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HANCOCK, GRAHAM & REIXiI,Y»
Volume 18.
AidaElv 13 P0UTI0S 5ESS3AL ^ m5 - Qn5E ? SNDSHT m TmGS-
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Professional-Cards.
. IJIS A. HAWKINS. ,-nuSK X. BURKE.
HAWKINS & BURKE.
attorneys a t la aw,
Americas, Georgi;.
Jno. D. CARTER.
Am USSY FT UW,
Americas, Georgia.
o'Sc. in Ain< ricua Hotel buildiu;;, corner ot
;.u»r ami (.'..liege streets. may 18 tf.
C. T. GOODE,
Attorney at Law
AM mucus, GEORGIA.
trOflicc over W. T. Davenport’#Drugstore.
JACK BROWN,
A. ttornoy at Law,
ameiucus, ga.
*■. Ol io- in Court llouso with Judge Stan*
feb 1G tf.
M. A. SMITH,
Attorn oy at Xj a w,
W ILL practice in the Courts of Sumter and
a Ij...;.i.. K Counties, and iu Circuit Court of
t»-Oil. < <>:i Col'egi-street, next to llepubii-
vi .me.. feb 25 It.
SAM LUMPKIN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Some One's Servant liirL
She stood there leaning wearily
Against the window frame ;
Her face was patient, sad and sweet,
Her garments coarse and plain.
“Who is she, pray ?” 1 asked a friend;
The zed lips gave a curl—
Really I don’t know her name ;
She’s some one’s servant girL ”
Again I saw her on the street,
With the harden trudge along ;
Her face was sweet and patient still,
Amid the jostling throng;
Slowly bat cheerfully she moved,
Guarding.with watchful care
A market basket much too large
For her Blight hand to bear.
A man, I’d thought a gentleman,
Went pushing rudely by,
Sweeping the basket from her hands,
But turning not his eye ;
For there ww no necessity
Amid that busy whirl
For him to be a gentleman
To some one’s servant girl.
Ah ! well it is that God above
Looks in upon the heart,
And never judges any one
By just the outer part.
For if the soul be pure and good
He will not mind the rest,
Nor question what the garments were
In which the form was dressed.
And muuv u man, uud woman fair.
By fortune reured and fed,
Who will not mingle hero below
With those who earn their bread,
When they have passed away from life,
Beyond the gates of pearl,
Will meet before their Father’s throne
With many a servant girl.
M Isccllant
AMEIUCUS GA.
Dr. Win. A. Groci
HAWKINS & GTJERRY,
Attorneys-at-Law,
Oft r their profcaioiiil Her vices to <Iie public.
Vc:l .Miitnmc to practice ill Suuiter and adjoin-
i ciuatii., aiuliii Uuitcd States Circuit and
lv-inc: Courts at havanosk. Particular atten-
!l h’l'ca t.> collection#. Office—corner College
;:. i Lunar *trpets. over Gran berry A Co’#.
Phillip Cook,
Attorney at Law,
AMERtCUS. GEORGIA.
W ILL practice in the Couuties of Macon,
Snniter. he. Wclmter. Xehlev mil I)<v>!v.
DR. D. P- HOLLOWAY
DENTIST.
DR. WILLIAM A. GREENE,
AMKB1COS, GEORGIA '
fJONTlN'VE.8 to nerve hi# friend# or America#
v stiiiMirioun.Iingc-ouutry in ail the depart*
‘ " U1 ° r “" 1 profeesion. aprlti-ly
Dr. J. B. HINKLE
W°> , a 8 a ’ n tender hi# service# (in all the
'’^nebes of the Profoaaion) to the good
I. , . ,m ncn8 a,,( l Sumter count!, ana #o-
f the liberal patronagi-
fc bofi
tg Store o
E. J.
MEDICAL card.
Roraownl.
TV 1 , TROMAS E. smith vontl inform bit
, and l l*e public generally, that be
l'niwi • °'T' , >1 ^ co to the room over B. A
jr.i./vi'u. J OI1,tcl i"ticry eatabliahment. En
It fl' i n f, 10 Masonic Ilall. \Vhwo he wil'
, .1 ‘ Luice. unless absent on profe#-
i * 8( *Lcita hi# old friend# and the
.‘ "7 wI Kenerally to call on him, promising t
S St! y caat5 Ut th ® bei,t ot “ i- abdit y-
Dr. S. B. HAWKINS.
]jjv OFFICE at Dr. Eldridge’s Drug Store.
lies near the Methodist Cl
rviecs 1 again tender the g
• aud country generally.
The Music of the Sea-
Centuries of vanished time,
Since this glad earth's primeval morn,
Have heard the grand unpatislng chime.
Momently new-born.
Like as in cloistered pile#
Rich bursts of massive sounds upswell,
Ringing along dim-lighted aialcs
With n spirit-trancing spell.
So on the surf-white strand
Chants of deep peal the sea-waves raise,
Like voices from a viewless land
Hyming n hymn of praise.
By times in thunder notes
The booming billows shoreward surge;
By times a silver laugh it floats.
By times a low soft dirge.
Souls more ennobled grow,
Listing the worldly anthem rise:
Discords are drowned in the greal How
Of Nature?# harmonies.
Men change, and “cease to be,”
And empires rise, and grow, and fall; ‘
But the weird music of the sea
Lives, and outlives them all.
The mystic song shall last
Till time Itself no more shall be;
Till seas and shores have pass'd
Lost in eternity.
Ones a Week.
Trip Lightly
Trip lightly over trouble
Trip lightly over wrong,
We only make grief double
By dwelling on it long.
Why clasp woe's hand so tightly?
Why sigh o’er blossoms dead?
Why cling to forms unsightly ?
Why seek not joy instead.
Trip lightly over sorrow,
Though the day be dark
The sun may shine to-morrow.
And gaily sing the lark;
Fair hope has not departed.
Though roses may have fled;
Then never be down-hearted.
But look for joy instead.
Trip lightly over sadness,
Stand not to rail at doom,
We’re pearls to string of gladness
On this side of the tomb
While stars are nightly shining,
Ami heaven is overheard, ' *
Encourage not repining.
But look for joy instead.
No More Crying.
I ur upon my hod and dreamed • dream
Time and ita conflicts had, raethought, long
Been numbered with the past: nothing
not
Notice.
T'lL District Court for Webster county will be
* ***“» on the Hkco.vp Monday in every month
,<r the third Monday in May.
J. E. BLOUNT,
‘P 21 tf
'. d. c. 12th Dial.
'• MCLlloaUN. W. r. BVBT.
McLaughlin & Burt,
SZBNTPZSTSo
AMEIUCUS, GEORGIA.
(F, iC t oi; Lamar Street, ovor C. W. Felder
. * Bon# store. Patronage solicited. Prices
"*Hiiiable. Tern# CASH. aySffin lm*
'j'-*.
BROWN HOUSE,
1 '-f Passenger Depot, Macon, Ga.,
W. F. BROWN & CO.,
Proprietors.
To the Citizens of Americas.
I s . r " n aiders lion of the dnllnesa of the times, I
date reduced my price*, far
I I 1 *. Bwrtow Houii.«ntn2cs by
But haBelujas from the universe;
Our Father's will was done; III# kingdom
Earth was a nursery for heaven. When, lo!
Among the mingled ranks of .saint# and se-
f* mpb# • • C* ■ . .i
Who stood before the throne, a short sharp
cry—
A short* sharp,, passionate cry—suddenly
* ■>- lWU\ <
One cry. and from the humblest of that
throng;
One little cry, and in a moment hushed.
But instantly the glorious tide of praise,
Which for long ages had flowed on and on
er deepning waves of crystal joy;
Was troubled. Angel on archangel looked
ted, abashed, appalled: saint gazed on
Incredulous; and quiekly through all world*
The sympathetic tidings spread dismay.
Wherefore ? Was heaven’s felicity so frail ?
Whence had that cry such terrors? Sin,
Feint, feeble, fugitive; but resl sin.
Had'Satan broken loose? Should evil cas
Again its dismal shadow ever food?
Angels MSNl W*sRef*"' 1 s'"®
Thunders began to rolL And with a shock
[ Yoke; and wiring lm«w It wm » 4mm,:
A feTerish nightmare dream, earth-born,
And one of hraven’s impossibilities.
DEATH WATCH.
BY FLO ItRNOE M’LAKDBUKGH.
'‘Didn’t you hear it ?”
j‘When ?”
'‘Just now.”
“No.”
“They say it foretell* death. Hush 1”
The two men sat uotionless. Not a
.sound broke the silence, not even a crack
of the old boards in the floor, or a sigh
of wind, or a flapping shutter.
“They say it foretells death. I heard
it last night and the night before.—
What’s that?” •
“Nothing. It’s stiller than a grave
yard.”
“I heard it last night and the night be
fore about this time, near one. ‘Tain’t
a very pleasant sound, and this old gar
ret’s dismal enough any way.”
’ “Monk, you’re afeard. It’s nothing.
Don’t waste no more' time. I’m dead-
tired and sleepy. You wouldn’t have
beon in this old hole now if it hadn’t
been for Peters.’i
-?“No, if it hadn’t been for Peters, the
strike, like enough, would have took.
But he won’t stand in nobody’s way
again.”
While Monk spoke, he drew out a
sharp, slender knife, and ran his finger
along the blade.
I tell yon, Shifiet, we must do it the
night after this blast’s done, and the
men in the shed say the coal will run
ont on the Gth, that’s to-morrow. When
Peters is fixed, the manager will have to
give in or quit runnin’ the furnace. ”
Both meu sat with their arms leaning
on the table, and the flickering light of
the tallow candle between them showed
two faces, rough, begrimuted by smoke
and soot, and disfigured by evil passions,
that grew fiercer aa they calmly plotted
against the life of a fellow-being
We’ll meet at one, where the roads
». It’ll be quiet, then, and Peters’
house is alone.”
I'll be all right,” said Shiilet, with a
grin that rendered his brute-like count
enance doubly repulsive. “I’m con
founded tired. Bring your candle and
light me down them infernal stairs.”
The men stood up. Monk, small aud
slim, was dwarfed by the a'most giant
staturo of his companion. With a few
parting words as to secrecy and silence,
they separated.
Monk stood on the upper step until
Shifiet disappeared, then closed the door
and replaced the candle on the table.
The room, neither largo nor small, was
mere hole, smoked, dirty, and nnplas-
tered, high up in a frame tenement
house. Two or three choirs, an old chest
of drawers, a rickety bedstead, and pine
table, composed its furniture. 'Some old
boots and broken pieces of pig-iron lay
scattered about. The small, box-shaped
window was set just below where the
ceiling or roof sloped to the wall. The
only door led directly to the stairs that
went down two, throe flights to the
ground. There were many such places
in Agatha, where, the furnace-heads
lived!
Monk walked’rapidly up and down the
room, as if making an effort to wear off
the excitement that the last few moments
had brought upon him. His features
had lost much of the malignant express-
which was by no means habitual.
Hir countenance was not baldened or
stamped with the impress of crime like
Shifiet’*, who had just parted from him
at the door—* countenance in which
every trace of conscience bad long ago
beeu eraced. Monk’s face was neither
good nor bad, neither bright nor dull;
but he was a man easily wrought into a
passion, goverened by impulse.
Crossing to the table, he slung his coat
over a chair, and stretched out his bond
to extinguish the light. Midway in the
action he suddenly checked himself,
looked horridly around the room for an
instant, and stood motionless, with in
clined head, listening intently. Not a
sonnd disturbed the stillness. Pinching
out the'light, he threw himself o
bed, and in the darkness there
came the heavy regular respiration of
sleep.
The houses at Agatha nestled under
the north cliff. A hundred feet above
them the railroad lost itself iu the black
mouth of a tunnel and reappeared beyond
a high wall of trestle work stretching
southward down the valley to Ely’
Mines. Hours ago, the toiling men and
cattle had laiu down to rest, and
wild, rocky hills around slept inutile,
moonlight No sound broke upon tin
stillness bat the muffled puff, puff,, of the
furnace, nnd a murmur of frogs that
and fell iuterruptedly along the shrunken
water-coarse. The cabins under the cliff
shone white and sharp; tho iron on the
metal-switch flashed with a million gems;
the rail* upon the treatle, recending;
turned to silver, and the foliage of early
summer glittered on tho trees. A few
passionless stars blinked feebly in the
yellow light, where the hill-topa cut
against the sky, and sank below the verge.
Calmly, peacefully waned the light -
calmly and peacefully, as though the
spirit of evil had not stalked abroad plot
ting the death and ruin of men’s bodies
and souls.
That narrow spot of ground, with the
3uses down iu the valley, formed the
world Sox foot hundred people. The
/unmee-bands-and their families saw
nothing beyond the -hill* and rocks that
their village; knew nothing
of the mad tumults outside. An un
taught, sturdy raoe of men, they differed
little 'from ono another. Every day
when the sun rose, they went forth to
toil, and every night, when the great
fnrnace over the creek glimmered red,
they lay down to sleep. But ignorance
and superstition filled their hearts, and
anger aud hate, and jealousy, were rife
among them as in the crowded cities.
CiKOliOlA. FRIDAY, JUNE ^
The long and narrow roof bu wee, I limp’s. MW more, never less, lmt seven | playeJ the organ
the sand-bed like the black
some monster bird hoverinj
Under its shadow groops of
but wavering, dusky figures. Suddenly,
as an electic flash, a dazzling yellow glare
broke out, and a fierce, scorching, with
ering blast swept from an opening that
seemed the month of hell itself. Slowly
ont of the burning cavern n hissing
stream of molten iron came creeping
down. It crawled, and turned and
crawled, rib after rib, until it lay like
some huge skeleton stretched upon the
ground. A thin vapor floated up in the
sulphurous air and quivered with re
flected splendor. Tho scarlet-shirted
men looked weired in the unearthly
brightness. Tho yellow glow faded to
read that deepened to a blood-colored
spot in the night. The Iteil rang to dis
charge the hands, and squads of men
broke up, scattering iu the dark.
Monk went to his garret-room, hesita
ted a moment at the door, then passed in
and shut it so violently that the floor
shook. lie struck a match. Iu the
brimstone light a horrible demon coun-
tenauco wavered, blue and ghastly ; but,
when the caudle flamed, it grew into
Monk’s face, covered by the black scowl
of rage that had disfigured it once before
—a rage that was freshly roused.
“If I’d lmd my knife. I’d have done it
just now, when I stumbled against him.
But he dies to-morrow night at—”
The words froze on his lips, nnd his
black, scowling face was suddenly over
spread by a strange pallor. He stood
motionless, as if chained to the floor, liis
eyes darted quickly about, and he seemed
to suspend his very’ breath.
A clear, distinct, clicking noun 1 occur
red at regular intervals for a minute, uud
left profound silence.
Monk raised his head.
“I’ts a sign of coming death. That’s
for Peters. There it is again !"
The strange sound, like a faint metalic
flick, repeated itstflf several times.
it ! I don’t like to hear the
thing. But there trill be a sudden
death.”
Time after time Monk heard at inter
vals the same faint sound, like the tick
ing of a watch for a minute, and it made
bis blood run cold. He found himself
listening to it with terror, aud
long silence always straining liis
catch it, tdways expecting, dreading its
repetition, until tho thiug grew more
horrible to him than a nightmare. Some
times he would full into a doze, and
wukeniug with a start, hear it, while cold
perspiration, broke iu drops on his fore
head.
Its intolerable. Ho swore he would
find the thing and kill it, but it mocked
him iu his search. The sound seemed
come from the table, but wheu he stood
beside tho table it ticked so distim
the window that he thought be could
put liis finger on the spot; but wheu In
tried to, it hud changed again, and
sounded at the head of his bed. Some
times it seemed close at his right, aud he
turned only to hear it on the other side,
theu iu front, then behind. Again and
again he searched, and swore in his ex
asperation and disappointment.
The sound became exaggerated by his
distempered imagination, till he trera
bled lest some one else should hear this
omen which so plainly foretold liis
ticipated crime. Once an hour dragged
by, and liis unseeu tormentor was silent.
His eyes that bad glittered with deadly
hatred, now wore a startled look and
wondered restlessly about the room.
•1, that perched on tho topmost
branch of a high tree near by, screamed
loud and long. “A bat flew iu at the open
window, banged against tho ceiling, nnd
darted out.
MoDk shivered. Leaning liis head be
tween his arm, ho drummed nervously
on the table with his fingers. Instantly
tho clear metalic click sounded agaiu.
He looked up, aud a strange light broke
into his face, a mixed expression of
amazement aud fright. For a momeut
lie seemwl stupified, then raising his
hand he tapped lightly against the wood
with his finger-nail. Tim last tup hud
not died until it was answered by what
ieemed like a fainter repetition of itself.
Uttering a fearful oath, Mouk recoiled
from the table, but, as if drawn back and
held by a weired fascination, he sat ai
hour striking the hard surface with lin
uail, aud pausing for the response that
each time came clear and distinct.
Gray streaks crept alony the east, aud
quivered like a faded fringe bordering
the black canopy. Still he. ;-at tapping,
bilt up answer came. He waited, listen-
ed vainly ; no echo, no sound, and the
lull, hueless light of the cloudy morning
glimmered at his window. Then he
threw himself on his bed aud fell
restless slumbeis,
A damp, thick fog enveloped the hous-
; in its slimy embrace. At nightfall its
reeking folds gathered themselves from
tliQ ground, and a noiseless dizzlc came
suddenly down.
Monk had not stirred from his room
all day. The feverish sleep into which
lift had fallen fled from him before noon,
and now be stood at his window looking
out into tho blackness. A clammy air
blew against his face. He stretched out
his hand and drew it back suddenly, as
if he had touched the dead. It was cold
and moist. He. rubbed it violently
against his clothes, us though he could
not wipe off the dampness.* A tremor
seized upon him. Hark! was that the
dripping of water ? No. A sickley
smile played over his countenance. He
went to the table and tapped lightly with
his fingers, as he had done before. In
another moment the taps were answered,
and ho involuntarily counted as they
'rnaee 1 „ PV er more never less, but seven 1 played me organ long ha, aud every- brace, and with a half smothered fare well
* "-o’, time' doariy, distinctly. SnOJcnl, he body, from tho king tojthe
in the “shmb n». end .W -» -*1^
qraug up, and
'"iWcnth day, t.r Hocve.1! Hut »7he teuton entered the church, he
and stiship—I’ll not kill him!”
half tin hour wdesaly down the stairs,
clearing, a dozSSfih woods. In
er’s cabin. Creeping™ °*
door ho shook if, then, chop-
irresolution, cried ont:
'Peters ! Peters 1 look out for Sit 8
He has sworn to murder you to-night.’
Without waiting for reply he sprang
vay, and was quickly lost among the
trees.
A moment afterward a tall form arose
out of tin* shadow of u. stump near tho
cabin, and passed rapidly in art opposite
direction.
At the summit of the hill east of
Agatha, a steep precipice is formed by a
great, bare, projecting rock. From the
valley, its outline resembles au enor
mous face in profile, nnd they call it
'The Devil’s head.” The frill moon
rendered the unbroken mass of cloud
transluceut, producing a peculiarly sinis
ter effect. The mist still blew through
ir, bnt in the zenith there was a dull
ashen hue, and the stirronndiug cloud
the color of earth. The far-off hills
loomed up majestic, terrible, against the
gloom; nearer objects were strangely
magnified '* iu tawny light. At the foot
of this phantom crag, on a terrace, is the
-hank aud blackened coal-shed. Be-
.• rose the metal stack; from whose
stone-hearth a waste of sand sloped gent-
ip to the creek. The furnace squatted
grim and black. Its blood-shot eye was
; its garping throat uttered no sigty,
roan : its throbbing pulse was stilled
—the tierce struggling monster was death
The only bright spot iu all the valley was
the yellow circle made by the watchman’s
lantern in the coal-shod.
After leaving the “choppings,” Mouk
readed his way through tho forest,
coming out at lost ou the open road.—
This road led directly over tho “Devil’s
Head,” and eutered the valley l»y a steep
descent half a mile to the south. At the
precipice Monk paused. The wiud ed
died with'a mournful wail, atnl the con
stant motion of tall trees gave the seeno
almost the wavering, unsubstantial ap
pearance of a vision. 'There was some
thing oppressive in this strange midnight
twilight, but Monk did not feel it. He
ouly felt relief, inexpressible relief ; ho
only stopped there to breathe, to breathe
freely opce more with the heavyweight
thrown ri'ocu him. After u moment ho
cfl*e!etMly down the-hill, passed uu-
tlie oar-curs and into the coal shed.
He then hailed,Patterson, the watchman,
1 the lantern throw gigantic shadows
of the two men over tho ground. Then
he walked along the narrow cindered-
road leading to the bridge over tho creek.
Sometimes the willows that grew on
either side, swept their damp hair against
face. Au hour ago ho would have
started convulsively, now he heeded not,
for he was free aud light of heart.
Monk reached the stairs, and ascended
.to his room. He passed in, the power
ful figure of Shifiet sprang upon him
from behind. There was a scuffle, some
muttered oaths, then a heavy fail. Monk
tretched upon the floor motionless,
lifeless, aud the echo of fleeing steps died
away, leaving the place still :is tho now
silent death-watch.—Appleton's Journal.
antmnger bitting at tUo crape-shrouded
organ. Hf tras a tall, graceful min,
with a pale, but strikingly handsome face
great black, melancholy eyes, and hair
like the raven’s wing tor gloss and co-or
sweeping in dark waves over Ins shoulder.
He did not seem to notice the sexton,
but went on playing, and such music os
irew from the instrument, no words
could describe. The astonished
have that the organ seemed
and sighed aib\ tuman __that it wailed
human heart were <»rcJ as if a tortured
pipes. v inR through its
Wheu tho music at length
sexton hastened to the stranger and the
e,” he replied; “I
TATTLERS.
Every community is cursed by the
presence of a class of people who make it
their business to attend to everybody'
affairs but tlieir own. Such people ar
the poorest specimens of humanity which
exists upon tho blighted earth. It
•11 known that almost every person
inetiaui disposed to speak evil of oth
i, and tattling is a siujram which very
.v can claim to be entirely exempt.
But the object of this present article is t<
speak of that distinct class of tattlers who
make tale bearing the constant business
of their lives. They pry iuto the private
affairs of every family iu the neighbor
hood ; they know tho exact state of
neighbor’s feelings towards another ;
they understand everybody’s faults, and
no blonder, unthongbted act or misde
meanor ever escapes their watchfulness.
They look for faults and find them aud
all good to escape their notice. They are
well posted on everything connected
with courtship and matrimony, and know
who aro going to marry whom, and can
guess the exact time by every movement
of parties suspected of matrimonial in
tentions aud, if there is tho slightest
cliauoe to create a disturbance, excite
jealously, “breaking up” a match, they
take advantage of it, and do all iu their
power to keep people in u state of con
stant vexation. They glide quietly from
gentleman to lady, from mother to
daughter, from father to sou, and ia the
of all they pour the bitter whis
perings of slauder and abuse, and nt
the same time, pretend to be the most
sincere friends of those they talk to. —
Their nauseous pills of slander aro sugar
coated with smiles and words of friend
ship .
Tattlers are confined to no particular
class, and they operate in all. Wo find
them among the rich and tho poor—
“upper tens’’ and the “loyer million,”
in tho Church aud out of it. They uro
people who have no higher ambition
than to bo well informed in regard to
other people’s private business, to retail
scandal to their neighbors, and to ex
ult in‘fiendish triumphs over the wound
ed feelings and bruised hearts of their
innocent victims.—Exchange.
J®“The garter most pleasing to the
eyo ia of blue velvet mounted with gold.
Do not ask my
have heard that you were m want ot au
t, and I have come here on trial.’
,’H be sure to get tho place,” ex
claimed the sexton. “Why, yon surpass
him that’s dead and gone.”
errate me, said the
stranger with a smile ; then tuj if disin
clined to conversation, ho turned from
old Hans, and began to play again, and
the music changed from a sorrowful
strain to a grand old ptean, and the mys
terious old organist.
Loo It. upward frill of grace,
l’laya still Ironi alxnppj place—
God’# glory binoto bim iu the face,
id bis countenance seemed not unlike
at of St. Michael, as portrayed by Gui-
1,0.“t in the melodics which swelled
arouml him, ho sat with his “far seeing”
eyes oil tho distant sky, u glimpse of
which he caught through an open win
dow, wheu there wits a stir about the
church door, and a royal party came
eping in. Among them might be
i a bright young girl, with a wealth
of golden liair, eyes like the violet’s hue
d lips like wild cherries. This was tho
incess Elizabeth, and all eyes were
rued towards her as she seated herself
the velvet cushion pew appropriated
the court. The mysterious organist
fixed his eye upon her aud went on play
ing. No soonor had the music reached
her ears than she started as if a ghost
had i rossed her path. Tho blood faded
from her crimson check, her lips quiver
ed, and her whole frame grew tremulous.
At last her eyes tuet those of the organist
in along yearning look, aud the melody
lost its joyous notes, and once more wail
ed aud sighed aud clamored.
“By faith,” whispered tho king
daughter, “this organist has a master
hand* Hark, ye, hr shall play nt your
wedding,”
The pale lips of the priuces parted, but
she could not speak—she was dumb with
grief. Like one in a painful dream she
saw tho pale mau at the orgau and
heard the melody which tilled tho vast
edifice. Ay, fully well she kuew who it
was and why the instrument seemed
breathing out the agony of a torlured
heart.
When the services were over and the
royal party had left the cathedral he
stole away us mysteriously as he had
come. He was not seen again by the
sexton till tho vesper hour, and then he
appeared in the organ loft audcommenc
ed his task. While he played a veiled
figure glided in, and knelt near a shrine.
There she remained until the worshipers
disappeared, when the sexton touched
her ou the shoulder aud said:
“Madame everybody has gone bat
,and yon, and I wish to close the door.’
“I am not ready to go yet,” was 1
reply; “leave me—leave me !”
Tho sexton drew back in a shady niche
and watched and listened, The mysteri
ous organist still kept his post, and his
head was bowed upon the instrument,
and could not see the lone devotee,
length she rose from the aisle, and z
ing to the organ loft paused beside the
organist*
“Bertram!” she murmured.
Quick as thought the orgaaist raised
his head. There with the light of a
lamp suspended to tho arch above, fall
ing upon her stood the princess,, who had
graced the royal pew that day. The
conrt dress of velvet, with its ermine
trimmings, the tiara; tho necklace, the
bracelets, had been exphsnged for a gray
serge robe and a ioug thick veil which
was now pushed back from the fair, girl
ish face.
“Why are you here, Bertram?” asked
the princes-si
“I come to bid you farewell; and as
dared not* venture into llic palace,
gained access to the cathedral by bribing
the bell riuger, uud having taken the
scat of the dead organist, let my music
breathe out the adieu I could not suffer
my lips to utter.
the ouly answer and
left her. . n
The next morning dawned in cloudless
splendor. At an early hour tho cathedral
was thrown open and the sexton began
to prepare for the wedding. Flame col
ored flowers nodded by the wayside-
flame colored leaves came dashing down
the trera end l«y in 1'eaps npon thc
ground; and tho ripe wheat a-aivedUto -
golden son, and berries drooped in re
and purple clusters oyer the rock along
UieRhino. Atlength the palace gates
wore opened and the rojal parly appear
ed. escorting the Princeea Eliiabeth to
tho cathedral, where the marriage —
solemnized. .
It was a bright pageant—far brighter
than thc entwined foliage and blossoms
wlero thc tnfls of phimra which floated
from stately heads and festal robes which
streamed doau oyer thc housings of the
.seeds. Bnt thepiinces mounted
wl ,. u ,r.,v palfrey, and clad iu snow
. ^ v -Ivel, looked pale and sad ; and
W _. n V*>cirinir tho charch, she heard
mm i° music, which though jubi
t H it \Vruck on her car like _
nneiru knofl, ed ond „ oaU
have fa Ice to the baa noU , Mg0
supported her. A ^ minlltes
wards she euterwl oat|waraL _
There, with his retinae, stoo..
groom, whom she had uever before a.
But her glunce roved from him to
organ loft, where 6lie had expected that
mysterious orgauist. He was gone, and
vas obliged to return tho graceful
bow of the king to whom she had beon
betrothed from mot.ves of policy. Me
chanically she knelt at his side on the al
tar stone mechanically listened to the
service and made the responses.
Then her husband drew her to him in'
a convulsive embrace, nnd whispered :
Elizubeth my queen my wife look
up.”
Trembling iu every limb, she obeyed.
Why do those eyes thrill her so ? MThy
did that smile bring a glow on her
cheeks ?
Ah? though the king wore tho royal
purple and many a jeweled order glitter
ed on his breast, he seemed the humble
person who had been employed to teach
orgau music, aud liad thought her the
lore of love.
“Elizabeth,” murmured the monarch,
“Bertram Hofftnar, the mysterioue or
gauist, and King Oscar, the Royal Free
Mason, aro one. Forgive my strntegem.
I wished to marry you, I would not drag
to the altar an unwilling bride. Your
father was in the secret.”
While tears of joy raiued from her
blue eyes, and the new made queen re
turned her husband’s fond. kijssns '.aud
for once two hearts were made happy by
a royal marriage.
Number 15.
Interesting Case of Con-^
' science.
In 1866 a merchant received through
the post office, .letter written in n dis
g,liw.1 hand, »» follows :
•* I owe the firm of— ; S-, who
• stole, aud tua nuzioua to pay. I hope
to tell yon of it personally, some day.- ■
Iu Ute meantime I will m** 1 J°u'on
dollars a weok, commencing the first
of July, till pnid; intereat nnd principal
will be two thousand dollars *
Do not try to diaoover me. I
.end one dollar now; if you accept pleese
advertise in the Ihrakl ‘ Personals,' and .
sign yonraelf e. Y. ft.
The merchant replied fts requested.
Every week, from that date, an envelop
received through the mails, enclosing
_ dollars, with no other writing bnt
the number of the payment was leoetvrf,
with the following lines written in the
same disguised band • .
“Two UITNDBBTH FAYMBNT. I send
two dollars more; it yon hara got them
all, plcaae advertisain the ifemfd ‘Per
sonals.’ II not. please advertise how
atany are lost, atnl I will aeud them.
The merchant replied: “The two
hundredth payment r»- received. All
right. Come aud see me, and your name
shall be sacredly confidential." A few
weeks after this, a young man met this
merchant ou tho sidewalk and tamled
him a oopy of tho New York OrM,
pointing ont the advertiaement .under
the bend of “Personals,” aud with a
trembling voice anid, “I am the person
who wronged yon while in your empley,
**:> have been making my weekly pay
ments you until I paid the debt,
which l hop«> *iod has forgiven.”
'i Never was my surprise greater,”
soy* the mettdisnt who communicates
ttyfe fact, “ thau to stand before the in
dividual, who had, for two hundred
weeks, without fail, paid me out of his
earniugs the amount he had taken from
me, and lie, one of whom I never had
the least, suspicion.”
Such an instance of continued stead
fastness of purpose and unostentation, is
evidence of true penitence and thorough
reform. It ohould be recorded as an ex
ample for every ono who has been guil
ty of this rin. It is proper to add that
thin young man is now iu a prosperous
business, enjoying tho confidence of his
fellow-men, and is a worthy member of a
Christian church. “ Blessed is he whose
transgression is forgiven, whose sin is
covereu.”
he continued;
‘Yon
to he married on tbe*mor*
r?”
es,” sobbed tho girl. “Oh ! Ber
tram, what a trial it will be to stand at
yonder altar, aud take npon me the vov
which will doom me to a living death.”
Think of me,” rejoined the organist.
Yotir royal father has requested me to
play at the wedding, and I have prorais-
> ho here.' If I wero your equal I
could be the bridegroom instead of the
organist; but a poor musician must give
you up.”
Tfc is like rending my sonl and body
asundor to part with you,” said the girl.
“To night I may tell you this—tell you
bow fondly I have loved you, but iu a
few hours it will be a sin 1 Go, go, • and
may God bless you. ”
A Nice Girl.
Though thnt class of girls is by no
means extinct, still they are not so nu
merous as might be wished. There is
nothing half so sweet in life, half so
beautiful or delightful, or so lovable as
a nice girl. Not a pretty or a dashing
girL Ono of those lovely, lively, good-
hearted, sweet-faced, amiable, neat natty
domestic creatures met within the sphere
of “home,” diffusing around, the influ
ence of goodness, like the essence of sweet
flowers.
A nice girl is not the laughing beauty
dawdling on a sofa, and discussing the
last novel or opera, or the giraffe-like
creature sweeping majestically through
the drawing room. The nice girl may
not even play or dance well, and knows
nothing about using her eyes or coquett
ing with a fan. She never languishes,
she is too active. She is not given to
sensation novels, she is too busy,
public she is not in front showing ber
shoulders ; she sits quiet and unobstru-
sive at the back of the crowd mast like
ly. In fact it is not often we discover
her. Home is her place.
Who rises betimes and superintends
the morning meal.* Who makes the
toasts and the tea, and buttons the boy’s
shirts, and waters the flowers, and feeds
the chickens, and brightens tip the par
lor and sitting room. Is it the langoish-
er, or the giraffe, or the “dements?”—
Not a bit of it-; it's the nice young
girl.
Her maiden toilette is- made
shortest possible time, yet how charm
ingly it is done, and how 1 elegant her
neat dress and coHar! Not presenting
her cheek or brow like “a tine girt,”
but an audible smock, which says plainly
“I love you ever so much. If you
covert anything, it’s one of the nice young
girl’s kisses.
Breakfast over, down in the kitchen to
see about dinner, and all day long she is
up and down, always cheerful ana light
hearted. She never ceases to be active
and useful until day is gone, when she
will polka with the boys, or read, sing
old sougs and play old tunes to her
father aud mother for hours together.—
She is a perfect treasure, is the nice girt.
Wheu sickness comes it is' she who at
tends with unwearying patience in the
sich chamber. There is no risk, no fati
gue that she will not undergo ; no sacri
fice that she. will not make. She is all
love, all de&tion. I have often thought
it would be happiness to br, ill, to be
watched by such loving eyes, and tended
by such a fair hand.
One of the most strongly marked ebar-
ifariuGrt.tt nf fk ntf*n mrl” is tiliinMii
acteristics of a “nicb girl” is tidiness
and simplicity of dreBs. She is invaria
bly associated in my mind with a high
frock, plain collar, and the neatest' of
ueck ribbons,, bonud with the most mod
est little brooch in the world. I never
knew a “ nice girl” who displayed a pro
fusion of rings and bracelets, or who
wore low dresses or a s.dendid bon
nek
I say again, there is nothing in' the
world half so beautiful, 1 half so Intrinsi
cally good as a “ nice girL” She is the
sweetest flower in the path of life. There
arc others far more etately, far more
Success in Life.
He who measures success iu life by
tho amount of money which he can ac
cumulate—not a dollar of which'con he
take to the other world—or by the earthly
honors bestowed on him—none of which
will avail him when he stands at the
Judgment Seat—makes as grievous a
mistake as he. who hoards'pyrites and
deems them pure gold. He is most suc
cessful in life who accomplishes most
of good to his fellow men, so that, at his
death, men will say, “He has not lived
n.” There are men living to-day,
poor and comparatively obscure, who, if
asked if they had met with success in
life, would unhesitatingly answer yea,
because the great ideas for the advance
ment of which they have labored, have
met with full fruition. Of these, the
early anti-slavery men of this country
furnish an excellent example. Many of
them are poor in this world’s goods;
most of them have seldom been heard of
in their own immediate neighbor
hoods ; yet their persistent agitation for
what they believe to be Bight, prevent
ed the utter poisoning of the nation’s
mind and conscience,* and to-day, though
many have met with the martyr's fate,
and otherls, like Moses, were only per
mitted to view the promised land, these
left of those faithful workers have tho
proud consciousness of knowing that our
waves over a free land. The Apos
tles aud the early followers of the des
pised Nazarene were poor and obscure;
yet who would exchange their crowns of
glory for my honors ever worn by fesith-
lypotentate? :ii
Hundreds of men have died in our
country, whose only aim seemed to be
the accumulation of money; and to-day
they are only remembered in the build
ings bearing their nanie*, which must
soon- crumble into dost, while snob
names as Watts, Stephenson, Franklin,
Fulton, and Flbronco Nightingale will
live as long os time lasts.
If yon would be suoeeatiMl' in life,
write your name in tetters of dove npon
the hearts of men, so that they shall say,
'We are better off for this man’s having
been bora. ”
CfcT“Bob, where’s the Stato of Mat
rimony ?” “It is one of the United States.
It is bounded by hugging and kissing 6n
one side aud cradles and babies on the
other. Its chief products are popula
tion, broomsticks and staying ont late
o’nights. It was discovered by Adam
aud Eye while trying to find a northwest
passage out of Paradise. The climate is
sultry till you pass the tropics of house
keeping, when sqnally weather common
ly sets in with such power as to keep all
hands as cool as cucumbers. For the
principal roads leading to this interest
ing State, consult the first pair of blue
eyes you run against.
Tk vdes—Statistics cay, teach your boy
a trade if you would kee^ him out of
State Prison. Of seventeen thousand
criminals in the penitentiaries of dif
ferent Slates in 1868, there were 97 per
cent, who had never learned a trade.
Boys give your parents no rest until they
allow you to learu a trade, for if yon do
not need it to live by how, the time may
como when yon will.
gorgeous, bat there wo merely admire ^Ma^WTcreaUy uredonhate
as we go by. It is where the daisy grows - —— °
that we lilt, to rest.
, j, I and bonnets.