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JOURNAL AND MESSENGER
. j RNAIi & MESSENGER.
, ~N, OA.. MONDAY,. OCT. 20.
I Hi; OLD KEEPER’S STORY.
s a quaint room in which I sat, with the
, t Cashing into each corner, and the stuffed
' ox es and polecats looking life-like in the
.blaze- A quaint cottage room, but tho
'o! comfort. As I pulled at tho stiff glass
r and whiskey and puffed my meershaum,
. . comfortable. I was in no hurry
. iu y wet water boots dried, which lay steam-
Wl ;’ n the ample hearth.
V vmporary host sat opposite; a fine, athletic
with snow-white hail and whiskers. The
! (i;is coat and tho wary look on his weather
. . honest faco sufficiently told tho cx-game
.. had not the retriever pup at his feet and
behind him added evidence. A linespec
his class, ho was well-knit even at eighty
of age, with a frank, cheery look in his eye
j 0 f straight-forward truth and worth.
• : jubeen snipe Hhooting on some marshes I
V,i of the lady of the manor, and having got
'Hi in a deep rivulet from a fall, had sought
( r in the keeper’s cottago. To be a sportsman
. (o be sure, a passport to his favor, added to
t!) * grandson, Torn, was my invariable at
' mt nn d bag carrier. The old man I had seen
~ e , when on my renting the shooting from
f ; t i W ood, ho, us her head keeper, had shown
boundaries. The great hall was closed, for
!' j inwood, a childless widow, lived perma
"V ; ’ a yiee, and her fair estates were all lot.
, 9a widow of a poor Lieutenant Colonel,
. : d for gallant service, and had succeeded to
property in lack of direct heirs.
, niy host, was something more than head
, . Kvidently he had been one of those au
rusted servants to whom the honor andiwel
a family are dear as to its own members.
v . • the sad look on his face whenever he spoko
' i[ .ires of Lin wood I fancied some portion
li.iily history was mournful and unhappy,
'you see much of Lady Linwood?” I asked.
, Sever, sir. She always is abroad. And
.Vs never been a Linwood here since the last
Mite died.”
-That was long ago?”
! sir, long ago. Fivo and forty years
;t -n sir,” said he, musingly, his eyes fixed on the
Sn ; -rive and forty years agone—and like yes
terday
I was interested. Thu keeper’s manner, action
.iidexpression were al4 unlike his class, and I felt
curio.ni}', as we nil do when something tells us
da hidden history.
q suppose the last fcquiro had a good stock of
pmef said I.
sir. Hundreds of pheasants ho turned
■_! was a youngster then—undorkeopor—aud
j Med to fetch all the sacks of barley to feed’em.”
“And was he much of a sportsman ?”
t'JVs, sir. With the gun, rod and horso ho was
a.ed all the country round. Ho was stall,
i limi, with coal-black hair and whiskers, pleas
s. ii.ikind to tho tenants, but with a fcarfultem
if anything should go wrong. Ilo’d ravo, aud
,ir, and smash all around him in tho room when
ws in one of his storms. The only person who
managed him was Miss Dora.”
Here the keeper became silent, and a look of
iajsadness came over his rugged faco.
You’ll havo to stay a longish time, sir, for your
.s are soaked. So, if you like to hear it, I’ll
: t»i tho story. I supposo I’m like old men,
..cl like to maunder,” he added, with a smile
uural dignity aud courtesy, which might havo
befitted a prince.
Mr. Gcorgo Linwood, five aud forty years ago,
I.lit squire. Ho lived with his mother, a geu
t. Slio was always on hor sofa, and never
Belt, but kind as an angel to tho poor. Miss Dora
Hi,Hand, her niece, came to stay up at the Hall
v.. them. Her parents wore very poor, and she’d
-isters; so they were glad—Miss Dora’s parents,
I:;,an—when Mrs. Liuwood said she’d adopt her
jji daughter. I heard this, you know, from the
s maid at the Hall, who was afterward my
tv. Sho died years ago.” And the old man
s;lied, and glanced ut an empty chair near his
ow.
‘Well sir,” he resumed ; “Miss Dora came, and
Ha Linwood was very fond of her. So was
•ybojy, for she was so sweet and gentle, and
iii-t Mee'was like a blackbird’s. Everybody about
u -late knew Miss Dora, and she used to go
- :; in her broad hat and carol her song, for all
world like a blackbird in the holly. The cot
ters used to know her, for whenever any one
was ill there Miss Dora was, potting and cosseting
them.
"So. sir," resumed the old man after a pause,
Vand-by Mr. George became fond of Miss Dora.
He nsod to follow her about and watch all her
wishes, lie broke in a chestnut filly himself, and
s"il to ride with her. But she seemed shy to him.
Ha temper was so shifty, and she heard his curses
when lie was bitterly angry, though ho didn’t
how she was in hearing; and she seemed to
s: rink from him. She was such a beauty—goldeu
air, and eyes, sir, just like tho sky on a clear day,
- eh a deep, clear blue, while her complexion tho
vkiage girls used to call roses aud lilies. I’ve
card It said that a great portrait painter camo
wn to paint her face, and showed it iu London
m ti e greatest beauty be bad seon anywhere.
"Mrs. Linwood, sir, the servants could all see
was very anxious about Mr. George. Sho’d mur
mur to herself for hours about him, and she was
s-|'ays looking at him and Dora so wistful like, as
f she didn't dare to say what was on her tongue.
So things went on, till one day a company of sol
diers marched into the village. The officer in
command was invited by Mr. Linwood to dine,
ar ‘d he did so, but he didn’t see Mrs. Liuwood nor
Miss Dora, for they were both in with colds, and
they stayed up stairs. The officer was a handsomo
young man, with keen gray eyes and a quiet man
t»r, and a look of real honesty about him, sir.
Mr. Linwood asked him to como when ho could
get leave and shoot.
"Well, by aud by ho camo—Captain Colton was
STJPPLEMEITT.
MACON, GEORGIA, MONDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1868.
bis name, and he wore the Water'oo medal, for lie
bad been in tho heat of that; and he came in late
one night after dressing, into the drawing room.
There were Mrs. Linwood and Miss Dora. The
Squire introduced him; when suddenly the captain
grew very and Miss Dora gave a little
shriek, and then looked so charming that half an
eye might see, Polly, my wife said, where her heart
was.
“The ’Squire didn’t see this, and fortunately too,
for only the day before he’d asked Miss Dora to
marry him, and she, crying bitterly, had refused.
“Tho ’Squire went off wild duck shooting with
me, but lie laid his gun down in the puut, and
kept staring sternly in the air, and muttering to
himself. You may guess, sir, that I held my
tongue.
“Well, sir, at dinner nothing much was said,
for Capton Calton seemed very silent, and so did
Miss Dora. The'Squire drank a good deal, and
talked about the shooting, but now and then looked
at his cousin with such a wild eager look that made
her blush like a rose whenever he caught her eye.
“After dinner, when Polly was putting some em
broidery away in tho cabinet at the end of the
drawing room, she heard Miss Dora tell Mrs. Lin
wood enough to find out that Captain Calton was
her old lover whom she had met at Bath with her
parents, and that they were to be married when
lie got rich enough. Polly could not help hearing
it, sir; all women aro curious about lovers,” con
tinued the old man, smiling; “but she loved Miss
Dora with all her heart, and woudn’t have said a
word about it for the world.
“Several days went on, and the ’Squire and the
Captain went out shooting, and Dick Smith, the
headkeeper, used to go with them.
"One day Miss Dora camo down in the little
pony carriage with the luncheon. The Squire was
just finishing the beat of a copse, but Captain Cal
ton was outside. When Miss Dora came up be
took her hand and kissed it. But I saw it, though
I wasn’t such a booby as to show myself. What
was worst, sir, tho Squire saw it through the hazel
bushes, and her pretty face blushing and looking
happy.
“I heard him grind his teeth where I stood, and
whisper a curse. Did you ever hear one whirpered,
sir ? It’makes a man creep all over.
“Presently he came out with a very jolly air,
and after lunch ho drank Miss Dora's health and
then the Captain’s. I was carrying the bag, aud
the Squire spoke in a bluff sort of a way, so I heard
all:
“ ‘My cousin is a pretty girl,’ said he.
“ ‘Yes,’ said Captain Calton, nervously like, and I
could see his hand tremble.
“ ‘Ah, well,’ said tho Squiro, heartil3 r , ‘I used
to be jealous; fori always admired Dora, that I
did. But what’s the use now? Nevermind, old
fellow, I wish you joy of her ; you must excuse
my temper, it’s a devilish bad one.’
“That was truer than ho thought,” muttered the
old man musingly.
“Captain Calton answered him in a very friendly
way, and the matter seemed all right.
“The Squire was in a dreadful temper the nex
morning with Dick ar.d me because we hadn’t killed
some stray dogs that had been driving the woods.
“Ho was very savage against poachers, and
swore he’d have the spring-guns set for their dogs
in the open runs of the copses.
“So matters went on till just about Christmas,
when a large party of the neighbors of the Squire
came over to shoot under the pheasant covers.
“That day we had no peace. All tho spring
guns were taken up; damaged raisins put in tho
runs to toll tho pheasants there, and the woods
were watched every night. On the night bolore
we met the Squire, who gave us a curse or two for
running against him as he came round the copse.
He’d been looking after tho raisins, he said, for he
was a good hand at seeing his orders carried out.
“The next day all the party went from the Hall
to tho woods, only the Captain; he loitered to havo
a few words with Miss Dora, lie drew her back
into the hall and kissed her; and I shall never
forget the way she clasped his hands and looked
into his eyes, saying a word or two. The Squiro
saw it. and I saw his face. It was dreadful to see,
for he had bitten his lower lip in two. He pre
tended not to see them, and walked on after the
party.
"The Squire was very particular in his shooting
parties about every oue going just as ho wanted
them to. So now ho gave everybody their instruc
tion whore to go. And Captain Calton he fold to
take a ride, which was narrow and through hollies,
but a good one for woodcocks. He himself weut
Into the middle of the copse, with me, and Dick
Smith headed the beaters at the end.
“Well, sir, the beating began, and tho pheasants
got up well, and there were several shots fired,
"l’was odd to me that the Squire never shot at any
thing, though, for all that, several birds went by
him. I didn’t dare to speak, though, for lie look
ed so stern.
“By and by he turned and saw Captain Calton
*in another part. He swore, but that I took no
notice of.
»* ‘We’!! beat this wood again beforo lunch,’ he
said • so of course wo all came out after an hour or
two, ’during which tho Squire missed everything.
Wo all went back to the wood again.”
Hero the old keeper paused, and drow a deep
breath.
“What’s coming, sir?” he said, “has never been
out of my mind since, day or night, for fifty years,
I assure you.
“We camo back to the copse, and were all put
iu our old position, and the Squiro told the Captain
to take the holly ride again.
“ T suppose Dora will be hero soon with the
luncheon,’ he said with a laugh.
“ ‘Soon enough—soon enough, said tho Squire,
with a dreadful sort of laugh, and his black eyes
gleaming like coals.
‘‘The shooting went on, and suddenly a shot
sounded from near the holly ride.
“ ‘What’s that ?’ said the Squire, suddenly.
«‘Captain shot a cock, sir, outside the copse,’
and Dick Smith, quietly winking at me, knew how
savage the Squire was at men changing positions.
‘Here comes Miss Dora,’ said I, ‘she's going
through the holly ride.’ . .
«‘What,’ screamed the Squire, as ho wheeled
round and saw her. ‘Dora! Dora! not there!
Back! for heaven’s sake, back!’
“But she didn’t bear him, for tho spaniels were
in full cry, and the beaters' voices drowned the
Squire’s.
*• ‘Dora!’ he screamed, sir—yes, that’s the word
—‘stop ? You’re ,
“Beforo he got the word out there was a little
report like a pistol—a wreath of blue smoke curl
ed upward from Miss Maitland’s feet, and she fell
—fell, with her pretty white dress all streaked on
the bosom with blood.
“Ah, sir,” said the old man, shuddering, “it
makes my heart cold even to think of it.
“I ran up and lifted her; she moaned once when
we raised her. Her sweet face was all white and
pinched with pain.
“But Captain Calton camo up, like a man struck
dumb. He knelt down and drew her, poor girl, on
his breast; and laid her poor head there as if she
was a tired child.
“The surgeon of the village was out with us.
He came up sir, as we stood round rough fellows
as we were, all sobbing; he knelt down and looked
at the wound, and then, sir, shook his head.
“Meanwhile tho ’Squire was being held by two
men, cursing, swearing, and tearing the grass,
and cursing himself and his birth, and calling on
somebody to blow his brains out, and they dragged
him into the bushes so as not to be heard by the
dying girl.
‘ “She looked up at her lover once, and her sweet
blue eyes were all dim. Do you know the glaz
ing, filmy look that creeps over one dying from
gunshot wounds?
Ah, it is enough to break one’s heart.
“She caught her breath several times. Her
lover kept his handkerchief over the wound, but it
did’nt bleed much outwardly; only you could see
her going; and she looked so beautiful, just like a
wax mask, sir, white as a lily.”
“ ‘Poor, poor Freddy I’ she murmured, and put
her little hand on his heart.
“ - My darling 1’ he said, and then he gave such a
sob that seemed to tear his very heart up, sir.
“‘Kiss me, my own,’she saidas her beautiful,
dimming eyes, with tlieir last look of love, were
turned to his. ‘I can’t see—its all dark, but I’m
on your bosom, Freddy, dear—on your bosom—
love.”
“These words she murmured one by one ; and
then she gave a long sigh; and it was all over.
“He took her up, sir, with such an awful look of
grief on his face that he seemed turned to stone.
He’d let no one touch her, and he carried her in
his arms home.
“ ‘She said she was on my bosom,’ he said, in a
voice that you wouldn’t have known for his; and
then he walked on like a man in some dream.
‘•Well, sir, there is no more to tell. The Squire
only lived two years, and died in a mad house.
“He had set a spring gun in the ride, meaning
it for tho Captain. As for the Captain, he went to
the East Indies, I heard, and died. That’s my
story, sir.” —Once a Week.
BARBER SHOP
AND
BATHING ROOMS.
MICHAEL LOH,
UNDER POST-OFFICE, Lanier House build
ing, keeps a neat and tasty barber shop, lree
Iroin any objectionable features, and at all tlme3
orderly, and supplied with every convenience,
and skilful employees. His
BATHING DEPARTMENT
Is nicely arranged, and Baths of any kind .Are
turnished.
©a-Terms reasonable,
i auly4-tf
HOTELS.
BYINGTONS HOTEL,
Opposite Pa3sengor Depot,
MACON, - - GEORGIA
HAVING fitted up this Hotel with an entire
suit of NEW aud Elegant FURNITURE, the
Proprietor assures his old patrons aud the public
generally, that the ROOMS, THE TABLE and
the BAR are
Unsurpassed by any Hotel in the State.
*3. A Free Omnibus will run for this Hotel.
J. L. BYINGTON.
Oct. 9-ts
MARSHALL HOUSE.
A. 3. LUCE, Proprietor.
Broughton Street,
BAVANNAH, ; : : : : GEORGIA
rsiHIS house has been, recently, newly fitted up
I with fine furniture; has plenty of efficient
servants, and the bill ol fare cannot be surpassed
In the city. , . ,
Kates reasonable and saUslac* lon guaranteed.
ie3o-tf
UNITED STATES HOTEL.
SASSEEN, YORK A JORDAN, Proprietors,
Within 100 yards of the General Passenger Depot,
corner Alabama and Prior Streets, Atlanta, Ga.
K. oAoticjlhri,
B. W. YORK,
K. T. JOURDAN,
J W. F. Bryson, R. T. Joubdan, Clerks.
Iy2B-tf
DENSE’S PLANTERS’ HOTEL,
OPPOSITE CARHART A CURD’S,
NO. 58 CHERRY STREET,
MACON, GEOUGIA.
B. F. DENSE, Proprietor.
apr!4-tf
CC l Leaveth \
UNIVERSAL
LIFE INSURANCE
COMPANY,
NEW YORK, OFFICE No. 69 LIBERTY ST.
The Original Joint Stock Life Insurance
Company ot tlie I'niiecl States.
The Business of this Company is Exclusively confined
to the Insurance of First-Class Healthy Lives.
STATEMENT JULY 13, 1868.
ASSETS:
United States Stocks (market value) $109,250 00
Bonds and Mortgages (City of New York)... 97,000 00
Brooklyn City Bonds (market value) 25,187 50
Virginia State Bonds (market value) 14,700 00
Casn deposited in New York Guaranty and
Indemnity Company (at interest) 45,000 00
Cash on hand and in Bank 10,182 00
Balance due by Agents (secured) 25,478 23
Office Furniture 5,235 22
Deferred semi-annual quarterly Premiums... 72.165 31
Premiums in course of Collection 66 664 64
Interest accrued, not due 4,640 67
Other Assets 3,819 21
Total $468,822 87
LIABILITIES:
Amount required to reinsure out
standing risks—Homan’s Table
—5 per cent $243,200
Unpaid Losses, not due 15,00C —$258,200 00
Surplus over and above all Liabilities $210,422 87
Ratio of Assets to Liabilities, 181% to 100.
Number of Policies in force 3,034
Insuring $7,926,810
Policies issued since January Ist, 1868 1,138
Insuring $2,713,250
THE UNIVERSAL
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HENRY J. FURBER Vice President
JOHN H. BEWLEY Secretary
CHARLES E. PEASE Assistant Secretary
D. PARKS FACKLER Consulting Actuary
EDWARD W. LAMBERT, M. D Medical Examiner
ALEXANDER & GREEN Solicitors
s®,Agents Wanted throughout the South.
Address
J. W. SHACKLEFORD,
Manager Southern Department,
Atlanta, Georgia.
J. W. BURKE, Agent for Macon
and Southwestern Georgia. oc6-8m
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