About Columbus daily enquirer. (Columbus, Ga.) 1874-1877 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 19, 1877)
XIX. COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, SUNDAY, AUGUST 19, 1877. NO. 197 FromChaiub rs's Journal.] THE LIFE-BOAT. Hark! a distant gun is sounding H er tlie wat-rg, wildly bounding; Kagmg waves are fast surrounding <om • • wrecked ship to-night. On the shore the breakers, roaring, L„ u d as thunder now are pouring; Yht a signal high is soaring, hike a phantom light. in and stars their aid denying, i to s ek the living—dying— >, to prayers and tears replying, ill the tempest face? .r some brave ocean-ranger, r would, through the Cold and danger, to save, perchance, one etranger! tence, for a space. k! the lif -boat bell is ringing, ant men are wildly springing, and h me—their all—they’re Hinging, th. loEt they save, cets now are brightly flashing; lUgh the shiugl • sharply crashing, he life-boat'8 swiftly dabbing— ,-aveu guard the brave! Through the night, that wanes so slowly, “Little on"*” in accents holy, Mothers, wives, indwellings lowly. Breathe their heartfelt prayer. When the stormy sea is swelling, Ai hing hearts in regal dwelling, All their pride and power quelling, Kneel as helpless there. While the torches, dimly burning, Show the tide at last is turniug. Hundreds wait, for tidings yearning, Watch, with eager o.e;: iteo! the !ir»t faint glimpse of morning The dim eastern sky ador ring; Uiirk! the soldier’s bugle, warning That the sun doth rise. Then a littlo speck grows clearer, brawn—it seems hut slowly—ntarer. Seen by those to whom ’tls dearer— Known by them too well I Brighter now the morn is growing, t’l arer, sti l, and clearer, throwing bight upon the billows, shewing 'Tls no dream we toll. Fast the fata' sands th< y’re leaving; Hail ! the life-boat, proudly cleaving, Where the angiy sea is heaving Mountain-waves offoam. Onward, homeward, quickly noariug, Mid the ringing, dcal’uiug cheering Loving word of we'come hearing, Gri-ct the conquerors home. ••••A Mystery. BY JOHN OAKUM. [From the Operator.] I am what the world calls “an oldish fellow,” hut tho boy never dies out of Home natures, and mine is such a one. I am fond of reading sentimental stories, pretty little poems, and sad, weird novels; of listening to tho morniDg soDgs of the bitds and of plucking wild flowers in the fields as I was years ago, when in the heyday of my youth I was, like my fel lows, more or less romantic. Albeit the winters have drifted “like flakes of snow, and the Hummers like buds between,” until 1 sometimes feel, with lluskin, that it is a little saddening to watch the golden euusets, tlie bud goes down fio fast, yet am young in all but outward form and Bemblanco. I make little pilgrimages when the summer has fled, to the no great neglect of my legal practice, to watch tho changing colors of the forest trees, and sometimes, once in a fewvears I visit New York, and pass a sunny au tumn day at Central Park. No words at the command of a superannuated old lawyer, like the writer, can properly de scribe the beauties of that marvel of city ardening, when the frost has put its ^mprint on the myriad of treeB and hrubs. A lovely spot, to all admirers f art in nature, at any time, Central l’ark beoomes indescribably captivating when its plumage has changed from the emerald of spring and summer, and has turned the numberless tints of the rain- >w. To wander on, heedless of whither Ely footsteps tend, and note this speci men of gorgeous scarlet, that clump of golden leaves and the ever-recurring browns, silvers, purples, and yellows is my delight. And when the sun shines irightly and tho birds sing their melan choly songs—it always seems to me as if they sing in unison with nature; merri- when she is reviving, serenely and ■with mellowness in the days of her sum mer opulence, and sadly in the hours of her decay—I feel as if I had come into possession of my Spanish castles, and in heart at least, I am a boy again. 1 recall, at this moment, a visit made Central Park two years ago. I am Hot positive whether it was in the last ’ of October or in the first of Novem- Snffice it that the weather was most beautiful. I had strolled about until I was weary and footsore, and had stopped o rest on the bridge overlooking the a ke. As you will remember, this bridge s reached from the mall by crossing the Itive, and one may loiter there and see hi those who pass in carriages. There *ere but few people visible as I leaned J KAinst the rail, and surveyed the lovely te about me. The son was sinking apidly below a bsnk of gray, oold-look- g clouds, a chilling wind was springing P- and I w as about buttoning my coat °t6 firmly around me and setting out ,r the city, when I noticed a rather dis- n gu;shed looking gentleman down by be lake. He was, ptrhaps 35 years of ge, and was amusing himself by throw- D g pebbles out into the wrinkled waters. handsome fellow, smoothly en and tastefully dressed, though otuething about the cut of his attire per- Q adcd me that it was not of American anufactnre. I 6et him down in my ‘ad as an English tourist, and as he was )w coming toward me I prepared to WnUnize him more closely. Just as he u unitd the steps leading to where I was the jumbling of wheels diverted ■ a tUL;i'jn, and I turned my gpze in c °l ! posite direction. Presently a lady d gentleman came dashing by behind a lr of high-stepping horses. From the stant the carriage came within sight c tu it disappeared my eyes rested on the To say that she was beautifal be- °Ed the power of this hand to express, arcely dismitses the subject. I never w to my recollection so faultle6B a pair { shoulders. Her head, too, was a mar- of loveliness. There was a poise lL °ut it which enhanced the sweetness of face reminding me of Lucca's, and the ch locks of hair which escaped from ntrol with the rapid pace were as those * ihffWiof (have plan gathered sunshine. I stood spell-bound, as if an angel had passed my way. For a moment I scarcely breathed, counting it wrong to inhale the air, hallowed, as I thought it, by a recent presence border ing on the divine. “Lovely woman, isn’t she?” came from beside me, and as soon as I could recover my equanimity I turned, and meeting the eyes of the pebble-caster, I replied: “Indeed, sir, you may as well say so. Like most men of my years, I have my sweet and bitter memories: I have cas tles of gold and cedar and immense do mains in dreamland, through which flow silver rivers. My castles overlook lawns of perrennial green,and the air isfragrant with the incense of orange blossomB and myrrh. Sitting at my windows at even tide, I see, in the luminous atmosphere, faces of wondrous beauty, but none fair er nor more angelic than hers. A lovely woman most assuredly.” “I suppose, of course, you know her?” he returned. “I haveu’t that honor. I wish I had,” I said. “Do you know her?” I enquired. My companion gave a long whistle and finally answered abruptly: “Yes, I do know her, and Bhe has a history, too; but it is not much known, nor of peculiar in terest to strangers. Let it pass. Bat” he added, in a brisker vein. “I am sur prised, if you are a New Yorker, that you do not know the brilliant Mrs. Vaughn.” “I am not a New Yorker,” I rejoined. “I live in Boston, and have never heard of Mrs. Vaughn, I assure you. ” “Well, you have of your husband, sure ly,” my entertaining friend resumed. “She is the wife of Howard Vaughn, the capitalist—Vaughn, Giddings and Gluck, the Broad btreet bankers. Vaugn is a fine fellow, I think, though I have abun dant reason to hate him cordially. But I respect the man and ignore my personal animosity. He likes good wine, and good living, but he is a man of cultiva tion, also. You may remember him as the companion of Colonel Charles S. Bulkley, tho explorer and engineer sent out to build an overland line of telegraph from San Francisco to St. Petersburgb, some years ago, and which was abandon ed with the unexpected success of the second Atlantic cable. Vaughn afterward wrote a book reciting his experiences in British America—“Snow Shoes and Sledges,” I think was its title. Oh, yes! he is a clever fellow; he writes articles for the daily papers on finance; essays on social and literary themes for the maga zines, and a poem now and then, so sweet and pathetic that you would imagine its author to be some pastoral queen who had never wandered from the shaded lanes and quiet forests of her country homo long enough to even hear the echo of a city’s hum and bustle.” My companion subsided, and as we had begun walking while he was speaking, he fell to cutting at the bushes with his cane and seemed to be preoccupied. I had become greatly interested in his remarks, and expressing my thanks for the con fidences he had communicated, I intima ted that I t-hould be glad to know what reasons he had for hating so gifted a man as Mr. Vaughn. But my words seemed to be utterly lost upon him. Evidently his mind was elsewhere. We walked on in silence for some minntes, when my friend asked abruptly: “Did you notice Vaughn at all?” I replied that I did not; that my atten tion was so much engrossed by the’ lady and her marvellous beauty that I had not bestowed so much as a glance on her husband. “I am sorry,” continued my compan ion, “that you did not note him more closely. He is a wonderful man, possess ed of a face which once seen can never be forgotten. Born in the country, he has a nature so informed by the idyllic surroundings of his childhood, that his manner is almost womanly in its sweet ness. Contact with the world in later years has polished him outwardly to the last degree, so that, take him all iu all, he is really a most remarkable specimen of simplicity, worldly wisdom,true heart- edness, culture and affection delightfully blended.” We had now reached the Exit, and, without ceremony, my friend called a coupe and plunged into it. I was moving eff, not a little perplexed at all I had heard, and his unceremonious manner of quitting me, and had just sig nalled a Fourth avenue car, when a car riage stopped beside me, and a voice I recognized at once said: “I suppose you should like to hear her history, since you think Mrs. Vaughn so beautiful?” To my answer in the affirmative the voice continued: “Well, come and dine with mo to-morrow night, at the Claren- don, and I will tell you about her.” And a hand was put forth which grasp ed mice cordially, as the speaker conclu ded: “I somehow took a fancy to you from the first; and over our wine and ci gars, to-morrow evening, I will tell you a story so strange, inexplicable and sad,that you will have something to think of for a long time. Be at the Clarendon at 7 o'clock sharp, and ask for Conrad Kirsch- baum—pshaw! not a card with me, just my luck—and you shall know all.” I readily assented, and my new ac quaintance, falling back among the cush ions with a sigb, signalled wearily to his driver to proceed, and the carriage passed rapidly down Fifth avenne, quickly dis appearing around a corner. I dined with Kirschbauin the next even ing according to engagement. After din ner he told me the following singular sto- He was the son of the Rev. Conrad Kirsohbaum, deceased, of Allentown, Pa. In 1870 he had fallen a pray to a malrial fever, and went abroad to recuperate his health, in Paris he met Miss Marion Scudder, of Albany; they fell in love, be- camed engaged, and were to be married on their return to America. While they were deep in their plans for future bliss, the commune revolted. The siege of Paris began and progressed without elie iting their attention until one day, when it was too late to leave the city by the usual methods of conveyance, they awoke to a realization that they were prisoners in a beleaguered city. From this point I will let Kirschbaum tell his own story: “O, how I loved that girl—how I love her still ? But that is not to the pur pose. There was only one way out of the city—by balloon. It was with no small difficulty that I obtained Marion’s consent to leave by that means, but she reluctantly complied at last. Then I had no end of trouble about getting a balloon and run the imminent risk of being shot in making the start. In a few days, how ever, all was ready. I was to meet Ma rion at her hotel at 9 o’clock in the even ing, and from thence we hoped to quit Paris before night had set in. As I was pacing the floor at my lodgings, she oame to me about six o’clock—an hour before the time at which I had agreed to call for her. I remon-trated with her for jeopard izing her life by coming out of doors be* fore nightfall and without an escort, but ehe averred that she felt so wretched away from me, in the great danger which threatened ns, and she seemed so dependent on me that I ceased my chid ing. We left my lodgingB about fifteen minutes before seven, and between seven and eight o’clock we stepped on board the balloon, which, when the word was given, shot up into the air and rose to a great height. Have you ever done any bal looning? No? Well, it is a queer sensa tion which a man feels on his first trip, The firm earth seems to drop from be neath you, the people and objects below appear to be rapidly falling into space. It is impossible at first to realize that you are ascending. It was a moonlight night and we could see that we were passing over the suburbs of Paris. To our rear lay the vast extent of the oily. Beneath us the land, trees, houses and fields, swept past in such rapid succession that I decided that I must short ly think about making a landing. On which side of the city I was, I could not determine, bnt I knew that at the terrific rate of speed at which we were going, I must descend before long. Faster and faster tbe now indefinable objects below swept past us when suddenly tbe reporj of a rifle startled me. Breaking from Marion, whose arms were around me, and whose head rested upon my shoulder, I peered over the side of the car, but could discover nothing. We were being fired, at 1 judged, and so with a view to rising higher, and thus placing ourselves out of range, I began to empty tbe bags of ballast. I now abandoned all thought of descending. My only hope of safety was to go higher, higher. The balloon shot up to a limitless distance, as the sand ran ont. The moon was so low on the horizon, that I knew it would soon sink and leave ns in total darkness and indescribable desolation, bnt safe at all events from hostile bullets. The darkness and desolation followed very shortly af terward, and I resumed my place at Ma rion’s side. She was brave and calm,and seated up there in boundless space,know ing not whither we went, nor at what mo ment we might be plnnged into the yawning abyss of chaos below ns, I felt how dearly loved her, and how little I deserved her love. A man realizes ‘bis ntter worthlessness at such times; he feels how completely his poor mortal shell is in the grasp of God; how easy it is to crush him out of existence, and how mean, narrow and in consequential is all human effort. In the silence of that night, and in the presence of the majestic conditions about us, Ma rion and I found voice to talk of oar love and oar fntnre, as we had never talked before—as no lovers had ever talked be fore, perhaps. We spoke low, and with something of the timidity of children when the lightning darts through the skies, accompanied by the reverberations of deafening peals of thunder. It is in such circumstances, sir, no matter how self-dependent a man may be by nature, that he speaks like a sick girl, and quali fies his declarations with ‘if it please God,’ ‘if heaven approves,’ and similar phrases of deference to the Supreme Be ing, whom he feels is very near to him. And thus through the night we sat mo tionless, and talked until Marion grew si lent and finally dropped asleep in my arms liked a tired child upon its mother’s breast. I sat supporting her fair head for perhaps an hoar or more, when the first sound that I heard, except oar sab- dued voices, since the rifle shot as we soared over the Paris fortifications, fell upon my ears. It was a plashing noise suggestive of water below ns, and my heart stopped beating. I listened, and again I beard the complaining voices of the waves. Removing Marion from my arms and placing her in as comfortable a position as possible, I went and looked over the side of the car, but I could see nothing. A doll opaque gloom, in which nothing whatever was distinguishable, was all that met my eager gaze. But after a time I discovered something like motion. Whether it was the rolling clouds or tbe movement of waves I could not deter mine. I went back to where Marion was reclining. She was still sleeping soundly and, kissing her softly, I enveloped her more snugly in the wraps we had brought and returned to watch developments. As I gazed the sounds seemed to come near* er and nearer, and at length tbe moving objects beneath became more distinctly revealed in the increasing dawn which was apparently breaking. All at once I beheld the movement beneath and around me regnlar and recurrent, and in my ears sounded the dash of angry waters—the sarging, foaming, seething billows of the sea! I suddenly recognized then that I had been gradually descending by reason of the percolation of the gas, and so I began again to oast out ballast. This bad the desired effect, and we rapidly ascend ed. No, not we. For when I returned to where I had left Marion sleeping, she teas gone. “I will not weary you," he went on rapidly, “with a recital of what I suffered in the next few hours. Though I was satisfied that I was suspended above the Atlantic ocean, and the beating of the snllen waves beneath me sounded plainiy in my ears, what cared I? Marion, my Marion, gentle, loving, peerless Marion, had perished. And how, only God and the angels knew. I laid down in the bottom of the car, and waited for death. It could not be far off, I reasoned, for it was now light, and as far as the eye coaid reach there was one vast expanse of water. It was the Atlantic; that was patent, and I made ready to meet my fate. After lying in a semi-dazed state of despair for hours, I was at length awa kened to consciousness and action by a rustling, scraping sound. As I stagger ed to my feet the balloon tilted, and it was only by a quick movement and by strenuously holding on to the rigging,that I escaped being thrown from the car. Ready and willing to die, with nothing bnt sorrowful recollections and a future as doll and cold as the tomb, Fate de creed that I should live. Tbe car had caught in the top of some lofty forest trees, and in a few moments I was safe on terra firma. I found a village near at hand, and, having the good fortune to find a man who spoke French, I ascer tained that I had come to anchor in Nor way. That I was beside myself with grief you can readily believe. Bat what coaid I do? I conld not communicate with Marion’s friends in Paris, even if they still remained there, which was un likely, and so I proceeded with all haste to Liverpool, and took the first steamer for home. From Allentown I wrote her relatives in Albany the sad story of Ma rion’s mysterious death, and, my brother, who is a merchant in Shanghae, being on the point of returning to China, I ac companied him thither, hoping to bury my troubles by diving into commercial pursuits. But it was useless; I stayed in China ontil last year, and then came to New York a representative of my broth er’s firm. ” Kirsohbaum seemed much moved at this point, and walked nervonsly about the room for two or three minutes. Then he proceeded: “Perhaps I told you yesterday that Central park has a strange fascination for me. No? Well, it has. One day some months after my arrival, whil61 was horseback riding, I came upon a la dy and gentleman, and that is all that I remember. I swooned in my saddle and fell. When I revived I was lying in a summer-house near where I had fallen, and the result of the fall was to pnt me in bed for three months. You naturally wonder what caused me to faint. I will tell you. I had seen Marion Scudder. And what was worse, I learned that she was married. You saw her yesterday in the person of Mrs. Howard Vaughn.” “But how did sho escape death?” I in quired, aghast. “Why did she marry, why did—” “There is where the mystery comes in,” he interrupted. “I arrangedan interview when I got cut again, and she charged me with having betrayed her, of having left her to perish iu Paris, while she maintained that she was in readiness at the hotel at 7 p. m. precisely,and that I nev er came to her, which was trne enough. Finally she denied that she ever set foot in that balloon. And so, chagrined at my supposed desertion and almost crazed with fear, she was about to give up all hope, when Howard Vaughn, a casual ac quaintance of ours then, came to her like a guardian angel, and got her Bafe ont of Paris. Piqued by my supposed cruelty and subsequent running away to China, as she inferred, and ear costly besought by VaughD, who really loved her, she finally consented to be his wife. Moreo ver, she blamed me for writing, wanton ly as she then believed, to her relatives, thereby plunging them in grief at her death while she was still living and well.” “But who was the woman you took with you by mistake, and whose unhappy death sent yon off to China? How in the world conld you have made such a blun der? I should suppose—” “Stop there, my friend,” he said in measured accents, raising his finger, ‘ ‘the woman I took from Paris was Miss Ma rion Scudder or her ghost. Why, sir, we talked of matters—matters affecting our fature—known only to us two. No other person could have—why, sir,” he exclaim ed passionately, “do yon suppose I could have made a mistake? Impossible, ab surd, preposterous!” ‘But your story is so unreasonable as it Btands. I don’t believe in ghosts—I cannot understand—” “ You cannot understand,” he said, with biting scorn. “I cannot understand it, either, nor can she, and we have been studying upon it for months. Do yon suppose, sir, that you, who haven’t yet had time to digest the bare facts, can un derstand what has been and will be a life long enigma to those who are most vital* ly interested? Do yon imagine, he in quired, with a burst of indignation, “that I would bring you here to listen to a tame recital of matters that yon could underrtand after the specifia statement that what I had to tell was strange, inex plicable and sad?” I saw that the man was iu earnest, that he was deeply moved, but I could not ac count for, nor conld I scarcely believe what I had heard, and still I was satisfied that this was no madman’s tale. The speaker was sane beyond question. I was sorely puzzled. I essayed an apology for what I had said, when Kirschbaum inter rupted me saying soothingly: “There, there, never mind. I have lost the brightest gem in the casket of womanly grace and beanty, and I lose my temper when I dwell on the horrors of that night. I have made myself quite ill by letting my anger get fall reign. It is late; yon had better go and leave me to mysalf.” I was about to withdraw when he said: “I have abased you, sir, bnt I nave like wise honored you. To no other human being have I ever told that story, bnt I took a fancy to yon, as I told yon yester day, and broke the seal of silence. Think of me kindly and forgive my indecorum if yon can. I am terribly unnerved. Good night.” I got very little sleep that night, and my theories and speculations only plung ed me into deeper gloom than ever. I despaired of ever solving Kirschbaum’s mystery, but I conld not keep his story out of my mind. Thas two days passed, and I had made my plans for returning home on the evening train, when as 1 was strolling in Madison place, I met Mrs. Blossom, a lady whom I had known in Boston many years before. She had married Mr. Blossom in the meantime, and was now a widow. Like many other not over cultivated women she entertain ed a passion for literary and theatrical people, concert and opera singers, artistR, sculptors, and persons of that ilk, who gathered about her for several rersons, prominent among which were that she was a kind-hearted, motherly woman,and a hostess withal, whose means enabled her to give regal entertainments. She had frequently invited me to her house, and once or twice I had gone, but had generally felt my unfitness to mingle, satisfactorily to myself, with clever peo ple who congregated within her hospitable walls, and I had decided not to go again. But Mrs. Blossom was very pressing, and finally»she said: “Do stop over and come to my little party this evening.” Then she named many persons of note who wonld be present, but I resolutely shook my head, and held that I must positively go home. “Then you won’t have no opportunity of meeting Miss Yanghn, perhaps’ll never see her, and she’s all the rage. ” I answered quickly: “Well, then, since you will have it so, I’ll come.” As the reader may surmise I changed my mind in view of the suddenly opened prospect of meeting Kirschbaum’s love. True, Mrs. Blossom had spoken of the la dy as Miss Vaughn, bnt I bad noticed a great many times that Mrs. Blossom’s pronunciation of “Miss” and “Mrs.” did not vary. She Missed all ladies married, or single even as she missed hitting plu ral verbs to tally with her plural nonns Bat let us not cavil at her pronunciation or her grammar; her goodness of heart made ample amends for her partiality for two negatives and other eccentricities of speech, as well as for careless pronuncia tions. I was not amiss in my calculation, and at 10 o’clock that evening I found myself gaily chatting with my divinity of the Park. We talked with tbe utmost free dom and frankness, the disparity in our ages rendering unnecessary that we should observe the little ceremonies common between joung people in society. We spoke at length of Paris, and she listened attentively to all I said of the French capital, its arts, industries, and architec tural splendors. She hoped she could go there some day, she said. “Go there again, I presume you mean,” I observed,adding that I hoped she wonld fiDd the city more qniet than in the old days of the commune. She bestowed on me a puzzled look, but said nothing. Pre sently I continued: Kirschbaum told me that strange sad story. Per haps I ought not to speak of the balloon mystery, but really I bave studied over it so much I can scarcely think of any thing else.” Her pnzzled look gradually changed to one of apparent fright, and to pacify her I conclnded quickly: “Par don me, Mrs. Vaughn, I can understand your feelings; it was indeed a most in explicable and mysdferious affair. The only pleasant thing in connection with it is the manly attitude Kirschbaum main tains. I can assure yon and your hus band—” “My husband!” she ejaculated, in sur prise, “why, sir, I have no husband, at least not yet,” she said blushing. “It is no secret in society, however, that I shall soon wed with Signor Feoretti, the ten or.” It was my time no tv to ejaculate. “Not married!” I returned, “and who, pray, was the gentleman with whom I saw you riding in Central Park on Monday?” “Why, my uncle, of coarse. Captain Peters of the Inman line,” she replied; “and who is this Kirschbaum,” she in quired, “of whom you speak as if he knew me? I remember no gentleman among my friends beating that name.” “My dear Miss Vaughn,” I said respect fully, “I am all at sea. Somebody has gone out of his head—possibly I, peradventure another man,but things are getting queer- ly mixed up,” saying which I wiped the beads of perspiration from my face,which were exuding from every pore. “Pray pardon me, but may I ask who you are?” ‘Somebody is certainly demented. All your talk about the commune, the balloon mystery, and my going to Paris again was as a sealed book to me, bnt I let it pass, hoping we should flounder out of the maze shortly. As to who I am, I sup posed Mrs. Blossom had told you. I am only an aspiring woman with a soprano voice which the critics say promises fu ture distinction for me, and, indeed, I have been very successful in ‘Mignon.' It is not pleasant for tne, as you see, sir, to speak of myself, (her sweet face was painfully flushed), but we seem to be drifting so hopelessly that I have answer ed your question in all candor.” As I turned to apologize I saw Kirsch baum on the opposite side of the room, engaged in merry conversation with Mrs. Blossom. He had not seen me, appa rently, and I changed my position so that my face wonld not be visible to him, and said to Miss Vaughn: “My dear young lady, you shall have ample apology for what no donbt seems to yon like rode conduct from a man old enough to have a proper regard for a la dy—a fatherly tenderness, indeed, for a English characters him long?” I par- added, laughing, woman of your age; but before I say a word in explanation I wish to ask a ques tion. Will you kindly tell me if you ever saw that handsome, smooth-faced gentleman before, who is talking with Mrs. Blossom?” “Oh, yes, indeed,” she replied, “I know him very well.” “Oh, you do, eh?” I returned petulant ly. I dare say yon do.” She looked at me reproachfully, and said very gravely: “We may as well agree to disagree. Yonr last remark was intended to be invidious, and I submit that yon have no reason to annoy me further.” If I had been a younger man I believe I should have determined as I stood look ing down into the pare depths of Miss Vaughn’s angelic eyes, to cast the gaunt let at Signor Feoretti’s feet, and enter the lists as a competitor for the smiles of her who held me spellbound with her graceful beauty. “But no,” thought I, “all that is past for me; I am wedded to a memory; let me not add weakness, even in thought, to my palpable rudeness.” Af ter a moment I found voice to ask very meekly: “And who is this gentleman?" “I thought you knew him, or I should have told yen that before,” she rejoined, half pityingly. “That is Mr. John K ■, the somewhat celebrated actor, who has just retnrned from Anstralia. He will play a ronnd of old soon at Wallaok’s.” “Have yon known sued. “Oh, yes,” she since childhood. He is in fact, my broth* er—his real name is Silas Vaughn.” I felt faint and giddy, but soon sum moned strength to ask if the gentleman was a man of veracity. She regarded me with a look of genuine sympathy, as if by the qnick intuition of her sex she had made a discovery, and said slowly “Y-e-s and n-o. He is trntbfnl enough about matters of vital importance, but he sometimes lets his imagination ran wild for amusement, and at such times I have heard Mr. Southern say that he evolved snoh romances as to create the impress ion among his professional friends that he missed bis calling in not going into fiction. “I hope,” she continued, with a womanly sweetness that went to my soul, and which I shall never forget, “that Si las hasn’t been—” At this momont Signor Feoretti oame up, and I stood one side; and as this soon-to-be-mated pair were temporarily engaged in conversation I quietly passed through the throng to the lower rooms. Here, while donning my coat and hat, I encountered and bade Mrs. Blossom an abrnbt good night, and thenoe I proceed ed to my hotel. And as I passed thither nnder the silent, solitary stars, I began to study upon a plan for the regeneration of those misguided sons of men who speak with most miraculous organ, bnt with an ntter disregard of truth. I con fess that I have not progressed well thus far in perfecting my plan, and every day occurrences sometimes make me feel that I have not only entered upon my life- work, but, if we are not without occupa tions in the next world, that I shall still have food for study and reflection, even after I have passed to where, “beyond these voices,” all is peace. D? TUTTS PILLS Meet the wants of those who need a safe and reliable medicine. The immense demand which has so rapidly followed their introduction is evidence that they do supply this want, and proves them to be throw dice—throw —The best way to them away. —Always bonnd to follow suit—Your tailor’s bill. —Most men love little women, and lit tle women love most men. —The husband’s best excuse—“I was detained by business, my dear.” —Character is like cloth. If white it can be dyed black; but once blackened it cannot be dyed white. —About the most uncomfortable seat a man can have, as a steady thing, in the long run, is self-conceit. — “Hans, where is the horse?” “He proke der stable in two, kicked the traces open, and run around de lamp post mit de corner grocery.” —If Nature designed man to be a drnnkard, he would have been construct ed like a churn, so that the more he drank the firmer he wonld stand. —A charming female writer says that the men like to ‘pick the ladies to pieoes.’ It is certainly very pleasant sometimes to take them apart. —Bald-headed men are so namerons in Chicago that an audience in that city is said to look, when viewed from above, like a cobble-stone pavement. —In Cincinnati almost every portion of the hog is pat to some valuable use. A distinguished philosopher of that city is now trying some method of turning the sqneal into account. —Somebody remarks that young ladies look on a boy as a nuisance until he is past sixteen, when he generally doubles up in value each year until, like a meer schaum pipe, he is priceless. —A practical illustration of a man car rying tbe punishment of a Bin aloug with him, is related of a fellow in Cincinnati who lately ran away with two married women. —No man can see a fashionable lady make a dive for the bottom of her dress without fearing for the moment that she is going to nse her train to knock a fly off her bonnet. —“Mrs. Smith, pappy wants to know if yon wont take a skift and scull mam ma acrost the river?” “No; but tell your pappy if it will be any favor, I’ll take an ax an skull him.” Exit youth with hair a la porcupine. THE MOST POPULAR PILL ever furnished the American people. The high- est medical authorities concede their superiority over all others, because they possess alterative, tonic, and healing properties contained in no other medicine. Being strongly Anti-Bilious, they expel all humors, correct a vitiated state of the system, and, being purely vegetable, they do not, like other pills, leave tlie stomach and bowels in a worse condition than they found them, but, on the contrary, impart a healthy tone and vigor before unknown. [OUR WORDS INDORSED) Dr. C. L. MITCHELL, Ft. Meade, Fla., says: . . . " 1 know the superiority of your pills, and want to see them used instead of the worth less compounds sold in this country.” . . . Rev. R. L. SIMPSON, Louisville, Ky., says: . . . "Tutt's pills are worth their weight in gold." . . . Had Sick Headache & Piles 30 Years. . . . “/ am well. Gaining strength and flesh every dap." . . . R. S. Austin, Springfield, Mass. He Defies Chills and Fever. . . . “ With Tutt's pills, we defy chills. Illinois owes you a debt of gratitude." . . F. R. Ripley, Chicago, 111. Sold everywhere. Price 25 cents. 35 Murray Street, New York. Office, TUTT’S HAIR DYE _ Gray hair ia changed to a glossy black by a single application of this dye. It is easily ap plied, acts like magic, and is as harmless as spring water. Never disappoints. Sold by druggists. ce,3SMv Price $1.00. Office,35 Murray Street, New'York. BOOTS AND SHOES. FINE SHOES! LADIES’ AND MISSES’ NEWPORTS, Plain and with Buckles. Sandals § Slippers, In New and Tasty Styles. BTJRTS’ Fine Button Boots. G E 1XT T 8 Brown Cloth-Top Button Oiforfis, THE HANDSOMEST SHOE OUT. Also a full Line of SPRING WORK in all the Popular Styles, ALL AT REDUCED PRICES. A Heavy Stock of Brogans, Plow Shoes, and Sta ple Goods, FOR WHOLESALE TRADE 49* For anything you want In the Shoe and Leather Line, call at THE OLD SHOE STORE No. 73 Broad Street, (Sign of the Big Boot.) WELLS & CURTIS. aepgo tf Doctors. , DU. C. E. ESTES*. Office Over Kkbt’s Drug Stoke. jnaly Lawyers. ALONZO A. DOZIER, Attorney and Counsellor tat Law. Office Over 120 Broad Street. Practices In State and Federal Courts in both Georgia and Alabama. mhl8’77 ly CHARLES COLEMAN, Attorney-aLLaw. Up stairs over C. E. Hoclistrasser’s store. [febll,’7T tf] BENNETT M. CBAWFOKU, Attorney and Counsellor at Lan. Office over Frazer’s Hardware Store. jai4’771y REESE CRAWFORD. J. it. M’NEILL. CRAIVFOHD A UcNILLL, Attorneys and Counsellor* at Law, 128 Broad Street, Columbus, Ga. janl6,’J6 ly G. E. THOMAS, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, Office: Over Hochstrasser’s Stoie, Columbus, Georgia. [jan9,76 ly] Myrk H. Blahdfobd. Louis F. Garrard BLAN DFOBO * GARRARD, Attorney* and Counsellors nt Law Office No. 07 Broad street, over Wittich a Klnsel’s Jewelry Store. Will practice In the State and Federal Courts aep4 ’76 Piano Tuning, Ac. E. W BLAU, Repairer and Tnner of Pianos, Organs and Accordeons. Sign Painting also done. Orders may be left at J W Pease A Nor man’s Book Store. sep5,’T5 Watchmakers. C. H. LEQCIN, Watchmaker, 134 Broad Street, Columbus, Ga Watches and Clocks repaired In the best manner and warranted.jyl,’75 Tin and Coppersmiths. W». FEE, Worker in Tin, ftlitct Iron, Copper Orders irom abroad promptly attended to. jyl,’70 No. 174 Broad Street. REAL ESTATE ACENTS. JOHN BLACKMAIL Georgia Home Building, next to Telegraph Office, Oo.umbus, Ga., Real Estate, Brokerage and Insuranoe Agenoy. LAND WARRANTS BOUGHT. Refer, by permission, to Banks of this city. OPIUM S3l am morphine absolutely and cured. Nunless: nopub’icity nd stain; ton Uf cured. Nunless: nopnbiicity. stamp for particulars. Dr. Carl- 187 Washingtonsu,Chicago,IU. GOLD PLATED WATCHES. Chespcst la the known world. Bampls Watch Fact to Assam. Awmuws, A, GOVLILA * CVu Cswssv, lu. RAILROADS. WESTERN RAILROAD ft^roaf OF ALABAMA. Columbus, Ga., August 12,1877. Trains Leave Columbus AS FOLLOWS Southern Mail. 12759 p.in.,arrives at Montgomery. 6:14 r a* Mobile 6:26 A If New Orleans. 11:25 a x Selma 7:30 p m Atlanta....... »:40 a x Atlanta & IN ortliern Mail. 7715 sh. in., arrives at Atlanta 2:20 r if Washington . 0:45 r m Baltimore.... 11:30 pm New York... 7:00 am ALSO BY THIS TRAIN Arrive at Montgomery..,. 3:08 p m TRAINS ARRIVE AT COLUMBUS From Montgomery and Southwest.. 10:65 a m “ “ 6:06 P SI From Atlanta and Northwest 6:06 p m JAg~ This Train, arriving at Columbus at 5:05 P. M., leaves Atlanta at 9:30 a in. E. P. ALEXANDER, President. CHARLES PHILLIPS, Agent. declS tf Central and Southwestern Railroads. Savannah, Ga., March 8, 1877. O N AND AFTKR SUNDAY, March 11, Passenger Trains on the Central auu Southwestern Railroads and Branches will run as lollows: TRAIN NO. 1, GOING NORTH AND WEST Leaves Savannah 0:20 a m Leaves Augusta 0:15 a m Arrives at jvugusta 4:46 pm Arrives at Macon 0:46 p m Leaves Macon for Atlanta 0:10 r h Arrives at Atlanta 5:02 a a Making close connections at Atlanta with Western and Atlantic Railroad lor all points North and West. COMING SOUTH AND EAST. Leaves Atlanta 10:40 p u Arrives at Macon 5:45 a m Leaves Macon 7:00 a m Arrives at Milledgeville 0:44 a m Arrives at Eatonton 11.30 a m Arrives at Augusta 4 45 p m Arrives at Savannah... 4:00 p M Leaves Augusta 0:15 a v Making connections at Augusta tor the North and East, and at Savannah with the Atlantic and Gulf Railroad for all points in Florida. TRAIN NO. 2, GOING NORTH AND WEST Leaves Savannah 7:30 pm Arrives at Augusta..... 6:00 a m JL eaves Augusta 8:05 p m Arrives at milledgeville 0:44 a m Arrives at Eatonton 1130 a m Arrives at Macon 8:00 a m Leaves Macon for Atlanta 8:40 a m Arrives at Atlanta 2:IS p m Leaves Maeon lor Albany and Eu- laula 8:20 A M Arrives at Eufauta 3:40 p m Arrives at Albany 2:10 p at Leaves Maeon for Columbus 0:33 a m Arrives at Columbus 1:13 r m Trains on this schedule for Macon, Atlanta, Columbus, Kufaula and Albany daily, making close connection at Atlanta with Western & Atlantio and Atlanta A Richmond Air Line. At Jbutaula with Montgomery and Kulaula Railroad; at Columbus with Western Rail road of Alabama, and Mobile and Girard Railroad. Train on Blakely Extension Leaves Albany Mondays,Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. COMING SOUTH AND EAST. Leaves Atlanta 1:40 p x Arrives at Macon from Atlanta 6:65 p m Leaves Albany 10:00 a m Leaves Eafaula 6:05 p m Arrives at Mason from Eufauia and Albany Mpm Leaves Columbus 11:13 a m Arrives at iviacon from Columbus.... 3alp m Leaves Macon 7 3f p u Arrives at Augusta 6:00 a m Leaves Augusta 8:05 p u Arrives at Savannah 7:15 a m Making connections at Savannah with At- antio and Gulf Railroad for ail points in Flor ida. Passengers for Milledgeville and Eatonton will take train No. 2 from Savannah and train No. 1 from Macon, which trains connect daily except Monday, lor these points. LLI/ WILLIAM ROGERS, General Supt. Central Railroad, Savannah. W. G. RAOUL, Supt. Southwestern Railroad, Macon. feb5 tf Mobile & Girard K. It. imiln *M.* O N and after SUNDAY, MAY" 6th, the Mail Train on tne Mobile ai Girard Rail road will run as lollows: GOING WEST. Leave Columbus General Passenger Depot daily, at 1:40 r m Leave Columbus Broad Street Depot daily,at 2:20 p M Arrive at Union Springs 5:55 p m Troy 8:00 p m Euiasila lo to p m Montgomery 7:55 p m Mobile 6:2 . A M New Orleans 11:25 a x Nashville 7:55 a m Louisville 3:40 p M Cincinnati 8:15 p x St. Louis 8:lo a x Philadelphia 7:36 a x New York 10:25 a x COMING EAST. Leave Troy 12:60 a m Arrive at Union Springs 2:40 a x “ Columbus 7:lo a m “ Opelika 9:2o a x “ Atlanta 3 06pm “ Macon 3:25 P x “ Savannah 7:15 ax Close connection made at Union Springs daily lor Montgomery and points beyond. For Eufauia Tuesday, Thursday and Satur day. Through coach with sleeping accommoda tions between Columbus and Montgomery. Passengers for the Northwest will save ten hours’ time bv this route. Through tickets to all principal points on sale at General Passenger Depot, and at Broad Street Shed. W. L. CLARK, Superintend D. E. WILLIAMS, General Ticket Agent. my9 tf Warm and White Sulphur SPRINGS. P ASSENGERS going to the Warm and White Sulphur Springs will find it more convenient and pleasant Via the North & South Railroad, As arrangements have been made to hav HACKS meet every morning and evening’s train. WM. REDD, Jr., jn9 8m Snp’t. W. F. TICNER. Dentist: Over Mason’s Drug store, Randolph Street, Columbus, Ga. ia’Ji iv 533 .Each week to Agents. Goods Staple. 1*1. testimonials received.Term.s liberal. 1’ar* ttCUirtfS Uvv< V .WvttU A Vv.sjt.Loub^M^
