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[Tfua tb Chlcujo 7
OLIVIA;
IBE DOCTOS'3 TWO LOVB.
ET THE AUTHOR OP
* The Second ifrs. Tillotaon “ 2\cvtr
Forgotten," Etc., Etc,
CHAPTER XV.
OVUUIIEAIi IN LOVF.
\wfully f.-.-t ti..- t- -ped away. It was
tii- second week in March I j assed in
irk; the -econd week in May came ujjoij
iii< a a ! rue by a whirlwind. It was
only a month t> the day so long fixed upon
for our marriage. My mother began to
lid get about my _-oing over to London to
ell I C '. ; to J -
Senior, ai.d to fit nr. a elf out with wedding
(lothe-. Ini.a V. 1- going on fast to com
pi-tiou O-; t: ] to Switzerland was dis
tinctly p’nmn-1 out. <io 1 must to Lon
don; ord-r my Wedding suit I must.
i- < tl be no hann in mn.
n.ng over to Sark to s -e Olivia once more.
As ■onas I w.i- Mui r c l I would tell Julia
all about h< r. But if either arm or aukb
went wrong for want of attention, 1 should
never forgive rm sejf.
Alien shall we have another run to
gedier. Cajitatn Carey? I asked.
Any day you like*, my boy, he nn
sw ered: *■ our days of liberty are growing
few ami short uow. eh? I’ve never had u
fhatice of frying i; myself. Martin, but they
are nervous tim 1 should thin!;. Cruis
ing in doubtful c hannels, eh? with ttneei
tain bre< zest How does Julia keen up?”
I can spare 1. 1- morrow,’ I replied, i"-
noriitg his remarks; “on Snlurdi v I shall
cross owr to Unglued, to seek Jack Senior.”
“And bid him adieu?” he said, laughing
‘•or give him an invitation to your own
house/ I shall be glad to se • you in a
bouse o' your own. Your father is too
young a man lor you.’’
“Can you bike me to Sark to-morrow?’’ I
asked.
' To be sure 1 can,” he answered.
It was the last time I should see Olivia
before my marriage. Afterward I should
see much of her, for Julia would invite
her to our house and lie a friend to her. 1
spent a wretchedly sleepless night, and
whenever I dozed I saw Olivia before me,
weeping bitterly, and refusing to be com
forted.
from St. Sampson'-, we set sail straight
for the Havre (losseliii, without a word
upon my putt, and, th** wind being in onr
favor, we were not long in crossing the
channel. To my extreme surprise and
chagrin, Captain Carey announced his in
tention of landing wilh me, and leaving
the* yacht in charge c j h;s men to await out
return.
Ihe ladder is . ,\c ssivelv awkward,” 1
objected, “and some of the rungs are loose.
You don’t mind running the risk of a
plunge into the water?”
“Not in tbs- least. ’ he answer 'd, (cheer
ily; “for the matter of that, I plunge into it
even morning at L’Ancresse. I want to
see Turdif. He is one of a thousand, as
yon say, and one ciunot see such a man
every day of one's life.”
There was no help for it, and I gave in,
hoping some good luck awaited me. I led
the way up the zig-zag path, and iust as we
reached the top I saw the sight, erect
figure of Olivia seated upon the brow of a
little grassy knoll at. a short distance^from
us. Her hack was t ovard us. so rho was
not aware of our vicinity, and I pointed
toward her with an assumed air of indiffer
ence.
' I believe that is my patient yonder,” I
said; "I will just run across and speak to
liei and then follow you to the farm. ”
"Ah!” he exclaimed, “there is a lovely
view from that spot. I recollect it well. I
will go with you. There will be time
enough to see Tarrlif.”
Did Captain Carey suspect anything':
Or what reason could he have for wishing
to see Olivia? Could it be merely that lie
wanted to see the view from that particular
spot .-’ I could i:ot forbid him accompany
ing me. but I wished him in Jericho.
What is more stupid than to have an el
derly man dogging ones footsteps?
I trusted devoutly that we should see or
hear Tardif before reaching the knoll, but
no such good fortune befell me. Olivia
did not hear our footsteps upon the soft
turf, though we approached her very
nearly. The sun shone upon her glossy
hair, every thread of which seemed to shine
back again. She was reading aloud, ap
parently to herself, and the sounds of her
sweet voice wore wafted by the air toward
us. Captain Carey's face became very
thoughtful.
A few steps nearer brought ns in view of
Tardif, who had spread his nets ou the
grass and was examining them narrowly for
rents. Just at this moment he was down
on his knees, not far from Olivia, gather
ing some broken meshes together, but
listening to her with an expression of huge
contentment upon his handsome face. A
bitter pang shot through me. Could it be
line by any possibility—that lie I had heard
the last time I was iu Sark?
Good-day, Tardif,” shouted Captain
Carey, and both Tardif and Olivia started.
But both of their faces grew brighter at
seeing us. and they at once sprang up to
give us welcome. Olivia’s color had come
back to her cheeks, and a sweeter face no
uiau ever looked upon.
I am very glad you are come once
more, she said, putting her hand in mine;
you told me in your last letter you were
going to England, and might not come over
o t*ark before next autumn. How glad I
to see you again 1”
1 glanced from the corner of my eye at
•up tain Carey. He looked very grave, but
his eyes could not rest upon Olivia without
admiring her, as she stood before us.
night-faced, sleuder, erect, with the folds
•i her coarse dress failing about her as
,ra einlly as if they were of the richest
material.
i hi> is my friend, t aptain Carey, Miss
Olivia, ' I said, “in whose vaeht'l have
come to visit yon."
.. am very glad to see any friend of
oc.oi Martius," she answered, as she
li Id out her hand to him with a smile;
my doctor and 1 are great friend-, Captain
t arev. 1
>o 1 -uppose. he said, significantly—
■r at icas. ms tone and look seemed fraught
iv:t:. significance to me.
"Be were talking of yon o” 1 '- - *
ate;, iuo, Do-tor Martin, she continued;
i was teiling fardif how you sang the
l- : -' '■ oh rs to me the last time you
* ' r< ‘ here, an 1 how :t rings in my cars
’till, especially when he is a av fishing. 1
-epeated the three last lines to him:
tor men must work, and women must weep;
to g
8 8® d-toj to the bar, with Its moaning."
“I do not like it. Doctor,” said Tardif;
‘there's no hope iu it. Yet to sleep out
under at last, on the great plain under the
.ea, would be no bad thing.”
■You must sing it for Tardif,” added
*h'ia. with a preity imperiousness, “and
hen he will tide it.”
My throat felt dry and my tongue
.strobed. 1 eoNd no; utter a word iu reply.
1 hi- would be the very piace for such £
-ong,” said Captain Carey.' "Come, Mar
an. iet us have it."
No: I van sing nothing to-day,” I an
-werod, harshly
1 be very sight of her made me feel mis
erable beyond words; the sound of he:
. nice maddened me. I felt as if I was an
giy with her almost to hatred for her grace
rud sweetness, yet 1 couid have knelt dowr
t her feet, and been happy only to lay my
hand on a fold of her dress. No feelint
aud < ter stirred me so before, and it made
me irritable. Oliv a s clear gray eyes looked
.t t ie wouderingly.
Is there anything the matter with you
Doctor Martin? ' she inquired.
No.' 1 replied, turning away from kei
orrrt'y. Every one of them felt my rude
ness. ;,uu m r~ was a (lead silence among
us for half a minute, which seemed an agt
•° Ine - then I heard Captain Carey speak
.ng in his suavest tones.
A_r yon quite we 1 again?” he asked.
s, quit • wed!, I think.” she si:d, in a
very subdued voie*. "I cannot walk fat
vet. and my arm is slid weak; but 1 think I
im cure wv.l. I have given Doctor Mar
tin a great deal of trouble.’’
She spoke in the low, quiet tones of a
cnild who has been chidden uniensonably.
I was asking myself what Captain Carey
meant bv no: leaving me aione with my pa
ient. V. hen a medical man makes a call,
ih .• intrusion of any unprofessional, in
diliertnt person is unpardonable. If it
had been Suzanne, Tardif, or Mother Re
nour who was keeping so close beside us,
I could have made no reason: ble objection.
Hut ( a plain Carey!
“Tardif.’ I said, “Captain Carey came
ashore on purpose to visit von and your
farm. ”
* knew he was excessively proud of his
• arm, which cons steil of about four or
h• •• acres. He caught at the words with
ua urt. and led th - way toward his house
witu tremendous strides. There was no
■n. ans of evading a tour of inspection,
though Cap ain Ca.cy appeared to follow
him reluctantly. Olivia and 1 were left
done, but she was moving after them
slowly, when I ran to her and offered her
my arm, on tlr- plea that h r ankle was
til; 100 weak to bear her weight unsup.
polled.
1 'in ia' i ex; lairned, after we had gone
a fev. yards, bunging her and myself to a
sudden halt. Then I was struck dumb. J
had nothing special to say to her. How
"•*”,}} I bad called her so familiarly Olivia?
'•ell. Doct ir Mar in?” she sai l, looking
into my face again with eager, inquiring
eyes, as if she was wishful to uudetst&nd
my varying moods.
hut a lovely place this is! " I ejacu
lated.
More lovely th :n any words I ever heard
could describe. It was a perfect day and
i perfect view. Jhe sea was like an opal,
changing every minute with the passing
shadows of snow-white clouds, which
floated lazily across the bright blue of the
sky. The cliffs— Sark Cliffs—which have
not their equal in the world, stretched be
low? us, with every hue of gold and bronze,
and hoary white, and soft gray; and here
md there a black rock, with liv : id shades of
purple, and a bloom upon it like a raven’s
wing. Eoeky islets, never trodden bv hu
man foot, over which the foam poured
ceaselessly, were dottled all about the
changeful surface of the water. And just
beneath the level of my eve was Olivia’s
lace- the loveliest thing there, though there
was so much beauty lying around us.
,:s . it is a lovely place, ’ she assented.
i mischievous smile playing about her lips.
“Olivia,” J said, taking my courage by
both bands, “it is only a month till my
wedding day. ”
Aas J deceiving myself, or did she really
S row paier? It was but for a moment if
t were so. But how cold the air felt all
.a an instant! The shock was like that of
* first plunge into chilly waters, and I was
shivering through everv fiber.
“I hope you will be happy,” said Olivia,
“very happy. It is a great risk to run.
Marriage will make you either very happy
or very wietched. ”
“Not at all,” I answered, trying to apeak
gayly; “J do not look forward to any vasl
amount of rapture. Julia and I will get
along very well together, I have no doubt,
for we have known one another all oui
lives. Ido not expect to be any liappiei
than other men; and the married men I
have known have not exactly dwelt in Par
adise. Perhaps your experience has been
different?”
“Oh. no!” she said, her hand trembling
on my arm, and her face very downcast;
but 1 should have liked you to be very,
rery happy.
So softly spoken, with such a low, fal
tering voice! I could not trust myself tc
speak attain. A stern sense of duty tow-arc
Julia kept me silent, and we moved on
though very slowly and lingeringly.
“You love her very much,” said the quiet
roice at my side, not much louder than the
voice of conscience, ivhich was speaking
imperiously then.
“I esteem her more highly than any other
woman except my mother,” I said. “I be
lieve she would die sooner than do any
thing she considered wrong. Ido not de
serve her, and she loves me, I am sure
truly and faithfully.”
“Do you think she will like me?” asked
Olivia, anxiously.
“No, she must love you,” I said, with
warmth; "and I, too, can be a more useful
friend to you after my marriage than I am
now. Perhaps then you will feel free tc
place perfect confidence in us.”
She smiled faintly, without speaking—a
smile which said plainly she could keep
her own secret closely. It provoked me tc
do a thing I had had no intention of doing,
and which I regretted very much after
ward. I opened my pocketbook and drew
Out the little slip of paper containing the
advertisement.
“Read that,” I said.
But I do not think she saw more than
the first line, for her face went deadlv
white, and her eyes turned upon me with a
wild, beseeching look—as Tardif described
it, the look of a creature hunted and terri
fied. I thought she would have fallen,
tud I put my arm around her. She fastened
ooth her hands about mine, and her lips
moved, though I could not catch a word
she was saying.
“Olivia!” I cried: “Olivia! do you sup
pose I couid do anything to hurt you? Dc
not be so frightened! Why, I am youi
friend, truly. I wish to heaven I had not
shown you the thing. Have more faith in
me, and more courage. ”
“But they will find me and force me away
from here, ’ she muttered.
“No,” I said: “that advertisement was
printed in the Times directly after your
flight last October. They have not found
you out yet. and the longer you are hidden
the less likely they are to find you. Good
heavens! what a fool I was to shove it to
you! ”
"Never mind,” she answered, recovering
herself a little, but still clinging to my
arm; “I was only frightened for the time.
You would not give me up to them if yon
knew all.”
“Give you up to them!” I repeated, bit
terly. “Am Ia Judas ?”
But she could not talk to me any more.
She was trembling like au aspen leaf, and
her breath came sobbiugly. All I could
do was to take her home, blaming myscli
for my cursed folly.
Captain Carey and Tardif met u- at the
farmyard gate, but Olivia could not speak
to them, and we passed them in siier.ee,
challenged by their inquisitive looks. She
could only bid me good-by in a tremulous
voice, anil I watched her go on into hei
own little room and close the door. -Thai
was the last I should see of her before
mv marriage.
Tardif walked with us to the top of the
cliff , and made me a formal, congratulatory
speech before quitting us. When he was
gone, Captain Carey stood still until he was
quite out of hearing, and then stretcher
out his hand toward the thatched roof,
vellow with stouecrop and lichens.
“This is a serious business. Martin.' he
said, looking sternly at me; you are ir
love with that girl.”
“I love her with all my heart and soul,’
I cried.
"r.VAEi; XVI.
IX A “Fix.”
Yes. I loved Olivia with all my heart anc
soul.
I had not known it myself till that mo
ment, and now 1 acknowledged :t boldly
almost defiantly, with a strange mingling
of delight anel pain in the confession.
Yet the words startled me as i utterec
theni. Thev hael involved in them sc
many unpleasant consequences, so muiT
chagrin and bitterness as their practical re
sult that I stood aghast—even while my
pulse- throbbed and my heart be;* higl
with the novel rapture of loving any woman
as I loved Olivia. If I followed out my
avowal to its iust issue, I should be a
traitor to Julia, and all my life up to the
present moment would be lost to me. I
had scarcely spoken it before I dropped
my head or. my baud.- with a groan.
“Come, come, my j oor fellow!” said
Cap.-tain Carey, who could never see a dog
with bis tail between his legs withou:
wlnstiing to him and potting him, “we must
see what can be done.”
It was neither a time nor a place for the
indu’gence of emotion of any kind. It
was impossible for me to remain on the
cliffs, bemoaning my unhappy fate. I
strode on doggedly down the path, kicking
th-.- loose stones into the water as they came
mmy way Captain Carey followed
whistling softly to himself, and, of all the
tunes in the world, he chose the one to the
’ Three IT-hers," which I had sung to
< ilivia. He continued doing so after we
we; • aboard the yacht, and I saw the boat
men exchange apprehensive g anees.
We shall have wind enough, without
whistling for it, before we reach Guern
sey,” said one of them, after a while; and
< aptam Carey relapsed into silence. We
scaredy spoke again, except about the
shifting of tli • sails, in our passage across.
A pretty stiff breeze was blowing, and we
found plenty of occupation.
“I cannot cave you like this, Martin, my
boy. srid Captain Carey, when we went
ashore at St. Sampson’s, and he put his
arm through mine.
“You will keep my secret?” I said—my
voice a key or two lower than usual.
“Martin, answered the good-hearted,
clear-sighted old bachelor, “you must not
do Julia tue wrong of keeping this a se
cret from her."
I must. I urged. “Olivia knows noth
ing of it; nobody guesses it but you. I
must conaner it. ihiics have gone toe
far with poor dum tor me to oa;-u out oi
our marriage now. You know that as well
as I do. Think of it. Captain Carey!”
“But shall you conquer it?” asked Cap
taiu Carey, seriously.
I could not answer yes frankly and free
ly. It seemed a sheer impossibility for me
to root out this new .ove, which I found in
my heart below all the old loves and friend- j
ships of my whole life. Mad as I was with
myself at the thought of my folly, the
folly was so sweet to me that I would as j
soon have parted with life itself. Nothing j
in the least lesembling this feeling had J
en a matter of experience with me be- :
fore. I had read of it in poetry and nov- j
eis, and laughed a little at it, but uow il j
hid come upon me like a strong man I
armed. I quailed and tlinched before the !
painful conflict necessary to cast out the !
precious guest.
“Martin,” urged Captain Carev, “come Uf
to Johanna amt tell her all about it.”
Johanna Carey was one of the powers ir
the island. Everybody knew her, anc :
everybody went to her for comfort oi
counsel. She was, of course, related tc
us all, and knew the exact degree of rela
tionship among us, haviug the genealogy
at her fingers ends. But besides these
family histories, which were common prop
erty, she was also intrusted with the in
most secrets of every household—those se
crets which were the most carefully anc
jealously guarded. I had always been £
favorite with her, and nothing could be
more natural than this proposal, that I
should go and tell her of my dilemma.
Johanna was standing at one of the win
dows, in a Quakerish dress of some gray
stuff', and with a plain white cap over her
white hair. She came down to the door
as soon as she saw me, and received me
with a motherly kiss, which I returned
with more than usual warmth, as one does
in any new kind of trouble. I think she
was instantly aware that something was
amiss with me.
“Is dinner ready, Johanna?” asked her
brother; “we are as hungry as hunters.”
That was not true as far as I was con
cerned. For the first time within my recol
lection my appetite quite failed me, and I
merely played with my knife and fork.
Captain Carey regarded me pitifully, ana
said “Come, come, Martin, my boy!” sev
eral times.
Johanna made no remark, but her quiet
searching eyes looked me through and
through, till I a’most longed for the time
when she would begin to question and
cross-question me. After she was goue,
Captain Carey gave me two or three glasses
of his choicest wine, to cheer me up as he
said; but we were not long before we fol
lowed his sister.
“Johanna,” said Captain Carey, “we have
something to tell you.”
“Come and sit here by me,” she said,
making room for me beside her on the sofa,
for long experience had taught her how
much more difficult it is to make a confes
sion face to face with one’s confessor, un
der the fire of his eyes, as it were, thar
when one is partially concealed from him.
“Well?” she said, in her calm, iuvitinj
voice.
“Johanna,” I replied. “I am in a terribh
fix!”
“Awful!” cried Captain Carey, sympa
thetically, but a glance from his sister pul
him to silence.
“W hat is it, my dear Martin?” asked hei
inviting voice again.
“I will tell you frankly,” I said, feeling I
must have it out at once, like an aching
tooth. “I love, with all my heart and soul,
that girl in Sark—the one who has been my
patient there. ”
“Martin!” she cried, in a tone full of
surprise aud agitation, “Martin!”
“Yes; I know all you would urge. My
honor; my affection for Julia; the claims
she has upon me, the strongest claims pos
sible; how good and worthy she is; what
an impossibility it is even to look back
now. I know it all, and feel how miserably
binding it is upon me. Y'et I love Olivia,
and I shall never love Julia.”
“Martin!” she cried again.
“Listen to me, Johanna,” I said, for now
the ice was broken my frozen words were
flowing as rapidly as a runnel of water; "I
used to dream of a feeling of something
like this years ago, but no girl I saw couid
kindle it into a reality. I have always es
teeinfid Julia, and when my youth was over,
ancl i naa never reit any devouring pas
sion, I began to believe that it had become
only a word in these cold iate times. At
any rate. I cor. eluded I was past the age
for falling in love. There was my cousin
Julia, certainly dearer to me than any
other woman except my mother. I knew
all her little ways, and they were not an
noying to me. or were so in a very small
degree. Besides, my father had had a
grand passion for my mother, aud what
had that come to? There would be no
such white ashes of a spent fire for Julia
to shiver over. That was how I argued the
matter out with myself. At eight-and
fwentv I had never lost a quarter of an
hour's sleep or missed a meal for the sake
of any girl. Surely I was safe. It was
quite fair for me to propose to Julia, and
she would be satisfied with the affection I
could offer her. Then there was my moth
er; it was the greatest happiness I could
give her, and her life has not been a happy
one, God knows. So I proposed to Julia,
and she accepted me last Christmas. ”
“And you are to be married in a month?”
said Johanna, in an exceedingly toubled
tone.
"Yes," I answered, “and now every word
Julia speaks, and everything she does,
grates upon me. I love her as much as
ever as my cousin, but as my wife! Good
heavens! Johanna, I cannot tell you how I
dread it.” ,
AVtat can be done?” she exclaimed,
looking from me to Captain Carey, whose
face was as full of dismay as her own. But
he only shook his head despondmgly.
“Done!’’ I r.pc-ated, 'nothing, abso
lutely nothing. It is utterly impossible to
draw back. Our house is nearly ready for
us. and even Julia's wedding dress and Veil
are bought. ”
“There is not a house you enter,” said
Johanna, solemnly, “where they are not
preparing a wedding present for Jniia and
yon. There has not been a marriage in
your district, among ourselves, for nine
years. It is as public as a roval marriage.
“It must go on,” I answered, with the
calmness of despair. “I am the most
good-for-nothing scoundrel in Guernsey
to fall in love with my patient. You need
not tell me so. Johanna. And yet, if I
could think that Olivia loved me, I would
uot change with the happiest man alive.”
“ Ahat is her name?” asked Johanna.
“One of the Olliviers.” answered Cap
tain Carey; “but what Olliviers she belongs
to I don't know She is one of the pretti
est creatures I ever saw.”
“An Ollivier!” exclaimed Johanna, in her
severest accents. “Martin, what are you
thinking of?”
“Her Christian name is Olivia,” I said,
hastily; “she does not belong to the
Olliviers at all. It was Tardif s mistake,
and very natural. She was born in Aus
tralia. 1 believe.”
“Of a good family, I hope?” asked Jo
hanna. “There are some persons it would
be a disgrace to you to love. Ahat is her
other name?”
“I don't know,” I answered, reluctantly
but distinctly.
Johanna turned her face full upon me
now —a face more agitated than I had ever
se.-n it There was no use in trying to
keej> back any part of my serious delin
quency, so I resolved to make a clean
breast of it.
"I know very little about her,” 1 said—
“that is. about her history; as for herself,
she is the sweetest, dearest, loveliest girl
in the whole world to me. If I were free,
and she loved me, I should not know what
else to wish for. All I know is that she
has run away from her people; why, I have
no more idea than you have, or who they
are, or where they live, and she has been
living in Tardif’s cottage since last Octo
ber. It is an infatuation, do you say?
it is. I dare say. It is an infatuation, and
I don’t know that I shall ever shake it off. ”
“What is she like?” asked Johanna. “Is
she very merry and bright?”
“I never saw her laugh,” 1 said.
“Very melancholy and sad, then?”
“I never saw her weep,” I said.
“What is it, then, Matin? ’ she asked,
earnestly.
“I cannot tell what it is,” I answered.
“Everything she does and says has a
charm for me that I never could describe.
With her for my wife I should be more
happy than I ever was; with any one else
I shall be wretched. That is all I know. ’
I had left my seat by Johanna, ami was
pacing to and fro in the room, too restless
and miserable to keep still. The low moan
of the sea sighed alt about the house. I
c-ould have cast myself ou the floor hud 1
been alone, and wept and sobbed like a
woman. I could see no loophole of es
cape from the mesh of ciieumslances which
caught me in their net.
A long, dreary, colorless, wretched life
stretched before me, with Julia my insep
arable companion, and Olivia altogether
lost to me. Captain Carey and Johanna,
neither of whom had tasted the sweets and
bitters of marriage, looked sorrowfully at
me and shook their heads.
“You must tell Julia,” said Johanna, after
a long pause.
“Tell Julia,” I echoed. “I would not tell
her for worlds!”
“You must tell her,” she repeated; “it is
your clear duty. I know it will be pain
ful to you both, but you have ?uo right to
marry her with this secret on your mind.”
[TO ,UK CONTINUED- I
Robbie’s Reproachful (Juery.
Robbie has been brought up to have a
profound reverence for the Father of his
Country and to think that no other hero
quite compared with George Washington.
The other day his brother was talking
about his slioc-i. “Now, George’s but
tons are ail coming off his shoes, mam
ma,” he said, “but I haven’t lost one o£E
mine for weeks.”
“Tiie reason is,” remarked his mother,
proudly, “that your mother sewed them
on herself. 1 have come to the conclu
sion that no human being- understands or
ever understood the art of putting on
shoe buttons but your mother.”
Littie six-year-old was listening, and
here lie asked, reproachfulls:
“Not even George Washington, mam
ma — Harper's Bazaar.
Parable of the Burglar.
A burglar was going through a house
in a Dakota town one night and discov
ered an exceptionally large roll of
money. Curious to know whether he
had broken into an editor’s house or that
of some other variety of capitalist, he
turned to the owner who had just awak
ened and said:
“Excuse me, Colonel, but I would like
to inquire how you came by such an un
usually large wad of wealth!”
“Sir!” replied the moneyed man. “I
am a member of the Territorial Legisla
ture.”
“A thou and pirdous! ’ exclaimed the
polite burglar, dropping the money:
“Shake! vVe never steal from members
of the profession. Good night!”—Estd
ine Bed.
Yearning fur Blood.
Master Stuart R. Crane, the precocious
six year old son of William H. Crane,
the popular comedian, terrified his
mother the other clay by rushing into her
room at a Cincinnati hotel, flourishing a
mammoth toy pistol.
“Stuart Robson Crane,” she cried,
“what on earth have you got there?”
“Apithtol,” answered the boy, “an
I'm goin’ to thoot a man!”
“No, you're not. either,” said Mrs.
Crane, in a stern, commanding voice.
“Give me that horrid pistol at once or
I’ll tell your father.”
“Oh, I don't care,” cried the young
hopeful, defiantly. “He's the man I’m
going to thoot!”-— Chicago Herald.
He Hadn’t.
“ That’s —that’s maple sugar, I sup
pose?” she queried, as she pointed to a
stack of cakes in the grocer’s window.
“Y'es'm.”
“ Made this year ?”
“Oh, yes.”
“ Right from the trees ?”
“Certainly.”
“ What "-ort of trees ?’’
“Maple, of course.”
“ H’m. Maple trees may be iashion
able this season, but I never run to ex
tremes. Haven’t you any sugar made
from beech or elm. or any of the other
old stand-bys ?"— Free Press.
A Reasonable Explanation.
“If you are a quiet, honest citizen of
New Y'ork, how did these skeleton-keys
and brass-knuckles happened to he found
in your pant's pockets?’ asked Judge
Dufiv of a hard-looking case.
“Were those things really found in my
pants?" asks the prisoner, incredulously.
“You know very well that they were.”
“Well, judge, th only explanation I
car offer is that during th ■ scuffle me and
the policeman who arrested me must
have changed pants. We were very
much excited at the time." — Texas Sift
ings.
iu the Line of His Profession.
“Mr. Porter, you delivered my mes
sage ?”
“ Y'es.”
“With what result ?”
“He knocked me down for my impu
dence.”
“ And what did you do ?”
“ I put up with it. sir. It was in the
line of his profession, you know.”
“ Why, he's no slugger ?”
“No: he's an auctioneer.” — Philadel
phia Call.
A. B. FARQUHAR & CO'S.
AJAX ENGINE ON CORNISH BOILER!
10,12,14. 20 AND 25 HORSE POWER!
The strongest, safest, most durable, efficient and
reliable Engine made. Prices lower than any other
First-class Engine. For sale by
A. B. FARQUHAR & CO.,
MACON, GEORGIA.
A BIG CITY ON THE WATER
How Canal Boatmen Spend
the Winter Months.
A Community Comprising EundreJs of
Canal Boats at New York.
All the canal boats which ply upon
the Hudson and the intermediate wa
ters during the spring and summer,
tie up for the winter in the Erie Basin,
at New Y'ork. Not less than 1,200
canal boats compose this community,
and on these wooden hulls 4,000 per
sons live throughout the season. All
the necessaries of life they have
among themselves. The massive hulks
are transformed into business marts.
Grocers’ ships and liquor saloons, and
even barbers’ shops rise up where coal
and lumber find a home during the
season of transportation. The people
live wholly among themselves. They
are transformed for the time being
into a business community. The cab
in of one boat is brought into use as a
billiard and pool room, while in anoth
er a tailor’s shop prevails. Then in
the hold of another there is a minia
ture coal and wood yard, -while sever
al of the boats bear signs that wash
ing and ironing are done. A preten
tious cigar and tobacco shop is a feat
ure of this city also, and brings in a
handsome revenue to its owner. By
the means enumerated, the inhabitants
of this community are enabled to reap
a considerable income. Many of the
able-bodied men work along the shore
when the weather permits. Not a
single case of outlawry, assault or lar
ceny has ever occurred. Whatever
little disputes happen are settled
among themselves. It might readily
be thought that drunkenness would
prevail, but this is not the case. The
men, as a class, are sober and indus
trious. Their wives and families live
with them through all seasons of the
year, and know naught of the pleasures
or -wickedness of the city life. In the
spring, summer and autumn months
the men earn a comfortable living
pursuing their occupation as boatmen.
The business is, all things considered,
lucrative. They have no rent to pay.
It costs little for clothing for them
selves and families, aud they are ac
cordingly enabled to save much mon
ey. Some of the boatmen ply a lucra
tive business by letting out small boats
during the winter months to fishing
parties.
A reporter for the Mail and Express
visited this novel colony a few days
ago and was surprised to see the ap
parent system and detail which pre
vailed. On lines running from end to
end of the boats newly-washed cloth
ing was hanging to dry. Little chil
dren were engaged playing juvenile
games on the decks. On one large boat
the cabin and deck had been turned
into a saloon, in which was a billiard
table, several card tables and a bar.
The men play cards for amusement
only,quarreling being strictly prohibit
ed. In conversation with the repor
ter one of the men said:
“We cannot ply our trade during
the winter months. Y'ou see, the
Hudson gets frozen up and our occu
pation is gone. We all congregate
here, and at times there are as many
as 2,000 boats here ai one time. We
are all acquainted with each other and
live comfortably. About the Ist of
March we generally commence break
ing up, and by the end of the week the
little colony is all gone.”
“Are you ever disturbed by river
marauders?”
“l'es, but we manage to keep them
off by means of our dogs. We have
never as yet had a case of robbery.”
The Hon. B. H. Hill, of Atlanta. Ga.,
1 says that of the 700 criminals he has con
i victcd, 000 committed their crimes while
under the influence of whisky.
W. T. MAYNARD & SONS,
DEALERS IN
Groceries, Provisions,
And Family Supplis!
And Agents for the Celebrated
Tenessee Wagons!
AND THE
Winship COTTON GIN and Condenser!
Also some of the
BEST COOK STOVES.
FORSYTH, GEORGIA.
ZEOIEL
FINE JOB PRINTING
GO TO THE
Advertiser Office!
ESTABLISHED 40 NTIEIAxIRS.
SPENCE & WALCOTT
Manufacturers of the Celebrated
OSBORN BUGGYI
PHAETONS,
WAGONS, ETC.
Also carry on a General Repair Shop. Our Painting and Finishing the best and
:n the latest style, plain or fancy. Everything guaranteed first-class. We proposjp
to sell our vehicles as lew in price as can be had any place. We furnish to responS
sible parties on time. Cali and get terms. We respectfully invite you to call and
see our vehicles li you don’t find what vou want, will build it to order. We have
PLANING MILL
Also, and Bracket Sawing, Scroll Work and Balusters, and any Fancy Turning in
Wood. Come and see us before buying.
W. H. SPENCE,
JNO. W. WALCOTT'
PST Salesman, JOHN F. DICK ERSQ.V. GHIIKFI N, CA.
CLOTHING AND HATS!
WINSHIP & CALLAWAY,
126 Second Street, - - MACON, GA.
For nearly Thirty Years the Leaders of the
Clothing’ Trade of Middle Georgia!
They return thanks to their many friends in Monroe county and pledge
renewed exertions to please them the present Season.
They have now in store their splendid
SPRING AND SUMMER STOCK!
A great portion of it MADE EXPRESSLY' FOR THEM. They carry a
large stock of BOYS and CHILDREN’S CLOTHING. Give 'us a call.
We will make the Lowest Prices. WINSHIP & CALLAWAY. *