Newspaper Page Text
m/ lit
C5i :
n 4
S. B. Burr, Proprietor.
THE WRONG CARD.
‘What will you have, sir ?’
‘Give me a fillet of beef, with
tnushrooms, Lyonnaise potatoes,
and green peas.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Away went the waiter, but re¬
turned in three minutes.
‘There are no mushrooms, sir—
only one plate.’
‘Well, bring me one plate—how
many do you suppose I want?'
‘But, sir, Monsieur Delavignes—
b very old customer—ordered me
to save him some mushrooms eve¬
ry day, and he has not yet dined/
‘Never mind Monsieur Dela
Vignes. I must have the mush¬
rooms—I can not dine without
them.'
‘-It is impossible, sir.’
‘Very well, give me tho potatoes
and peas to-day, and lay in a lar¬
ger supply of mushrooms to mor«
row.’
‘Yes, sir.'
The order, minus the fungie, be
ing executed, Monsieur Rendeau
Hillaire proceeded to demolish his
meal, inwardly wishing that Dela¬
vignes—whoever he might be—
was a little less partial to mush¬
rooms.
‘Waiter I’
‘Sir V
‘Bring me a bottle of Haute
Sattterue/ ■
Thu Waiter made a jesture of
Co'mip anger.
‘Sacre! how] unfortunate. Mon¬
sieur Delavignes used the last we
liad in the house yesterday. We
Ind but a half dozen.’
‘Does this mysterious Delavignes
drink six bottles of wine at din¬
ner ?’
‘No. sir ; he had three friends
with him. Is there any other wine
you would like ?’
‘Medoc will do.’
The wine was brought, and the
■waiter began searching about the
table among the dishes.
‘What do you want?’ demanded
Rendau Hillaire.
'Pardon, sir, there is a fork miss
ing—private fork, belonging to a
gentleman who dines here, it has
been given some one by mistake,
to day, and I must find it before
Monsieur Delavignes-’
‘Confound him! Does he own
the whole restaurant ? What sort
of a man is he, that he reserves the
last dish of mushrooms, drinks up
all the Haute Sauterne, and keeps
ft private fork ?’
‘He is rich, sir, aud very eccen
trie.’
‘I should say so. Is that the
fork?’
And the young man showed the
one he was eating with—a heavy
fork of solid silver, richly chased
with a court of arms and tho letter
‘D.’
‘That is it, sir ; pardon me, I will
give you another/
Much vexed at this last uncon
scious piece of rivalr 1 between
himself and Delavigne , Rendeau
Hillaire completed his dinner in
silence, paid for it, and left the res¬
taurant, merely saying as he went
cut:
‘"Waiter, has Monsieur DeTavgines
used up all the toothpics ? If not, I
trill take one.'
Sauntering out from the place,
the young man perceived an ele?
gant carriage drive up, and on glan¬
cing M it, he discovered the same
coat of arms on its panels as that
engraved on the fork. Having by
tbis time conceived almost a dis¬
like for Monsieur Delavignes, he
hastened away, without looking at
the qccqpants of tho vehicle, and
bent, his steps toward the hotel
jvhere Madame Fieurdoree, the
reigning beauty of the day, resjd
ed.
1 -
Rendeau Hillaire had for some
months cherished a secret passion
for this fair lady, and had, with
much difficulty, succeeded in pro¬
curing an introduction to her, since
which time his attention to her had
been most undivided.
But she seemed to regard him
coldly, and rumor whispered that
she had a friend who possessed her
withe affections. Who thut frioud
was, rumor did not see fit to say.
Madame Fieurdoree was at home,
and was happy to see Monsieur
Rendeau Hillaire. She chatted
pleasantly with him about the op
era, the gay season, and similar
topics, but carefully* avoided any¬
thing which could lead the conver¬
sation into a more serious or ton
dor path.
This required some tact, for the
young man missed no opportunity
for pressing his suit, and ere he
had been twenty minutes in her
company, w^s verging, in spite of
her, on the forbidden subject.
There was only one thing to do
■—change the conversation, which
she did, abruptly.
‘Are you fond of flowers, Mon¬
sieur Rendeau Hillaire?’
‘Extravagantly. My smoking
room is a perfect conservatory.’
‘Are not these camellias beauti"
ful ? They are of very rare colors.’
The charming widow handed
him a large bouquet of camellias
which had ornamented the mantel,
in a delicate vase of Sevres ware.
‘They are indeed lovely. What
garden are they from ? I have seen
none like them in Paris.’
‘I do not know where they were
procured. They were given me
this morning, by a connoisseur in
such things--a Monsieur Dela
vignes.’
Rendeau Hillaire started.
‘I have heard of the gentleman,’
lie said.
After this his visit was tame.—
lie was almost frightened by the
persistency with which fate threw
that mysterious personage across
jrath, and left the presence of
the fair widow much earlier than
had intended, although not uu
til he had gained her promise to
him to a grand masque
to be given at the house of a
friend.
The night of this ball arrived,
without any father contretemps be¬
tween Rendeau Hillaire and his un¬
known rival, and the former found
Madame Fieurdoree quite charm¬
ing in her pink domino. The sa¬
loon of Count Vendiron, where the
ball was given, was crowded, and
everybody agreed that there had
not been a more brilliant fete in all
Paris for a year.
At four o’clock in the morning
Rendeau Hillaire and his fair part¬
ner prepared to depart, after hav¬
ing greatly enjoyed the occasion,
but as they passed down the great
stairway, a somewhat unpleasant
occurrence took place, which rather
marred their pleasure,
A tall man in a Spanish majo’s
costume, closely masked, opposed
himself before them, and in a voice
more or less affected by wine de¬
manded why they were going so
early.
‘I do not know you, sir,’ said
Rondeau Hillaire, sternly; ‘let me
pass, if you please.’’
‘I am appointed,’ said the majo,
with an unsteady gesture, ‘by my
friend, Count Vendiron, to see that
no one leaves at an unreaagM^e !
hour. He has commissioned me
to stop all who try to pass, and if
they refuse, to exact a kiss from
each lady.’
Madame Fieurdoree trembled,
and drew close to her cavalier’s
side.
‘This pleasantry is sadly out of
place here,” said Rendeau Hillaire;
'if you are a friend of Count Ven¬
diron T will lot your impertinence
pass unpunished, but I warn you
not, to continue ig it.’
‘Come, come,'cried the stranger,
balancing himself with difficulty,
tyoii are top hasty. I have nothing
to do with you but I must claim
my due—a kiss from your fair dom¬
ino!’
‘Stand aside, fellow!’
‘Do you call me fellow ?’
. ‘Stand aside, or I will throw you
oyer the balustrade!’
The majo sprang upon Rondeau
Hillaire, and seizing both his arms,
would have hurled him down tho
stairs, had not a young man, who
was deeending just behind, come to
tho rescuro.
This latter laid hold of tho short
jacket aud ample scarf of tho majo,
FORT VALLEY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JUNE 4, 1880.
whirled him round like a feather,
and raising him clear of the low
balustrade, dropped him easily to
the door some ten feet below.
A tremendous excitement now
arose, in consequence of tho scream
of Madame Fieurdoree and the
crash of tho fall. The staircase
was instantly crowded, and the
ball broken up in confusion.
The impudent stranger was taken
up and found to bo only bruised a
little. He walked to Rendeau
Hillaire, demanded his card, hand
ed him one in return, and disap
pearded before anybody could
Speak to him, or make more than a
conjecture as to who he was.
Rendeau Hiliaire now endevored
to find his benefactor—tbe young
man who had thrown tho ruffian
over the balustrade—but he was
also missing. In the struggle his
mask had slipped down, and expos¬
ed a pale, handsome faco, with a
black mustache, Jmt Rendeau did
not recognize it, although should
they meet again, he would certain¬
ty remember it.
Tbe man in the majo’s dress he
thought ho should know, too, by a
large, curiously carved antique ring,
with a blue stone on bis litilc fingei.
On entering his apartments, after
returning home, ho examined the
card which he had received.
It bore the name of Delavignes,
and an address.
The next day Rendeau Hillaire
dispatched a friend to tho place men¬
tioned in the card with a sarcastic
note, saying that as Monsieur Delav
ignes had stood in this way on many
occasions, he should be happy
have him stand in the way of any
weapon whoso use monsieur under¬
stood, at a certain time ana place, to
be arrainged by their friends.
Tbis note brought an answer in
due time, presenting Monsieur Dela
visites’ complements to Monsieur
Rondeau Hillaire, and saying that
a meeting with small swords would
be very did agreeable to him, although
he not quite understand the
cause of quarrel between them, as
he was not aware that lie 'had ever
had the honor of Monsieur Ren
dean II ilia ire's acqnanfance.
To this the last-named gentle¬
man been teplied in another note that Monsi¬ he
hau grossly insulted by
eur Delavignes, but if ho was too
drunk at the time to know - ivhat ho
was about, an apology would • be
accepted.
Delavignes replied in turn that he
did not get drank, and had insulted
no one. Furthermore, that tbo
stigma of intoxication thus put upon
him allowed him to listen to no
further explanation.
The result of all this correspond¬
ence was that the affair was arrang¬
ed to come off on the morning
of the Thursday following, in a
meadow on the country estate of one
of the seconds, not far from Paris
On the morning designated, the
parties met at the meadow and com
menced to make preparations.
. The. two principals did not look
at each other until all was in readi¬
ness, but when led forward by tho
seconds, an exclamation of surpriso
fr6m tho lips of Rendeau
Hillaire :
‘Heaven bless me ! This is not the
man !'
He recognized the pale, hands
face and black mustache
young man who had thrown tho
in the majo costume down
stairs at Count Vendiron’s ball!
‘What do you say, sir?’
‘I say that you are not tho person
insulted mo. 1
‘What do you moan?’
‘I mean that I was insulted by
at a masked bal ! , and that you
him over the ballustrade,
saving me from boing
by him. Instead of fight
you I wish to tender you my
sincere thanks, and to beg
pardon for this awkward mis¬
1’
‘But yon challenge;! ^ie—my
is Delavignes/
‘Stay! Is that your card ?’
‘It is.’
‘It was given me by the man you
down stairs 1’
‘Ah. ha! there is somo strange
here.’
‘Give roo your hand, and let us
ihc solution of it together as
‘With all my heart!’
Aud tho two young men
other a fiiondly hand-shake,
burled the deadly feelings with
lmd first " in
they met,
natural good-fellowship which is
common to all who are brave aip
good-natured. second
‘Now,’ said. Delavignes’
whose meadow had so providentially
escaped being stained with blood;
‘now, let 11 s dine here, at my ckal
cau, and return to Paris togeiluy- is
one carriage.’ *
The iucitation was accepted, and
at a late hour the four returned ii
spirits and on excelleit
terms with each other,
As the carriage entered tho suL
urbs of Paris, Monsieur DalaVignes
started in his seat,
‘Here, driver, stop. I have a
duty to perform !’
‘What now?’ chorused the rest.
‘Do you see that man ?’ pointiig
toward a richly-dressed but villi*
nous looking fellow,* just issuing
from a gaming house.
‘Yes, we see him.’
‘Well, that is the Marquis de
Revillac Brizy. He is a profession¬
al gambler, but having the entree of
many respectable saloons, has mads
almost a fortunff hy plajiug unfair¬
ly. One night I detected him in
cheating, and denounced him before
the whole company as a swindler of
the worst kind, r.liose title nnJ an¬
cient family gave him all the better
opportunities to fleece unsuspecting
gentlemen. Ho said he was insult¬
ed, and wo exchanged cards, but I
have heard nothing of him siuce. -
Coachman give u^your whip.’
Before tho party could hardly see
what Delavignes was about, bo had
taken the carriage-whip and ap¬
proached the Marquis do Revillac
Brizy.
‘Do you know me ?’ lie asked.
‘Ido. You are Monsieur Dela¬
vignes—(ho man who ’
‘Who is about to administer is
you the punishment which a cow
aid and poltroon deseivcs.’
With which he took tho decayed
marquis by the collar, and gave
him the most artistic horse-whip¬
ping that that part of Paris had ev¬
er seen.
When tho unfortunate had re¬
ceived sufficient flagellation Defn
vignes compelled him to apologize,
and beckoned bis friends to leave
the carriage in order to witness the
apology.
‘Now, then, rascal,’said he, ‘we
are quits. You skinned me at
cards, and I have returned the c@jn
pliment with a whip. You \fcre
afraid to fight when I desired, so I
have taken all iho fight into my own
hands. I mistook you for a |en
lleman when I met yon, and you
mistook me for a fool, or you would
never have cheated me first, then
challenged me, and finally let the
whole aflair drop. Good night,
Monsieur de Marquis do Revillac
Brizy. I hope you will profit by
your lesson,’
‘Pardie!’ growled the marquis;
‘if I remembered your address, yon
would have seen whether I dared
to fight, or no !’
‘But I gave you my carty’
‘And I lost it at a ball the very
next night.’
‘At Count Vendiron’s baity was it
not?’ asked Rendeau Hillaiije, who
had been intently regarding an ao
tique ring, with a blue setting, on
the marquis’ little finger.
‘It was.’
‘Ah, ba! then J, too, have a little
score fo settlo with you. You were
drunk that night, and insulted a la¬
dy who was with me.’
‘I do not reccollect anything about
it.’
‘You were too much intoxica¬
ted?’
‘Yes.’
■And are you sorry for what you
did?’
‘Well—yes.’
‘That is sufficient. Gentlemen,
wo have no further affair here. Let
us return to our hotels,'
They re entered their carriage.
‘Here is a curious coincidence,’
sajd Delavignes—'that yog and I
should both have a quarrel with a
mau, and that you should bo gear
killing me for him 1 By tho way,
who was tho lady who was with
you at Count Vendiron’s hall J’
‘Madamo Fiourdoroe.'
‘A eharmiug woman 1’
‘Yes, indeed—but unappronebn
hie.’
‘How 8 ) ?’
‘She has a favorel suitor already.’
‘No.’
‘flow do you know?’
‘I am exceedingly intimate with
her, and^ would be aware of it if
anybody was.’
‘But you yourself—perhaps you
arc tbo one! 1
‘Hardly likely.’
•Why so?'
‘She is my half sister.’
Twelve months afterward; the
beautiful widow Fieurdoree became
Madame Hillaire.
Love in Pa's Hat
Mr. M. was a retired manufactu¬
rer and possessed of considerable
fortune. He also had a daughter,
nineteen years of age, of great per¬
sonal attractions. What wonder,
then, that she should have made a
young fellow’s heart beat quicker
who tried to gain her virgin aflec
tions? But ‘papa’ M. took care of
his treasure as if she were the pu¬
pil of his eye, and many were the
unhappy mortals who left his hos¬
pitable table never to return.—
“Plenty of time,’ said he, ‘when
the right comes, and I approve,’
etc.
But the right one had conte long
ago, only papa didn't know it, and
he had come in the person of a
young engineer, who, had
had business transaction with pa¬
pa M. The young people had Seen
each other, spoken to each other,
looked at each other, and a kind
of understanding had been come
to. Yes, and tbe affection was deep
enough to last, even when Mr. M.
retired from trade and the
gnliantliail ho further excuse
coming on business. Then
was a succession of dark days.—
But love is inventive, and in this
instance also proved to be so.
Mr. M. was in the habit of visi¬
ting twice a week at his hair dress¬
er’s to have his beard and wig look¬
ed after, and on this fact love built
its structure. Ono of tho younger
assistants was taken into confidence
and consequently considerable at¬
tention was paid by the young man
to Mr. M.'s hat, receiving it on liis
entering, giving it a caielul brush
and handing it back on departure
and in tbis wise poor, dear papa
became, unconsciously, of course,
the postilion d’mour between his
daughter and her swain.
This thing continued for four
long months; but the best silk hat
let it be ever so carefully brushed—
wants an iron now and again. Mr.
M.’s. hat was several years old. and
just about Christmas it wanted
ironing badly. So Mr. M. instead
of proceeding to the hair dresser as
usual went to the hatter's and pre¬
sented his hat for renovation.
Mr. batter says, after inspecting
it. ‘Is this hat too largo for you?’
“No. Why do you ask?’
“Because you put paper inside.’
“Paper! Paper! Not I; how does
it get there, I, wonder?’
Not long did he wonder, for on
carefully unfolded the paper, he
read: “Don’t be down-hearted,
dear Edward; my father is good
and generous of heart; let us speak
openly to him of our love; he will
not say no, if we promiso to make
tyffittld age happy. On my knees
I Ail confess my love to him. Be¬
sides our correspondence can not
last much longer; the continued
bppshing has so worn papa’s hat
that I fear from day to day that
he will have it done up/ &c.
Mr. M.’s hat having been refresh¬
ed he went as usual to his bairdross
er’s having previously carefully re¬
placed the letter.
In the saloon lie kept a steady,
though covered lookout on tho
officious young assistant, and
found his surmise oovrect.
Tho operations finisho<ty he
gravely received his hat, handed
the assist as usual his pour boiye,
departed.
Botoro returning homo, however,
ho took occasion to inspect his
hat, aud extract and read a mis¬
sive from no other than the engin¬
eer. Among other things,
young man swore that not u
did he want of bis love’s father—
his position, thank goodness, bring¬
ing him more than sufficient to
live happy and comfortable.
“Well,’ said papa, ‘he seems to
be an honest disposed young man,
and if,’ &c.
For some time he allowed the cor¬
respondence to goon, reading reg¬
ularly and watching the letters
from both sides, unknown to them
of course, until one day, when the
letters had been particularly de¬
sponding and good, he put an end
to it and made them happy as might
be seen by the cards sent to all
whom it might concern.
What Law Does Y or Want?
Several days ago a whito man was
arraigned before a colored justice
down the country, on charges of
killing a man and stealing a mule.
“Wall,’’ said the justice, “defacks
in dis case shall be weighed wid
carefulness an ef I hangs yer, taint
no fault ob mine.”
“■Judge, you have no jurisdiction
only to examine me/’
“Dat sorter work ‘longs ter de
raigular j rretiee, but yer see I,ee
been put on as a special. A speci¬
al hes de right tee make a rnouf at
Spremo court ef he chases ter.”
“Do the best for me you can,
Judge.”
“Dat’s what I’se gwine ter do.—
I’se got two kinds oL law in dis
court, de Arkansaw and de Texas
jaw. I ginerally gins a man de
right to chuse fer himself. Now
what law does yer want, de Texas
or do Arkansaw i”
“I believe I’ll take the Arkansas.’
“Wall, in dat case, I’ll dismiss
yer fur stealin’ de mule—’’
“Thank you, Judge.”
‘An’ hung yer fur killin’ deman.”
“1 believe, Judge, that I’ll take
the Texas.”
“Wall, in dat case, I’ll dismiss
yer for killin’ de man-r' 1
“You have a good heart, Judge.”
“An’ hang yer fur stealin’ de
mule. I’ll jjs takede ‘casion beak
ter remark, de only difference tween
de two laws is de way yer state
de case.”—Litilc Rock (Ark) Ga
zette,
H:w the War Was Ended
Graphic the Pen Surrender Picture of the Scene at
of Lee
From a Decoration Day Address
by Gen. George H. Sharpe, United
States Army.
I remember—and it was
to me to-night in conversation when
the name of Gen. Grant came up
in the course of conversation—the
wonderful scene that transpired
in that little place in Virginia on
the 6th of April, 1865. It was late
iu the afternoon when it became
known that Gen. Lee had sent for
Grant to surrender to him. It was
between 2 and 3 o'clock when we
met in the little room in the house
where the surrender of Loo’s army
took place. I know there is a be¬
lief that the surrender took place
under an apple tree, whera Grant
and Lee met and exchanged a few
words.
The surrender took plac3 in tho
left hand room of that old-fashion¬
ed double house. Tho house had
a largo piazza which ran along the
full length of it. It was one of
those ordinary Virginia houses
with a passage-way running tho
centre of it. In the little room
where the mooting took place sat
two young men—one a great grand
son of Chief Justice Marshall of
the Supremo Court, reducing to
writing tho terms-of tho surrender
on behalf of Gon. Robert E- Loo
and the other a man with dusky
countenance, noting under Gon,
Grant. They two wore reducing
to writing the terms of the surren¬
der of tho army of Northern Vir¬
ginia to tho army of tbo Potomac.
Gatherod around the room were
several officers, of whom I was
ono. At somo distance apart sat
two men, Tho larger aqd older of
tho two was the most striking in
appearance. His hair was white as
tho driven snow. There was not a
speck upon hi# coat; not a spot
V0I.-9 No. 4?
upon the gauntlets that he wore,
which were as bright and fair as a
.
lady's glove. That was Lee; the
other was Grant, whose appear¬
ance contrasted very strangely with-,
that of Lee. His boots were near
ly covered with mud ; ono button
off his coat—that is thebutten-hole
was not where it should hare been
—it had clearly gone astray, and
he wore no sword, while Lee was
fully and faultlessly equipped.
The con versati on was not rapid
by any means. Every body felt
the overpowering influence of tho
scene. Every on a present felt
they were witnessing the proceed¬
ings between the two chief actors,
in one of the most remarkable
transactions of tbis nineteenth cen
tnry.
The words that passe 1 between
Grant and Lee were few. Grant
endeavored to apologize for not
being fully equipped, and noticing;
the faultless appearance of Lee,
while the secretaries were busy,
said:
‘Gen. Lee, I have no sword ; I
have been riding all night.' And.
Lee, with that coldness of manner
and all the pride—almost haughti¬
ness, which after all. because himi
wonderfully well, never made any
reply, but in a cold, formal manner,
bowed.
Grant, in the endeavor to tako
away the awkwarkness of the scene,
said: ‘I don’t always wear rsword,
because a sword is a very incon
venint thing.' Lee only bowed
again.
Another, trying to relieve tho
awkwardness of the occasion, in¬
quired: ‘Gen. Lee, what became oi,
the white horse you rode in Mexi¬
co ? He might not be dead yet; he-'
was not so old,’.
Gen. Lee bowed coldly, and re¬
plied, ‘I left him at the white houso
on the Pamun key river, and I have
not seen him since.’
There was one moment when
there was a whispered conversation’,
betweeu Grant and Lee, which np.,
body in,the room.heard.
The surrender took the form of ■
correspondence; tho letters were.
all signed in duo form by the chief
actors in the presence of each oth¬
er. Finally, when tho terms of
surrender had all been arranged,
and the surrender made, Loj arose,,
cold and proud, and bowed to eve-,
ry person in the room on our side.
I remember each ono of us thought
lie had been sjiecially bowed to.—-.
And then lie went out and passed’
down the little square in front of
the house, and bestrode that gray
horse that carried him all over Vir •
ginia ; and when he had gone away
we learned what that whispered
conversation had been about____
Grant said :
‘You go to the Twenty-fourth,^
and you go to the Fifth,’ and so on,
naming the corps, ‘and ask every ■
man who has three rations, to turn
over two of them. Go to the com-,.,
missaries and •quartermasters; Gen..
Lee’s army is on the point of star¬
vation!’And 25,090 rations; were
carried to the army of Northern^
Virginia.
A good white wash for cellars,.
out buildings and fences, may be,
prepared as follows: Put a half a.
bushel of lime in a clean, water-,
tight barrel, and pour over it boil¬
ing water enough to cover it four,
or five inches deop, stirring it,
briskly until the lime is thorough-,
ly slaked. After tho slaking is>
completed add water gradually,,
stirring it well until thin enough
to uso ; then add a pound of salt,,
and two pounds of snlphato of zinc.
This will cause the wash to harden
well and prevent it from cracking
or rubbing off. Almost any dosir •
od shade of color may bo given it
by adding different and inexpen*
sivo pigments, Tel]my will
give shades ranging from a deli¬
cate cream color To yellow, accords,
ing to tho. quantity employed.—
Lampblack produces shades from
gray to lead color. A good stone,
color may bo obtained by adding,
two pounds of kmpback and' foqr.
pounds of raw umber to tbo qiian-.
tity of wash made by tho above re,-.
coipe.