Newspaper Page Text
VOL. XI.
Professional Directory.
attorneys' at law.
ISAAC L. TOOLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Vienna, Ga.
Will practice in the counties of Hous
ton, Dooly, Pulaski, Macon, Sumter and
Worth. Also in the Supreme Court of
Georgia, and in the United States Circuit
and District Courts within the State. All
business entrusted to his care will receive
profiipt attention. febl tf
oTcThorne,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Hawkinsville, Ga.
The Criminal Practice, a specialty.
January 4, 1877. jan4 ly
WOOTEN & BUSBEE,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
VIENNA, GEORGIA.
apr!3-tf
C. C. SMITH,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
And Solicitor in Equity,
McVILLE, - - - - GEORGIA
Refers to Hon. Clifford Anderson, Capt.
John C. Rutherford and Walter B. Hill,
Esq., Professors of Law, Mercer Universi
ty Law School, Macon, Ga.
Promut attention given to all business
entrusted to my care. mar 32 Cm
EDWIN MARTIN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Perry, Georgia.
Will give immediate and careful atten
tion to all business entrusted to him in
Houston and adjoining counties
Office in Home Journal building on
public square. aprlS tf
ROLLIN A. STANLEY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Dublin, Georgle.
Will practice in all the counties of the
Oconee Circuit. From long experience
in the Criminal Practice, much of his
time will be specially devoted to that
branch of his profession. feb24 tf
JACOB WATSON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Hawkinsville, Georgia.
Will practice in the counties of Pulaski,
Dooly, Wilcox, Dodge, Telfair, Irwin, and
Houston. Prompt attention given to all
business placed in my hands. aprß tf*
LUTHER A. HALL,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
AND REAL ESTATE AGENT,
Eastman, Ga.
Will practice in all counties adjacent
to the M. & B. railroad, the Supreme
Court of the State and the Federal Court
of the Southern District of Georgia. For
parties desiring, will buy, sell or lease any
real estate, or pay the taxes upon the
same m the counties of Dodge, Laurens,
Wilcox, Telfair and Appling. Office in
the Court House. aprls tf
J. H. WOODWARD,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Vienna, Ga.
WILL practice in the Superior Courts
in the counties of Dooly, Worth,
Wilcox, Pulassi and Houston, and by
special contract in other courts. Prompt
attention given to all collections.
mch4 It
T. C. RYAN. J. B MITCHELL.
RYAN & MITCHELL,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW
AND REAL ESTATE AGENTS,
Hawkinsville, Ga.
WILL practice in the counties com
prising the Oconee Circuit, and in
the Circuit and District Courts of the
United States tor the Southern District of
Georgia. ffeblltf
J. M. DENTON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
IJRACTICES in the Brunswick Circuit
and elsewhere by special contract.
Office at residence, Coffee county, Oa. P.
O. address, Hazlehurst, M. & B. It. R.,
Georgia. ioh4ti
AV. IRA BROWN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Vienna, Ga.
yPRACTICES in the Superior Courts ol
A Oconee Circuit, anti elsewhere in the
State by special contriret. Collections
and other business promptly attended
to 3-13-ly
JOHN 11. MARTIN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
AND REAL ESTATE AGENTS,
Hawkinsville, Ga.
ORACTICES in tbs Courts of Pulaski,
I Houston. Dooly, Wliocx, Irwin,
Telfair, Dodge and Laurens. may-tt
CHARLES C. KIBBEE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Hawkinsville, Ga.
WILL piacticc in the Circuit and Dis
trict Courts of the United States
lor the Southern District of Georga, and
n the Superior Courts of Houston, Dooly,
Pulaski, Laurens, Wilcox, Irwin and
Dodge counties. June 291 y
JOHN F. DELACY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
EASTMAN, GA.
AVill practice in the counties of Pulaski,
Dodge, Telfair, Laurens, Montgomery,
Wilcox, and Irwin, of the Oconee Circuit,
and Appling and Wayne, of the Bruns
wick Circuit.
Prompt attention given to all business
entrusted to bis care. junl7 tf
JOHN F. LEWIS. B. B. LEONARD
R. O. LEWIS.
LEWIS, LEONARD & C 0
Bankers and Brokers,
HAWKINSVILLE, - - - GA
Buy and sell Exchange, Bonds, Stocks,
Gold and Silver, and ettenu promptly to
all collections left with us.
Will also make hums on good sccui i’tl'es.
aprs 1y
HAWKINSVILLE DISPATCH.
RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION,
The Hawkinsville Dispatch will
be mailed (postage free) to subscri
bers in any part of the United States
one year for two dollars. Six months
for one dollar.
A deduction of 25 cents will be
allowed each subscriber in a club of
six, and in a club of ten an extra
copy of the paper will bo sent gratis
No credit subscribers taken. The
Dispatch has the largest bona fide
circulation of any weekly paper in
the State.
Geo. P. Woods,
tf Editor and Proprietor.
A gentleman in Oglethorpe couuty
lost recently in one day’s time, over
a hundred bead of hogs with cholera.
The Cuthbert Appeal says: “Last
spring a crowd of negroes, number
ing seventy-five, left this and Stew
art county for South Carolina. Last
Tuesday some of the same returned.
On being asked bow they liked South
Carolina, they replied ‘sorter well,’
but that they preferred Georgia.”
A Butts couuty pair got married
recently under very peculiar circum
stances by a Justice of the Peace.
It was done in the open air, at a
spring near the bride’s house, and
while the ceremony was being per
formed the reported arrival of the
big brother of the bride caused a
general stampede of parson, bride
and groom, who performed a wed
ding tour on foot for the distance of
twelve miles.
The Dawson Journal says: “Lit
tle Charley Carden, infant son of
Mr. George Hill, of this county,
came to his death last Sunday night
by an overdose of morphine adminis
tered by its nurse. It seems that a
bottle of quinine was on the mantle
piece and another bottle containing
morphine was sitting near it. The
nurse, through mistake, gave the
child an overdose of the morphine,
which resulted in its death about nine
o’clock on the night named above.”
A Columbus dog destroyer, shoot
ing at a dog tiiat hadn’t paid the
collar tax, came near killing the
daughter of a citizen, a shot glancing
from the dog and striking the young
lady on the collar hone. With im
partial justice the. Enquirer says:
“The accident was not caused by
any carelessness whatever on the
part of the officer. There ought to
be other means of disposing of the
canines without endangering persons’
lives.”
Mr. T. X. Bliley, of Atlanta, is
constructing a sort of lriachine horse,
built upon the velocipede plan, and
operated by a combination of motive
power. The power consists in the
multiplied weight of the rider, who
moves in the saddle exactly as though
he was riding ahorse. The driving
wheel is three feet in diameter, and
Mr. Bliley asserts that the machine
will carry a man faster than any
horse. —Atlanta Constitution.
A country debating club is on the
eve of bankruptcy, and the only cause
given is that the members couldn’t
decide the momentus question:
“Will, or will not a common sinner
who liberally patronizes strawberry
and ice-cream festivals, for the bene
fit of the church, be thrown out by
the returning board above, or will he
be counted in ?”
Kentucky now has over 1,200
white regular Baptist churches, with
750 ordained ministers, and 106,000
members. There are 250 colored
churches, with 40,000 members.
Several American officers in the
service of the Khedive of Egypt have
tendered their resignation, and will
leave his army. The reasons given for
this course are that, as Christians,
they do not wish to engage with Mo
hammedans in a religious waifare
against Russia.
The Southern States are nearer
than the Black Hills and are about
as full of gold. The total gold pro
duct of Georgia and North and South
Carolina for the fiscal year 1875-6
was $49,096,000, of which the old
North State produced over $10,030,-
000. For the capital and labor in
vested the new territory cannot make
as good an exhibit Boston Post.
A man was once relating a story
of being on a locomotive that struck
a cow standing on the track, and
threw her fcveral rods into the field,
where she lit squarely upon her feet,
with her head towards the train, and
strange to tell, ‘she wasn’t hurP a
mite.’ ‘But didn’t she look scared V
inquired a listener. ‘Well, I don’t
know whether she was scared or
not, but she looked a good deal dis
couraged.’
There arc 12,000 houses to let in
Philadelphia. Families are doub
ling up so as not to be worse
1 doubled up by hard times.
HAWKINSVILLE, GA., THURSDAY MORNING, AUGUST 2, 1877.
THE LABOR TROUBLES IN THE
NORTH.
A special dispatch from Baltimore
to the New York Herald of the 21st
ult., gives a detailed account of the
causes which have led to the present
labor troubles in the North. It is as
follows:
“The labor troublos on the Balti
more and Ohio Railroad last night,
which culminated in this city in a
scene of riot and bloodshed, have
never been equalled—not even
during the dark days of IS6I. In
order to thoroughly understand the
cause which has brought forth such
terrible effects, it will be well to go
ba-. kto its inception. On the Ist of
July, the Baltimore and Ohio Kail
road issued an order to the effect
that on and after the 16th iust. the
wages of all employes receiving over
$1 per day would be reduced ten per
cent. This was done, as claimed, by
the company on account oi the reduc
tion in freight rates, and the same
order had previously been issued by
the other trunk lines. The employes
throughout the country claim that
not long since their wages were re
duced from $2.25 and $2.00 to $1.75
and $1.50, which they stood without
a murmur, but that now, in addition
to the proposed reduction of ten per
cent, they are not to be allowed to
make but fifteen days in a month
This, they say, will not furnish them
with the barest means of subsistence.
For example, fifteen days at $2.35
per day i? $20.25; board is, at the
lowest estimate, twenty-five cents per
meal; thirty days at seventy-five
cents is $22.50 ; this brings them in
debt $2.25 per month for board alone.
They also claim that the company
will find it an up hill job to find men
to fill the places of the present em
ployes, and lose thousands of dollars
by employing inexperienced hands.
The firemen and brakemen employed
in the city say that the first cut made
on their pay was in 1873. They
then had a quarter of a day deducted
from the time allowed on a trip which
previously occupied a day and a
quarter, and a similar reduction
equal to twenty per cent, made in all
cases. On Sundays they had been
allowed a half day’s extra pay,
which had also been deducted. The
quarter of a day allowed them at
the depot when called and not sent
out was also stricken from their pay,
which at that time was $2.25 per
day. On tugust 15,1876, this was
reduced to $1.75 and additional work
given them. They were compelled
to take trains greater distances and
put up their engines, which gave
them three hours additional work
daily without compensation. By
this last reduction the firemen and
brakemen of the first class received
$1.53 per day and the second class
$1.35, with but four days work in
the week. The engineers formerly
received $3.72 pel day and a bonus
of twenty-live cents per day for ev
ery other month. They now re
ceive $2.00 per day and conductors
$2.25. While neither of the latter
bad joined in the strike they sym
pathized with the movement and lent
it all the aid they could.”
A TIDY LITTLE INCOME FOR HARD
TIMES.
The heaviest amount in the way
of interest and dividends upon stock
and bond securities paid to any man
in New York, and probably in the
United States, if not in the world, is
paid to Wm. 11. Vanderbilt. The
total is estimated at over $1,500,000
per quarter, or between $6,000,000
and $7,000,000 per annum, of which
some $4,000,000 is received from the
bonds and stock of the New York
Central Railroad. So vast a total
income is believed to be, by those
who have good means for knowing,
without a parallel, except in the case
of Mr. Vanderbilt’s father, the Com
modore, who at times realized even a
larger income than $7,000,000. As
was the case with the Commodore,
the son invests these dividends and
interest in the same securities, or
those equally good, avoiding real
estate and other sources of revenue,
no matter how tempting for the mo
ment they may seem N. Y. Dis
patch.
The most treacherous and cruel
thing on earth is an empty old gun
that has been laid away in the garret
or knocked around as a plaything for
ten or fifteen years. You may snap
it at a stump all day and it will miss
lire every time, but the very first
time you playfully snap it at jour
brother or your sister or your sweet
heart—bang! and you’ve shot a hole
through somebody.
“Yes, doctor,” saj r s Mrs. Parting
ton, “and a few days previous feeling
somewhat predisposed, and having a
groaping pain in the abdomen, I took
some patient medicine, and I feel
convicted that it seriously" repaired
my constituent. I suppose that I’m
always a worrying ever since Betsey
Smith had congregation of the lungs,
or some tonsorial affection, but, to
tell the truth, I’ve always dreaded
an infernal rumor.”
It is told of a young lady that
when her jealous admirer sent back
her letters with a request that she
would return his, she answered that
she regretted that she eonld not com
ply immediately, as she had lent
them to a young gentleman to regd.
THE HONEST DEACON.
An Old Story put in Bliyuie.
An honest man was Deacon Ray,
Ami though a Chistian good,
He had one fault—the love of drink,
For drink he often would,
On almost every Sunday, too,
He would, at dinner time,
Indulge to quite a great extent
In good Madeira wine.
At church, in front, upon the side
The deacon had his pevt,
Another worthy, Squire Lee,
He had a seat there too.
One Sunday morn, the sermon done,
The parson said he’d talk,
In language plain, that afternoon,
Of sins within his flock.
He warned them that they must not
flinch
If lie should be severe ;
Each thought their neighbor’d get dressed
down,
So all turned out to hear.
The church at au early hour was full j
The deacon, some behind,
Came in quite late, for he had been
Indulging in Iris wine.
And up the long and good broad aisle
He stiffly tottered on,
And r,y the time lie’u reached his seat
The sermon had begun.
The parson of transgressors spoke,
And of the wrath to flee,
And soon he to ibis query came,
“The drunkard, where is he ?”
A pause—and the deacon rose,
And answered like a man,
Though with a hiccup in his voice:
“Here, parson—hie—’ere I am.”
Of course the consternation
Was great on every side,
For who’d have thought the deacon
Would thus aptly have replied !
The preacher, not the least disturbed,
With his remarks kept on,
And warned him to forsake his ways.
The deacon then sat down.
'Twas soon another question came,
With no more welcome sound,
“ iVliere is the wicked hypocrite ?”
This made them all look round.
Some looked at this one, some at that,
As it they would inquire
Who ’twas that now the parson meant;
His eyes were on the squire.
The deacon, noting how things stood,
Turned around and spoke to Lee :
“Come, squire—liic—come you get up,
I did when he called me ”
Cauglit By Telegraph.
An Operator’s Story of the Far West.
I was Telegraph operator and sta
tion-agent, on one of the Western
lines of railroad, when the adventure
of which I am going to tell you hap
pened to me.
It was a wild and stormy night,
and, as the depot was nearly half a
mile out of town, the set of loafers
which usually collected about the
stove in the waiting room had event
ually concluded to seek seme place
nearer home to spend the evening in,
and, for a wonder, I was quite alone.
The express from the West was
due at nine-fifty. After that I should
he at liberty, and I began to wish
the evening was over long before the
train had come along, or else I had
someone to talk to, for the depot
was in one of the most lonesome
spots that could have been selected,
and the wind kept up a dismal moan
ing in the pines close by, and every
now and then seemed to be positive
ly howling in the wires of the tele
graph. I began to feel Dervous and
fidgety.
At last the train came. I was
also express agent and the express
man on the train handed me a heavi
ly sealed envelope, remarking as he
did so, “Be careful of that Branth
waite. There’s a big bonanza in
that package if it were yours or
mine.”
“Money?” I asked, noticing that
there wore two passengers getting
off—two men in shaggy overcoats
and slouchy.-looking hats, whom I
concluded without thinking much
about them, or paying but little at
tention to them, to be hunters res
turned from some upscountry trip.
“Yes, a trifle of twenty thousand,
I believe,” answered Phillips. “Old
Powers is sending it down to his son,
who is pu'ting up a mill somewhere
near here, isn’t he ?”
“Yes, on the other side of the
river,” I replied. It’s lucky to have
a rich father, Phillips.”
“You are right there,” answered
Phillips.
And then the train started off, and
I turned and walked toward the of
fice.
As I neared the door, with the
package in my hand, one of the men,
who had been watching me made a
spring toward me. I don’t know
how I happened to be on the look
out, but I must have been, for I
jumped back almost the same in
stant that he made his move, and be
fore either of them comprehended
what I was about, I had made a dive
between them and succeeded in get
ting into the office, and had the door
bolted almost before I knew what I
was doing.
I heard a vollej' of curses hurled
after me; and then I knew by the
sounds, aud the creaking of the door,
that both of the men were trying to
break it in. But I had no fear ot
that.
It was of hard wood, well sea
soned, and would resist all their ef
forts in that direction.
I put the package in the safe and
locked it securely" before I stopped
to think what was to be done. Then
I sat down to think, while I could
hear the men talking outside; I knew
they were holding a council over the
means to be used to effect an en
trance and obtain possession of the
money which I had received.
It was anything but a pleasant situ
ation to be in. Hero I was alone
half a mile away from any assistance,
at ten o’clock at night—and a stormy
night at that—and the probabilities
j that nearly everybody was already
in bed, if they were not, no one
would think of coming to the depot
at that time of night.
Outside were two desperate men,
who knew that I had a large sum of
money in my possession, and they
knew that if they could effect an en
trance, I Would amount to but little
in the way of an accomplishment of
their villainous purpose.
Suddenly a thought occurred to
me. The clerk at the hotel where I
boarded; had 'taken a fancy to tele
graphy, and we had put up a wire
between the hotel and the depot.
Why couldn’t I advise him of my
danger and have him to send help ?
I heard anew sound at the door
just then which sent the blood in
great frig htened waves all over me.
The men had begun to cut their way
in with pocket knives.
I rushed to the instrument and
called “George.” What if he had
gone to bed, or should be out ? I
turned pale at the thought.
But pretty soon a response came
back:
“Go ahead.”
I began and wrote :
“I am in danger. Two men are
trying to gain admittance for the
purpose of robbing the express safe.
Send help immediately, for God’s
sake. Not a minute to lose.”
“Slower,” telegraphed George,
who had not been practicing long
enough to be able to read very well.
I went over with the message
again. But I suppose excitement
made my writing “blurred,” for he
sent back :
“Slower aud more distinct 1 Can’t
make it out!
Good God 1 Before I succeeded
in making him understand me they
would be through the door, I thought,
with a cold sweat breaking out all
over me. This time he caught it
and sent back a hurried, “All right.
Hold out for ten minutes.”
The men were digging away like
heavers. I could see the points of
their knives once in a while, as they
splintered away fragments of the
panels. But I knew that it would
take some time yet to cut away
enough for them to make an entrance
through. How I wished for a pis
tol.
I waited in feverish impatience.—
Suddenly there was a crash, and one
panel was stove in by the foot of one
of the men.
“Ah !” he grinned, with his leering
face at the aperture. “You see we
mean business, don’t you ? What
are you going to do when we get in,
eh ?”
I didn’t know. Die I supposed, if
they took an idea into their heads to
put an end to me. Why didn’t
George and the help he had promised
come ? It seemed to me they had
had time enough to make a ten mile
tramp.
J nst at this moment I thought of
the heavy iron poker, and immedi
ately I got it and placed myself by
the door in a position where I
thought I could strike the most effec
tive blows.
“We’ve got the other panel almost
ready to stave in,” said the other
man, chuckling horribly over tlie
cheerful imformation. “Then I guess
Tom can crawl through. You might
as well be opening that box o’ yours
an’ git out that bundle we are after.
It’ll save all on us considerable
trouble and time.”
Crash came his foot against the
panel, and it burst into splinters
My heart fairly stopped heating
when I saw one of them thrust his
head and shoulders through the hole
ill the door. I struck trim a blow on
the head with the poker with all the
force I could muster. He rolled out
a volley of terrible curses, but I was
master of the situation at that par
ticular moment.
Suddenly there was a sound of
voices, and then the man outside
cried out that they were nabbed, and
tried to make his escape. But I
knew by the sound he was caught
and was struggling with liis captors
There were several pistol-shots fired
and eager cries, during which the
poor wretch at the door made no ef
fort to escape, but lay there limp and
motionless. 1 began to fear I had
killed him. I drew back the bolts
and got the door open just in time to
see the other one overpowered, a pris
oner in the hands of half a dozen
boys from town.
Then we got the man out of the
door. He wasn’t dead, but he was
insensible, my blow with the poker
had been too much for him.
I bought me a pistol the first
thing next morning, and was on the
lookout for robbers and adventurers
after that; but that was the only ad
venture of any account that hap
pened to me while I staid there. If
it hadn’t been for that telegraph
which George and I had put into op
eration, I rather think that I should
have finished up all my earthly ad
ventures that night.
At Louisville, Ky., a woman was
promised ten dollars by a single wo
man of her acquaintance if she would
induce a certain young man to marry
her. She praised the young lady' so
much in his presence that he sought
her hand in marriage, and a wedding
followed. The woman sued for her
pay, but the court would not allow it.
A Michigan farmer abused his
mother-in-law, and then asked her to
lower him down the well to recover
the lost dipper. The coroner de
cided that the rope broke, though
others thought it had been cut.
An impatient boy, while waiting
tor the grist at the mill, said to the
miller: “I could cat the meal as fast
as your mill grinds it! “How long
could yon do so ?” asked the miller.
“Till I was starved to death,” re
torted the boy.
Epidemic Catarrh is killing horses
and mules in Mississippi in large
numbers*
Constance’s Story.
When my husband, Boscoe, asked
me to marry him, I felt it necessary
to tell that I did not love him as lie
loved me—that I understood his de
votion, because I had felt it for an
other, Ivan Gray—that to my bus
band I had to give only a grateful
affection. Would that suffice ?
He said that it would, no told
me afterward that, through my weep
ing, ho did not catch the name; that
he thought I said also that my lover
had died.
From the first, Roscoe was a good
husband. If I did not appreciate
him then I was not unhappj\ I had
a bright, beautiful home which
Roscoe named Hesperides. The
library was extensive, the conserva
tory luxurious. Books and flowers
being my ruling passion, my husband
had taken especial pains to gratify
me.
After our boy was born, and ev
ery body pronounced him a most
healthy and beautiful child, Roscoe
said to me :
“Constance, are you happy now ?”
I looked straight into his honest
brown eyes as I truly answered:
“Y'es, Roc.”
He bent and kissed me with a de
light I had never seen him before.”
“Dearest, you are mine,” he mur
mured, softly.
That was all he said.
It was just two years after wo
were married.
A few days later he received a let
ter. I asked him who it was from.
“My sister,” he answered.
“I never knew that you had a sis
ter,” I said, in surprise.
“No, I have not spoken to you of
Ora. When my parents died in my
boyhood, Ora was a baby, and was
taken by an aunt down to Now
Orleans, where she was raised with
her children. I have only seen her
once since. She is very pretty. This
letter tells me she is to b? married.”
He gave me the letter to read. It
was written on delicate fragrant pa
per, the penmanship easily and
graceful, but rather too fine. Rather
a brief communication, prettily ex
pressed, asking us to come to the
wedding.
“To New Orleans in July I I am
afraid to take baby, and I could not
leave him.”
“I see that wo cannot go. It
is impracticable, I will write and tell
Ora.”
“And give her my love. Say that
I hope she will be very happy.”
I had been present at but one wed
ding in my life, and that was my
own. 1 was six-and-tweuty. It was
very different from what I thought it
would be when I was eighteen. At
eighteen I had been betrothed to
Ivan Gray ; at twentj’-six I married
Roscoe Arnold.
The suggestion of another wed
ding brought back the past to me.
When I was alone, and baby asleep
in his basket, I went to a drawer in
a private cabinet, and took out a
packet of letters and a photograph.
The latter was a vignette—a face
handsome as a Greek God’s, with a
perfection of contour that must ever
be fascinating. As I looked at it
the peace of my heart fled away.
The breath of the past, fragrant,
new, spring-like, sweet, swept over
me; the warm, imperious impulses
of youth started to life in my blood.
I looked at the letters, but did not
open them. There was no need. I
had learned each one by heart years
ago. The packet was small, and I
sat with it held between my palms
for nearly half an hour. But I put
away letters and picture at last, and
sat down by the open window, swing
ing the baby’s basket to and fro.
Just then 1 heard Roscoe whistling
lightly as he ran up stairs, and in a
moment he entered the room, his
hand full of pond lilies.
“See here, Connie—here's a treat
for you 1 Aren’t they' beauties ?”
My favorite flower 1 I took the
splendid things from him and put
them in a crystal globe of cool wa
ter.
“See here!” said Roscoe.
He had pulled off his straw hat,
and the curling hair around his
white forehead was literally dripping
with perspiration.
“See how wilted I am, hurrying
home through the heat to save your
lilies,” he laughed.
I brought him some cool water to
bathe his taco, laid out for him some
fresh clothing, and went away to see
if dinner was ready. Thus I took
up again the present.
Another year wont by. I was sur
rounded by comfort; tenderly cared
for. I resolved not to unlock the
rose-wood cabinet again.
I was reading in the portico, one
Jgno morning, while Melisse, the
nurse, was leading little Lyle along
the garden walks, when a carriage
came whirling up the drive.
I sprang up, fearing something
had happened to my husband. But
by the time I reached the open hall
door, a lady, alone, was coming up
the steps from the carriage. She
was very young, richly robed, and in
stantly addressed me :
“Are you not my brother Roscoe’s
wife ?” she asked. “I am his sister
Ora from New Orleans.”
I don’t remember how I welcomed
her, but I threw open the drawing
room, and she entered and dropped
into a seat.
“Where is Roscoe?” I—l have
come to stay with you,” she said,
her face pale as ashes.
I took a vague alarm at her ap
pearance, but 1 endeavored to speak
as usual.
“You are tired—ill. Lay off your
wraps and let me get you a glass of
wine.”
I went across the hall to the china
closet. When I came back she lay
in a dead faint upon the floor.
I Roscoe had gone out of the town,
and did not, return until evening.
I had Ora taken to a room next mine
and put to bed. She was a more del
icate child when undressed, not more
than seventeen years old.
“Oh, how good yon are—how good
you are 1” she said, with heartrending
pathos, as I bathed her temples and
rubbed her delicate limbs. I had
studied medicine a little with my
father, and I knew she was close
upon a fever. At length she lay
warm and quiet, and soon fell asleep.
I sat up until eleven o’clock, wait
ing for Roscoe. At length I heard
his step in the hall. 1 hurried to
meet him.
He looked astounded at my news*
“Why, what docs it mean f” he asked.
The next morning Ora was in a
burning fever. She talked incoher
ently—she did not know me. She
lay very ill for three weeks.
Poor girl! at one time it seemed
certain that she would die, but we
kept her.
At last, her first act of conscious
ness was to kiss me, aud murmer:
“I love you 1”
At last she could sit up and talk a
little. And then she told Roscoe
and me her story.
I will not rencat it here. It was a
tale too sickening; of human passions
inflamed by liquor ; of man’s tyran
ny; of woman’s weakness. Iter bus
band was false to her and to his
manhood. She clung to him, plead
ing ; he knocked her senseless at his
feet. And before that she had
borne—oh, pitiful heavens, so much !
“He has killed my love for him !”
she said, white and shuddering ; “I
am afraid of him 1 I had rather die
than live with him again! Let me
slay here! Here he will not find mo.
Oh, Roscoe—Constance, let me stay
with you 1”
We soothed her—promised earnest
ly that she should stay, protected
and beloved by us. For the conver
sation was most hurtful to her, and
nearly brought on a relapse of her
fever.
So I found what I never had—a
sister—and I think we made her as
happy as she could possibly be after
the terrible blight upon her youth.
She found a fund of comfort in little
Lyle, who was very fond of her, call
ing her “Lolo” in his soft, lisping ac
cent. She was most unselfish and
sympathetic in disposition, and this
latter trait won from mo, at least, a
confidence.
She sat with me, sewing, in my
chamber, one day. Roscoe had just
sent out from town a package of now
books I wfsbeif to see. We had
looked them over, and promised our
selves much enjoyment in the long
winter evenings coming.
“What a splendid man Roscoe is!”
Ora said, thoughtfully. ‘‘He is a
companion—a friend—-he is interest
ed in everything you care for—he
consults your wishes—ministers to
your tastes. Now my husband nev
er seemeed to care for anything only
to own me!”
She seldom or never referred to
her husband. It seemed to make
her physically ill to do so. I hur
ried away from the subject.
“I know 1 have a good husband,
Ora; I respect him, I admire him.
But yet,” I added, “I should have
been happier if 1 had married another
man.”
Then ! told her the tale of my
youth. Of my exceeding beauty; of
the tourist who wandered to my
mountain home; my passion for him.
Of my invalid mother, who prayed
me not to leave her; of the choice 1
needs must make; of his departure;
his subsequent desertion. Of how
my mother died blessing me; how
my conscience approved, yet my pas
sionate longing for what l had lost.
The hot tears rained down my face
as I concluded, so deeply had my
nature known this experience.
Ora listened with wide eyes, quick
ened breath; her work dropped upon
her lap When 1 had done, she said :
“What was his name, Constance ?
You have not spoken it.”
“Ivan Grey.”
“Have you a picture of him?” elm
asked, in a sharp, suppressed voice.
1 unlocked the cabinet, found the
photograph, placed it in her hand.
She glanced—dropped it as if it
had stung her.
“7t is my husband, Constance 1”
I could only stare at tier.
“It surely is, Constance,” she said,
winding her arms about me. “When
you first spoke of your girlhood’s
love in Blue Mountains, I remem
bered to have seen some sketches rr.y
husband had made there, bearing
date ISGS. Ten years ago. Oli,
Conny, what an escape you made
that yon did not marry him! To be
the wife ovan Grey was reserved
for my fate/’ she added, mournfully.
“Was Mr. Grey’s name Ivan,” /
stammered.
“Yes,” she answered.
I was forced to accept the truth.
/ rose, hy-and-by, and put the let
ters and the photograph in the fire.
And that night / talked alone
with iny husband. Through all eter
nity he will never doubt that I love
him.
A party of emigrants lately appli :d
for admission to the Liverpool work
house who evidently came from some
exceedingly foreign country, as every
European language was spoken to
them in succession without their un
derstanding a word. Nor could any
of the interpreters comprehend their
dialect. Their names, history and
object still remain a secret.
A Nevada Indian, discouraged by
the loss of his horses at ilia bauds of
thieves, declared that lie had noth
ing left to live for hut six squaws and
revenge.
Nineteen times within the last
century the Russian forces have
crossed the Danube with hostile in
tent, without including the present
crossing.
NO. 31.
WOULDN’T BE PLEASED.
Sometime ago there lived in Edin
burg a well known grumbler named
Sandy Black whose often recurring
fits of spleen or indigestion produced
some amusing scenes of senseless ir
ritability, which were highly relished
by all except the brute's good pa
tient little wife. One morning San
dy rose bent on a quarrel. The had
dins and eggs were excellent, done
to a turn, and had been ordered by
himself the previous evening and
breakfast passed without the looked
for compliment.
“What will you have for dinner,
Sandy?'’ said Mrs. Black.
“A chicken, madam,” said the hus
band.
“Boasted or brioied ?”
“Confound it, madam, if you had
been a good and considerate wife
you would have known before this
what I liked,” Sandy growled out,
and slamming the door behind, left;
the house. It was in the Spring and
a friend who was present heard the
little wife say:
“Sandy’s bent on a disturbance tos
day I shall not please him do what
I can.”
The dinner time came and Sandy
and his friend sat down to dinner.—
'l’he fish were eaten in silence and on
raising the cover of the dish before
him, in a towering passion he called
out.
“Broiled chicken ! I hate it, mad
am. A chicken broiled is a chicken
spoiled.”
Immediately the cover was raised
from another chicken roasted to a
turn.
“Madam, I won’t eat roast chick
en,” roared Sandy; “you know how
it should have been crooked.
At that instant a boiled chicken,-
with mushrooms was placed outlie
table.
“Without green peas ?” roared the
grumbler.
“Here (hey arc, my dear,” said
Mrs. Black.
“llow dare you spend my money
in that way?”
“They were a present,” said the
wife interrupting him.
Bising from his Chair, and rushing
from the room, followed by a roar of
laughter from his friend, ho clinched
his |jst and shouted :
“How dare you receive a present
Without my leave.”
SLOSHIN’ ABOUT.
It would seem, at a certain “court
time” in l’ike county, there was a
trial row, and a witness testified that
one Saltonstall “just kept sloshing
about.” As this remark regarding
the chivalrous Saltonstall was fre
quently repeated, the lawyer for the
defence said :
Come, witness, say over again what
it. was that Mr. Saltoustall had to do
with this affair.”
“Saltonstall? Why, I’ve told you’
several times; the rest on’em clinched
and. paired off, but Saltoustall just
kepi sloskin’ about.”
“Ah, good fellow,” exclaimed the
lawyer testily', “wo want to know
what this is. It isn’t legal evidence
in tlie shape you put it. Tell 11s
what you mean by ‘sloshin’ about.’ ”
“Well,” answered the witness very
deliberately,“l’ll try. You see, John
Brewer and Sikes, they clinched and
font. That’s legal form, ain’t it?”
“O yes,” said the lawyer, “go on.”
“Abner and Blackman, they
pitched into one another, and Black
man bit off a piece of Abner’s lip.
That’s legal, two, ain’t it?”
“Proceed.”
“Simpson and Bill Stone and Mur
ray was altogether on the ground, a
bitin’ and kickin’ one another.
That’s legal, too, ain’t it?”
“Very well, but go on.”
“And Saltoustall made it his busi
ness to walk backward and forward
through the crowd, witli a big stick
in his hand, and knocked down every
loose man in the crowd as fast ns he
could come to ’em. That’s what I
call sloshin’ about.”
And pretty rough “sloshin” it was.
“RIGHT DOWN TO COLD FACTS.”
A grocer doing business on Michi
gan grand avenue was yesterday
asked to trust a colored man one day
for a quart of strawberries.
“Can't do it—you’d never pay,” lie
replied.
“I'll pay de money afore eight
o’clock in de rnawning,” earnestly
continued the colored man.
“Perhaps you might, but I don’t
believe it. If you have no money now
how will you have any then."
“Don’t ax me, boss—l’ll have de
cash suah. Izc just perspiring to
death for the want of strawberries.”
“Does any one owe you ?” asked
the grocer.
“No, sail.”
“Then how do you expect to get
any money ?”
“Oh, de pay will he all right.”
“I guess not. You’ll have to try
someone else.”
“Boss, you hez pinned me right
down to cold facts,” said the custom
er. “I wants strawberries, an’ dey
hez got to come, an’, derefore, let me
say (lat I wasn’t going out to-night
to steal chickens an’ sell ’em to git
money.”
“Ah 1 you wasn’t ?”
“No, sail, ’cause 1 dun pulled ’em
in last night, an’ dcy’U he sold to a
butcher dis eycning. Dat’s de cold
fact, mister, an’ now wrap up dem
strawberries an’ don't abuse my con
fidence.”—Detroit Free Frees.,
Under the new postal law you aro
permitted to write your name, pre-’
ceded by the word “from,” on the
margin of the newspaper you send to
your friend.
If the saying were true, bow easi
ly one could earn his living now
by the “sweat of his brow 1” He
would have only to stand in the sun
| for a few minutes, and he would 1*
comparatively wealthy.