THE BURGLAR’S BRAND.
lii thedead of the night a sharp sound
awakened Mrs. llaliiont. The room
wjs d.nk, not even a gleam of moon
or starlight fell through the curtains of
the windows. It was a very strange
sound, indeed, but she saw nothing,
heard nothing more.
She sat up, leaning on her dimpled
left elbow, and put out her right hand
and touched her husband's slmuN
der. He lay still, upon his pillow, fast
asleep, and did not awaken at her
‘lt must have been a dream,’ said
llahlont; and her young Inal—she
was only the bride of a year—n< stled
down again close to her husband’s arm
aud slept again.
1 his time the sound did not arouse
Mrs llaliiont. It was her husband
who awakened. He did not pause to
but grasped the revolver be
ceath lus pillow and jumped out ol bed
In an alcove of the next room stood
a safe which contained valuables. It
was not one 0 f those invincible safes
which defy lire and burglars, but an
old one that had been in the family for
a long while. Mi\ Halifont knew on
tlie instant that someone was opening
A man of courage, a mau who nev
‘r h° sl tatcd in the face of danger , one
too who had a warm regard lor his
worldly possessions—Mr. llaliiont
strode into the room where lie knew
house-breakers were at work, and
running in the dark against a powm *
•ul man, tackled him at once.
Ihe hght o( a lantern flashed across
room. There were two more men.
Tfrec against one.
le of blows, struggling and
re P° r t Bot a pistol, aroused the
* ' u "“ u a t once. Amid her terror
iL ( aJ the good sense to light the
k us - It shone upon a spectacle of hor-
Her husband weltering in ins own
0 Wre stliug with a gigantic man,
V u,Be Mature* were concealed by a
lu *k ot black crape ; a man, the up-
T part of whose body was clothed
°* i j in a knitted woollen shirt of some
ar colwr, with sleeves that left his
£ n arm bare. On the right one the
,ie which clutched Mr. Ilalilont’s
rent was a red mark 01 brand, a scan
inh-mark. would have been ini.
I 'swible for Mrs. Hahfont, even in a
° . m,, hicnt to tell what it was ; but
. 11 1 ellibly impressed itself upon her
Ull d, as she bravely cast herself into
e struggle and lought with all her
b 1 to drag the horrible hand from
w i> r ,' U^ au^6 throat, screaming all the
w mle for aid,
her a haye silenced
that—h 10 * >ur^ar ®ust hav2 knowu
tt there are uifmy very bad
ftflje Eastman aimes,
men who could not use violence to
ward a woman to save their own lives. 1
This man could not. His companions 1
had flown with their booty ; help might
[have arrived at any moment. With a
great effort he wrenched himself from
the clutch of his victim, and let go his
throat and sped away. It was n"t too j
soon. Assi*tauce arrived, now that it
was too late, but Mr. Halifont did not
live to tell the story. He was mortally
[wounded. His young wie watched
Iby his bedside until he breathed his
[last, then dropped beside it utterly
For weeks she raved in wild deliri*
lum of the murderous hand, of the
[great muscular arm with the scar up
|ou it, and called upon them all to save
[her husband's life ; but she was young
I and had a line constitution. After a
I while her health returned, and at last
[her mind regained its equipoise.
She removed Irom the city and took
| up her abode in a lonely country place,
|wi*h a favorite sister for a companion.
|She had resolved, as all widow* who
| have loved tlieir husbands do at first,
|to reman a widow forever. A-.d, in
[deed, thongn many men wou'd gladly
I , . . 1 . J •'CrtrtlWlUl
I |i vi> - •> .
I and wealthy to change her mind on
this point, she s-emed to c ire less for
any of them than tor the kitten which
purred up >n her kn e, or the little
black*and-tan which ran by her side
I along the garden paths. Shi; was 19
when her husband was murdered;
at 32 she was sti.l true to his mem*
Is any one forever utterly true to
another’s memory out of romance—any
one who does not die young? I tear
not. In this, the lapsing summer of
the , woman’s life, when she pretended
to believe that autumn had actually
come, temptation to inconstancy as
saulted her. For many years a fine
house on the neighboring estate had
been empty, but now there came to
take possession of it, a gentleman not
yet 40. A widower with plenty of
money and no children ; a handsome
man, well built and stalwart, with
magnificent black liar, and eyes that
were like black diamonds. Spanish ;
indeed, he called nimself a Spaniard,
and his speech betrayed a foreign ac
The dark eyes and the bine ones
met, a few ne ghborly words exchang
ed, a cali followed soon. Mrs. Halt font
felt anew emotion creeping into her
heart. She felt pleased and flatter *d
by this stranger's admiration. Then
she knew she was loved, and rejoiced ,
and so discovered that she herself loved
At first she was angry with herself ;
then she wept over her inconstancy,! ut
at last she yielded utterly. Alter all,
it was the 1 ve that made her untrue
Since she had she could never
pride herself on being faithful again,
and so she listened to the sweet words
that, despite herself, made her happy,
and promised to marry Colouel Hum**
When a widow does narry a secoud
time she generally contrives to make
a 100 l of herself.
Mrs. Ilalifont had certainly not done
as foolishly as some widows do. Site
had neither chosen a little boy nor a
titled Italian without money enough to
keep himself in macaroni. Her luture
husband, was older than herself, and
too rich to be suspected of being a tor
tune hunter ; but, after all no one
knew him. He came into the neigh*
borhood without letters of introduction
to any one, and whether he won his
fortune by trade or came to it byjn
hcritanee r> mained to all a myst ry.
There w< re those who siirugg and their
shoulders, and declared that Mrs. Hali
font would regret not having chosen
someone of whom more was known--
some retired merchant, some gentle
man ol fortune, whose father had been
known to her friends. Nothing, to be
sore, coul i be said against this Span
iard or Cuban, with the English
name; but who knew anything in bis
However, no one said to Mrs. Hali
fout, and if any one bad, w ords never
changed a woman's fancy yet. Mrs.
Halifont believed in Col. Humphries,
and meant to marry him.
Indeed, the trousseau was prepared
aud the wedding day fixed ; all was
ready, and Ida Hulifont oelieved her
self to be a very happy woman. She
once more built castles in the air. Her
old sorrow seined to fade away in ihe
distance. She was a girl again.
At least twenty-four hours lay be
tween her aud her wedding day.
She was busy in her sewing room on
this last day, finishing eome ruffles in
lace and ribbon, and singing softly to
herself, wh<*n suddenly the house was
filled with cries.
An old man servant while cutting
grass u on the lawn, had wounded
himself seriously. The doctor was sent
for at once, but was not at hom<‘, and
m an while Zebedee was bueding to
Suddenly Ida Halifont remembered
that Mr. Humphries had said that he
understood wounds as though he had
been a thoroughbred surgeon. With
out this it would have been natural f>r
her to call him herself, that there might
be no del >y, and seizing her garden
hat, she ran along a little path that
led from her ground to that of Mr.
Humphries, climbing the fence to save
t.me which would have been lost in
reaching a gate, and so gained the rear
of tne dwelling of which to*m mow she
would tie mistress.
She thought herself terrified and dis
tressed. She felt rather injured in that
such an unpleasant thing as the wound
ing of poor Zebedee should have hap*
pen and on the eve of her wedding day.
Ten minutes after she thought of her
self at that moment utterly at ease—
.. wußiy nappy —lor as she reached
lho*e windows and peeped half timid*
ly through the curtains, a thing hap
pened that made all she had ever suf
fered appear as nothing.
The room, the window of which she
approached, was one that opened out
of a conservatory. She saw Col. Hum
phries busy with some rare plants he
had just set out to the warm sunshine
that fell struggling through the gl iss.
He had taken off bis coar and rolled up
his sleeves. Now he t the conserv
atory, and coming forward proceeded
to wash his hands in a basin of water
that had been sdr ady for him. lie
was close to Ida Halifont. He did not
see her, but she could have reached
out her hand and touched him.
Why did she not speak and call him
byname? Why did she sink down
upon her knees and tremble like an as
pen Laf ? Alas ! the awful reason was
this: Upon that arm to which she was
about to grant the right t>> clasp her
in tenderest embraces, she saw a terri.
ble mark—a mark she had seen oric*
before. She knew its shape and size
and color. Her eyes had been rivited
upon it as the sinewy hand at the
wrist of which it ended, grasped her
dying husband's throat. She had
learned it off' by heart ; she could not
be deceived. Though years had rolled
away that horribly marked arm was
not to be forgotten or mistaken by
Suddenly Col. Humphries felt him*
self grasped by a band that, small as
it was, had the fierce touch ol a tiger's
claw. The fingers closed over that
red mark—a white face came close to
‘You are my husband’s murderer !'
hissed a voice in his ear.
Then the two stood staring at each
He made no denial; he only looked
down at the red mark upon his arm
and cursed it aloud.
‘How dared you to make love to
me ?' she gasped. ‘You— ’
‘Because I loved you,' lie sa'd.—
‘Woman, if I had not fallen in love
with you that uight, I would have
killed you also. Ii was riskit.g my life
to spaie you, with your screams calling
men to hunt m • down—
'Oh, if you had but killed me then !'
‘Well, I am at your mercy now,’ he
She answered :
‘You con kill I I wish you would.
I pray do it. You killed my husband.
The murderer of my husband must be
brought to justice, and I—yesterday,
nay an hour ago—l loved you ! Oh
God pity me ! I have loved this man,
this thief, why came in the night to
rob my husband, and who murdered
She remembered saying this. After
waid a strange drow’sin *ss overcame
her. She seemed to let go her hold on
the w’orld. She faintly recognized the
fact that Col. Humphries knelt at her
feet and kissed her hands
Then there were blank hours, and
strange, wild dreams, and she uwi ken
ed in the twilight and found hers. If
bound fast to a great arm-chair, long
cords about her arms tying her bauds
and confining her feet.
So her servants found her ; but she
was the only living being in the great
house. Col Humphries and his two
black servants bad vanished, no one
The empty bottle of chloroform on
the floor—tne fact he had always kept
his money in a form that left him free
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JANUARY 30, 1879.
to leave the country at ahy time, all
proved that detection had been pre
pared for. And he was never traced
—or had the means to bribe those who
were set on bis track.
Ida Halifont lived through it all.—
She lives to-day in the quiet house be
side the river, but no one has seen her
smile since that hour. No one will
ever see her smi’e again ; and from her
deepest slumbers she often starts in
terror, fancying that she sees uplifted
menacing above that cruel, terrible
arm marked with the blood red stain.
There is no hope of happiness tr her,
for she can never forget that this arm
has also embraced her.
Natural History—The Baby.
“What animal is this?"
‘This a baby. It is now about three
years old, and at the wickedest point
of his earthly career.
'What country does the baby most
‘He can be found in every inhabited
country oil the globe, the same as mos
‘Gan they be turned?'
'Yes, quite easily. After a little
judicious discipline they ooase to stru
gle, and become subservient to the
will of man.'
‘Does the babv eat grass V
'Yes, or anything else. They swa 1 -
low pocket-knives, thimbles, nickles,
buttons, spools, or any other subject a
little smaller than a tea-cup. If offer
ed milk they seldom refuse it.
‘Do they graze during the day, or
only at night V
‘They are always grazing, paying
not the least heed to the hour. When
not actually eating, they generally give
utterance to a peculiar cry. Strong
mum often jump out of l ed at midnight
in the coldest weather when hearing
‘What meaning is attached to this
‘Men of deepest thought have all
agreed that it signifies to wake up
the neighborhood and have some
‘Of what benefit to mankind is a do
‘ I hey are of no earthly use for the
first few years, but by and by they can
slide down hill on a cellar door and
carry articles out of the house and
trade* them fora wooden sword, or Use
them in the grass,'
‘Do you know of any instance where
the baby has attacked the household
and killed or injured any one ?’
J|‘Such instances have been related
by such eminent naturalists as George
Francis Train and Texas Jack, but we
don't put much faith in them. How
ever, it the baby was maliciously and
persistently provoked, there's no know
ing what it might do.
'Are they a healthy animal ?'
‘No ; on the contrary no druggist
could make enough profit in a ye or t>
buy him a pair ol Arctic overshoe*, but
for the presence of the baby in every
household. There is hardly an hour
in the day that the baby does not de
mand peppermint, paregoric, milk, su
gar, cordial, cod liver emulsion, ipecac
or something else costing money.'
‘What machinery is made use of to
compel the baby to take a dose of cas*
tor oil ?’
‘There are several patent machines
for the purpose, but most people fo low
the old rule of knocking him senseless,
an 1 getting the dose into his mouth
before he recovers.’
‘ls the baldheaded baby more do
mestic than others V
'Not a bit. He kicks around after
the same fashion, aud she has even a
worse time fighting flies and mosqui
‘What music do they seem to pre
'A base drum is their first choice,
but tney have a heavy leamug towards
the sound of the stove-handle knock
ing the uose off the pitcher with the
emptyings in it/
Tins is all about the baby. Take
anoth r look at aim, for n* xt week we
shall write about some, other reptile.
A beautiful girl in lowa named Je
mima, recently committed suicide be
cause she could find no diminutive for
her nan e ending in ‘ie/ A few hours
afterwards came a letter from a class
male beginning, ‘Dear, darling Mimie/
but it was too late, aud she was borne
to the grave by eight companions,
named respectively, Abbie, Bessie,Car
rie, Dollie, Ettie, Florrie, Georgie aud
The most bashful girl we ever heard
of was the young lady who blushed,
when she was asked if she had not
been courting sleep.
Old Maids and Old Bachelors.
Old mails are useful. They can cook
sew, take care of children, nurse sick
people, and generally play the piano.
Old bachelors are useless. They do
not know how to drive nails or split
Old maids are amiable. If one wants
anything done that requires patience
and kindness ot heart, a single lady is
sure to be the one to do it. Old bach*
eh>rs are 11-natured. They desire to
be as disobliging as possible. They
•nub children, despise babies, hate
young mothers, and ai e always so bus*
ily employed in seeing that other peo
ple take good care of them, that they
have not a moment to give to anyone
Old maids are nice-looking, and
‘young for their years.’ Old bachelors
generally have red noses, rheumatism
in their knee*, bald hea ls, and mouths
that turn down at the corners.
Old maids can make a home of one
little room, and cook delicious meals
for one over the gas jet, in cunning
little tin kettles, besides making their
own wardrobe. Old bachelors need
an army of tailors, waiters, cooks, dis
tant relatives and hotel landlords to
keep them comfortable. When old
maids are ill, they tic up their heads
in pocket-handkerchiefs, take homoeo
pathic pellets out of two bottles alter
nately, and get well again. When old
bachelors are ill, they go to bed and
send for four doctors; have a consulta*
tion, a mantlepiece full of black bottles,
all the amiable married men who be
long to the club to sit up with them at
night, besides a hired nurse; they tel*
egraph to their relations, and do their
best to impress the world with the
idea that they are dying.
Win'ii an old maid travels, she takes
a sandwich, a piece of pound cake and
a bottle of lemonade in a hand-basket,
and lunches comfortably in the carriage
When an old bachelor travels,he orders
a dinner in courses at the station, and
raves because he has not time to eat
it before the ‘filteen minutes for refresh
ments' are over.
Old maids dr nk weak tea, and it
cures their headaches. Old bachelors
drink strong liquors, which give them
Old maids are modest; they think
their youth is over, and tlieir beauty
gone. If, after awhile, some autumnal
Live is given them, they lake it as a
sort of miracle, and hope people will
not laugh at them for ‘marrying so
late in life.' Old bachelors believe
that all women are in love with them,
and that they must carefully guard
themselves from traps laid to inveigle
them into matrimony.
An “editor/’ How high sounding
and sublime to tbe unsophisticated and
aspiring jmung man—an “editor l" a
pack mule for the public—expected to
labor day and night for nothing.
An ‘‘editor P—a man who snatches
at the air and gathers np his varied
An “editor"—a roan who gives ad
vice upon all subjects, yet knows not
what he talks about.
An editor—a rnau whose mind trav
erses tin* universe with lightning speed
and tells all he saw on the route in a
An editor—a man who can draw up
on his imagination and till his columns
when nothing of importance is trans
An editor—a man who gives a town
and city notoriety abroad, the mer
chants’ business at home, and after
wards goes unthanked for his ad
An editor—a man who is supposed
to be public property, yet belongs to
An editor—an individual who com- !
mences a newsboy and masters the art
of printing after years of study and
toil, and then seats himse'f upon the
editorial tripod thoroughly competent j
to conduct every department of his
Editing is a profession, requiring
years of study a°d experience. Law
is not so difficult to understand as a
thorough knowledge of journalism. In
four years a man can be a very fair
lawyer, while a journalist, in the same
time, has only graduated in the first
principh s—the art of printing.
We have not exaggerated in our re
marks or tried to eulogize the profess
siun, but portrayed facts which every
printer and editor knows to be true.—
A man's character is like a fence—
you carrnot strengthen it by whitewash.
Sick of His Bargain.
In the old slaveholding days, Mr.
Logare, of So ith Carolina (formerly
Secretary of the U. S. Treasury) own*
ed a “likely negro/* named Scipio.—
Scip had heard about freedom, and
thought he should like it, and he deter
mined to buy himself. With some diffi
culty he prevailed on his master to
name a price—one thousand dollars—
and having considerable money already
saved np, he soon manage by the help
of friends to raise the whole sum that
One morning became capering into
Mr. L's study with cash in hand claim"
i.ig his promise.
‘Better stay where you are, Scip,
and let me take care of this money for
you/ said L. But his advice was not
hi eded, and he reluctantly took the
money, and gave Mr. Scipio Afriesnus
a bill of sale of himself. As it was,
Scip left W’ith a tear in his eye, al
though there was a broad grin on his
It was not long before he found em
ployment on a railroad. Things went
pretty well with him for a while, until
one day there was a collision between
an express train and train of gravel
cars. Wagons, engines, white folks
and darkies, were tossed into the air
generally, and some twenty of the lat
ter were killed,while many were maim
ed for life.
Scip, however, was high and dry on
a sandbank, and free from any injury.
But his nerves had received a terrible
shock, and he was so mortally afraid
of another similar accident that he left
his employment and obtained a situa
tion on a river steamboat.
But here, again, his luck was not ol
long duration. Just as the boat was
leaving the wharf, an explosion took
place, which sent 40 or 50 colored la
dies and gentlemen to the place where
the good or bad darkies go. But our
friend Scip merely went partly over the
river and dropped into the stream in
company with the smokestack. lie
paddled himself ashore, and without
waiting to change his clothes, traveled
with wings lent him by fear, direct to
the home nt his old master.
‘Look a-heah, Massa Legare,' In; ex
claimed, as soon as he could catch his
breath, ‘just you gib me dat money
back, and take me. Dis yeah nigger
property f s well enough for rich men,
like you, but dreflle poor‘vestment for
dis chile. Taint safe; dasu‘t risk ew
$5,000 Found in a Tree.
A treasure up a tree was seen in the
watches of the night by a peddler,who
was sleeping in a farm house iu the
Shenandoah Valley. He told his dream
to the farmer next morning, and on the
three successive nights he had the
same vision. Then he prevailed on the
farmer to accompany him to the forest
where he pointed out a large oak tree
as the one he had seen in his dieam
It was apparently sound at the butt,
but about twenty feet up a limb had
been broken off. The farmer did no t
feel humoring what he supposed to be
a superstitious whim, but the old fellow
seemed to have confidence in his vis
ion, and offered him one-half the spoils
if he would help him cut the tree
When the tree fell there was a rat
tle of coin near where the limb had
been broken off, and a small hollow was
found there. By a little chopping a
large cavity was found, and within was
a mass of silver. Both seemed wild
with delight,and on counting up found
that the pile amounted to $5,000. The
peddler expressed an unwillingness to
carry around so much silver in his
pocket, and inquired where he would
likelyjget greenbacks for his share,—
The farmer, having considerable mon
ey in his house immediately transferred
to the peddler $2,500 in paper money
and took charge of the entire pile of
The peddler disappeared, and when
his partner attempted to pass some of
the silver, lo ! it was counterfeit. He
was the victim of a gang of coiners.
Satin is again a fashionable fabric,
and as the traditional fabric for wed
ding dresses it is once more in favor in
its creamy white tints, especially i on
ly one material is used in the toilette ;
il a second fabric is added it is brocad
ed satin, or perhaps striped or spotted
Th>s is the season when fellows be
gin courting their girls on the door
steps. The old ’uns should see to it
that the front gate is strengthened,
and hinges got iu effective condition
for heavy work.
The reigning prints—The latest
fashion in calico.
Skating with the girls is an ice thing
if it is naughty.
A paper that is always full of good
points—a paper of needles.
The man who was bent on matrimo
ny, straightened up afterwards.
‘Cultured oysters’ are announced for
sale at a Washington restaurant.
When does a man smoke a cigar too
long? When he smokes it too short.
Garlic is said to be a sovereign rem
edy for g >ut. There is no remedy tor
If it is necessary to use the hand
kerchief sonorously, leave the room
Scientists should rise and explain
what motive a locomotive boiler has
She returned his love, but even then
he wasn't satisfied. She said she did
not want it.
See here, girls—why not call a spoon
ney young man ‘‘Rainwater?" Rain
water is soft, you know.
From age to age cheese has skipped
on, one of the mightiest forces of the
press, winning its whey.
So foul, and yet so fair!—A car-load
of chickens on which the freight has
been paid in advance.
Regimental quartermasters cannot
cook their accounts They are held in
check by the rooster.
In Shakespeare’s time there was a
‘tide in the affairs of men/now the tide
is in the affairs of women.
The bashful man who asked his
girl if her favorite beverage wasn’t
‘pop/ was referred to her popper.
A girl at school would like to have
two birth days every year. When she
grows up a woman she objects to hav*
Every man’s room covers a little
corner of Paradise, unless he has a
scoldiug wife, in which case the climate
The times are so bad and payments
are so rare, that the girls complain
that young men cannot pay their ad.
When a lady stands at the hymene
al altar with her intended, you may
know she is about to draw her beau
into a knot.
A romantic young man says that a
young woman’s heart is like the moon
—it changes continually, but always
has a man in it.
The young man who wrote and asked
his girl to accept a ‘bucket’ of flowers,
became a little pale wheu she said she
wooden ware it.
‘‘A hog‘s head," he began. But she
interrupted him. Said she, “No mat
ter what a hog said/’ She thought
he was speaking of his neighbor.
‘‘Aunt Julia,’ said a blooming girl of
17, 'wdiat is necessary in order to
write a good love-letter?' ‘Well/
replied the aunt, you must begin with
out knowing what you mean to say,
and finish without kuowing what you
‘Put out your tongue a little further
said a physician to a fair invalid. ‘A
little further if you please.* '\Vby>
doctor, do you think a woman's tonguo
has no end ?‘ asked the gentle suffer
er. ‘An end, perhaps, madam, but no
cessation/ replied the doctor.
A Norristown young lady, who en
tered Yassar college only a week ago,
writes home to a friend that she is
muki g wonderful progress in her stu
dies, being already able to chew gum
in four languages, and slide down the
banisters is calculus and conic sections.
A little Portlaud girl recently testi
fied innocently to the life ot drudgery,
experienced by the average “queen of
the household* 4 who does her own
w ork. Somebody asked the child if
her mothers hair was gray. *1 don't
know, 4 she said, 4 >tie is too tallibr me
to see the top of her head, and she nev
er sits down.*