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About Weekly Gwinnett herald. (Lawrenceville, Ga.) 1871-1885 | View Entire Issue (July 19, 1882)
jTue G IV l'N X E T K // E RA L 1) PUBLISHED V,v£rtY WBDJiKSDAY BY ISUHSCItiPI'ION KATES: 1 copy 12 raos., $1.50 in advance. 1 copy 0 mils., .T 5 in kHVifnce. 1 copy 3 mos., .50 in advance. Low Enough for Everybody MISOELLANYt MAN'S PERFIDY. DOMAXDF OF AN OLD MAID BY CHRISTINE L. WOODRUFF. Don’t think 1 know nothing of men because lam an old maid. I have #«en what would have wrung tears of blood from my eyes, had not my soul died long ago. Wait and I will tell you the story of Is abel Liuar. She was—but you are nut to think because this Isa bof was a willing girl, and an heir ess, and because she had a hand - some face and bo ly, cm red in the spine, bowed in the chest, stunted and thin, that I am tolling my own story. Who or what I am can’t concern you ; and /besides, I hate people who draw eonc’usions. Suffice it, that Isabel’s deformi ty was not an inseparable bar be tween her and the rest of man kind. Dresses skilfully made, and her superb laair, that fell in curls to her waiste, went far toward veil ing the defects of her figure ; cer tain bonds and mortgages, houses in town, and broad acres in the country, of which she was solo heiress, did sr.ill more. There were actually found two broken down sporting men, and three wid owers, who fur ti e above consider ations, would have bestowed on her their precious selves; but Isa bel, with her usual perversity, chose to consider it as a mere mat ter *of business, and answered their propositions through her lawyer, dml so time wore on, and she had reached her twenti eth vear ** 1 have seen her portrait, taken at that time, tier hair of that lovely brown that hero and there mellows into gold, lmng in heavy curls about her shoulders, and. to gather with her superb shawl, al most concealed the peculiarity of her figure. Her forehead was low, broad, and as white and smooth as ivory ; her eyes large and intensely black, with long Jash es, and beautifully marke l eve brows. The only not beautiful feature of her face was her mouth, and even that, was small, with full, well cut lips, and remarkably fine t' eth, but a something in the downward curves of the corners and and the fine lines about it, not yet widened and deepened by the heavy hand of Time, betoken ed She shadowed forth the fut ure woman, for had she never gone—but why anticipate or re grot,? Not her own girlish fancy fancy sent her to Ergoton, to spend the Summer with her Uncle David Linar—a quiet place, shut in among the hills, with nothing abbut it to attract the petted heir oss. It was fate —inexorable, un pitying —driving a child cursed, perhaps for her parent’s sins— to her d >on. It is useless, then, to s>y : ‘Had she not gone.’ f>lie was forced there. The family was small—only her uncle an 1 his wife, sound, fravh, smiling old people, whom every one calls benevolent because they are too stupid and lazy not to take life easy—and tboir son Phillip— no country lad, but i man in the prime of life, well educated,smooth tongued, city bred—one of the finer specimens of snako, with shin ing skin and golden spots. How was Isabel t> know of the deadly poison hidden under 'Lat fair ex terior ? Everything about the old house pleased her. The rooms wero wide and airy—trees shaded the doors and vines clustered about the windows ; and such peace reigned there that the simple girl took it for Eden. She was in no wise disconcerted by the marked attentions of Phillip, for love or marriage had never been consider ed by her as possibilities, and she received them all in the light of more brotherly kindness. He Weekly Gwinnett Herald. TYLKR M. I’KKI’LK-i. ) binroa and Proprietor. ( read to her hour after hour, sit ting on the broad, sun flecked piaz 7A —leaves murmuring and bust Ijng about them, and water danc ing in the sunlight hradiy ten pac es from them. In the long, rosy twilight they sang together-rt-ha cool, moonlight nights saw the pi galloping miles ami miles over all the surrounding country. Weeks rolled away, and to be together becaino their habit. Drop by drop tho subtle' poison distilled itself through her veins, and she dream ed of no danger till she found her self flushing and trembling at his approach, the heart leaping up with a secret thrill to meet him, while her manner, in spite of lior self, was formal and a vkward— all the old careless ease gone, and in its place a tremor, and a hurry, and a pain that was, after all, half pleasure. Then, being a sensible girl, she called the thing by its right name, and looked the ‘pres ence’ that bad taken up its abode with her, uninviten in the face. ‘You are Love,’ she said, boldly ‘and I have been fool and let you iu. But, since you are here, you shall not rule me. If I cannot drive you out I can starve you,’ And, going up stairs, she pack ed her trunks and announced to hes mit that sho was going home that vervday. Phillip heard and waited silent lently til! the usual storm us irgu ments—-dissuasive and persuasive —had exhausted themselves. Then he took Isabel's hand, and led her to the window, where she could see the horses ready saddled. •You will take on* more ride with me, will you not ?’ lie mur mured, with a glance that sue /ound it hard to resist, She had promised to starve out her secret heart visitor ; but it is probable that she concluded to de lay the process till she reached home, for she went. The ride was a silent one. Phil lip seemed actually speechless.— Isabel was busy reproaching her self for herself for her weakness, and they might have gone the length of the forest without a word, had not Isabel's horse shiad suddenly at something in the road throwing h ;, r heavilv to the ground. In an instant, Phillip was out of his sa Idle, and kneel ing beside her. ‘lsabel! Jove! darling! are you hurt? he asked, breathlessly. ‘lsa he!, speak !—how can you toitHre me when I love you so dearly ? Tell me, are you injured ?’ /babel, who was only suffering from mortification at her careless riding, opened her large ’ eyes in genuine terror. ‘Philip, are you mad!’ she ask ed, trying to free herself from his grasp; ‘or have yon forgotten what stands betweeu me and all human sympathy ? Wlmt right have you to utter, or to listen, to such words ? I, the deformed— the—’ ‘Not to me,’ he interrupted pas sionately. ‘You are fair as an an gel in my sight. I have read your pure soul in the depths of your wonderful eyes ; and it is that, / love—not % the shell, the baser part. O, Isabel! / might never have dared to tell yon. because of your wealth; but, truly and fer vently, and unchangeably, I love you.’ A month from that t : mc they were marriel. Uncle and Aunt L nar opened their eyes indeed ; but, as Aunt Linar said : Isabel was a good girl, and thought it was a strange enough’ fancy, Philip seemed to set q:i it. The bonds, and mortgages, and broad acres, I doubt if she men tioned even to herself, though the charitable world gave that fact the prominence,loudly proclaiming that ‘Philip Linar had made a danced good thing of it.’ The world, howe'er, might talk as it pleased tlge young hus Lawrenceville, &a. Wednesday, July 19, 1882 band and wife heard it not; nor would lmvo cared if they did.— They were spending the honey moon in the old homestead of Isa bel’a father—old and sombre no longer now, but airy and gay with its new frescoes, and galleries, and furniture, as the spirit of the bride herself. Like others raised to in fluence from the depths of pover ty, she was prodigal of her new inheritance of happiness. Now tligit she was sure of it (fur, until her wedding day, she had lived beset by a haunting dread lest something should snatch it from her), sho longed to bestow a por tion of it on others; and so she wrote to Lina Haight—the only friend she ever had—-to come to her, and rejoice in the sunlight with Lei. Invitations from people with eight or ten thousand a year are seldom sligh;ed, and a week after Lina came—a girl about Isabel’s own age, pretty onotigh with her blue eyes, dazzling -skin, regular features and wealth of golden hair, but a very marvel of beauty and development. Her long sloping shoulders, rounded chin, and pil lar like throat melting into her white neck, perfect anas and rosy, tapering fingers, were the very re alizition of a sculptor’s dream; and though she hi 1 little charac ter, small intelligence and no intol lectuality, all her movements were graceful, anil her voice low anu pleasant, anu her manner shy, clinging and conciliating. la a weeks time she had ninclmd her self into the household and its ways. In a month she had assum ed various little responsibilities, and s seined fairly installed as member of the family, to no one’s satisfaction more than that of /sa bel, especially as time began to show her some Haws iu her wed ded happiness and her need of otli or friendship beside that of her husband. Like a cloud darkening a Sum mer'day, stole into her soul the first warning of evil, hi an uudefi liable coolness between herself and Philip. Heiress and mistress of large estates, she had never learned to yield, Philip must he obeyed. There were no .quarrels, but secret heart burnings and smothered anger. Isabel stormed and wept, and was half the tim3 sullen. Philip preserved a cool equanimity mere exasperating than actual outrage ; it ended, of course in Isabel’s deciding to yield.— (Nature has so ordained it, that all men are mean hypocrite and al’ women fools). Being no except tion, Isabel, after a day spent in tears in her room, dressed herself with usual care and want down to greet her husband with the nows of unconditional surrender. She waited till the usual hour of his coming was past. Then tired of sitting alone in the fast darkening parlors, she sent up for Lina; but tbo servant came back with ward that she was out. Half vexed,she snatched up her garden hat and went out toward the orchard at the back of the bouse. There under tbo shade of an old apple Ireo sat Philip, and by him, Lina. Isabal stood at the stile like one thunderstruck. Sbe had been sitting at home waiting for her husband, aud he was there with her friend, looking into Lina’s bluo eyes as once he had looked into here. Here cam© cooler thoughts—Philip often came that way to shorten the road. Lina had strollod out there, or was sit ting under the tree, and ho had joined her. That was ail. How absurd to be jealous; and yet, try as she would, she felt that in spite of liar, her voice was cold and alter eJ, and her look suspicious, \yl;eu the truants at last came home, ‘You are lato,’ she said to Phil ip. . ‘Yes,’ he answered, with an effec tatipn of gayety. T started at the usual hour, but was detained on tiie r ad, and came homo with fearful forebodings of your wrath, and cold tea, till I was <,consoled by meeting Lina at the gnto—a companion iii misfortune, haring been belated so.' Isabel’s heart sank within her. If there was nothing to conceal, why should he stoop to falsehood? She glanced at Lina. Her fair face was perfectly crimson. ‘Make no excuses,’ returned Isa bel, coldly. ‘I saw you in the orchard, and ca„ bear witness that you seemed to have excellent rea sons for lingering.’ Philip bit his lip, and Lina turn ed deadly pale; but neither at tempted to answer; and all tho rest that long, miserable eve ning the silence was unbroken, till Lina, rose, aud bidding them a timid good night, hurried from tha room. Then Isabel laid down tho work over which she had been so uncommonly busy all the eve ning, and folding hor arms, fixed her brilliant eyes stea'dily on her husbands face, who tried to veil his confusion undor the pretense of reading; but that searching look penetrated alike through hia book and his flimsy Jsublsrfuge.— He coughed, turned over the leaves restlessly, shifted his po sition, jumped up and paced the room, and still those flaming eyes pursued him with their scornful interrogation. At length ho burst out : ‘The devil take it, Isabel 1 what fiend possesses you ? what do you mean V ‘Mean? Have I said anything?’ she asked, with an affectation of surprise. ‘No! I’d a thousand times rath er you had. than to sit, there look ing like—like—like—Santa him self. Why don’t you speak ? Out with it all ! ’1 here’s a pretty cala logue of fears and suspicions, no doubt. A jealous woman can’t be called a saue person.’ Isabel sat sil.nt. ‘Come !’ lie urged roughly, appa renlly trying to work himself up into a passion to stifle his own se cret upbraidinga. ‘You neodon’t be dumb now! I understand you thoroughly. You are jealous, and •f Una.’ ‘"Well, hare I not cause ?’ she asked meaningly, still keeping her eyes on his face. Philip hesitated, but her look seemed to force the truth from him. ‘Well, if you will have it,’ he said at length—‘yes. You ought to have known I was acting under the influence of a moral delirium wliou I married you, and been too generous to taka advantage of it. a monstrosity, a blot on Nature. — I tvns bewildered by your arts. — Now lamin my senses. If you desire to know if I love Lina, 1 an swer, yes. Sue is fair and straight as / am. Our union is monstrous aud unnatural; one with her would not be, and though I did not mean to tell you so soon, since it must all coma out, you may as well know that I intend procuring a divorce.’ ‘You cannot !’ answered Isabel, a great red spot burning on eitner cheek, and her eyes flashing, but otherwise as quie'ly as though en gaged in ordinary conversation.— ■I will not consent ’ ‘Not consent ?’ ‘No, never ! There is no cause —-no legal artifice by which you can make justice your abettor in a crime. Much has Lina has wrong ed me 1 will save her from you at least; and I will say again, I will not consent, weroit my death war rant. More than that, from this moment till the time that / my self restore her to her father, Lina is under my custody.’ Philip’s eyes began to glow with a dangerous light. ‘And 1 say further/ continued theimpru lent Isabel, ‘that no eel fish considerations, no shunio or pride, shall withhold me from ac quainting her friends aud guardi ana with the fact, and warn in <r them against you. She is both wrnk mi 1 false ; but sho may yet be'saved. You— ’ The fiords died away in gurghng inarticulate sounds. With a hoarse cry Philip had thrown himself up on her, and seizing her slender neck between bis hands wasstrang ling her. They found her the next morn ing, dead apparently. Fate how ever, had not bean s > merciful to her. She lived, after wooks of long and awful struggling between life and death. The guilty couple bad fled; but sho made no effort to trace them, nor was ever heard to speak their names. She took the wedding ring from hor finger, put on mourning, and called Ler self agaiu Miss Linar. But be cause that is my uame also, aud I, too, live iu a villa on the Hudson that might once have beeu bright and gay, do not think tint I have told you my own story. Autobi ographies, short or long, arc hum bugs, and I hate humbugs. Dilatory Lovers. The impatience of the parents of the young lady over the long and fruitless visits of the chronic caller was pictured in comic colors some years ago by a funny writer. It seems that it was midnight.— The young man had farewelled himself out, aud Emeline had lock ed the door and was untying her shoe when her mother came down stairs with a bed quilt around her, and said : ‘Wanted to creep up stairs with out my hearing, eh? Didn’t think I knevt it was an hour after mid. night, did you ?’ The girl made no reply, and tlnf mother continued ; ‘Did he propose this time ?’ ‘Why, mother !’ Jexclaimei the daughter. ‘You cant ‘why, mother’ all you want to, but don’t I know that you've burned up at least four tons o f coal couiting around here ?’ The girl got her shoos off, and the mother stood in the stair doer and asked : ‘Emelina, have you got any grit ?’ ‘1 guess so.’ ‘I guess you haven't. I just wish that fellow with his false teeth and a mole on his chin would come sparking me. Do you know what would happen, Eaieline?' ‘No.’ ‘Well, I’ll tell you. He’d cam# to me in sixty days or he'd get out of this mansion like a goat jump ing for sunflower seeds.’ And Eineline went to hod hug ging this thought in her bosom. Oucsionally such visits become so burdensome that the young la dy talks to the young man her self. At toavt they had such girls out in Colorado. Sue . had been receiving the attentions of a young maid or about a year, but, becoming impatient at bis failure to bring matters to a c.isis, she resolved to ascertain his intentions. Whan be next called she took him gent ly by the ear, led him to a seat,and said : ‘Nobby,you ve been foolin’ ’round this claim fur mighty near a year, an’ hav never yit shot off your mouth on tho marryiu’ biz. I’ve cottoned to yer on the square clear through,an’ hev stood off every other galoot that has tried to chip in ; an’now I want yer tu come dow nto business or leave tho ranch Es you’re on the marry anil want a pard th it’ll stick right tu yer .ill ye pass in your cheeks an’ de good Lord calls ye over tho range, just squeal, an’ well hitch ; but es that ain’t yer game, draw out an’ give Homo oilier feller u show fur his pile. Now, sing yer song or skip out.’ He sang. Politicians might to inako good telegraph repair men. They are use to pulling wir«s. A truly great and noble mind is always humble in its foiling and modest in its deportment. A cake eaten in peace is wortl* two in trouble. Dospepsia, the hug hoar of epi cureans, will be relieved by Brown Iron Bittei;s. jVol. XII.—No. 18. CORRESPONDENCE. | line Future by the Fast. Mr. Editor —Plundering around to day I happened to get hold of oue of undo I’ete’s papers. I see he advertisos an enlargement of his paper, Though aftei examining it throughout it was not much t» my surprise. 1 foutid lie had eat on up the Athens Banner editor, and couieß in by Lawreuceville and makes a fearful “growl” at the Herald, and I ain't sure if / can't Bee some signs of a •snap.’ At least there is a little sign »n the tale. I see ho has gone on via Atlanta, and on down with liis judgeship as far as Macon, 1 ap predate his judgeship iu the Glut au-Gautt case, though 1 am alruid if he gets to roving rouud too much his Honor will go beyond the statute of limitation. I tell you I have been thinking about the newspaper business some time—how easy it was to make money, but if u man lias to crack jokes, and be called all sorts of mimes beforo bo gets to be a judge and cat up a biother editor just beforo or just after the judgeship, 1 prefer the same old dish iu mine Tnere may be some other things about it 1 haven’t found out, and expect are ; there is one tiling at least—l think I will not go into the enlerpriso until we get a now Congressman from tho flth Dis trict. I wonder if the hard times are going to stop our county from pol *itics ? I don't hoar anything say ing hardly. The boys about town ougc tto rub up a little it is now laying by time, and the old wea ried fiirmois want something to renew and refresh them. I hear of a few caps being bursted, but no harm done as yet. I expect the candidates for county officers will bo a resemblance of the Maths Youngblood cat tale. He says his wife was very fond of cats and generally kept lh e or six about tlie house. Ho says ho thought one day during her uliseuco he would have a little fun at her ex pense. as lie had worked so long to feed the cats. It see.us th»t he lived in a heuso with up stairs to it, and the old fashioned way of going up a ladder instead of stair way. lie says ho gathered up all the cats, put them up stairs, pre pared himself with a long hickory and goes up with the cats. When his wife entered tlio door li« brought his hickory down on the floor as if he ware whipping some thing. Then ho said things be gan to be lively up stairs, lie said lie hoard her in an eager voico say ‘•ls that you, Matba ? What are you doing?" “Nothing; just hav ing a little fun.” He hoard her tipping on the ladder and the door s.art to open. In a moment she opened tb<s door, when he ex claims : "Look out !" at the same time slashing with his hickory among the ca s. They rushed to the door, and, bless your soul ! they covered her up !” ‘Oh ! that the upstairs door be opened P say the bar keepers. Lawrenceville, Ou. KOR fnE UKRALD. Mr. Editor: In perusing next to the last issue of your modi wei com paper, we find a Jotter from William Garner, which we wish to endeavor to answer. We claim that the writer unjustly tried to trample on our toes in an indirect manner, but while he lias no heels or soles to his shoes and only hears upon our toes with tho hollow of liis foot the pain inflicted is not very severe. Mr. Editor, we will say that we ar© the river farmers to whom he refered in his letter. We wish you to notice tho man ner in which he strikes us. He commenced his letter by writing about the Dekalb farmers, then he comes to his Gwinnett farmers and from thence to the fence ques tion aud then to myself, the river farmer. I wish to state the rea son why he said that the rive far mers should fix up their river fen ces. Last winter I split rails and built a new fence around that part of my farm that needed it.— The rai's being tolerably large / built it just nine rails besides the ground pole, which made it about as high as my venerable friends’ or ue g ibors he d This spring a f tor I plan ted ray crop, my venerable neighbor’s hogs jumped over this new feuoe, of which I have just spoken, at a place where there was one rail knocked off I bruised his hogs right sharply, and ou account of this become angry, and tries to set AB— Artreri'isivf/ sl*oiinn .The HERALD is iinerjiHiltd ly reason of its extensive circulation and remarkably low rates. Dusduss men should nmemher this. BLANKS! BLANKS ! BLANKS (am, kinds neatly printed) FOR SALE ATTHE II Fit A LD JO It OFFICE the thing offby putting it in tl • newspaper. Now Mr. Editor, I am as much in favor es the no- fence question ns he ie, and I think I ought to be for I am the injured partyortlie One whosecorn was destroyed, and 1 would say te my neighbor, that he, indeed, would do bis neighbor a great fa vor in voting for and advocating the cause of tho fence question. I too agieo with him and hope, that all, will vote when mceßsary for no fence. lam aware »f the fact that my neigbor may cry out, “If the shoe fits let h!m wear it." I will say that lam willing to wear every shade of this that it becomes me to wear, but I am unwilling for my neighbor to fall out with me and try to get the upper hand of me by nowspaper writing, while I am at home endeavoring to make a crib of corn like he stated his wai, and lar furthermore unwil ling for my neighbors’ hogs to jump my fences which are good and destroy my corn. Reep y Richard N. Holt Borkihire, Owluuett Co., Ut. The Cow ‘Hoisted’ A man came to the office with a black eve, a strip of court plaster across his cheek, one arm in a sling, and as he leaned on a crutch and wiped tlio perspiration away from around a lump on his fore head, with a red cuttou handker chief, ho naked if the editor wus in We noticod that there was quite a healthy smell of stock yards about the visitor, but thinking that in his crippled condition wo could probably whip him, if worse enmo to worse, wu admitted that wo were in. ‘Well, I want to stop my paper/ said lie, as he sat down en one odgo of a chair, as though it might hurt ‘Scratch my name right off. You nre responsible for nor condl tion.' Thinking the man might have boen taking onr advice to deaf men, to always walk on a railroad tiack if they could find one, wo were preparing to scratch him off without any argument, believing that lie was a man who knew when ho hud enough, when he spike up as follows : ‘The amount of it is this i I live out in Jeflerson county, and I come in on the Northwestern Road just to get recreation. lam a far rner, and keep cows. I recently road an article in your paper about a dairyman’s convention, where one of the mottos over tho door was, ‘Tro,t your cows as you would a lady,’ and tho article mid it was contended by our best dairy men that a cow treated in a polite gentlemanly manner, as though she was a cernptiuion, would g rj twice as much milk. The plan seemed feasible to me. I bad boen a hard man with stock,and though* maybe that was one reason why my cow always dried up when but butwas forty cents a pound. Idecid ed to adopt your plan, and treat a cow as I would a lady. I had a kindle cow that never had been much mashed on ms, and I decided to commence on her, and the next morning after I read your devilish paper, I put on my Hun lay suit, and the white plug bat that I bought the year Greeley run for President, and went to the burn to milk. I noticed tho old cow scorned to be bashful, and fright ened, but taking off my hat "and bowing p • aly, I said, ‘Madame, excuse the seeming impropriety of the request, but will you do me the favor to Ji flat ? At the same* time 1 tapped her gently on the flank with my plug hat, and put. ting the tin pail oh the floor under her 1 sat down on the milking stool. ‘Did she hoist f said wo, rather anxious to know how tlie adview had worked. ‘Did she bois! ? Well look st me, and see if you think she boiet ed i Say, I tell you in confidence, and I don t want it repeated, but that cow raioed right up and kick ed me with all four feet, switched me with her tail and hooked me with bo ;h b >rns. all at once, naff when I got up out of the bedding in the stall, and dug my hat out of the manger, and the milking stool out from under me, and began to rn aul tust cow, I forgot all about the treatment ofli owed cattle.— Why, sbe fairly {galloped over me,- and I never want to read your old paper again.' We tried to explain to him that tho advico,did not apply to brin ile c )ws at all, but he bobbed out, the maddest man that ever asked & cow to hoist in diplomatic lan-'' guage.
