
children and unmarried girls wear
them with a strap under the chin; mar
ried women tie them on with a colored
handkerchief besides the strap. Their
hair is fringed iquare, just over the eye
brows, and plaited down tho back. Tho
operation of dyeing it dark brownish
wine-color requires several days, during
which time they appear certainly at a
disadvantage. Henna is made into a
mushy paste and plastered all over tho
head, as much as tho hair, being tied
up all over, can hold in place---and even
more, for it tuns down tho neck, tho
cheeks, and into the ears. The process
give: somewhat the appearance of a
head modeled in wax with the hair
studied in masses. Tho palms of tho
hands, fingers, and the feet and toes,
are also stained.
Slave Traffic In Africa.
The latest accounts from tho east
coast of Africa leave no room for doubt
that large numbers of slaves drawn from
the Lake Nyassa district are now regu
larly exported to Madagascar. A re
cent eye-witness of soma of tho atroci
ties committed by the Arabs states that
they have no regard for human life or
suffering. Large numbers of kidnapped
villagers who are taken to the ports on
the coast are conveyed in dhows to Mad
agascar. Mojanga is the headquarters
of this nefarious traffic, and there is too
much reason to believe that a few Eu
ropeans, as well as a large number of
British Indians are concerned in these
ventures. Being well acquainted with
the movements of tho ships of war, tho
foreigners at Mojanga arc always able
to warn their Sakaiva or Arab ac
complices of impending danger. Tho
Hova authorities aro bound by treaty to
prevent tho landing of slaves, and it
would bo interesting to know what
reasons they give for relaxing their
vigilance. There is a general opinion
that things will not improve until a
greater amou :t of consular supervision
is exercised on the west coast of Mada
gascar.—(London News.
The Borax Deposits of Colorado.
The borax deposits near Inyo, Colo.,
aro apparently inexhaustible. They are
usually but a few inches in thickness
where first opened, but get thicker as
they are pen<trated, till they attain a
depth of two feet or, more. Thousands
of acrei are covered by tho deposit.
Adjoining tho borax deposits are vast
beds of soda and salt. Groat mounds of
salt lie around, glittering white, th.t
contain thousands of tons. Tho salt is
fit for use as mined. The proporlion of
pure borax ranges from 3) to DO per
cent. From the works ,it is hauled in
wagons to Mojive, a distance of I(JQ
miles.—[New Orleans Picayune.
(•Lift Per Annum; 76 eenta tor Six Monthei
< 60 cents Three Months; Single Copies
I ft eentw-In AAvanoe.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
■ - •
Pride costa more than Hunger, thirst
and cold.
Life is a reckoning wo cannot make *
twice over.
Impulse ca« do wonders, where pre
paration falls.
Confidence) is a plant of alow growth
in an aged bosom.
Wo may be ruined by tho excessive
use of good things.
A good conscience is to the soul what
health Is to the body.
A character can bo blackened by a
shrug of tho shoulders.
The most manifest sign of wijdom is
continued cheerfulness. _ _
Bo brief in thy discourse, for what b
prolix cannot bo pleasing.
Manners must adorn knowledge, and
smooth its way through the world, j,
L"t there bo no wilful perversion of
another’s meaning; no sudden seizure of
a lapsed syllable to play upon it. ‘
Take away this measure from trnr
dress and habits, and all is turned into
such paint, and glitter, and ridiculous
ornaments, as aro a real shamo to tho
wearer. • v
Men talk in ruptures of youth and
beauty, wit and sprightliness; but after
seven years of union, not ono of them
is to be compared to good family man
agement, which is seen at every meal,
and felt every hour in tho husband’s
purse.
Washing Day in Morocco,
Tho only work I ever saw mon doing
in Morocco is washing clothes, and why
they should bo let in for this particular
job, uni ?s i it is becauso they can tako
<IT more clothes without offending tho
proprieties than a woman, I do not
know. When a Moor washes his clothes
it is because they need washing, and.
not for the absurd reason simply that
Saturday night has come around, and,
as a Moor from his out-door lifo can
kick like u mule, they kick their clothes
clean instead of icrubbing them. They
seem to have regular washing bees when
they get together at ths river banks,
provided with largo flat stones; then
they soak their clothes in Moorish soap
until the tertiary period has had a
chance to soften, after which the real
un commences. A thorough artist
places his wash on the fl it stone, cuts a
double pi jeon-wing with each log in
turn, taps the insilo of his knee with
his oppodto foot before ho brings it
down with a spank like tho fond caress
of childhood, making at tho same time
a noise with his mouth, similar to the
escape of a Westinghouse engine, while
the dirt of ages flees in all directions,
and all hands, or rather feet, keep time
with the regularity of a dance; for the
Moorish jai it of tho washtub is sup
pos’d to hover around and fl ip his cel
estial wings in contentment as long as
the racket is kept up in this manner.—
(Boston Transcript.
The Language of Animals,
Mock anger seems to bo rather com
mon among birds. There is in them,
when caged, somo suppressed excite
ment or fury, especially in tho spring.
Every one who knows a parrot knows
that a perfectly reciprocal fondness is no
protection against his Lite. Tho one I
know bites bis best friend deeply, and
roars with laughter. Tho little birds
use a kind of flirtation of defiance with
the overwhelming power of thoic they
know intimately. A skilled bird tamer,
I believe, puts his hand into the cage,
and when the bird moves, withdraws it
hurriedly, as if in fear This invites the
bird to a contempt which becomes the
foundation for familiarity; and tho de
vice is founded, I suppose, on that ad
venturous and provocative spirit in the
bird which prompts the bullfinches to
icold and Lully the master whose favor#
they value. Does a puppy bark and snap
In play in something ii£e the same tem
per! 1 might mention a goldfinch I
mow, which, I think, never fails to dii
tluguish its partial miitres* from all
»t! era by au outburst of swearing aa4
ufflug. [London Bpectator.
NO. 40.