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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.
