The Buena Vista Argus. (Buena Vista, Ga.) 1875-1881, January 07, 1876, Image 1
f<e gucmt I.*. H. C. lIISSKLI,, K.lltor, WtPVHA. KIsSHmU. Aaoclat Editor Buau Vlati*, M irlon Oj., Gv. FRIDAY MORNING, JANUARY 7th, 187 fl. CliflUltea in the Most Solvent ~ iy Reliable Portion of the mm—mmmmmm ■ t * ■ > Tnnof Jdvortltiing tho same as tbotjo ostab bjy tho /*rea Aaoclation of Uoorgia for the gflPU* for advertising are due on the flret appear advertiaement, or when preseutfcl, ex ggNß* Übeu otherwise contract*! lor. juisr.E. A Chriitmas Story. BY EMMA NORTH. When first she opened her eyes up on this green world in the greenest Of summer months, her mother said: “Let us call her June,” and though her father thought it foolish and ro mantic, yet the name clung to her al ways, and before be died, he hud giown to think It the most proper name In tho world for her, who had been his sunshine and his summer tor nineteen years. It happened to be Christmas Eve when June came back to the empty boose, after her father’s funeral, with her mother and little sister, whom ipK9 had cheered a little by saying, she should take care of them M long as she lived.” “But you can’t have a white silk to b married in now, June,” creaked little Helen. “Perhaps I can, if I can afford it,” S*W June. ‘‘Mr. Oakley will wait foy pie till next Christmas, and I can tytirtt than.” I do not know wherein June’s pow. er lay; 1 think the old psychologists and mesmerists would haye called it magnetism that attracted every one toward her, even Allan Oakley, who was a queer mixture of pride, re serve, pompousness and aristocracy. He wus a sober, methodical man, ♦ho had not gained much in all his aJhtrtyrfirc years, beyond wealth and Upd a tight grip on the belief that all ♦plSeix were humbug*. He had made June’s acquaintance cut oi curiosity a worse motive; but the devil would not have tempted Eve had’she looked up at liim wdh eyes as tender and honest ■* Jime’* gray ones, smiling from nn der their long lashes: and seeing the innocence and simplicity of this girl’s life, as it unfolded to him day by d *7> ha began to love her carelessly, and before he hardly knew it, found himself engaged to her. The first six months after her fath er’* death, Juno got along better than one would think. Life is never very hard for such a woman as she, when she feels there is someone she can love and trust, and to whom she *is : all in all, and the thought of him lightened her for daily bread and the load she had taken upon her young shoulders. She hgd sometimes been her fath er’* amanuensis, in his law office, While he was living, and she filled the place henceforth for stranger banks, growing so accustomed to the formula of “Dear Sir,” and “Yours 9 respectfully, Keene, Smart, Grabbitt & Cos.” that she was apt to subscribe her letters thus to the cud of her days. During the year, Mr. Oakley rea ring With himself profoundly. I shall have to marry all three of them,** he said to himself. “June is §P p*r*istent about taking care of that mother and young sister of hers! MLftie men in my set throw it in my face about marrying a shon girl. ?Wf' enough—one of the most | fcttt ijtionate and conscientious girls I know, but she is not suitable for *e, end I am glad I found it out be fore it was too late. She is young, and will soon forget me.” So, when Christmas Eve came, he pot come with it, and if he had, Whulfl not have cared to see him, as he bad been some weeks married to a woman who, his friends , aed connections agreed, was quite a proper match. June did just what any sensible fjfel cbfild or would have done in her place—did and said nothing about it; put away her pretty white wed- retrenched her expenses, ’workfea the steadier and harder; and she smiled less and spoke more seldom, she was none the less ehcer- THE liUENA VISTA ARGUS A. M- C- BUSSELL, Proprietor. VOLUME I. ful when she did speak; and if her cheeks were a shade less red, it was scarcely perceptible. ******* “Yes, we will take the house, mother,” said June. ‘‘See what a lovely curve about the edge of that bluff—how green and still it is here!” “But it will be too far for you to walk clear beyond the edge of the town, and in Winter there will be no paths, and it is such a gloomy road,” “Yes, but I shall take my dinner, and the walk night and morning will do me good; when the snow comes I can come down the car-track. That was why I got it so cheap for almost nothing, you may say—a nice, cozy house. The man that owned it had eight children, and one of them was run over by tnc cars, and he was gl&d to sell it at any price. There is no ill-wind but what blows someone some good, and luckily Helen is get ting old enough now to take care of herself. Oh, what a lovely bedroom, with this low window facing the east! See this old, dead tree —I will have it sawed off and covered with moss; this bench will do for your plants; and the hedge, with the rustic gates, and the view of the river through the trees, are so pretty ! I think wc will be very happy here, mother.” And so they were, though June’6 round face saddened and thinned a little during the Summe:, and the bleak ensuing Fall days. When the little house was settle to her mind, it looked like June’s own self, summer like and sunshiny, and she was infi nitely glad to put her tired head he:e after all the turmoils and pub licity of the day. GcntlemCn all liked June, and she, perhaps, had more admiration, of an off-hand, careless way, than any girl in town, was more stared at, talked at, flirted with, till she grew sick at heart with their flattery. Truly the admiration of the masses, the love of no one, is ahusk diet to any woman. It was not so pleasant in the win ter, when the snows came and cra dled her like a baby, in that far away little house, muffling the mur mcr of the Mississippi, creeping lazi ly past, and drifting over the leafy walks to the office. It was a long and bitter walk to and fro, but June’s only idea of Par adise, now, was that little walled- in housP, her mother’s smile and her lit tle sister’s clinging arms. Sometimes she met and nodded to Allan Oakley, who turned his fleet hors*s out of the trodden way for her to pass; she wondered sometimes why he took so many drives up and clown this lonely country road, and why she should meet oim so of en. 110 had expected, when he married the woman of his choice, to be per fectly happy; but when anything be comes our very own, bow the good qualities of these do decline; and his wife, to say the least of her, had ways of her own, and, after some months of domestic nagging, and of bending his iron will to her still more impregnable one, his thoughts went back unwittingly to little June, with her clinging, yielding ways; June at her days work in the musty office; June mending her clothes in the twi light, making out her accounts in the lamplight; June reading Sunday af. ternoons in her white muslin, with tli* pink roses in her brown hair. He got a notion of diiving past her house evenings and feeling a sort of pleasure when he caught a glimpse, through the shutters, of her head bent over her law papers. Now he knew she would never come out to meet him again, he long ed to have her do so—longed lor one of her girlish caresses. He would never have such pure kisses rgain. He remembered her favorite quo tation : .A. DEMOCRATIC IPA.TvfEU_,T?" JNTIE'W’SIE 3 A-JPEiR. BUENA VISTA, MARION COUNTY, GA„ JANUARY 7, 1870. I could not love yon, dear so much, Loved I not honor more.” and knew very well June had no weak notions about affinities in her well balanced head. June did miss him, and did need him, but she knew the hardest thing in this world is to do wrong (though it looks the easiest); so she fought old battle of Armageddon, that all have to fight sooner or later; and to such as come out conquerers— self conquerors, I mean—l think none will be sorry that they put their trust in God and fought on to the end. * * * * * * * It was Chri tmas Eve again, a low-browed, sullen day’, with the twi light beginning to deepen. Allan Oukely stepped out of his bank, shrugging his shoulders at the damp, bitting air. A knot ot newsboys nnd bine nosed little girls were wrangling and shouting about Christmas on the corner. He watched them a moment curi ously thinking of one who had waited for the Christinas to come, a year ago, as joyfully as they, then, button ing his muffler tighter, and muttering something about “not having exer cise enough,” he walked oil'down the street. June hnd climbed down from her high office-stool, to-day, “asking out" an hour earlier than usual, had pur chased a few things for her mother and sister, and was on her way home down the snowy stretch ot road. She walked slowly, looking at the angry west and the fast-dimming ho rizon, watching it fade and darken with the coming storm. By the time she was in sight of home; the snow had filled the walks, and she took, perforce, her old resort, the car track, noticing one other figure ap proaching, along way ahead of her— a mere speck in the driving snow. Was it strange .June sometimes wondered that should she get across this track some dark and stormy night, and the train should crush her would her mother be very lonely ? But, blessed with quick ears and quicker feet, there seemed little dan ger for her. She plodded on in the great white whirling storm, glad at last to reach the cheerful sitting room at home, with its bright fire, where her moth er was laying the table for supper, and littio Helen was playing with her doll. The wind had cried itself to sleep among the hills, the night had set tled down, sombre b'ack. June took oft' her cloak, and Lat, fluttering un easily from the window- to the fire. “Come, June, tea is ready,” said her mother. But June had run out to the gate, watching the train, which a mile away, was rushing to ward her like a great red eye, through the dense, whirling flakes. The figure she had seen like a speck on her way home was quite near now going toward town and directly from the cars, which were just out of sight now around a curve in the hills, their sound deadened by the man’s muffler and the driving sleet. June strained her eyes at the fiery eye which every moment like a red Cyclops, was neering the slowly mov ing, unconscious figure. “Are you not coming, June?” But June had rushed out wildly to ward the man going unwittingly to destruction; a moment more, and she had run between him and the engine and taking him by the shoulders, had pushed him by main force off the track—but just one instant too late, for the terrible engine had hit her on the forehead and precipitated her down the bank. There was a commotion and a run ning to and fro of the passengers; the engineer whistled “down-brakes;” a doctor w T ho was on the train got off and looked at June’s limp, uamoving figure, and shook his head. Not much hope for her, he said; but she saved your life, at all events —looking curiously at Allen Oakley’s white, set face. I don’t think she will wake up again in this world. But when Mr. Oakley had canied her into the house and laid her on the lounge, upon the pillows, she opened her eyes with her old bright smile. I thought you would come to-night, Allan, she said, because it was Christ mas eve. lam so happy, for I al ways thought I would like to die near you. Lean down, and let me take your head in my hands. No, do noc kiss me—l have no right t your kisses now. A little closer, for it grows so dark, and I want to carry the memory of your face witn me when I get to heaven. Allan—Allan —I used to love yon so 1 And June’s voice dropped away, her head, with all its pretty crimps and waves, fell back upon the pillow, and she had gone to where, beyond earth’s voices, there is peace. A Backwood’s Ro mance. BY EBEN E. BEXFORD. *‘Tbea meetin down to the schoolhouso to night to see about having a singing school,” shouted young Josi’ Ba ker, bursting into tho room where the Baker family were eating sup per, after the fashion of a small hurricane. “Tho teacher he come there this afternoon, and said as wanted the app’intment given out ail round. I ’low there’ll be a smart turn out, and we’ll have he? ps of fun. lie’s a cute looking chap, I reckon. You’ll have to keep a sharp look out, Seth Brand or he’ll cut you out with Nance. I know she’ll fall smack in love with him the fust thing. The school ma’am she did. Golly ! You ought to a seen her look sweet at him.” “I just wish you’d shet up,” said Nancy, with sisterly tender ness. “You be the biggest fool !” —with a sidelong glance in the direction of Seth, their hired man, who was rathci) enjoying the con fusion expressed, in her blushing face, called out by Josi’s sally. If it had been in these days, he would have most likely responded by saying that she “was another as it was he passed over the com pliment in siTent 'Contempt, and went on to give a glowing and au thentic account of the singing teacher’s manners and looks, and made him out to he a combination of Adonis and Chesterfield. “I s’pose you would like to go down, would you not?” said Seth to Nancy, after supper. “Yes, I would,” answered Nan cy. “I reckon there’ll be a heap of young folks there.” And so Seth and Nancy walked down to the little schoolliouse to gether just at dusk. Seth had never asked Nancy to be Mrs. Brand some day, but his action had said as much, and she had giv en him to understand in the same way that “Barkis was willing.” It was accordingly taken for grant ed among the neighbors that Seth and Nancy were going to make a match. When they got to the schoolhouse, it was pretty well filled. The teacher was there, lie was a sharp looking fellow, with not an unhand ome face, lie had evidently seen enough of the world, and life in its different phases, to feel at home any where and he accommodated himself to his surroundings wftlj a facility that made a good impression on most of the people present. “Aint he handsome P’ 'whisper ed Nancy to Seth. “Not in my opinton,” answered Seth. “I think that lie’s got a real mean, ugly look about him. lie don’t look as if he was acting out his nat’ral disposition.” At which Nancy fired up, and said that she hated to see folks al ways suspicious of others, jest as if they was jealous. . “If anybody’s fool enough to fancy that chap,” answered Seth with warmth, “lie’s welcome to their regards; I don’t want ’em I’m sure. 1 ’ Just here the cause of this little tift called the meeting to order, and there was no further quarrcl ling. At recess Nancy was introduc ed to Mr. Eastwood, and kept up a rattling conversation with him until singing began again. When the Bcliool was dismissed, Seth, smarting a little from tho ef fect of Nancy’s remark, waited at the door for her to come out. lie wasn’t going to crowd himself to ask her if he might see her home; if she thought lie would do so, she was much mistaken. She couldn’t wind him round her little finger- While he w r as thinking theso very pleasant thoughts out came Nan cy, hanging to the singing teach er’s arm, and smiling oblivious of the existence of any other man on the face of the earth. The sight stung Seth so that before ho knew what he was doing he stepped up and asked Ilettie Green, a girl he (‘hated wuss’n pi : Son,”he had often averred, if he might see her home, and stalked off witlx her on his arm, feeling in anything hut an entertaining mood. The next morning Nancy was cool and distant, and (Seth resolv ed that he could he as cool as she could, and would not speak to her when he could avoid doing so. The fact that the singing school teacher was coming to hoard in the family did not help to soothe Seth’s feelings much. “If she wants to flirt with him, I am willing said Seth, savagely, to himself. “She didn’t use me right, and I’m going to show her I aint to he bamboozled by anybo dy. If she thinks more ot him than she does of me, all right. That’s her priv’lege, I s’pose.” “Have you heard the news ?” said uncle Joe Benson—uncle to the whole settlement—dropping in at Mr. Baker’s early one morn ing, /Samuel lost both his horses last night. You don’t say so? exclaimed Mr. Baker in surprise. What was the matter with ’em. lloss thieves was the matter with ’em, answered uncle Joe. I hadn’t dreamed of such things as boss thieves in this yere part of the kentry afore. Of course everybody was wild with excitement. In those days horse stealing was considered as the acme of villainy. Men and boys turned out and hunted the country over for miles, but no trace of the lost horses was found. About a week after that another span was lost. People were thun derstruck. Had they horse thieves in their midst ? It began to look so. A vigilance commit tee was formed, and every precau tion taken to guard against farther depredations by the unknown thieves. Two weeks went by and no fur ther losses were reported. Own ers of horses began to breathe a trifle easier. It was /Saturday afternoon ; Seth had been talking some time of visiting his brother, who lived about six miles from Mr. Baker’s, and concluded that he would go and spend the night there. So about four o’clock he took his gu and set off. He went through the woods, and, as there was plenty of game to amuse him, it was dark before he reached his destination. When he got there he found that there was no one at home. Ho looked around, and finally made up his mind that the family had gone somewhere to spend the evening. Feeling a little sleepy, ho laid down on a bench by the door and fell asleep. It was quite late when he awoke. As his Annual Subscription, $2,25. NUMBER 15. brother had not returned, ho con cluded that they were not coming back that evening, and resolved to start for home. It would be late when he reached Mr. Baker’s but he could sleep in the barn. lie took the road on his return. He was about half way between the two settlements when he thought he heard the sound of horses’ feet and stopped to listen. It’s horses, sure enough, ho said after listening a minute or two ; and they are coming this way. Maybe there are some more boss thieves about. I’ll keep dark and listen. He hid himself behind a clump of trees on the bank of a small creek that ran across the road, and waited patiently. Presently the horses came in sight. There were two of them. Each one had a rider. Hoss thieves, I’ll bet a Continen tal, whispered Seth to himself. I’ll be cussed if it dont look like Billy and Kate. Billy and Kate were Mr. Baker’s horses. It is Billy and Kate! exclaimed Seth as the horses came nearer. He was so excited that he could hardly keep st 11. His fingers played nervous ly with the trigger of his gun. If ther e was anything in the world he hated worse than Eastwood, it was a horse thief. The horse® came out of the shad, ow, and their riders brought tnem to a halt od the banks of the creek, where the moon shone down through the trees. Seth’s heart gave a great leap, and his pulse ran up to a bund red beats with the wild excitement that took possession of him when he saw who one of them was. It was Eastwood, the singing school teacher. It was all Seth could do to keep lratn shooting him on the spot. Presently the men urged the horses into the creek and headed them to the West. Like a flash the truth came Seth. They followed the creek up until they came to the great swamp, some eight or ten miles away. There was probably their headquarters. lie waited until they were out of hearing, and then started on a run for home. He roused Mr. Baker and told him what had taken place. That worthy could scarcely credit Seth’s story until he went to the barn and saw for himself that the horses were gone. Where is Eastwood ? asked Seth. He went to town this afternoon, said Mr. Baker. Yes, I rather guess he did, said Seth mysteriously. It was short work to raise the neighborhood. They armed them selves with all sorts of weapons, and set oil - in the middle of the night to track the horse thieves to their ren dezvous. It was just daybreak when they reached the swamp, it was as Seth surmised. After reaching the soft, swampy ground, the trail left the creek, and easily followed. About two miles further on they came upon the camp of the desperadoes. The horses were pickctted to the trees, and the thieves were fast asleep. Seth and an other stalwart fellow crept up and secuied the two men be fore they were awake enough to com prehend what was going on. A wild shout of rage went up from the frontiersmen when they reconiz ed in one of the thieves the singing teacher. Hang him ! cried Samuel Benson, hoarsely. That’s the fate of hoss thieves the world over. Yes, hang him ! shouted another. Hang him ! hang him I went up from a dozen throats. Seth tried to interfere, but lie might as well have tried to stop a whirlwind. * * * * * They’re coming, cried Nancv from the front door, about teu o’clock that Sabbath morning. Anu oh eli* gutna i'teta Published Every Friday. ratki or MunacßipTios, INCtUDIWO POBTAcE. On Year $2,21* Set Months 1,15 Three Months 80 Always In Advanoe. . Country Produce taken when Subscribers uuuut Pay Cash. Best Advertising Medium in this Section of Ceorgia. ma’am ! they’ve got K ate and Billy sure’s you’re alive ; and they ketch ed one of them men, and got him with ’em. And, too, excited to wait for the tidings, Nancy ran out to meet them. Hdn’t you get the other one ? she orted. You know’ you said last night that there was two. Yes, we got him, answered Seth ; lie’s bunging twenty feet high on an old cypress tree in the big swamp Good enough for him, said Nancy ; served him jest right. You don’t ask who it was, said Seth, looking at her curiously. Laud ! why should I '! cried Nan cy. Taint likely as how it was any* body that I even seen or heerd of. But it was, said Seth. You don’t say so 1 cried Nancy r excitedly. Who ? for gracious sake ! No less a person than your sing ing teacher, answered Seth, with a savaged delight iu his face. Nancy turned deadly pale, and then fell to the ground in a dead faint. * * * * * Six months later there was no such person in the settlement as Nancy Baker. From which w T e are to infer that their difficulty was set tled amicably. How long have you been in Eng land ? was the question put by a young Englishman to a youngAmer ican at a public dinner in London recently. About two weeks, w’as the reply. Really, was the rejoinder of young John Bull, and I notice you speak our language as well as we do. Yes, was the reply of brother John athan: I have not been here quite long enough to forget how to speak it. A remarkable instance ot calcula tion was recorded at. Aylmer, Cana da, where a barber named Johnson, on a bet of fifty cents, ran under the cars of a railway train that was pass ing at a rapid rate of speed. He •von the wager, though he lost the ■ cel ol one boot by a wheel that came unpleasantly close as he emerged. The man who lost the bet said he had expected to win and get a couple of dollars for attending the inquest. The man who pays for his clothes is the best dressed man. King Mtesa was pretty much out of pantaloons and things but accord ing to Stanley he had a great deal Of dignity. It is Mary Murdoch Mason who divides her sex into three classes— the giddy butterflies, the busy bees and the woman’s righters. The first are pretty and sidy, the seconu plain and useful, the third manisA and odious The first wear long, trailing dresses and smile at you while waltzing; the second wear ap rons and give you apple dumplings, and the third want your manly pre rogatives, your dress coat, your mon ey and your vote. A great proof of superiority is to bear with impertinence. Rich men have commonly more need to be taught contentment than the poor. It is not all joy that produces laughter, the greatest enjoyments are serious. The pleasures of love, ambition, or avarice make nobody laugh. Poetry is the natural language of all worship. The Bible is full of po etry; Homer is full of religion. There is no saying shocks us so much as that which we hear very often; that a man does notknow how to pass his time. The election disputes have not yet ceased. At Huanto, a town in the district of Agacacho, a serious con flict took place on the 16th ultimo between the rival parties. For twelve hours the battle raged among the polling booths to obtain posses sion of them, and when night fell and ammunition became short twenty dead bodies lay in the plaza, with the adjoining houses filled with woun* ded. Wants Another to Balance. —He was a bachelor and she a widow of means and good looks. The Detroit Free Press has discovered that aa they sat in the back parlor the other evening he notioed a now picture hanging up, and adjusted his glasses and remarked, “Anew picture, eh!” “Yes; my husband’s monument,” she replied as she laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t you tbmk I was liberal ? And if I only had another painting like it to balance this big chromo in the centre it would just finish out my group !” He thinks ha I will marry a maiden when he mar* ; ties.