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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.