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[From til* chlfipi Udftr.j
OLIVIA;
in mtnm two lots.
t’ ' ) - * V * >* • •
BY THE AUTHOR OF
*Tke Second Mrs. Tillotson-Never
Forgotten Etc., Etc.
CHAPTER XliL —[Continued.
“Hallo, Martin" he cried, “I am de
lighted to see yon, my boy. I’ve been a
tittle ont of sorts lately, bnt I ■would not
let Johanna send for your father. He does
Tery well to go dawdling after women and
eying with their pulses, but I don’t want
i hanging after me. Tell me what you
have to say about me, my lad.”
He went on to tell me his symptoms,
while a sudden idea struck me almost like
allash of genius.
lam nothing of a genius, but at that
time new thoughts came into my mind with
wonderful rapidity. It was positively
accessary that I should run over to Sark
this week—l had given my word to Miss
Olhvier that I would do so—but I dared not
mention such a project at home. My mother
and Julia would be up in arms at the first
•yllable I uttered.
What if I could do two patients good at
One stroke—kill two birds with one stone?
Captain Carey had a prettv little yacht lying
idle ia St. Sampson's harbor, and a day's
cruising would do him all the good in the
■world. Why should he not carry me over
to Sark, when I could visit my other pa
tient. and nobody be made miserable by
the trip?
“I will make you up some of your ole
medicine,” I said; “but I strongly recom
mend yon to have a day out on the water—
•even or eight hours at any rate. If the
weather keeps as fine as it is now it will dc
you a worid of good.”
“It is so dreary alone,” he objected, “and
Johanna would not care to go out at thir
season. I know.”
“If I could manage it,” I said, deliber
•ting, “I should be glad to have a day with
you.
“Ah! if you could do that!” he replied,
eagerly.
“I’ll see about it,” I said. “Should you
mind where you sailed to?”
“Not at all.*' not at all, my boy,” hei an
swered, “so that I get your company. You
shall be skipper or helmsman, or both, if
yon like.”
“Well, then,” I replied, “you might take
me over to the Havre Gosselin to see how
my patient’s broken arm is going on. It’s
• bore there boing no resident medical man
there at this moment The accident last
•uturnn was a great loss to the island. ”
“Ah! poor fellow!” said Captain Carey;
“he was a great loss to them. But I’ll take
you over with pleasure, Martin—any day
you fix upon.”
“Get the yacht shipshape, then,” J said;
"I think I can manage it on Thursday.”
I did not say at home whither I was
bound on Thursday. I informed them
merely that Captain Carey and I were going
out in his yacht for a few hours. This was
simply to prevent them from worrying
themselves.
It was as delicious a spring morning ns
eve r I remember. As I rode along the flat
•bore between St Peter-port and St.
Sampson's the fresh air played about my
face, ns if to drive dull care away and make
me as buoyant and debonnair as itself. The
little waveß were glittering and dancing in
the sunshine, and chiming with the merry
carols of the larks, outsinging one another
in the blue sky overhead. The numerous
windmills, like children's toys, which wore
pumping water out of the stone-quarries,
whirled and spun busdy in the brisk breeze.
Every person I met sainted me with a blithe
and cheery greeting. My dull spirits had
been blown far away before I set foot on
the deck of Captain Carey’s little vacht.
The run over was all that we could wish.
The cockle-shell of a boat belonging to
the yacht bore me to the foot of the laddet
hanging down the rock at (Havre Oosselin.
A very few minutes took me to the top oi
the cliff, and there lay the little thatched
nest-like home of my patient I hastened
forward eagerly.
The place 6eemed very solitary and de
serted. and a sndden fear came across me.
Was it possible that she should be dead?
It was possible. I hod left her six days
ago only just over a terrible crisis. There
might have been a relapse, a failure of vital
force. I might be come to find those
•hming eyes hid beneath their lids for ever,
■nd the pale, suffering face motionless it
death.
Certainly the rhythmic motion of my heart
Was disturbed. I felt it contract painfully,
and its beating suspended for a moment or
two. The farmstead was intensely quiet,
with the ominous stillness of death. All
the windows were shrouded with their
check curtains. There was no clatter of
Suzanne's wooden clogs about the fold or
the kitchen. If it had been Sunday this
supernatural silence would have been
easily accounted for; but it was Thursday.
I scarcely dared go on and learn the cause
of it.
i AD silent still as I crossed the stony
causeway of the yard. Not a face looked
cot from door or window. Mam'zelle'fi
easement stood a little way open, and the
breeze played w ith the curtains, fltiiferirig
them like banners in a procession. I dared
not try to look in. The house-door was
ajar, and I approached it cautiously. “Thank
God!' I cried within myself as I gazed
•agerlv into the cottage.
She was lying there upon th3 fern bed,
half asleep, her head fallen back upon the
pillow, and the book she had been reading
dropped from her hand. Her dress was of
■ome coa: se dark green stuff, which made
* charming contrast to her delicate face
and bright hair. The whole interior of the
cottage formed a picture. The old furni
ture of oak almost black with age, the
neutral tints of the wall and ceiling, and
the deep tone of her green dress threw out
Into stroDg relief the graceful shining head
Uud pale face.
I suppose she became subtly conscious,
M women always are, that somebody’s eyes
were fired upon her, for she awoke fully,
sad looked up as I lingered on the door
dll.
“Oh, Doctor Martin!” she cried, “lam so
glad!"
She looked pleased enough to be upon
•be point of trying to raise herself in order
to welcome me. but I interposed quickly.
It was more difficult than I had expected to
assume a grave professional tone, but by
an effort I did so. I bade her lie still, and
took a chair at some little distance.
“Tardif is gone out fishing,” she said,
"and his mother is gone away, too, to a
christening feast somewhere; but Mrs. lte
nouf is to be here in an hour or two. I
told th m I could manage very well as long
as that,”
"They onght not to have left you alone,”
I rep! ed.
“And 1 sha’l not be left alone,” she said,
■miling, “for you are come, you see. lam
rather glad they are away, for I wanted to
toll you how much I felt your goodness to
all through that uresdful wetk. Vou
■re the first doctor I ever had about me, the
very first. Perhaps you thought 1 did not
know whut care you were tekmg of me; but
somehow or other 1 knew everything. My
mind did not quite ga. You were very,
•wv good to me.”
‘Never mind that,” I said; "I am coma
*n see how my work is going on. How is
the arm. first of altf*
1 had iomost wished that Mother ltenouf
•w K un-time Tardif had been at hand. Hut
*SS Oli vier seem, and perfectly M.wpoeed,
“ mueb so ee a child. Hlm- looked Uke oue
•'h her cropped heir and frank, open few.
a * nwu momentary rmlurroesment passed
**** .? *** “ r,M **• K“ngoB*ll right, ami
wae Mother ltenouf’e charge, the t.rained
*M> must take c;e )si are nut ' * j
GEORGIA HOME JOURNAL: GREENESBORO. FRIDAY. JUNE 11 ISS<>-EIGHT PAGES.
said, while 1 was feeling carefully the com
plicate joint of her ankle. ”
“Lame!" she repeated, in an alarmed
voice; “is there any fear of that?"
“Not much,” I answered, “but we must
be careful, mam’celle. You must promise
me not to set your foot on the ground, or
in any way rest your weight upon it, till I
give you leave.”
“That means that you will have to come
to see me again,” she said; “is it
difficult to come over from Guernsey?"
“Not at all," I answered, “it is quite a
treat to me. ”
Her face grew very grave, as if she was
thinking of some unpleasant topic. She
looked at me earnestly and questioningly.
“May I speak to you with great plainness,
Doctor Martin?” she asked.
“Speak precisely what is in your mind at
this moment, ” I replied.
“You are very, very good to me,” she
said, holding out her hands to me; “but I
do not want you to come more often than
is quite necessary, because I am very poor.
If I were rich,” she went on, hurriedly,
“I should like you to come every day—it is
so pleasant—bnt I can never pay you suf
ficiently for that long week you were here.
So please do not visit me oftener than is
quite necessary. ”
My face felt hot, but I scarcely knew
what to say. I bungled out an answer.
“1 would not take any money from you,
and I shall come to Bee you as often as J
can."
I bound up her little foot again withoir
another word, and then sat down, pushing
my chair farther from her.
“You are not offended with me, Doctoi
Martin?” she asked, in a pleading tone.
“No,” I answered: “but you are mistaken
in supposing a medical man has no love foi
his profession apart from its profits. Tc
see that your arm gets properly well is part
of my duty, and I shall fulfill it without
any thought of whether I shall get paid foi
it or no. ”
“Now,” she said, “I must let you know
how poor I am. Will you please to fetch
me my box out of my room?”.
I was only too glad to obey her. Thi9
seemed to be an opening to a complete con
fidence between us. Now I came to think
of it, fortune had favored me in thus
throwing us together alone.
I lifted the light, small box very easily—
there could not be many treasures in it—
and carried it back to her. She took a key
out of her pocket and unlocked it with
some difficulty, but she could not raise the
lid without my help. I took care not to
offer any assistance until she asked it.
Yes, there were very few possessions in
that light trunk, but the first glance showed
me a blue silk dress and sealskin jacket
and hat I lifted them ont for her, and
after them a pair of velvet slippers, soiled,
ns if they had been through muddy roads.
I did not utter a renfark. Beneath these
'ay a handsome watch and cbnin, a fine
liamond ring, and five sovereigns lying
loose in the box.
“That is all the money I have in the
world,” she said, sadly.
I laid the five sovereigns in her small
vhite baud, and she turned them over, one
ifter another, with a pitiful look on hei
face. I felt foolish enough to cry over them
nyself.
“Doctor Martin,” was her unexpected
question after a long pause, “do you know
what became of mv hair?”
“Why?” I asked, looking at her fingers
running through the short curls we had
left her.
“Because that ought to bo sold for some
thing,” she said. “I am almost glad yon
had it cut off. My hairdresser told me
once he would give five guineas for a head
of hair like mine, it was so long, and the
color was uncommon. Five guineas would
uot be half enough to pay you, though, I
know.”
She spoke so simply and quietly that I
did not attempt to remonstrate with hei
xbont her anxiety to pay me.
“Tardif has it,” I said; “but of course he
will give it you hack again. Shall I sell it
for you, mam’zelle?”
“Oh, that is jnst what I could not ask
yon!" she exclaimed. “You see there is no
one to buy it here, and I hope it may be a
long time before Igo away. I don't know,
though; that depends upon whether I can
dispose of my things. There is my seal
skin; it cost twenty-five guineas last year,
and it ought to be worth something. And
my watch—see what a nice one it is. I
should like to sell them all, every one.
Then I could stay here as long as the
money lasted.”
“How much do ydu pay here?” I in
quired, for she had taken me so far into
counsel that I felt justified in asking thal
question.
>“A pound a week,” she answered.
"A pound a week!” I repeated, in amaze
ment. “Does Tardif know that?"
“I don't think he does,” she snid. “Wheu
I had been here a week I gave Mrs. Tardif
a sovereign, thinking perhaps she would'
give me a little out of it. I am not used
to being poor, and I did not know how
much I ought to pay. But she kept it all,
and came to me every week for more. Was
it too much to pay?"
“Too much!” I said. “You shonld have
spoken to Tardif about it, my poor child. ”
“I could not talk to Tardif about his
mother,” she answered. “Besides, it
would not have been too much if I had only
had plenty. But it has made me so
sqirious. I did not know whatever I should
do when it was all gone. I do not know
now. ”
Htre was a capital opening for a question
about her friends.
"You will be compelled to communicate
with your family,” I said. “You have told
me how poor you are; cannot you trust me
about your friends?"
“I have no friends,” she answered, sor
rowfully. “If I had any do you suppose 1
should be here?”
“I am one,” I said, “and Tardif is an
other. ”
“Ah, new friends,” she replied; “but I
mean real old friends who have known you
ill your life, like yonr mother. Doctor Mar
tin. or your cousin Julia. I want some
body to go to who knows all about me. and
say to them, after telling them everything,
keeping nothing back at all, ‘Have I done
right? What else ought I to have done?’
No new friend could answer questions like
those.”
Was there any reason I could bring for
ward to increase her confidence in me? I
thought there was. and her ftiendleßsness
and helplessness touched me to the core of
my heart. Yet it was with an indefinable
reluctance that I brought forward my ar
gument.
“Miss Ollivier,” I said. “I have no claim
of old acquaintance or friendship, yet it is
issible I might answer those questions, if
yon could prevail upon yourself to tell me
the circumstances of your former life. In
a few vreekß I shall be in n position to show
you more friendship than I can do now. I
shall have a home of my own, and a wife,
who will be your friend more fittingly, per
haps. than myself."
“I knew it, ” she answered, half shyly.
“Tardif told me you were going to marry
your cousin Jnlia."
Just then wo heard the foldyard gate
swing to behind someone wfio was coming
to the house.
CHAPTEK XIV.
ONE IN A THOUSAND.
I had altogether forgotten that Cnptnin
Careys yacht was waiting for me off the
little hay below, and I sprang quickly to
Lbo door in tbe dread that he hau followed
me.
It was on immense relief to gee only
Tardif a tall figure bending under his crsal
and nets, and crossing the yard slowly. I
bailed bun and be quickam and bis p ica, bis
honest ft ulures lighting up at tbe sight
of me.
“How do yon find mnm'zelle, Doctor?”
were bis first eager worn a.
• k“AII right,” I sail; “going on famously.
Hurk is eu, ugb lo core any one sud any
thing of itselrT Tardif. Thera is no an
like it. 1 should not wind bung a little ih
bi-re myself,"
“( 'aptatii Carey is tan silent to be gone. *
be uonltiued. "lie s.ut word by me lb it
you might be visiting every house ia the
island, you had been away so long. ”i'
“Not so very long." I said, testily: “but
I will just run in and say good-by, and
then I want you to walk with me to thd
cliff”
I turned back for a last look and a last
word. No chance of learning her secret
now. The picture was as perfect as when
I had had the first glimpse of it, only hei
face had grown, if possible, more charming
after my renewed scrutiny of it.
There are faces that grow upon you the
longer and the oftener you look upon them
faces that seem to have a veil over them
which melts away like the ihin, fine mist ol
the morning upon the cliffs, until the}
flash out in their full color and beauty. The
last glance was eminently satisfactory, and
so was the last word.
“Shall I send you the hair?” asked Miss
Ollivier, returning practically to a niattei
of business.
-“To be sure,” I answered. “I shall dis
pose of it to advantage, but I have not time
to wait for it now.”
“And may I write a letter to you?”
“Yes,” was my reply. I was too pleased
to express myself more eloquently.
“Good-by.” she said; “you are a very
good doctor to me. ”
“And friend?" I added.
“And friend,” she repeated.
That was the last word, for I was com
pelled to burry away.- Tardif accompanied
me to the cliff, and I took the opportunity
to tell him the charge his mother had made
upon her lodger. A more grieved look
never came across a man’s face.
“Doctor Martin,” he said, “I would have
cut off my hand rather than it had beeD
so. Poor little mam’zelle! Poor old moth
er! She is growing old, sir, and old people
are greedy. The fall of the year is dark
and cold and gives nothing, but takes away
all it can and hoards it for the young new
spring that is to follow. It seems almost
.the nature of old age. Poor old mother!
I am very grieved for her. And I nm
troubled, troubled about mam’zelle. To
think she has been fretting all the wintei
about this, when I was trying to find out
how to cheer her! Only five pounds left,
poor little soul! Why! all I have is at her
service. It is enough to have • her .only in
the house, with her pretty ways and sweet
voice. I'll put it all right with mam’zelle,
sir, and with my por old mother, too. I
am very sorry for her."
“Miss Ollivier has been asking me to sell
her hair,” I said.
“No, no,” he answered, hastily, “not a
single hair! I cannot say yes to that. The
pretty bright curls! If anybody is to buy
them, I will. Yes, Doctor, that is famous.
She wishes you to sell her hair? Very
good; I will buy it; it must be mine. I
have more money than you think, perhaps.
I will buy mam zelle’s pretty curls, and
she shall have the money, and then the; a
will be more than five pounds in her little
?urse. Tell me how much they will be ;
en pounds? Fifteen? Twenty?”
“Nonsense, Tardif,” I answered; “keep
one of them if you like, but I must have
the rest. We will settle it between us.”
“No, Doctor,” he said; “your cousin will
not like that. Yon are going to be married
soon; it would not do for you to keep
mam'zclle's curls.”
Tt was said with so much simplicity ano
cood-heartedness that I felt ashamed of a
rising feeling of resentment, and parted
with him cordially. In a few minutes
ifterward I was on board the yacht, and
augbing at Captain Carey’s reproaches.
Tardif was sti.l visible on the edge of the
cliff, watching our departure.
“That is as good a fellow as ever
breathed." said Captain Carey, waving his
sap to him.
“I know it better than you do,” I replied.
“And how is the young woman?’ ha
asked.
"Going on as well as a broken arm and a
sprained ankle can do," I answered.
“l’ou will want to come again, Martin,”
he said; “when are wo to have anotliti
day?"
"Well I shall hear how she is every now
and then," I answered; "it takes too long
a time to oome more often than is neces
sary. But you will bring me if it is neces
sary?"
“Withall my heart,” said Captain Carey.
For the next few days I waited with some
impatieuce for Miss Ollirier's premised
letter. It came at last, and I put it into
my pocket to read when I was alone—why,
I could scarcely have explained to myself.
It ran thus:
Dear Doctor Martin: I have no little
commission to trouble you with. Tardif tel s
me it was quite a mistake his mother taking
a sovereign from ine each week. She does
not understand English money; and he says
1 hare paid quite sufficient to stay with them
a whole year longer without paying any
more. lam quite content about that now.
lard if says, too, that he has a trend iu
Southampton who will buy my hair and glvs
me more ttiun anybody in Guernsey. So ]
need not trouble you about it, though 1 am
sure you would have done it for me.
1 have not put my foot to the ground yet,
but yesterday Tardif carried mo all the way
down to his boat, and took me out for a litiit
sail under the beautiful cliffs, where w
could look up and see all those etrango carv
ings upon the rocks. I thought that perhaps
(hero wore things written there that we
should like to read. Sometimes In the skv
there aro fine faint linos across the blue
which look like wri.ton sentences, if ont
could only make them out. Here they art
on the rocks, but every tide washes their
away, Icavhg fresh ones. Perhaps they art
messages to me, answers to those question!
that 1 cannot answer myself.
Good-by, ray good Doctor. I am trying to
3o everything you told mo exactly, and I
am getting well again fast. Ido not bolicva
J. shall bo lame; you are too clever for that.
Tour patient, . Olivia.
Olivin! I looked at the word again to
make sure of it. Then it was not her pur
name that was Olivier, and I wns still ig
nor.mt of that. I saw In a moment how
the mistake had arisen, and how innocent
she was o? any deception in the matter.
She wouVl tell Tardif that her name wai
Olivia, and he thought only of the Olliv.
iers he knew. It was a mistake that had
been of use in checking curiosity, and ’
did not feel bound to put it right. Mj
mother and Jnlia appeared to have forgot
ten my patient in Sark altogether.
Olivia! I thought it a very pretty name
and repeated it to myself with its abbrevi
ations, Olive, Livy. It was difficult to ab
breviate Julia; Ju I had called her in my
rude schoo boy days. I wondered how
high Olivia would stand beside me. for J
had never seen her on her feet. Julia was
not two inches shorter than myself—a ta 1,
stiff figure, neither slender enough to be
nor well-proportioned enough to
bo maiestic. But she was very good, auf
her price was far above rubies.
According to the wise man it was a diffi
cult task to find a virtuous wom.vu.
It was a quiet time iu the afternoon, and
in order to verify my recollection of tLf
wise man's saving, which was a little clondi
in my memory, 1 searched through Juliai
Bible for it.
“Whutareyou reading, Mart n?" ns.ee
my father, who had just come in, and wnt
painfully fitting ou a pair of new and verj
tight kid gloves. 1 read the passage aloud
without comment.
“Very good!" he remarked, chuckling,
“nj on my word! I did uot know there wat
anything ns rich ns that in th ' old boot
Who says it. Martin? Avery wise preacho
he was. and knew what he was talkiuj
about. Hail seen life, eh? It’s ns true us—
is- us the gospel."
I could uot help laughing at the eompnr
ison he was forced to, yet 1 felt angry with
hint and myself.
“What do you say about my mother nud
Julia, s r?" I asked.
He chuckled again cynically, examining
with care n spot on the palm of one of bis
gloves. “Ha! ha! my son"—l hated to
hear him sty “my son”—“I will answer
you in the words of uuother uise mm;
'Most virtuous women, like bidden treas
ures. are secure because uobody seeks after
them.' *
ho saying he turned out of the n out
swinging his gold-headed cuue jauntily be
tween his lingers.
1 visited Nnk again iu about ten days, to
eel Olivia free from uiy embargo ii| on her
walking I allowed her to walk a little way
along a smooth meadow path, leaning on
my arm, ai-4 I found that she won a heed
tower tn\n myself—a beaut : ful height for
• woman. That tints Captain Carey hud
set me down at the Havre Go-sdin. ap
pointing to meet me at the Crenx Harbor,
which was exactly on the opposite side < f
the ia'.and. In crossing over to it—a dis
tance of rather more than a mle I en
countered Julia's friends, Emma and Ihrh
Brouard.
“You here again, Martin!” exclaimed
Emma.
“Yes,” I answered; “Captain Carey set
me down at the Havre GosseliD, and is
gone round to meet me at the Crenx.”
“You have been to tee that young per
son?" asked Maria.
“Yes," I replied.
“She is a very singular young woman."
she continued; “we think her stupid. AVe
cannot make anything of her. But theru
is no doubt Tardif means to marry her.”
“Nonsense!” I ejaculated, hotly; “I beg
your pardon, Maria, but I give Tardif
credit for sense enough to know his own
position. ”
“So did we,” said Emma, “but it looks
odd. He married an Englishwoman be
fore. It’s old Mere Fenouf who says he
worships the ground she treads upon. You
know ho holds a very good position in the
island, and he is a great favorite with the
Seigneur. There are dozens of girls of
his own class in Guernsey and Alderney,
to say nothing of Sark, who would be on'y
too glad to have him. He is a very hand
some man, Martin,”
“Tardif is a fine fellow," I admitted.
“I shall be very sorry for him to be
taken in again, nobody knows who that
young person may be; it looks odd on the
face or it. Are you in a hurry? Well,
good-by. Give our best love to dear Julia.
We are busy at work on a wedding present
for her; but you must not tell her that,
you know."
I went on in a hot rage, shapeless and
wordless, but smoldering like a fire within
me. The cool, green lane, deep between
hedge-rows, the banks of which were
gemmed with primroses, had no effect
upon me just then. Tardif marry Oliv.a!
That was an absurd, preposterous notion,
indeed.
Was it pofsible that they thought hei
stupid? Reserved and silent she might be.
but not stupid! That any one should dream
of Olivia marrying Tardif was the utmost
folly I could iniag ne.
I had half an hour to wait in the
harbor, its great cliffs rising aii about me,
with only a tunnel bored through them to
form an entrance to the green island within.
My rage had partly fumed itself away be
fore the yaoht came in sight.
[TO BE CONTINUED. 1
Art in the Dining Room.
Do you know I enjoyed the decorations
of the dining car! Oh, yes. There was
nothing original about them. They were
the same old dining room pieces that one
sees in all dining rooms of all hotels and
many homes, but I was pleased to see
them on the car. Right at my elbow was
a panel that was the very soul of appro
priate suggestiveness for a dining room.
It was a painting of a string of dead
fish. Nothing can be more appetizing in
a dining room than a string of dead fish.
Another panel held up to view some dead
birds, hanging heads down. One bird
seemed to have been shot out of season,
and one appeared to have starved to
death in a trap. As I looked at them I
thought how I would enjoy the duck
when it came on. Then in another panel
hung two dead rabbits; they had been
dead a long time, too, for I had seen them
hanging in places where people eat ever
since I was a boy. Ido admire these
game pieces on dining room panels. I
think, however, an interior of a slaughter
house, undw - full sail, and an interior of
a Chicago packing house in executive
session should be added. And for a
cosy breakfast Wfom why not a plaque
representing some very tender spring
chickens just crawling out of their shells.
The genius who first thought of painting
dead fish and dead rabbits for dining
room pieces has not yet carried his “fish
and game depot” ideas quite to comple
tion.—Burdette.
A Reminiscence,
One day, while Mr. Griffin was show
ing a party of Northern men around over
a Virginia battlefield, one of them said:
“I am reminded of an incident that oc
curred here. I had charge of a gun over
there in the works near Fort Morton. One
Sunday, while there was no fighting go
ing on, and we were loafing about, I saw
a man come over that hill by the ceme
tery, and come down across the slope
toward the rear of the Confederate lines.
Ilis comfortable and serene manner irri
tated me, and I made up my mind to
see how close I could come to him, and
we all chuckled at the idea of scaring the
life out of him. I took aim and landed a
shot about six feet from him. You ought
to him seen him git up and git. He
was the scartest and most demoralized
Johnny Reb you ever saw. He went on
at a rate that would run a dog to death,
and we roared with cheers and laughter
to see him dust.”
“So you aro the man that fired that
shot, are you?” asked Giitfin.
“Yes; do you know anything about
it?”
“Well, yes; I think I do,” was the re
ply. “I was the fellow you shot at. I
was a lad coming with something for my
father, who was in the works. I did not
suppose there was a Y’ankee fool enough
or mean enough to shoot a cannon at one
little fellow carrying grub to his father.
But you don't exaggerate that scare. I
didn't grow another inch iu a year.”
French Fun.
From the Paris Echo: One of our
brother journalists went into a barber
shop the other day to have his Hair cut
and fell asleep during the operation. The
barber, who awoke him when he had
finished, said to him:
“You are tired. I understand it. It’s
the same way with me when evening
comes. Ah, this head work is something
terrible!”
Guiballnrd at the theatre: “Madam,”
says he to the attendant, “will you get
memv overcoat?”
“What is your number?"
“I do not know.”
“How do you expect me to get it then
without a ticket?”
“Certainly. I put it in the pocket of
my coat so that I shouldn’t lose it!”
Baron Hulot is the most methodical
man in the world. Yesterday he was
questioning anew servant.
“Where were ycu bom?”
“At St. Cyprian du Var.
“In what year?”
“In 1852."
“How old are you?”
ti HI *
Iv 11>e Capitol, Montgomery, Ala*'
bantu, it religiously preserved a large
Bible, printed by the American Bible
‘ociety in 1851, and bearing upou the
fly-leaf this sen renee : “The oath of office
a* first President of the Pro wsional
Wovsrnment of the Confederate Hie ten
of America was administered to Jeffer*
sou Davis upon this Bible by Howell
Cobb, President of the Provisional Cob
grass, at tbe front portioo of the Capitol
in Montgomery, on the Ifitb day of
February, lMf,
SELECT SIFTINGS.
Dr. Jefferies claims that at least ten
out of every twelve persons have unmated
eyes.
A woman living in the province o'
Baku, Russia, died recently at the age of
130 years. It is said that this fact is at
tested by public records.
One Jacob Twaddle, of Steubenville,
Ohio, blind from birth, can tell the
color of a horse by the sense of touch.
The ground under clumps of china
berry trees in the vicinity of Tampa,
Florida, is covered with intoxicated
birds almost every day, they having be
come tipsy through eating too many
berries.
A writer in a French medical treatise
has discovered a remedy for that most
annoying affliction, the hiccoughs. It
consists of refrigeration of the lobe of the
ear. Very slight refrigeration, such as a
drop of cold water, is said to be suf
ficient.
The Carthagenians invented a sort of
sledge cart for threshing, and it was
afterward adopted in Italy. It consistid
if a xvcoden frame like a sledge, into
which a certain number of rollers, set
round with projecting teeth, were fitted;
tnese threshed the corn as they turned
round when drawn over the floor by the
cattle attached to the machine, which
was further weighed by the and iver, who
sat in a sort of frame or chair placed upon
it.
Wild-cat wells, or the phrase, origi
nated, Charles A. Ashburne, geologist,
says, in 1847, when a party of men cat
loose from civilization in Northern Penn
sylvania. and carried supplies with th r:n.
While they were prospecting for oil a
wild cat made havoc with their provisions,
and, though they killed the wild cat and
struck oil, they frere forced to return to
a community. Ever since that time all
frontier wells, which are chiefly useful
in breaking the markets, have been
termed ■ wild-cat' 1 wells. Mr. Ashburne
thinks the meridian of the oil yield has
been passed, and that the supply of
natural gas is limited.
From time immemorial eels have been
much esteemed by epicures—more per
haps in ancient days than they are now.
Aristotle and Aristophanes m mticn eels
in terms of high praise. By the Egyptians
eels were regarded with great abhorrence
as the embodiment of an evil demon, but
other nations did not share the prejudice,
for the Boeotians, who were c eleb: r.ted
for their eels, used them as sacred offer
ings. Misson, in his ‘•Travels.’ 1 tells of
a vow made by the inhabitants of Tar
racina, a seaport of Italy, when besieged
by the Turks. They vowed to offer
twenty thousand eels a year to St. Bene
dict if he would deliver them from tlicir
peril.
Remarkable Salt Deposits.
In Lincoln county, on the Rio Virgin,
is one of the most remarkable deposits of
rock sa’.t on the continent. It ii found
in hills 500 feet above the level of the
valley, and chemically pure. Blocks of
it over a foot square are so transparent
that one may read a paper through them.
So solid is this salt that it must ha
b’asted out the same as if it were rock.
This deposit of salt lies about three-quar
ters of a mile west of the Rio Virgin and
three miles south of the Mormon village
of St. Thomas. There a body of this
salt is exposed for a length of nearly two
miles, which is about half a mile wide
and of unknown depth. The deposit
runs north and south, and is seen on the
surface for a distance of over nine m'les.
In places the canons have cut through
it to a depth of sixty feet. At these
Eoints the Hiko company formerly
lasted out the salt required in working
their ores. This great deposit of salt is
situated at an altitude of 1,100 feet above
the level of the sea. It is undoubtedly
very ancient, as in one place it has been
covered by a flow of basaltic rock. In
other places it is covered to a
depth of from' one to five feet
with volcanic trifa. At Sand Springs,
in Churchill county, beside the salt that
may be shoveled up from the surface,
there is found a deposit of rock salt
fourteen feet in depth. This salt is as
transparent as the clearest ice, and does
not contain a particle of any foreign or
deleterious substance. It may he
quaried the same as if it was marble. It
is said that one man can quarry and
wheel out five tons a day of this salt. It
is only necessary to grind it to render it
fit for table or dairy use. Sixty or sev
enty miles north of this, at the eastern
base of the Dun Glen range of mountains,
is the great Humboldt salt field. This is
about fifteen miles long and six wide.
In summer, when the surface water has
evaporated, salt to the depth of three or
four ipches can be scraped up from the
surface. Beneath t£e surface is a strat
um of pure rock salt of unknown depth.
This rock salt is so hard that in order to
get it out rapidly it is necessary to biast
it. AVereabranch railroad to run to
one of these deposits, salt would soon be
a cheap article in the United States. As
there are in the same localities great
quantities of soda, borax and other valu
able minerals, it is probable that the day
is not far distant when some of them
will be tapped by branch railroads which
could ha cheaply laid down through the
level districts. —Dayton (Nev.) Reporter.
National Economy.
The economical method by which the
ashes and soot are collected and dis
posed of in London is worthy of notice.
The ashes are, of course, soft coal ashes,
as soft coal is the fuel of London, and
the vast quantity of London soot comes
from chimneys, swept about once a
month to clear them from the accumula
tions caused by these soft coal fires. The
dustmen of London traverse the streets
of that city, collecting in their wagons
all the ashes made. The r collections
are taken to a large city yard, where they
are sifted by city men, who, by the sift
ing, separate from the ashes every parti
cle of uneonsutned coal, and all material
that has found its way into the dust bar
rel which has any possible junk value.
The cinders saved accumulate in vast
piles, and are sold to the poor at low
rates for fuel, and the old junk is dis
posed of by the city in the most profita
ble manner.
The city of London allows nothing to
be wasted. The coal ashes thus gleaned
are used for filling purposes. But the
uses of soot were novel to me. Not only
in London, but all overthe United King
dom, all the soot gathered from the
chimneys and flues is carefully saved, put
into bags holding about a eoupleof bush
sis, and suld to the farmers and gardeners,
who prize it very highly as a fertilizer.—
Golden Ar<joy.
The library of Princeton college is said
to have the largest collection of books on
baptism in the world. There are two
thousand b mm! volumes ami three thou
sand pamphlets.
it is sa!ii that shingles < an be nil le fire
proof by sitting the butts iuto a tiuiigh
of water iu which half a bushel of tar'll
of lime sml salt and aia pounds of potash
liuvt* i ifii and, vivtti
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS.
CHILDS, HieKESSOHie J
BROAD AND THOMAS STS., ATHENS, GA. *
ZDfcT
lINtRAI
C-u.tler37\ <3--u.rLS, Pistols, Etc. 1
Have a large stock suitable for the trade ot Middle Georgia
invite an inspection by visitors to Athens and orders by mail -!!*
parties elsewhere.
D. C. BACON, President. M. F. AMOROUS, Gen’l ManJ
mm lib ■ i
mm% i4ii iiMiy
KILN DRY, DRESSED AND MATCHED |
flooring!
CEILING, SHINGLES AND LATHS.
Be®L.tVRITE FOR PRICES. The best and cheapest. YarJ
Humphries and E. T. V, & Ga. R. R.
OFFICE MARIETTA ST.
ATLANTA: G-BOROIJ
ffIILBURN WAGON CO,
39, 41 and 43 Decatur Street, ATLANTA, CA-
THE LARGEST STOCK OF
Carriages. Phaetons, Buggies, Farm and Spring
WAGONS in the South will be found at their warcrooms. Call and see them before
buying. The best goods are always the cheapest. It is not necessary to break into*
penitentiary to get to work on our goods.
mh26 H. L. ATWATER, Manager.
ALFRED BAKER, President. JOSEPH S. BEAN, Casino.
Augusta Savings Bank!
811 Broad Street, Augusta, Georgia.
O—
CASH ASSETS >..5300,000.00 | SURPLUS *...550,000.*
o
Transacts a general deposit and discount business and allows interest on deposits of
five dollars to two thousand dollars. Accounts of banks, bankers and merchants received
on favorable terms.
SPECIAL ATTENTION GIVEN TO COLLECTIONS.
We always have money on hand to loan, and afford special accommodations to oar
customers. We buy and sell Bonds and Stocks, and are always happy to give information
DIRECTORS:-Alfred Baker, James A. LofliD. William Schweigert, E. R. Schneidi
Edgar R. Derry, Joseph S. Bean, W. B. Young, Eugene J. O’Connor, Jules Rival, J.H.
Bredenberg. mc h26
PREMIUM TIN WAR
BUY NO OTHER J
Look for Stamp.
Don’t buy shoddy machine made Tinware when you can get a first class article-
Our Tinware is for sale by country dealers generally. Send for prices on Stoves aid
Everything in Our Line. We keep a magnificent stock and our prices are low.
mhl9 IMLA-PPPETST Oc TO3STS3, a g-n s. G-a.
COMPLETE OUTFITS.OF MACHINERY!
FURNISHED AT MANUFACTURERS’ LOWEST PRICES.
- ; For Planing Mills, Furniture, Sash, Doer,
1 Blind, Chair, Coffin, Box, Spoke and Handlr
-Factories Carpenter, Car, Carriage and IVaf 1
ScsaAdyjfeiLWfial—=jz-*waM-3| ion Shops; Lath and Shingle Mills, and anf
ol her Wood Work. Also CircularSnws, Frenc
| u -Band Saws, Scroll Saws, Saw Mandrels, Ij™'
- " J -11 jflL.-. jing and Moulding Knives, Watchman Wo*
-Finery Wheels, Belting, Finished Shsftwfr
- - jPulleys, Hangers and Bearings. Best
d|r r , -and prices lower than ever before offered.
* iprietors of BREWER’S ROOF FAIN* w
r jail 0 f Metal and Wood Work.
tHE COST OF GEM WIRE PICKET FENCE:
No. 1 to No. o.—Pickets undressed, dressed or fancy, full 4x2x4 ft., three to the foot
free from flaws or knots, pointed mid painted, closely woven, with 10 No. 12 g*l y,u ’
steel wires, put up in rolls of 100 feet, each from $5 to sl4. Discounts on l* r ß e
Price of Complete Outfit for making this fence ONLY $125. for we furnish l „
FENCE LOOM, WIRE CUTTERS. 1 PICKET POIN TER and FENCE
The only perfect fence loom on the market, and is fully patented. We protect r*
sere and Agents in their territory, pay them a liberal commission on any raaclun
fence they may sell for us, and nike no oharge for farm or city and county rights
orders for Fencing or Machines filled promptly.
J. P. HODGE & CO., Southern Agents.
mchlO 47 and 40 South Bread St., ATLANTA, o*,
THEO. MARK WALTER
Steam Marble and Granite Works-
Broad St., near Lower Market, Augusta, Ca.
MONUMENTS, TOMBSTONES.
AMD MAIIM.EWORK OEMKItALLY, m.d. Io ord.r. A l.rpj
Iwjtiou slwaya ou band ready for delivery. Iron fencing for gt***'
lota for sale.
Every Piece Stamped
and Warranted.