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VOL. XIV.
MISOELLAXfeOUS AUVEKTISEMESt.
THE ADKINS HOUSE/.
ON ELLIS STREET OPPOSITE QDO FELLOWS’ HALL.
AUGUSTA, <; V.
JK.. J. ADKINS, JJR,., - - - PRCP'H.
lawiy Furmslisi Csutraliy Laoaiei
Cv>NVK\lB\T ;’0 DEPOTS. post (M’i'K T 5, AND
Bl'M N 1.-..S POU HON OP Cl i’Y.
Hoi and V Id Itn hs attaehed to Rooms.
FIRS 1 CI.ABS I VHI l>, <’Lt AN ROOMS AM) V BODING.
f‘eb7*B36m iv***?* NDni.omr*.
Imii-J ,835. '
I ant now ready to supply my customers m l the public with the following named
mm ;0 FEAi'IJZiRS:
St rn's Am. ’vowbme Snp-Phos.
IVti d’otoiVs fuji-Vhcfa.
AVlumu’s.
ifc>wkers .8C- Swl
; USSHI i
L and 1.
t AI.SO
'-k 1 A • 1
fc\vi ti 1. ttiix. J. I.C* * i •
I will kosp the r\ .t. ;* ~f, r >at 1* u ami on and IC- ring.
. J. P. JONES,
Thomson, G.i., ‘fun. iBBr>.
J&JA W m t> ( o &l 2 r & jS*
Manufactur t and Dt do - : n all kinds of
Furnitiiio and Hon Furnishing
Goods, Fuggi.es, Carriages,
Wagons,, &c., Ac.
All Repairing promptly done and at rea
sonable rat. . Slacks-mithiog in all its
brani lies.
UMWKTA KING.
I liave a 'urge n, and elegant
I. .AkSIE,
Whioli will Ih* Hfut to any part nf lli town or country at reasonable rates.
COFFINS AXI) MKTALUC CASES.
BURIAL C'iSES
all aizfH and qualities. I nm.- -
! * r
JSCKSAFa RO.i3.E2ft,
Suitab e for Males or Females, old or young.
—K§
The undersign[ <i is agent or the sale of
this H. para tor, which is tli best in (he
market. AN* :g c >r l rick AC A ceh
bra ted Saw ■ ,Is. Stationary and Port
able, Ijiigim s, Hclipsc Cotton (Jins, etc.,etc.
Terms and prices given on application.
** 1* * *• I' I-- 'I'D imeion
* • ■f HI t'j 415 t *
Thom S, Lewis,
NO. lilt P h \V, THOMHCfN, : ;i;< )KOI \
Keeps the best stock of tiH .:i j n Thom
son. It has been teste* and as declared
by first-class judges. lii stock consists of
Flour, Veal, Corn, Meat, S.i-gar, Coffee,
and all their go ids in tin. Grocery Line.
Also Boots. Shoes, Hats Clothing, and l)rv
Goods o all kinds.
Corn, Meat & Fewer
Fo. Specialty I
Thomson', Georgia, avfi)xi<;sday, February is, issg.
TO-QAY AND TO-MO3ROVI.
’ Tluuah shadows robe the sky to-day.
And turns our joys to sorrow,
Yot aR the clouds will break away,
And bring .tbc sun to-mpvrow
Thou vby should auy one. look sad,
And mourn Lir hopes'tiep.vrt( i d,
When just l eyoutl us eyes are glad,
Fi\.in which the tears had blurted.
Time in the numbering of years,
.May mid a dav of sorrow,
But e\on this need tiring no tears,
For iov wii coai ■ tu-nuuTo\v.
And I.earth m-.v chug with f etde powers,
io h ij.es tu it laid been riven,
Yet age M ill bring its brighter hours.
In thoughts of rest ami heuvtm.
Then ever as your happiness
Is half-eclipsed by So i row,
Look up. uml hope on, uone the k>S
That j. y may e me to-monovC
And still be hopoful t* the latt
Whatever m.y tiefall us,
i Till j y u.l >;rn f aliK** are past,
Ami h .gets home shall call m.
Tilt* vVuioiv’s Lodger.
CHAPTKU lit.
A MUTIN’! UOWNcTAIKS.
For sum Mm nil. r tha a Ivontot tbe
eceanlria lodgar. nitmbar twanty-seven
wasrallicr unsettli-d, bill tlie inm itas
jjrawne.Tistom. dto InnisrailiiaUy.Xlipre
was. in fact, no alternalivp, bo gave
vary little trouble and he had no in
tention of going. The cook gave warn
ing, the housemaid would not wait up
on him, and M. !’. Parker stole in and
out of the house on tiptoe; lie was
dreadfully afraid of that eminently dis
agreeable old gentleman upstairs. When
he walked about the house the ceilings
shook, and when he called his man it
was in a roar that made everybody trem
ble. Up to this time Mary Allenby had
not much to thank the friendly lawyer
for, but she did not tell bis so.
“He isold.and irritable,and in pain,”
she said, when Mr. Joyce inquired how
she liked her new lod. er, “and perhaps
the climate does not agree with him.
He will be better by-aml-bye.”
“Nothing ever did suit him or agree
with him except having his own way,”
said Mr. Joyce; “he is rich and eccen
tric, and most people let him do as lie
likes for the sake of what may bo got
out of him. By the way, 1 forgot to
mention that be hates the sight or sound
of children. They drive him mad, so I
told him you had none.”
“Mr. Joyce, how eoydd you?”
“A little evasion, my dear lady, noth
ing more, quite legal. Ho asked me if
you had—no, i am wrong—he did not
ask anything about you in that respect,
lie wanted to know if there were child
ren in tire house; now, one child is not
children, so 1 rould answer him fear
lessly, and then yours is such a quiot
liltle angel.”
“He certainly is very quiet,” said
Mary, “and I keep him out, of the way.”
“Quite right, too, most children are a
nuisance, except to the people they be
long to; how does .little ghap get
along with tire niggers dor of fflwiwo lie
lias seen it?”
“1 was never so surprised in my life.
Arthur look to him from the lost; he
understands children wonderfully; but
.you should not call him a nigger, Mr.
Joyce.”
“He would not mind. Why should
hi'? The ii< gro is a man and a brother,
and I have told h in not to mention Hie
child to his master.”
“I was about to ask you that.”
“I would not have him know it for
the world. It would aggravate the gonl;
inflammation might set in, and then 1
should lose my best client. Keep that
child out of his way, Mrs. Allenby,
whatever you do.”
It was dillicult to tell whether Mr.
Joyce was serious or jesting, but he
said that so solemnly that M ry was
frightened; tie re was.no knowing whet
sntai a singular gentleman might do if
be came suddenly upon one of the in
line nt race that he bated with the
ferocity of H rod.
Had Mr. Barker's irr” ibiiity not been
a natural iulirmity inu nsilied by pain,
it might have been thou dit that lie was
trying Jo see hmv thoroughly disagree
able he could make himself. He grum
bled whenever he bad a chance, and the
way he went on at the poor man of his,
was, as the cook said, something dread
ful; not that she understood a word, for
Mr. Barker, roared at him in an un
known tongu -, an . Cinei replied in the
samwith his quiet, mellow voice and
irresistibh nude; and then she wanted
to know why he did not have his game,
and fish, and poultry from the proper
tradesmen, and his m :at from the hotel!.
■T, instead of eat in ; those tinned tilings
like a eaniiihi.l. Evidently the cook had
citr ous associations of ideas, or else her
impressions as to what those tins con
tained were it eidf dly erroneous.
With a cook who g ive warning twice
a week on tne average, anda housemaid
in a perpetual state of mutiny, Mrs.
Allenby was in a sad condition of per
plexity. and she d:d not like having to
smuggle her pretty baby out of the way
if she chanced to hear her lodger’s voice
or footstep on the landing. The little
widow had a very indep. udent spirit of
her own. ami in her inmost heart she
wished Mr. Barker would go.
“I would tell him to go,” she said to
Dr. Hyde, “but I am sure no one else
would take him in; he is so disagree
able.”
“ Toe have the true spirit of a Chris
tian, Mary,” he said, witti a smile.
“You endure the infliction rather than
let your neighbors suffer; but it seems
to me that so long as you keep a lodg
ing house you will 1., !i: hie to these
tilings. People who 1 - - in lodgings
imagine that they have the right to do
as they please; people who let lodgings
imagine that those who live in them
should do as they, the people who let
them, please. Now here we have the
two brought into conflict. You have a
self-willed old gentleman for a lodger,
he has a dignified little landlady. Now.
the thing is. do you really wish to gel
rid of him?”
Mary hesitated.
“I have to keep baby out of his way,
George?”
“Well, that is no particular hardship,
and is to be met by keeping baby out of
liis way. Now what comes next?”
“The cook will not stay. She gives
me Warning every other day or so, and
the housemaid is always complaining.”
“These things are to be remedied.
Good cooks and good housemaids, the
very best, are to be had by the score.
Always treat them with kindness and
Consideration, but never submit to what
they term their ‘ways.’ Those ‘ways’
of theirs are a source of discomfort in
any house, and one of two courses mutt
be adopted; if the servants cannot get
rmoiuieir ‘ways,' you must get riu
of the servants. It is a iVt ike to set
too much value on some penial quality j
in a servant. You u;. them good
temper. and. willing, aud o, euiont; treat I
Hum, as I have said, v. If*very kind- j
ness and consideration, give them as
much liberty as you can. aud let them
: have their own .time when fi.eir work is !
| done. When you find them sullen, dis- I
contented, mid complaining, they are t
better out of the house. King for the 1
I cook, please, and we can tell her to send
the housemaid up when w.e have done
with her.”
Mary rang, and was answered by the i
housemaid. Being told to *tid the cook
upstairs, she went down |H told her
j fifilpw-sarvaut, that she ufri not know
what the matter was. hqt IP, Hyde and i
mis.- s was looking very s t us.
“And w hat if they mef’ said the
cook, indignantly, though tulh inward
trepidation. “I don't cure; I am worth
mvin'.u ya'iyivheUjghj^^^^
conquer the myst lions iha-i i of “behltfi
sent tor;”.and her mii.inciVnntf defiant i
and half nervous, changed to one of
most, rtspei tfill attention under the
i calm eyes of the grave yoiuhr doctor.
“Ton have e; veuyour qjif.livsßnotice
of your intention tu leave her service,”
he began: “ami you have e eio this on
several occasions. Mrs. Iku mhoS. In it
really your wish to go?” :
“Well, sir.”—and be
gan to study the pattern,' of lu r apron
intently,—“not that I have anylhlhg to
say—a kinder mistress no tlhe could de
sire; but then. sir. ullhimglibilly acook,
I have my feelings, agr i do like
my kitchen to mvscli And if lam en
gaged as Conk. 1 ,io liki In do the cook
ing like a Christian—not have a lot of
foreign messes dished .up under my
very nose.” ‘•
“But. if Mr. Barker those
‘foreign messes.’ Mrs. Co>nbef7aml in
structs his servant to prepare them,
surely you can have no objection. Does
: the man interfere with you?”'
“Oh no, sir, quite the contrary.”
“Am I to ninii i that you
• interfere with him?'’
do
i*• : i ' il, liF 'J sst
and net.. jMMkp ’
a. ■
■ f | iiaHfiKl i
j- 'w ’
■I
vf l IJf ry’ ; I i
w
\ J
exeelrmS"?JHHßHW.jTOa3^i
Willi many of yourelaWWie Stupid id( a
tiiattlie kitchen is ehfht.dy your own,
; and anyone else who tttt.rs dots so on
! r.ulTerance. You shfirhl understand
| that the kitchen is that part of tjje house
; in which yon do jamrb rk as yon may
be unlered, and, so I IP- you are not un
duly interfered w.tli,* l' have no right
to object lu anyone wiw may bo sent
tliqroor permitted *h i he yu.ur mis
>tress. Von may
and he touched llm bull. “We want iue
housemaid bow.”
Airs. Coomb's deceriied, eri ifallen.
hut mole indiguau' tlt u ever, half in-
Cl I lied to pack up herlfixund go there
and then, just to let them see how they
would get along without Her.
“lfit had been ac al muster,” she
told the housemaid, would not have
stood it; but them doctors have got a
1
Hj I
i
; 1 u J
r
.id w. i
beer for me. I so. ~. Wi'i see him
j breading and milk.:iigtlnfi gfueliing me;
\ anil then gelling a littletoumuch every
i now ami t!e :i, and being ill, as lie is, 1
can tell him.”
M ss Martha Brown, the housemaid,
with much less to say, had mure de-ter
mination, and perhaps More to complain
of. than Mrs. Coumbes. Honestly, she
did not like the eccentric lodger; she
■ did not like his man; and she objected
| entirely to their outia.idisli way. “I
j once lived in a house where there was a
j black woman,” she told the cook; “they
j told me she was a here or a yah!—l
don’t know which; but the first time I
; aaw her 1 nearly had aft, iindslie was
| like Sin-sauce here, creeping about the
kitchen and the nitrsety. waiting and
' rousing the children; it made me sick.
Hold them if they would let mo go,
| they might give my wage# to the liar". J
I I had a young man then, and I've, got
| the same young man now—one that
i means me true and honor iblo, and
| would marry mo to-morrow if I liked.
I so !'m independent.”
In this frame of mind MNs Brown j
| went upstairs, very indignant at being
j “sent for.’’ mid in no disposition to ho
| “carpeted.” SlM" was*a .nice-looking,
j well-built girl, with a pair of bright
j black eyes which suggested more sauei
[ ness than she ever indulged in. “I
i know mj place,” she had s'.id, “and I ;
| keep it, and 1 don’ttake no interference
i from nobody!”
“Your mistress tells in'-you are not !
! satisfied with your situation?” Dr.
: Jlvdo began, feeling that he had a more j
difficult task here, and not a little urnaz- |
cd by the girl’s perfectly respectful and i
yet independent bearing.
“I never said so. sir.”
“Perhaps you will kindly tell me what
you did say?” lie said, slightly at a I.>s,
for in truth the girl never said so in j
words.
“1 said nothing, 'sir. that wanted to
be repeated in words. If I had not been
satisth'd, I should have given a month 1
and left properly; and I do not object
to Mr. Sinsoro, because his skin is not
the color I've, been accustomed to.
We can none of us help our afflictions,
and it is not for in - to sav anything
about the old genii tun for grunting,
and grumbling, anil swearing, though
he might do il in proper English like a
Christian; but I do like a man to do a
man's work. It's the first time in uiy
life I ever was help, and to make the beus
by a whitey-browu man!”
It was almost impossible not to laugh,
quite impossible not to smile; the house
maid’s indignation was so honest and j
sincere.
"1 was never before hi my life told |
that I did not know In iklo make a gen
tleman’s bed proper Ac went on;
“and to see the v: it is
enough to drive au> woman
out of her s hm/s— punching here and
piming there, building up a little at the
toot, and what he calls elevating the
head, tiii I don't know what it looks
like. How any Christian can sleep in
it bothers me entirely.”*
“Air. Barker is an invalid,” said
Dr. Hyde, quietly, “and the man under
stands him.”
“Alan, indeed; a gentleman with
plenty of money ought to have a wife
to understand him, and 1 am not even
allowed to dust thedrawing-roomsnow;
I may sweep and clean with Mr. Sin
s.tuee looking on, but ns to touching
any of the breakables, it's more than I
dare, and to be told to my face that
they are gems of the antic and articles
ol' virtue, —a few trumpery bits of old
fashioned china, —I uni not a fool.”
“I have no doubt that, like Airs.
Ooombes, you are a very excellent ser
vant,'’ lie said, soothingly, “and if your
mistress had a house of her own you
would he u!l that could he desired; hut
yon have been here long enough to
h”"'- — l '. I l " if is lu gei knlg' I
Who pay. 1 fully aiTmlt Mr. Barker's
eccentricities, hut it. is scarcely fair for
you to worry your mistress about them
continually.”
“1 can’t help speaking now and then,
sir.”
“That I grant you very freely. The
question is. does it do you any good?”
“1 should die if I didn’t,” said Alur
llia, fervently.
"Fray do not do that. Now, after all,
Martha,' there is very little in those
Ihhig&you complain of—only they are
stum’c to you* The man is quite right
not inlet you dust the old china; Worth
lees as they may seem to you—ami,are,
in fart -they aro.worth inure than their
weight in gold, and could not bo re
pla- *ki for any money.”
"Hor!” said Martha, with her eyes
Wide open.
Cinei had told her the same, but she
did not believe'hinj.
“As fog the bed-making, you should
not let that trouble you—Unit is one
point on which invalids are liiost par
ticular. I myself have frequently di
rected and assisted irf the making of
my patients’ beds, and In our colleges
all the beds are made by men, so you
see this is not nn exceptional ease.”
“No, sir; not when you explain h.
But then hois always making i'un of
me.”
“Good-natured fun, I am sure.”
“That indy he, sir; but I’ve get a
young man of my own.”
“And a very fortunate young man he
imust bo,” said Doctor Hyde, quite
pravely. “Is there anything else you
Inject Ip in this puor old gentleman and
■|js attendant?"
' “ Well, sir, Ido like civility when I
mean it kind. I happened to answer
the drawing-room bell one evening,
v;h. n Shier was out,”—Martha had a
variety of name for the handsome mu
latto,—“and there was Mr. Barker rend
ing without his spectacles,looking quite
nice und amiable—quite different, as r
nifty say; hut directly I said,‘did you
please to ring, slrV’ho roars out ‘not
h r you,’ pud growled, and threw his
sliii’icc at m;. I was that frightened,
it gave me the spasms.”
Though tlie doctor laughed at this, as
Mary did, he looked somewhat thought
fill.
"Give that to Mrs. Ooombes,”hesaid,
taking u sovereign from his waistcoat
pocket.., “and keep this for yourself,
Martha, and try to remember that,
w herever you are, it is better to take
tilings cheerfully as they come than
light against them by complaints. You
will find the truth of that, even when
you are m-tmed to the young man of
your own.'”
“You nr,- very kind, sir,” tho girl an
swered, “and I will remember, and I
hope my mistress will not think any
thing of what I said, it was oidy a man
ner of saying it.”
"i should be sorry to part with you,
Martha,” said Mary, in a gentle voice,
and then, much to Dr. Hyde’s dislress,
A(arthu burst into tears. She went to
her room aud hail a good cry, being too
proud to let lhe conk s-e her, then when
siie entered tho kitchen a little later,
she told the cook that Doctor Ilyd-- was
an angel, and they had the besl mistress
in the world.
“And you mark my words,” Martha
added, “and see if it don't com:; to pass.
Of course he is only a doctor, but a doc
tor can’t, help being a man. lie’s in
love with her.”
“Who is?”
‘"Doctor Hyde and missis.”
“f shouldn’t wonder, when you come
to think of it,” said Alls. Coumbes,
sol mnly, as Kiio folded up tier sover
eign in a little bit of flannel, and put it
away somewhere in the upper portion
of her dress,(.“and a good thing too,
He re would be some pleasure in cook
ing for them; and. I say, Martha, do
you think they really mean ms to go?’.’
“Hor’ bless you, no, she is too tender
hearted; half a word would do it. Only
no more grumbling, let's take tilings
cheerfully as they come, bother the old
gentleman up stairs and his man, too.
Ail we have to got to do is to mind our
own business.”
criAiTnu iv.
Tirn cry or a rnir.n.
When the girl had gone, George Hyde
turned with a smile to his companion,
and found her looking at him, with her
pretty hands folded in her lap and her
eyes glimmering with playful triumph.
“What is it?” he asked. “I think I
know. You think 1 came oil second
best in the encounter, and so I confess
I did.”
"Still, these things are to be reme
died,” she said, with an imitation of his
own deliberate gravity. “Good cooks
and good honac-maids. The very best
are to he had by the score; and it is
quite rigiit quite—to always treat them
with kindness and consideration, but
never submit to what they term their
ways. Hot me s- e. .Servants are a
fruitful source of discomfort ”
“Mary, on my word you are too bad!”
“And,” she went on, “one of two
courses must he adopted —if the ser
vants cannot get mi of their ways, we
mast get rid of the servants. Oh,
George, George, do you see now a little
of tha t which we. with our lackof ‘firm
ness’ and ‘governing’ powers, have to
endure?”
“It is not their fault, poor things, nor
ours,” said Dr. Hyde, apologetically:
“they are, as we are, the victims of an
evil system which lias been at work for
many generations. Ho, after all, what
can we expect?”
“That and -pends. We send l'or our ser
vants to lecture them. Boor cook is
rather middle-aged, and much too plump
to please a doctor's critical eye; and so
her lesson is given with unmerciful
severity, accept her notice, and cleverly
turn the tables unou her bv entering it
in our note-book as from to-day. Then
comes the housemaid, a very pretty girl,
whose figure any lady might envy. She
is, from head to foot, as perfect as any
picture ever painted. So we smile at
what in poor cook would have been irn- i
pertinence, and wo dismiss her with a
fatherly admonition to take things
cheerfully as they come, and—a sover
eign. As we cannot make so strong
and palpable a distinction, we send one
for the cook as well. Moral: If you
must goto service, it is better to be a
housemaid, with n fine figure and a pair
of bright eves, than a middle-aged cook
very much too plitmpl Dr. Hyde, lam
ashamed of you.”
Try as he would, lie could not holp
coloring under her merry laugh at his
discomfiture, and yet the ring of that
laugh gladdened liis heart, it was such
an old familiar laugh, and he had not
heard it since liis friend fell ill and died.
“I see where the whole business is
wrong,” ho said. “Keeping a lodging
house is not your fopt-, and. lec
turing servants is not mine • My moth
er lias a very stately housekeeper whose
walk alone would quail a mutiny down
stairs. You may depend ypon it that
housekeepers are born to keep servants
in order; wo do not understand them.
You liave not been to see my mother
lately, Alary I”
“ I have not bad time, George.”
“Well you must make it, even if you
have lo give up this house', and you
must do that. I need not tell you What
you already know, that my mother
would give yon a life-long welcome, and
you may safely leave the hoy to me.”
“I know.” she said, “and I love your
mother dearly, but I must go my own
way. Let mo try this house, George,
just for one more year, and then if it is
a failure I will ”
“Well,” fie said, in her thoughtful
pause, “you will what?”
“Try something else.”
“Upon, my word, Mary*,” he said, “you
are airaost enough to vex one. Where
is yo-ur regard forme if, in this perver
sity or mistaken sense of ihdephndent-e,
you persist in keeping an asylum for
eccentric Add gentlemen aud semi-im
becile students of med'cine. I might
say, in tho same way as the magistrate
did when lie forgot partof liis speech to
the culprit before him, here you are, a
young amt beautiful woman, with
friends who would gladly take care of
you and your boy, instead of which you
let lodgings to troublesome people.”
“Just fur one year morn,” she pleaded.
“Aud then should the house be a fail
ure?”
“We will see.” A,
“You will come i my mother.”
“Yes,” she said at last, “if I want a
home. I will come, there 'now, are you
satisfied?”
, “Quite,” and he lifted her bands from
fier lap and kissed them. “That is one
comfort, if at the end of a year you find
this house a failure, and you wqjit a
home, you will come to ours.”
"■ Yes, how is it .George, that you al
ways have your own way with me?”
“Because,.” lie said, with the light of
a pure and tender love in his face, “wou
know it is for the boSt, will you come
and see my mother now?”
“It is so late, almost baby’s bed
time.”
“You may safely leave him to Martha,
after those repentant tears and the sov
ereign.”
Very reluctantly Mary let herself he
persuaded, after a long visit to baby's
cut and many an injunction many times
repeated to Martha as to the care she
was lo take of him.
“Sit with him. Marina, and take a
book or a little needlework till I return,
tli re’s a good girl, and be sure you do
not leave him, not for one moment.”
“No. ma’am,” said Martha, “not for
one single instant, bless liis heart.”
“Have you a book?”
“I don’t earn for reading just now,
thank you, ma’am; I am embroidering a
smoking cap for my young man and I
will get on with that.”
“ You remind me,Martha,’’said Mary,
taking a half-crown from her purse,
“this should be your evening out, but
you will not mind, you can liave to-mor
row instead.”
“It does not matte? a bit.” said Mar
tha, with magnificent imUfference, "ho
is sure to call, and cook can answer
him. Young men must be taught that
they cannot liave all their own way. I
never encourage such nonsense.”
Mary only smiled. What difference
in this respect was there between mis
tress and maid after all?
“That will buy you a pair of gloves,”
she said. “And do take care of baby.
But the cut by the bedside, and you can
sit at tho window; it will be more lively
there.”
It proved much too lively for Martha.
All’s. Ciiumbrs, not being wanted in the
kitchen, came up and told .Martha- she
was going out just for a few minutes,
and she went. Mr. Barker’s man had
been out nil the afternoon. Mrs. Little
bad gone in a bath chair, to tha other
side of the square, and Mr. 51. P. Park
er w.-'S shuddering over a vivisection
article in Hie "Lancet,” and there at
the window upstairs sat Afar tha, embroi
(lering Llie smoking-cap for her young
mail to wear in the garden on Sunday
mornings. It was pretty work, and Hie ,
subject interested her. .Still the time
went slowly, hour by hour, and baby
slept like a iittlo angel, so Martha said
to herself, and wondered who could
think of leaving him, even for a mo
ment.
And just then she saw heryoungman
walking disconsolately along the pave
ment opposite, smoking a dejected pipe,
and looking wistfully at the windows,
lie had rang Hie bell, and been answer
ed civilly by Air. Parker, who told him
in all good faith wnat it-believed—that
there was nobody at home. He had a
great respect for Martha’s handsome
young man. though he thought it a pity
that such a figure as Martha’s should
be waited on the working classes. If
h" in ivried her himself, and educated
her, nobody would know in a few years’
time that she was not a lady born. But
then this handsome young man of hers
—an engineer—had a dark, determined
fac". with a thick, closely-cut ltoman
heard, and was made of nothing but
layers of muscle.
“1 brio v the cook Is out,’’ Air. Parker
said, n I Martha must be. for 1 have
rang sin oral times within the last two
hours aud the bell has not been answer
ed; but if you like to sit in my room and
wait, >ou ar-very welcome. 1 liave
nothing to oiler you but some Huio
juice, or citrate of magnesia, or saline,
unless you would prefer Ixu-ley water.
You are very welcome, Air. Phillips.” J
“Thank you, sir; you are very kind,
but I won’t intrude, if I wait about 11
may see her and save her the trouble of
coming in. Much obliged to you. sir.
IST O. 7.
mi me same."
He lighted liis pipe and began walk
ing up and down, throwing his coat
open wide as lie gr w morose and reck
less with waiting, und driving his hands
deeper into liis trousers’ pockets as de
ject t.-dness set. in.
“I should like to know what she is up
to.” he said to himself. “Having a lark
with me, perhaps. Him is fond of that
sometimes. She may try it on once too
often. 1 have a good mind io furrtish a
couple of rooms next week, and stick
the banns up; that would about fetch
her and put an end to her tricks.”
He bail been counting the paving
stones more than an hour before he ar
rived at this state of mind. He felt
gloomy amt savage, and would have
been glad if somebody about his own size
had run up against him. 110 looked at
the house from basement to garret, and
saw nothing except a bead that might
have belonged to a shaggy old lion, in
blue spectacles at the drawing-rpom
window. Attfasted." by that singular
bead, he looked again, then looked
higher, then saw Martha. T I ■ could see
that she was making signs to him, but
could not understand them, so lie beck
oned her down. The signs were repeat
ed. and he shook his head. The girl
looked at the cot irresolutely; baby still
slept like a liltle angel. There could
not bo any harm if she went down, just
for a minute. So she put oil her bonnet
carelessly, with the strings loose, aud
went.
Mr. Philips—glad as he was to seethe
face lie loved so well, how well only
those who understand tho great heart
of the intellectual working man can tell
—was st ill inclined to be a little sulky;
he heard her explanation moodily, and
put his pipe in his pocket instead of
Hinging it into the middle of the road,
and ho did not speak until they
were in tlie shadow away from the lamp
light, and then sulkiness and anger
vanished as he crushed her to him with
an arm like a vice, us strong as his love
for lior.
“Look hero, my girl!” ho said, “I
shall not stand auy more of this; I furn
ish a couple of rooms and Btiek up ths
banns next week, so now wo taka a turn
round the square, and have a quiet glass
so me where I”
“But the baby, Fred?”
“Let it sleep a little longer; anyhow,
it won’t falLout of tho window, or set
itself on flro.”
Mr. Frederick Pliilips, the engineer,
was not to be denied When he fixed his
xnind upon an object, he settled himself
down, and worked with a will until that
object was accomplished, a quality of
■ ten possessed by men in liis station of
life, who must live by their strength of
mind and muscle. Alartha (flute forgot
to teach, young men that they could not
have all tlieir own way, and that she
never encouraged such nonsense. They
walked round the squaPe more than
once—more than a dozen times, tallciug
about two rooms and tlie banns and the
hundred-and-one things that can bo
spoken of and dwqlt upon by young
pbfsons who have intentions of enter
ing the holy Bonds of matrimony,
Meanwhile, bai>v Kid awakened, con
tentedly enough atrurst; stretched him
self, rubbed bis eyes with dimpled
knuckles, looked atliis own chubby feet
ns if lie had never seen them before,
and then set up a wistful cry for mam
ma. Finding it disregarded—a thing
lie was not used to—tli.- cry grew plain
tive, then tearful, and finally broke into
a wail that pierced through the house.
This would not so much have mattered,
but in trying to clamber from the cot to
the bed lie overbalanced the swivel aud
fell heavily to the lioor.
Mr. Barker hud h ard the cries, and
naturally thought the child would be
attended to; but after the fall, the cries
still continued, and he went to the door
and listened; then it occurred to him
that the child was alone. He had seen
tlie cook go out, and lie had seen Mar
tha go out—very little Look place that
oiil gentleman did not see—still, to
make sure, ho rang the bell firmly. No
reply came, so ho roared loudly down
stairs:
“Here, you, cook! Susan! Sarah! Hang
it all is there anybody at home?”
“Nobody, but me and you, sir,” said
a timid voice from the hall; “but if
anything is the matter, I will come up,
1 am partly a doctor, you know.”
“And all the rest an idioL,” growled
that impolite olfi gentleman. “Go in,
aii'l shut yourself out of sight. Partly
ab( >o!”
Air. Parker went in, and’the eccentric
lodger went up stairs—so softly and
swiftly that his gout must have been
entirely disregarded. lie lmd removed
his spectacles, and baby, stopping liis
wailing as the deer opened, saw. a
healthy, hale, h 'lievotent old gentle
man; with a world of tenderness in his
rugged countenance. The boy stretch
ed out liis little arms and cooed loving
ly at him.
“Artie so fitent-d,” lie sobbed; “want
mamma.”
“Does he (hen. poor litlle mail?”said
tlie old gi rifleman, as naturally as if he
had oo)lied and talked to a dozen child
ren of his own. “Mamma's coming
presentiv; hut what on earth am I to do
with yo i in the m.iautime? I liave
nothing up stairs but seme preserved
ginger and a put of tamarinds. You
shall have tli in to play with, i only
hops to g-'odness they will not disagree
with you.”
He carried the child into liis own
room, and sat with him on his knee.
The little follow made himself quite at
home. He patted the powerful kind
face that was bent over Inm with a look
he did not understand. Air. Barker
kissed the tiny dimpled hands and arms
a thousand times, and pressed tlie velvet
baby-chock softly to his own.
“You do not know, my little man,”
he said, with a slow and sorrowful
movement of liis grey bead,“how much
you an: like your father; he would al
ways cmne to me, even from his cradle,
and you are like him.”
Master Artie did not know anything
about that; lie wanted Afr. Barker’s
watch and chain, and he had them; li >
took a fancy to his diamond rings, and
he had them as well, paying a willing
blrd-like kiss for each. The old gentle'
man propped him up securely in a big
easy chair to a level with the table, and
set tho tamarinds and preserved ginger
before him with a silver spoon and n
few wine biscuits, and then he brought
out a bottle for himself.
(To be MntittHttf.)
WANTED-
Good Sawyer* coin |tf - tent, fo run ft t*-
Hovne Mill. Good wmci paid. Apply to
\VM PASCHAL*
Thomson, Ga., Ji unary *2S.