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THE ATHENS GEORGIAN: NOYEMBBR 14, 1876.
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LORD BYRON’S LOVE.
A Story as Told by Mary
Cliatrortb’s Servant.
From Llppincott’* Magazine for November.
Nottingham, ——, — I have been
wonderfully entertained to-day by
the story of old J——, Mary Cha-
worth’s servant, “ head man at An
nesly Park.’’ I should much like to
know if any one else has been so for
tunate as to hear the loquacious old
mail’s account of Byron and his early
love. When one hears a story like
this from the lips of a servant, it is
surely worth while to consider
whether, after all, great reputations
are not apt to softer from the ill will
of hirelings and*may not be too read
ily branded by the world, as prompt
to condemn our failures as to applaude
our attainments. Lord Byron suffers
nothing from J ’s confession, but
Mistress Chaworth was surely unfor
tunate in her confident dependence
on servant’s faithfulness.
That was a funny sum-total of
J—;—N when I asked his opinion ot
^Byioil’s .character: “Oh, his loid-
ship were a fool. He didna knaw—
grass from—grass. And he never
give me naught. But many’s the
pun’ note Mr. Musters gie me for a
chance to speak wi* Mary Chaworth.”
So ! and who knows if j but for the
trick, the old, man confessed, Lord
Byron would not have married one
whose affectionate disposition and
self-immolation lor the object of her
devotion might have saved to the
world a pure and elevated poet, un-
. sullied by the mire of wanton despair,
and to Mary Chaworth a heart that
loved her for herself? John Muster’s
triumph was cheaply purchased. 1
will record it all as old J related
it.
“ Ay, I remember well when his
lordsljjp wild come riding, like mad
into Auuesly Park, and his two great
dogs flying along wi’ him. *My
word,’ old Mrs. Clark would say, 4 if
there doesn’t come his lordship, and
those nasty brutes arc with him to
spoil my nice white counterpane,!’
You see the brutes always sleepil
outside o’ the covers ou his lordship’s
bed.
“ One fine day, when I was laying
the cloth tor dinner, Miss Mary sat in
the great-hall w i’lier back to the lawn,
an’ she didn’t see his lordship com
ing.”
44 now was she dressed ?”
44 Oh, she was dressed in a white
silk gown, very low on the sbouldcis,
an’ a high belt under her arms, like.
Au* it were very long behind, an’ so
you could see her wee small feet in
tidy slippers in front.
44 Well, the great hall windows
opend one the lawn, an’ his lordship
was quick enough to spy Miss Mary
sittiu’ there. An’ he came soft like
through tho room, and before she
knew it, lie leaned ovor her and kissed
her beautiful white shoulder.
44 Oh, dear! will I ever forget how
6hc flared ? She sprang to her feet,
aud wi’ a voice chokit wi’ rage, she
stud, 4 My lord! what does this mean?
You never have so much as touched
the liem of my garment, an’ yon
never shall!’ Then it were awful to
see the fire in her eyes; she were the
picture of her grand-father, who
were killed in a duel wi’ hi9 lordship’s
grandfather across that very table.
But shee needna been so road, for his
lordship were a nice man enough but
for bis nub foot. Poor fool! she
didna know* John Musters were only
after her money, an his lordship loved
her for herself. M. Musters were a
handsome man too, and he always
gied me a pun’note; once belied me
a fi’-j un’ note, but I never told him
i saw, a five on it when I got home.
£ helped him get rid o’ his lordship,
an’ I fixed all the mectin’s wi’ his
•man. You see, I was head man at
Anaesly Hall, an* when the young
heiress rode out, it was roy place to
s ide after her, an’ Mr. Musters’ man
would ride after him, an’ we’d always
go the same road.”
44 But how did you manage about
Lord Byron ?”
• “Oh, he were like his mother—>
afraid of the bogles !>
“ Bogles! and pray what are they?”
Oh, the people out o’ the kirkyard,
(hat couldna rest after duels an’ that.”
« Oh, yes; well, go on, please”
“ An’ it were for that his lordship
always, kept one o* the men waiting
halffthe night next to his bed room
till he read himself to sleep. Well,
one night it were my turn to wait an’
I waited till near morning, an* at last
I couidna’keep awake any longer, an*
I just dut an* said, *1 think, your
lordship, it’s time for reasonable folk
to have done wi’ crack reading an’ go
to sleep.’ 4 Fellow! lie shouted, like
one stark mad, 4 fellow! do you know
to whom you are speaking ?’ ‘ Ay,
your lordship, that I do; but I'm a
feared o’ naught—neither lord, duke,
earl, nor king—for the matter o’
that!’ *»
44 1 doubted I’d losc'my place, but
Mrs. Clark begged his Lordship’s for
giveness for me, and I wasna dis-
misseed. But I made, up my mind
his Lordship shouldna sleep more nor
one night again at Annesly Hall.”
“ Mrs. Clark,” I said, “you’d rather
the brntes w.ould not spoil your coun
terpanes ?”
14 Ay, J ,” she said, u but I dare
not offend his lordship.”
4 Well, I didn’t say aught, but I
just went about it, and this is how I
did it. The great lied in his Lord
ship’s room had heavy curtains, an’
they were liung on brass rings-that
run on brass bars, an’ they made a
deal o’ noise an* rattlin’ when they
were drawed. I found, a big ball o’
black thread, an’ I run one end
through all the rings on one side, an’
t’other through all the rings on
t’other side; and when 1 carried the
two ends down the post and along
the floor, I cut a clean slice oft* the
bottom o’ the bed-room door, so the
thread would be sure to pull easy-
like; an’ I put I lie rng over the
thread, an’ then I couldn’t ha’ told
myself aught was wrong.
“After mo tell’n’ his lordship a
piece o’ my mind about his crack
reading, they took the next man to
me to wait oil him for that night, an*
I thought it would be morning be
fore lie ever would have done, he
was so intolerable long. But at last
I heard the door of his lordsbip’s
room open, an’ soon as everything
.was quiet, I peeped through the
crack an’ made sure the master an’
the brutes were all sleepin’. Then,
I pulled the thread. It was an awful
shriekin’ the ring made over the
brass bars, an’ in a second, crack!
went a pistol, and the dogs barked;
crack! went , another pistol, an* the
dogs howled, an’ his lordship called,
“Help! help! thieves! thieves!”
“ I ran to my bed as fast as my
legs would carry me, and in a min
ute all the doors in the house flew
open, an* candles were flarin’ au’
women screamin’, an’ the men pound
in’ on his lordship’s door au’ callin’,
“ Open the door, roy lord. There be
five o’us here, an’ We’ll soon make
sure o’ the rascals!’’
“Some one caine an’ tried to
waken me; but yon knaw I bad my
breeches on, an’ if I’d got out o’ bed,
they’d knawn I was at the bottom o’
the mischief.”
44 Go ’long to the great room an’
I’ll come,” I said at last, yawnin’, an’
then makin’ ns if I had just hauled
on my clothes, I joined the men at
the door, an’ after his lordship was
convinced we couldn’t burst the door
in, he opened it, an* such a rushin* of
men an* dogs, was never seeii afore.
Lookin’ np the chimney an* under
the bed, I was really frightened at.
the danger I was in o’ bein’ found
out, an’ ahaldn’ all over, when I said,
’There be naaght here, your lordship
—neither thieves nor murderers—an’
I doubt it was tho bogles from the
kirkyard yonder;”
“ My word! no one slept any more
in the ball that night, an’ it was the
last time his lordship ever went to'
bed at Annesly Park.”
• 44 But you are sorry now, J ,
for the trick you played, since Miss
ChaWorth might have married him if
she bad known Lord Byron better,
and had not been deceived by Mr.
Musters?”
4 f Ay, that I be, an’ it often gied
agin my conscience when I waited
till all the folks would be asleep in
the hall, an’ then I’d bring Bliss
Chaworth down to meet Musters in
the dining-hall, an’ leave -’em a bit to
chat, an’ when I’diinock sometimes
he wouldn’t go, an* I’d have to
tell him he must, for tho folks would
soon be stirring in tlie hall- And
oh, the picnics we nad in the groyel
I’d seud oat the hampers by the
men to tho blacksmith’s an’ they
never kuowed what was in them.
And Muster’s man would get them,
and lay the cloth on the sod, an’
such long, merry talks they’d have,
while we strolled away a bit; an’
then they’d go off together while
we’d lunch a bit. The very last time
we were feasting in the graves,
Muster’s man said, 4 So many liotties
are strawn mound, an’ these be nice
ones, J ; one for you an’ one for
me;’ an* we ’put ’em in our great
coats; an’ there they are; you can
have ’em both if yon want them ”
Ah, little did the poor young thing
know what was cornin’! The day she
was of age she marricd>Mr. Musters,
an’ a month from that site paid £100,-
000 to the money lenders, that were
only waitin’ aH-Tl5e^j^|^br his pro
mise to pay them when he married
the heire s. And oh, she was the
most unhappy woman alive when he
openly treated her badjike! an’ all
be wished of her was money! money!
Never will I forget the day his lord-
ship’s funeral was coinin’ to the inn at
Nottingham. My poor mistress came
into the town an’ up to the very door
beforo she kuowed whose funeral it
was. She<j was so stricken with
trouble an* illness that the folk
thought even then she were some’at
daft. An’ two years more was a’
she could manage. SRe' died from
the madhouse.
...—-4——
Soldier’s Letter from Home.
The correspondent of the London
Telegraph., in his account of the
great Little of the Morava, gives the
following touching incident:
Next morning I rode over the bat
tle-field, or rather 'over tho greater
part ofit. I am afraid to say how
many dead lay there; they covered
the ground, that is all I can say.
But amongst these inangled meu
gone to their last account were
seventy-four Russian officers, and, ns
is usual, tHe papers \fh&l» ,r were in
their pockets wei e taken frOm them
prior to^ their burial. I chanced to
look ft the heap thus collected.
There was a Russian passport on one,
another had carried with him a diary,
which told all his doings for the past
three weeks; another, less discreet
even, had noted all his expenses in a
little note-book, and I ani sorry
to say that some of his money sce'ined
to have been badly spent. But there
were two pieces of paper, the memo
ry of which will long remain with
me. At first sight they were only
letters from home to the dead man
on the Servian field: but as* I turned
them over a chill ran through my
blood, and my heart stood still. Be
tween widly ruled pencil lines on the
last pages of each note were a dozen
sentences written in such large letters
that iny attention was immediately
fixed upon them. It was not that
the Russian hieroglyphics were pretti
ly made, on the cj&rary, the little
band which had traced them had
been tidiously gnided as it passed
along the paper. Nor was it that
these huge characters contained
startling informotion of Moscow in
trigue or Servian conspiracy. The
great, tremulously traced words
were only the heart-breathed words
of a child—of a very little boy:
“ Loved papa,” began each message,
“when will you come home again,
my own dear .papa V And the little
writer went on to tell of how home
was dull and the days long, and how
the san would not shine again upon
his life till the papa -who was absent
had come home again. As Hooked
at tha great letters they seemed to
run into one. I thought of the, little
boy and the affectionate wife who
had penned those loving pages, and
then of the father who lay face down
wards on Servian soil,, ready for
buriM in Servian ground. What
mattered it that a coronet and the
leters “K. C.,” in a monogram,
headed\ that teuder message. That
home at,Dyvna or Dovna—I could
not quite tell the name of tho place
—will j|p x dark for many a day, for
the snnshi'fte ot .that little boy’s life
is removed, and the owner of tlie
coronet is no more. He bad come
to fight for the Servian cause, and it
had been his sad lot to die in its de
fence.
A SAD STORY.
From Wealth to Insanity
and Proverty.
Among the shabby, dirty and rag
ged unfortunates who came to the
Southern Station laat night to obtaiu
a night’s lodging was an old man
bent with years and showing the
evidences of fatigue and travel by his
tottering footsteps and wretched ap
parel. He gave his name to Captain
Delanty as Paul Vernier, of New
Orleans, and was shown back to the
room assigned to tramps. A glance
at his rags and careworn face would
never suggest to the observer that
Paul Vender \v:xa at one time a lead
ing business man and a prominent
citizen of the Crescent City, but such
is indeed the case, and the history
of bis life hits in it all the elements of
a dramatic story, which we may read,
throw aside and say it is impossible.
A few points in the life of this unfor
tunate individual may no; be unin
teresting. About thirty-five years
ago there arrived in New Orleans a
young aud handsome man, accom
panied by his wife, a Creole, in the
full blooiu 4 of her youthful beauty.
The couple had coine from Martini
que, and brought with them a large
sum of money, which Vender propos
ed to invest in trade, They settled
in a magnificent house ou thu hank
of Lake Ponchartrain, which became,
on acuoaui of tlie social qualities of
its master aud mistress, the central
point of attraction for all the aristo
cratic people of the neighborhood.
The husband had in the meantime
embarked in the shipping and com
mission business, and was very sue
cessiul. Realizing largely ou his in
vestments, he became one of the
wealthiest citizens, whilu he at the
same time attained a reputation for
unblemished business integrity, pro
bity and honesty. Three children
had been born, and every bright
prospect in life seemed attainable
without effort to the young couple.
About this time a gambler, well
known in those days for his success
with cards, and reruarable for his
handsome exterior and pleasing ad
dress, met Madame Veniler at a bal-
inasque. Other meetings followed,
and the foolish woman abandoning
her luxurious home, her children, her
husband and her honor, listened to
the seductive addresses of her de
stroyer and fled to Cuba. The hus
band followed, but never succeeded
in coining up with his wife, to whom
he had forgiveness to "offer; nor with
her seducer, for whom he had ven
geance. He gave up the pursuit
and returned to New Orleans. But
business had no longer any interest
for him, now that she for whom he
labored so earnestly had deserted
him. Tho thrje children fell victims
to the cholera, and Veniler, a broken
down man, aged before he was old,
sold out his business interest and dis
appeared. Some weeks later he was
discovered on the levee wandering
up and down, homeless, and without
a penny of the largo sum he had rea
lized by the sale of his property.
He was taken to a mad-house, where
he remained 1 for twenty-three years,
and finally, when former friends had
forgotten him and ho was no longer
an object of interest to the outside
world, he was released, helpless aud
penniless, to live or die as chance
befell him -In his wanderings he
readied Baltimore last night, carry
ing with him, as a link, connecting
him with happier days, the New
Orleans and Mobile papers which
told the story of his wife’s desertion,
the subsequent death of his children,
and of his immurement in the mad
house. Poor, old man 1 he lias but
few more steps to take in life before
he will go out with the tide, the
wreck of a life blasted by a woman’s
perfidy.—Baltimore American.
The pork men are anxious for the
European war to hold off until they
lay in a supply. The farmer prays
for it to begin forthwith.
WO DRONES
IN THE STORE OF
S. G. DOBBS.
EVERY MAN WORKS, PRINCIPAL AND CLERKS.
The undersigned having just returned from the
NORTHERN MARKETS,
With a full and varied stock of every description of Goods,
BOUGHT AT LOW AND PANIC PRICES.
Consisting in part of
50 Barrels Sugar, 50 Bags Rio Coffee,
200 rolls bagging,
1,000 Bundles Iron Cotton Ties.
16,000 POUNDS FLOUR, 16,000 POUNDS BACON,
• 8'/! <.• h ' ]fl !?}•■. Ml
4,000 lbs. Hemlock Sole Leather, Upper Leather & Harness Leather,
100 BOSES TOBACCO, ASSORTED. ’
200 SACKS SALT,
1,000 Fair Hand Made and Northern Brogan Shoes,
200 Kegs Assorted Nails, 20 hales Factory Thread, Sugar
Cured Hams, Leaf Lard, Boots and Shoes, Kerosine
Oil, Staple and Fancy Dry Goode, Hats, Caps,
READY MADE CLOTHING,
Crockery and Glassware, Saddlery and Harness, Cotton, Hemp,
and Jute Rope, and various other articles too tedious to
mention, all of which hetoffers to the trade of Athens
and the surrounding country lor cash,
..... .
Cotton and Country Produce,
At as low or lower prices than cau be bought in the State of Geor
gia. He makes a specialty of looking after country merchants who
wish to buy goods to sell nguin. He offers goods to the jobbing
trade generally and guaranties satisfaction.
sepl2-3m S. C. DOBBS.
JDTtlZr GOODS I
AT
JAMES A. GRAY & CO’S.,
Augusta, G-eorgia.
WE ARE NOW OFFERING THE FINEST AND BEST SELECTED
stock of
Fall and Winter Stock of Dry Goods,
Ever shown in the South. Our stock of Silks, Dress Goods, Hosiery, No
tions, Calicoes, Gentlemen’s Goods, Blankets and Domestics, cannot be
matched in Georgia. We have the largest and best assortment of
Cloaks, Suits, Shawls and Underware ever offered in this
market Every department is replete until the
CHEAPEST AMD MOST DESIRABLE GOODS,
And we invite the people of
% Athens and of Georgia in General,
Whether they want to buy or not, to call and examine them and pronounce
their own judgement. It has never been our custom to try to impose
on the public by
Quoting Low Prices on Useless Goods-
We offer them honest value for their money, and when quotations are
made on standard or useful articles, we are always ready to match and
beat them. We can do it and ,we:will.
James A. Gray & Co.
194 196 Broad Street, Augusta* Georgia.
sept. 19.3m.
L. 8CHEVENELL-
O. H. YANCEY
L. SCHEVENELL & CO.
BROAD STREET, ATHENS, G.4.
DEALERS IN
Watches, Clocks, Jewelry,
•••*.« r:; •
SILVER AND PLATED WARE.)
Chins, -Pistols, Ammunition,
Spectacles, Eye-Glasses, Musical Instruments,
Having BEST WORKMEN, we are prepared to do
REPAIRING /AT ’ 8 UP E HI OR 8TYLE.
WE MAKE A SPECIALTY OF
gTT.TTER AXT2D GOZiD FXiATX2TG,
And all work of this kind, such, as Forks, Spoons, Watches, &c., plated by
■US warranted equal to that done by any establishment in the country.
uovl7.l874.tf. PRICES REASONABLE-
x.