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1 OLIYIA;
4 OK.
THE DOCTOR’S TWO LOVES.
BT THE AUTHOR 07
% Tke Second Mra. Tilloteon’ “ Xever
Forgotten” Etc., Etc.
IHAI’IEB mi [Continue-l.
“Hallo. Martin'." )ie cried, "I am de
lighted to see yon, my boy. Its been a
little oat of sorts lately, bat I would not
let Johanna send tor yoar father. He does
wery well to go dawdling after women and
playing with their pulses, bat I don’t want
him banging after me. Tell me what yon
have to say aboat me, my lad."
He went on to tell me his symptoms,
while a sadden idea struck me almost like
* flash of genias.
lam nothing of a genius, bat at that
lime new thoughts came into my mind with
wonderful rapidity. It was positively
necessary that I should ran over to bark
this week—l had given my word to Miss
Ollivier 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
yliable I uttered.
What if I coaid do two patients good at
<me stroke—kill two birds with one stone?
Captain Carey had a pretty little yacht lying
idle in St Sampson’s harbor, and a day's
•raising woald 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
She trip?
“I will make you up some of your ole
medicine,” I said; “but I strongly recom
mend you to have a day out on the water
seven or eight hours at any rate. If the
weather keeps as fine as it is now it will dc
yon a world of good."
"It is so dreary alone,” he objected, “and
Johanna would not care to go oat at thif
season. I know. ”
“If I could manage it," I said, deliber
sting, “I should be glad to have a day with
you. ’’
“Ah! if you could do that!" ho replied,
aagerly.
“I’ll see about it” I said. “Should you
mind where you sailed to?"
“Not at all, not at all, my boy," he an
swered, “so that I get your company. You
shall be skipper or helmsman, or both, if
yon like.”
“Well, then,” I replied, “yon might take
me over to the Havre Gosselin to see how
my patient's broken arm is going on. It's
a bore there boing no resident medical man
there at this moment The accident last
autumn was a great loss to the island."
“Ah! poor fellow!" said Captain Carey;
“lie 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," I said,
“I think I can manage it on Thursday."
I did not sny 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
ever I remember. As I rode along the flat
shore between St. Peter-port and St
Sampson's the fresh air played about my
face, as if to drive dull care away and make
me as buoyant and debonnair an itself. The
little waves 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 were
pumping water out of the stone-quarries,
whirled and spun bus ly in the brisk breeze.
Every person I met saluted 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 yaoht.
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 Gosselin.
Avery few minutes took me to the top ol
the cliff, and thero lay the little thatched
nest-like home of my patient. I hastened
forward eagerly.
The place seemed very solitary and de
serted, and a sudden fear came across me.
Was it possible that she should be dead?
It was possible. I had left her six day!
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
shining eyes hid beneath their lids for ever,
sad tbe pale, suffering face motionless it
death.
Certainly the rhythmic motion of my heart
was disturbed. I felt it contract pniufully,
and its beating suspended for a moment or
two. The farmstead wns intensely quiet,
with the ominous stillness of death. All
the windows wore 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
toasily accounted for; but it was Thursday.
I scarcely dared go on and learn the cause
©f it.
( All silent stiil as I crossed the stony
causeway of the yard. Not a face looked
out from door or wiudow. Mam'zelle’s
casement stood a little way open, and the
breeze played w ith the curtains, fluttering
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
eagerly into the cottage.
She was lying thero upon ths fern bed,
half asleep, her head fallen bnck upon the
pillow, and the book she had been reading
dropped from her hand. Her dress was of
aome eoa: se dark green stuff, which made
a charming contrast to her delicate face
and bright hair. The whole interior of the
cottage formed a picture. The old furni
ture of oak nlmost black with age, the
neutral tints of the wall and ceiling, and
the deep tone of her green dress threw out
Into strong relief the graceful shining head
m-d pale face.
I suppose she became subtly conscious,
as women always are, that somebody’s eyes
were fixed upon her, for she awoke fully,
and looked up as I lingered on the door
sill.
“Oh, Doctor Martin!” she cried, “lam so
glad!”
She looked plensed enough to be upon
the point of trying to raise herself in order
to welcome me. but I interposed quickly.
It was more difficult thin 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.
“Tard.f is gone out fishing,” she said,
“and his mother is goue away, too, to a
christening feast scmewhere; but Mrs. Re
uonf is to be Lere in an hour or two. I
told th’ra I could manage very well as long
as that."
“They ought not to have left you alone,"
Irepled.
“And I sha’l not be left alone,” she said,
smiling, “for you are cdrue, you see. lam
rather glad they are away, for I wanted to
tell you how much I felt your goodness to
ow all through that dreadful week. You
•re the first doctor I ever had about me, the
**ry first Perhaps you thought I did not
know what care you were taking of me; but
somehow or other I knew everything. My
mind did not quite go. You were very,
very good to me."
“Never mind that," I said; “I am come
to see how my work is going on. How is
the arm, first of all?”
I bad almost wished that Mother Renouf
or Sun inne Tardif had been at hand. But
Miss OH.vier seemed perfectly composed,
as much so os a child. She looked like oue
with her ciopped hair and frank, opeu face.
My own momentary embarrassment passed
away, The asm was going on all right, and
*o was Mother Renouf a charge, the sprained
aekle.
*rt e must take care yo; are not luiue,” 1
•aid, while I was feeling carefully the com
plicated joint of her inkle. ”
“Lama!” she repeated, in an alarmed
voice; “is there any fear of that?"
‘Not much," I answered, “but we must
be careful, mam’zelle. You must promise
me not to set yoar foot on the ground, or
in any way real your weight upon it, till I
give yon leave. ”
"That means that you will have to come
to see me again, ” she said; “is it not very
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 qnestioningly.
“May I speak to you with great plainness,
Doctor Martin?" she asked.
“Speak precisely what is ia yoar mind at
this moment, ” I replied.
“You are very, very good to me," she
said, holding out her hands to me; ‘bnt 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 yon were here.
So please do not visit me oftener than if
quite necessary.”
My face felt hot, bnt I scarcely knew
what to say. I bungled out an answer.
“1 would not take any money from yon,
and I shall come to see you as often as 7
can."
I bound up her little foot again withov
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. T<
see that yonr 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 jiou 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. This
seemed to be an opening to a complete con
fidence between us. Now I came to think
of it, fortune bad favored me in thus
throwing us together alone.
I lifted the light, small box very easily
there could not be many treasure’s in it—
and carried it back to her. She took a key
out of her pocket and unlocked it with
some difficulty, bnt 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 bine silk dress and sealskin jacket
and hat I lifted them out for her, and
after them a pair of velvet slippers, soiled,
as if they had been through muddy roads.
( did not utter a remark. Beneath these
'av a handsome watch and chain, a fine
liamond ring, and five 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
white hand, and she turned them over, one
ifter another, with a pitiful look on hei
lace. 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 my hair v ”
“Why?” I asked, looking at her fingers
running through the short curls we had
left her.
“Because that ought to he sold for some
thing," she Baid. “I am almost glad you
had it cut off. My hairdresser told me
ance 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
about her anxiety to pay me.
“Tardif has it," I said; “but of course he
will give it you back again. Shall I sell it
for you, mam’zelle?"
“Oh. that is just what I could not ask
you!” 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 yeas,
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 you pay here?” I in
quired, for she had taken me so far into
counsel that I felt justified in asking that
question.
“A pound a week," she answered.
"A pound a week!" 1 repeated, in amaze
ment. “Does Tardif know that?"
“I don't think he does," she said. “When
I had been here a week 1 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 mnch to pay?’'
“Too mnch!" I said. “You should have
spoken to Tardif about it, my poor child."
“I could not talk to Tardif about his
mother," she nnswered. “Besides, it
would not have been too mnch if I had only
had plenty. But it has made me bo
anxious. I did not know whatever I should
ao when it was all gone. I do not know
now."
Hsre wns a capital opening fora question
abont 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 nnswered, sor
rowfully. “If I had any do you supposa I
should be here?"
“I am one,” I said, “and Tardif is an-
Dther. ”
“Ah, new friends,” she repiied; “but I
mean real old friends who have known you
ill your life, like your mother. Doctor Mar
tin. or your cousin Julia. I want some
body to go to who knows all abont me. and
say to them, after telling them everything,
keeping nothing back at all, ’Have I dene
light? What olse ought I to have done?’
No new friend could answer questions liko
those.”
Wns there any Tcason I could bring for
ward to increase her confidence in me? I
thought there was, and her fiiendlessness
and helplessness touched me to the core of
my heart. Vet 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
possible I might answer those uuesiions, if
yon could prevail upon yourself to tell me
the circumstances of your former life. In
a few weeks I shall be in a position to show
you more friendship than 1 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 “I knew it,” she answered, half shyly.
“Tardif told me you were going to marry
your cousin Julia.”
Just then wo heard the foldyard gate
swing to behind someone wno was coining
to the honse.
CHAPTER XIY.
ONE IN A THOUSAND.
I had altogether forgotten that Captain
Carey's yacht was waiting for me off the
little bay below, and I sprang quickly to
the door in the dread that he had followed
me.
It was an immense relief to see only
Tardif’s tall figure bending under his creel
ftnn nets, and crossing the yatd slowly. I
hailed him and he quickened his pace, hi*
honest features lighting up at the sight
of me.
“How do yon find mam’zelle, Doctor?"
were his first eager words.
I “All right,” Isa "going on famously,
Sark is enough to cure any one nnd uny
thing of itself. Tardif. There is no ail
like it. 1 should not mind being a little ill
here myself."
"Captain Carey is impatient to be gone,”
he continued. "He s-ut word by me tbit
GEORGIA HOME JOURNAL: GREENESBORO. FRIDAY. JUNE 4. 1586.--EIGHT PAGES.
you might be visiting every house in the
island, you had been away so long."
“Not so very long.” I said, testily; "bnt
I will just run in and say good-by, and
then I want yon to walk with me to thj
cliff.”
I turned back for a last look and a last
word. No chance of learning her secret
now. Tbe picture was as perfect as when
I had had tbs first glimpse of it, only hei
face bad grown, if possible, more charming
after my renewed scrutiny of it
There are faces that grow upon yon th<
longer and the oftener you look upon them
faces that seem to have a veil over them
which melts sway like the (hin, fine mist ol
the morning upon the cliffs, nntil they
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 matter
of business.
"To be sure,” I answered. "I shall dis
pose of it to advantage, bnt 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 tbe last word, for I was com
pelled to hurry 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 havs
cut off my hand rather than it had been
so. Poor little mam'zelle! Poor old moth
er! She is growing old, sir, and old people
pre greedy. The fall of the year is dark
and cold and gives nothing, bnt takes away
all it can aDd hoards it for tbe yonng 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 am
troubled, troubled about mam’zelle. To
think she has been fretting all the wintei
about this, when I was trying to find oat
bow 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
roice. I’ll put it all right with mam’zelle,
sir, and with my por old mother, too. I
sm 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 oannot say yes to that. The
pretty bright curls! If anybody is to buy
thorn, I will. Yes, Doctor, that is famous.
She wishes you to Bell her hair? Very
good; I will buy it; it must be mino. I
have more money than you think, perhaps.
I will buy mam’zelle’s pretty curls, an<|
she shall have the money, and then thorn
prill be more than five pounds in her little
purse. Tell me how much they will be l
Ten pounds? Fifteen? Twenty?”
“Nonsense,.Tardif,” I answered; “keep
sne of them if you like, but I must have
the rest. We will settle it between us."
“No, Doctor," he said: “your oousin will
not like that. You are going to be married
soon; it would not do for you to keep
mam’zclle’s curls."
It was said with so much simplicity anh
sood-henrtedness that I felt ashamed of a
rising feeling of resentment, and parted
with him cordially. In a few minute*
ifterward I was on board tbe yacht, and
atighing at Captain Carey’s reproaches.
Tardif was sli.l visible on tbe edge of ths
riiff, watching our departure.
“That is as good a fellow as ever
breathed," said Captain Care.v, waving his
sap to him.
“I know it better than you do,” I replied.
“And how is the young woman?' he
asked.
“Going on as well as a broken arm and a
sprained ankle can do,” I answered.
“You will want to come again, Martin,"
he said; “when are wo to have anotlui
day?”
r 'Well_ I shall hear how she is every now
and then,” Tanswered; “it takes too long
a time to come 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
impatience for Miss Ollivier'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. Tar Jlf tel.
me It was quite a mistake his mother taking,
a sovereign from mo each week. She does
not understand English money; and he says
I hare paid quite sufficient to stay with them
s whole year longer without paying anr
more. lam quite content about thut now.
Tardif says, too, that he has a lricnd In
Southampton who will buy my hair and give
me more than anybody in Guernsey. So I
need not trouble you about It, though 1 am
jure you would havo dono It for me.
1 have not put my loot to tbe ground yet,
but yesterday Tardif carried me all the way
down to his boat, and took me out for a litii*
sail under the befcuttful cliffs, where w
could look up ands o all those strange carv
ings upon the rocks. I thought that perhapi
thero wore things written there that wt
should like to read. Sometimes In the ski
there are tine faint lines across the blue
which look like written sentences. If om
could only moko them out. Hero they an
on the rocks, but every tide washes then
away, leav.ng fresh ones. Perhaps they art
messages to me, answers to those question!
that 1 cannot answer myself.
Good-by, my good Doctor. I am trying to
do everything you told tno exactly, and I
am getting well agatn fast. Ido not believe
J shall bo lame: you are too clovor for that
Your patient Olivia.
Olivia! I looked at the word again to
make sure of it. Then it was not her sur
name (hat was Ollivier, and I was still ig
norant of that. I saw in a moment hou
the mistake had arisen, and how innocent
she was o; any deception in the matter.
She wonxl tell Tardif that her name was
Olivia, and ho thought only of the Olliv
ievs ho knew. It was n mistake that had
been of use in checking curiosity, am l 1
did uot feel bound to put it right. My
mother and Julia appeared to have forgot
ten my patient in Sark altogether.
Olivi i! 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 ml
rude schoo boy days. I wondered ho\
high Olivia would stand beside me. for 1
had never seen her on her feet. Julia was
not two inches shorter than myself—a ta l,
stiff figure, neither slender enough to be
nor well-proportioned enough to
be ma estic. Bnt she wns very good, nat
her price was far above rubies.
According to the wise man it was a diffi
cult task to find a virtuous worn in.
It was a quiet timo iu the afternoon, and,
in order to verify my recollection of tu
wise man's saying, which was a little cloudy
in my memory, 1 searched through Ju’.ia'i
Bible for it.
“Whutnroyon rending, Martin?” as’rec
my father, who had just come iu, anil wai
painfullv fitting o.i a pair of new and very
t'ght kid gloves. I read the passage aloud
without comment.
“Very good!" he remarked, chuckling,
“upon my word! I did uot know there was
anything ns rich ns that iu th: old boon
Who says it. Martin? A vary wise prenchei
he was, and knew what lie was tnlkirj
about. Had seen life, eh? It’s ns true as—
as —as the gospel."
I could not help laughing at the eompar
ison he was forced to, yet I felt angty with
him and myself.
“What do yon sny about my mother and
Julia, nr?" I asked.
He chuckled again cynically, examining
with care a spot on the palm of one of his
gloves. “Hi! ha! my sou"—l hated to
hear him sty “my son"—“I will answer
you in the words of another wise man:
’Most virtuous women, Ike hidden trens
urea, are secure because nobody seeks after
them.’ "
ho saying he turned out of the room
swiu-.ing his guld-hended eauo jauntily be
tween his fingers.
I visited hark again iu about teu days, to
set Oh* iu free from ui.v embargo upon tor
walking. I allowed her to walk a little way
along a smooth meadow path, Inuring on
my arm, and 1 fouud (hut she was a ho-'-d
lower than myself— s beentiful height for
a woman. That time Captain Carey had
set me down at the Havre Gosselin. ap
pointing to meet roe at the Crenx Haibor.
which was exactly on the opposi-e side cf
i the island. In crossing over to it—a dis
tance of rather more than a m le—l cn
i countered Julia's friends, Emma and Marij
Bronard.
“Yon here again, Martin!” exclaimed
Emma.
“Yes," I answered; “Captain Carey set
, me down at the Havre Gosselin, and is
; gone ronnd to meet me at the Creux."
“You have been to see that young per
son?” asked Maria.
“Yes,” I replied.
“She is a very singular yonng woman,"
she continued; “we think her stupid. We
cannot make anything of her. But there
is no doubt Tardif means to marry her.”
“Nonsense!" I ejaculated, hotly; “I beg
your pardon, Maria, bnt 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 Reuouf who says he
worships the ground she treads upon. You
; know he holds a very good position in the
, island, and he is a great favorite with tbe
! Seigneur. There are dozens of girls of
his own class in Guernsey and Alderney,
to say nothing of Sark, who wjould be only
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
yonng person may be; it looks odd on the
faoe of 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 Olivia!
That was an absurd, preposterous notion,
indeed.
Was it possible 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 imagme.
I had half an hour to wait in the little
harbor, its great cliffs rising aii abont 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 yacht came in sight.
[TO BB OONTINUBD.]
Art in the Dining 1 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, howeyer, an interior of a slaughter
house, und-i" full sail, and an interior of
• Chicago packing house in executive
session should be added. And for a
cosy breakfast room 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 ablaut, I saw
a man come over that hill by the ceme
tery, and come down across the slope
toward the lear of the Confederate lines.
His 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 oat of him. I took aim and landed a
shot about six feet from him. You ought
to have seen him git up and git. He
was the scariest 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 are the man that fired that
shot, are you?” asked Griffin.
“Yes; do you know anvthing 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 Yankee 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."
One Scow-Load.
An amusing story is told of the way
in which Wm. H. Vanderbilt once over
reached his father, the commodore.
William wanted manure from the Fourth
\ venue car stables for bis Staten Island
farm, and asked his father what lie
would charge tor ten loads. “What’l!
you give ?” asked the commodore. “It’-
worth $4 a load to me,” sail the farmer.
“G.iod enough, I’ll let you have ir. tor
that,” answered the railroad man. hav
ing a decided impression that the price
was nt least twice as much as iho stuff
was worth. Next day he found his
rustic non with a cow just loaded for
home. “How many loads have you got
"a that scow, Billy?’ asked the commo
dore in excellent humor. “M mauv?”
repented the son, feigning surprise, “one.
of cour-e.” "Oue ! why there’s i> lea-t
thirty,” the old gentleman exclaimed,
insiecting it curiously. “N >, father,
never put but one load on a scow—one
-ciw-ioad! Cast off the lines. Put!”
She Wished to Keep Hi in.
“Darling, I rise to a question of privi
lege,” raid George, as he left his seat and
approached Miranda’s chair.
“Not to-night, George,” and she shrunk
back from him.
“Ah, Miranda, do not say those cruel
words. Give me but one kiss!”
‘•Reflect, George—oh, reflect. I would
save you from an awful experience.”
“Darling. I cannot accept your .oble
sacrifice. Why not to-night?”
“If I yielded, it would drive you from
my side forever. No, George, no," and
the gold in her front teeth glistened, as
the whispered with intense dramatic ef
fect, “I te onions to-night at the curfew
hour. Tut Bite.
A CONSCIENCE FUNI>.
HOW IT 18 ADDED TO BY PENI
TENT ROBBERS.
A Source of Considerable Income-
Some Carious Instances of
the Restitution of Money
by Unknown Purloiners.
In the vaults of the Uuited States
treasury at Washington there is the sum
of $220,746.26 which is entered upon the
bonks of the treasurer as “Miscellaneous
recefcits from persons unknown,” and
which sum constitutes what is known as
the “Conscience Fund,” as it }s supposed
to come from people who have at some
time defrauded the government, and who
wish to make restitution by refunding
the amounts of their peculations.
“This conscience fund,” said a treas
ury official, “has been steadily increas
ing for sixty years, until now it reaches
the enormous sum of nearly a quarter of
a million dollars. The first money of
the kind rereived at the treasury was
S3BO, received in 1827, from an unknown
person who explained in his letter that
ne was refunding for some customs
that he had once defrauded the govern
ment of. Since that time remittances
of all amounts, ranging from eight
cents to $2,500 have been coming in.
They come from all over the country,
and even from foreign lands. A letter
was received not long ago from a fellow
out in the Sandwhh Islands enclosing
$87.50, which, he explained, was the
proceeds of the sale of some old brass he
had stolen from an American man-of-war
several years previous at the Mare Island
navy yard. The recollection of his crime
worried him until he had to refund to
ease his conscience.
“A great deal of this money is
ceived from priests and ministers, who
write that some sinner in their parish re
quested them to send it in. During the
small-pox epidemic in Canada a catho
lic priest in Quebec sent us a draft for
SOO which a dying Canadian had given
him, confessing to have stolen that
amount from the United States govern
ment, but not giving the details. Fre
quently nothing accompanies the remit
tance to indicate what it is for, but gen
erally a line or two of explanation is
given. Not long since wo received a
letter containing an old and creased $lO
bill with a note as follows:
“Gbidley, Georgy, February i.
‘•Mister tresury pleas take this ten dolers
it is all I have got and I have had it a long
time but I don't want it no more, for my
old man said as how he had stole a mule from
the yankees just after the surrender and as
how he reckin it mite be stealin for the war
was done over with and he did not have any
rite to take nothin from the yankees no more
and so I don't want no stealin in my family
and I reckin the mule warnt wut'r more than
ten dolars for it war a spavined old critter
anyway and I ain’t got no more money your
umble servint “Ann Gray Higgs.
“P. S.—My old man died last week.
“There was a case of true conscien
tiousness. Another time we received a
letter containing four two-cent stamps,
but not a line of explanation. This, I
believe, is the smallest contribution ever
sent in. Another letter, postmarked at
Kansas City, was received enclosing ten
$5 bills, with a note saying: ‘This money
belongs to the government. ’ A fellow
out in Missouri sent in s2l, with the ex
planation that he had broken into a post
office in New York State some years pre
vious and stolen that amount, but hav
ing since joined the Methodist church he
felt that he could not be forgiven for his
sin until he returned the money.
Two letters were received from men
who said they had been quartermasters
in the United States army during the
war and had defrauded the government.
One of them remitted the amount of his
peculations, with interest at 6 per cent,
for twenty years. A bookkeeper in some
wholesale house in New York wrote that
in making out a bill for some supplies
furnished the government, he had by
mistake overcharged SOO, and, not wish
ing to acknowledge his error for fear of
being discharged, he wanted to pay back
the money.
“In January we received an official
envelope postmarked at New York, and
containing $2,500 in bills, one of SI,OOO,
two of SSOO and live of SIOO. They
were all cut in two, with a small piece
cut from the center, and the word
‘canceled’ written across the face. A
note enclosed ran thus:
“‘Here are $2,500 in United States
bills, mutilated so as to insure the govern
ment’s getting the money. Whatsoever
am m sows that shall he reap. I have
sowed the wind and am reaping the
whirlwind. This is next to the final
payment due, God grant me speedy re
lease.’ r ...
“We had received SSOO from New
York shoitly before, and circumstances
connected with the two remittances in
dicated that they were both from the
same party.
“There is a talc connected with a con
science item of SSOO we once received.
A gentleman down in New Orleans wrote,
enclosing a check for SSOO, with the fol
lowing explanation: He said that up to a
few weeks previous there had lived an old
man at the mouth of Calcasieu pass in
Mississippi, who was reported to be a
smuggler. He lived in a miserable hut
near the beach, and was ostensibly a fish
erman. This gentleman who sent the
money, and whom we will call Smith,
was out ducking one day, and, a severe
storm coming up, he sought refuge in the
old fisherman's hut. He found the old
man very sick- in fact, dying. Smith
stayed with him all that night, and about
daylight the old man died, having made
Smith swear that he would send SSOO in
bills, which he would find secreted be
hind a board in the wall, to the United
States treasury. The old man said that
a year before, while going out to his
nets one morning, he found a drowned
man's body washed up on Calcasieu bar,
and in a leather wallet on the man’s per
son were these bills. Some papers showed
the man to have been an officer in the
United States navy. The o’d man buried
the body and appropriated the money,
but would never use it. Smith kept his
word and send the money in.
“One man sent in a SIOO bill with a
most contrite letter brimful of remor. •
and repentance. The bill was found to
be counterfeit.” —New York San.
Vaccination for Consumption.
The chief disease of temperate climates
being consumption, any means which
will check its ravages must be hailed
wi:h joy and gratitude by a largo part of
tlie human race. In France is now pro
jicled an experimental inquiry into the
possibility of finding some method of
attem a ing the supposed virus of con- i
sump i m so as to make inoculation
therewith practically useful against the i
disease, either as a preventive measure, I
like vacrinnntion against small-pox, or |
os a means of cure like Pasteur's innoru
iat ion in hydrophobia. Although the |
chances of success are remote, the inves |
ligation is approved by eminent scien
tide men, and a considerable sum has 1
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS. *
eMIMHfXBfiSOH & CO.,
BROAD AND THOMAS STS., ATHENS, GA.
ZDEAXjTTFgS I2>T
itNtMi mmm,
CvLtlei3r, C3-Tj.rLS, Pistols, Etc-
Have a large stock suitable for the trade of Middle Georgia, and
invite an inspection by visitors to Athens and orders by mail from a
parties elsewhere. mchl9 r
D. C. BACON, President. m. F. AMOROUS, Gcn’l Manager.
HUM 818 (Ml,
mm &B&HM.
KILN DRY, DRESSED AND MATCHED
FLOORING
CEILING, SHINGLES AND LATHS. *
B®_WRITE FOR PRICES. The best and cheapest. Yards
Humphries and E. T. V. & Ga. R. R.
OFFICE *tS S3T.
ATLANTA: GEORGIA.
MILBURN WAGON CO.,
39. 41 and 43 Decatur Street, ATLANTA, GA-
THE LARGEST STOCK OF
Carriages. Phaetons, Buggies, Farm and Spring
WAGONS in the South will be found at their warerooms. Call and Bee them before
buying. The best goods are always the cheapest. It is not necessary to break into a
penitentiary' to get to work on our goods.
H. L. ATWATER. Manager.
ALFRED BAKER, President. JOSEPH S. BEAN, Cashier.
Augusta Savings Bank \
811 Broad Street, Augusta, Georgia.
CASH ASSETS $300,000.00 | SURPLUS $50,000.00-
Transacts a general deposit and discount business and allows interest on deposits of
on'favoraWe^eVnis t iOUSaDd dollarß- Accountß of banks, bankers and merchants received
SPECIAL ATTENTION GIVEN TO COLLECTIONS.
We always have money on hand to loan, and afford special accommodations to our
customers. We buy and sell Bonds and Stocks, and are always happy to give information.
DHtECTORS: -Alfred Baker, James A. Loflin, William Sellweigert, E. R. Scboeide!
BredMber? JOSCPh S ' BcaD ’ W ‘ B- Youßg ’ Eugenc J - O’Connor, Jules Rival, J.l
mch2B
PREMIUM TINWARE.
BUY NO OTHER !
Look for Stamp.
Don’t buy shoddy machine made Tinware when you can get a first clan* article
Our Tinware is for sale by country dealers generally. Send for prices on Stoves anck
Everything m Our Line. We keep a magnificent stoc-k and our priees are low
<Sc TOITSS, Athena, Q-a.
COMPLETE OUTFITS OpIIACHINERY l
FURNISHED AT MANUFACTURERS’ LOWEST PRICES.
| | For Planing Mills, Furniture, Sash, Door
; Blind, Chair, Coffin, Box, Spoke and Handle
lOr (other Vsood Work. Also Circular Saws” FreneS
I Band Saws, Scroll Saws, Saw Mandrels. Plan
jing and Watchman Glocks,
jand before offered? Pre^
iall kinds of Metal and Wood *° r
THE COST OF GEM WIRE PICKET FENCE:
No. Ito No. 6.—Pickets undressed, dressed or fancy, full 4x2x4 ft., three to the foot *
free from flaws or knots, pointed and painted, closely woven, with 10 No. 12 galvanized
steel wires, put up in rolls of 100 feet, each from $5 to sl4. Discounts on large orders.
Price of Complete Outfit for making this fence ONLY $125. for we furnish 1 GKM
FENCE LOOM, WIRE CUTTERS. 1 PICKET POINTER and FKNCESTRETCHEEL
The only perfect fence loom on the market, and is fully patented. We protect Purcha
sers and Agents in their territory, pay them a liberal commission on any maohines or
forme they may sell for us, and make no charge for farm or city and county rights. All
orders for Fencing or Machines filled promptly.
J. P. HODGE & CO., Southern Agents.
mchlO 47 and 49 South Bread St., ATLANTA, GA.
THEO. MARKWALTER
Steam Marble and Granite Works.
Broad St., near Lower Market, Augusta, Ca.
MONUMENTS, TOMBSTONE^
AND MARBLEWORK GENERALLY, mode to otd.r. A lore .!
lection always on band ready for delivery. Iron fencing for cravevard
lots for attic. " 3
Every Piece Stamped
and Warranted.