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SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, MAY 23, 1878.
I TOLD YOU.
I told you roses ne’er would wed
Their bloom to wintry air.
But then you pressed my lids and said,
The rose you loved bloom’d there 1
I said the wintry sain was bare,
The sun fai out of view;
You smiled and vowed my golden hair
Was sunlight unto you!
1 said the woods no more rejoice
With notes more sweet than words;
But oh, you whispered then my voice
Was sweeter than the birds;
And still whatever charm 1 named
That lends to spring delight,
You for your own lov’d maiden claimed,
And lived but in her sight 1
Blow, chilling winds of winter, hlow!
Whilst love the heart illumes.
Life’s roses still exist ’mid snow,
And spring eternal blooms!
Roll, heavy clouds of winter, roll!
Love, from tho dark hath thrown
A sunlight over heart and soul
More bright than heaven’s own.
The Money-Maniac.
“Help! liolpl for the love of God,
help!”
Faintly borne on the fierce, shrieking
wind of a hitter New Year’s Eve, this cry
rung out weirdly over a vast Western
plain, whose winding-sheet was a white,
sparkling carpet of snow under the moon’s
pale light.
Anil Tom L'sle, the young son of a
veteran border trapper, was crossing the
lonely white tract on this night, home
ward hound from the settlements, and
heard the supplication for aid—recognized
the voice as that of a man, and urged on
his pony with a chirp, while lie rubbed
his nose and ears vigorously in order to
keep up the circulation, for the air was
keen and frosty.
“U’lang, old boy; cheer upyer spirits,
far it’s not many miles further we’ve got
to travel this orful nightl” spoke the
young hunter. “Hello! what was that?
—aery of distress, and in a man’s voice,
’way out here? Jupiterl it's a mighty
poor place for a lost ’coon, out. on Rig
Flats, durned if it ain’t. G’langjfaster,
Jack, old boy, and lot’s see what thcr
rumpus is about.”
By the uso of voice and spurs tho jaded
pony was induced to strike into a faster
trot, though very little headway was to
be made in the deep snow.
With all his senses on tho alert, Tom
Lisle listened for a repetition of the cry,
that lie might obtain a hearing. But it
came not, though the wind caused weirdly
mournful sounds in its fierce flight across
the plains.
On—on —on the steaming pony floun
dered, while the youth strained his gaze
ahead through the diin starlight over the
surface of the winter’s white shroud.
Then, all ofa sudden, the animal reared
abruptly upon its haunches, with a terri
fied snort, and would have darted away,
but Lisle’s strong hands held the reins in
a firm grasp.
“Whoa! Jauuary! what ails ye uow?
Ha! by Jupiter. I think I see!”
Ho was out of his saddein a twinkling,
and waded around through tlie snow to
where a dark object was distinguishable,
lying half-buried from view.
It was a man —a wild, haggard, savege
looking specimen of humanity, unro re
sembling some wild beast, perhaps, than
aught else. A horrible leering face, ter
ribly furrowed and scarred: eyes that
burned with the fascinating fire ofinsanity;
hair and beard heavy, matted, snarled,
and the form clad in ragged, tattered
garments.
Somuchitwas that Tom Lisle saw,
and then he knelt beside the prostrate
form, and producing a flask from inside his
hunting-shirt, he poured a quantity ot
liquor between the parted lips, that re
vealed a row of teeth, more like the
ivories of a waif than of mankind. The
liquor went rioting through the lost 'rav
eler’s veins; his eyes shone with increased
brilliancy; words, at first scarcely audible,
but growing steadily ia volume of sound,
came to his relief.
“Why did you rouse mo?” he spoke,
clutching at the snow, wildly. “I’m a
raving madman, boy, at times. I came
out here to dio, hut the furnace of hell is
not quite to white eat yet. Hal I fancy
I see the old Satan frying me, and sea
soning my spirit with brimstone. Yes, I
am mad. I had a furious fit, awhile ago an’
I fit myself. They call mo tho Money-
Maniac, because I love gold. I went to
California fifteen years ago, and dug for
gold. I got it— i GOT it; great bulks of
the shining ssales of Purgatory's walls.
I was over-joyed. They say it drove me
mad! mad! But what care I? All of it
shall not buy me from the devil. Gold!
gold! gold I Ohl how I have worshiped
at thy shrine! ”
Then a sudden rift of white passed over
the man’s face, and he seemed more like
a sane person, though his eyes burned
fiercely.
“What is your name?”he asked, watch
ing tho young hunter sharply; “tell me
your name, for I havo somethin,!? import
ant to say, Hurry, for I would tell
you before I got mad again mad I
mad! ”
“My name isTora Lisle, stranger,” the
youth replied, nervously, for he had never
before encountered a maniac.
“Tom Lisle!” repeated tho other,
thoughtfully—“ Tom Lisle! I will put it
wny down in my memory, where I will re
member it. And now, listen.
“I am a madman, but sane enough at
times to know wh it Tam about. Yoars
ago L went to (Jalifomia and acquired an
immense fortune —immense beoause it is
counted by millions. I wont mad, and
fearing I should be robbed, I buried it in
a lonely portion of tho wild West. I sta
tioned a guard to watch it—a faithful
j Indian who was my slave from ch oice.
“I have a child —a beautiful girl of
eleven now; this fortune must go to hor.
“Ten years from this New Year’s Eve,
go to the spot whore is buried my gold.
will find there my Indian slave, Red
Pino, or, it he is dead, another guard
commissioned by him, who will know all.
“Show him these gold bullets,” and
lioro the Money-Maniac placed in the
youth’s hand thruo rifle-bullets of gold, a
packet of paper and a gold ring; “show
him these bullets, and he will give you
tho gold, He will then take you to my
child, and you will show hor this ring.
By this she will behold in you tho man I
have chosen for her husband. The packet
of paper is a map of my treasuro-trovo.
“Now go! leave me! go, and in ten
years do my bidding. Go no sooner, no
later— then— Now Year’s Eve, ten years
henco. Hurry! depart! for I fee! it
coming on —the madness; I’m then loro
cious.”
“What? and leavo you here to perish!”
Tom Lisle demanded, in horror.
“Yes; I want to die. Don’ttouch me,
or I’ll scratch and bite you; and you’ll go
mad, too. Leave me your flask, then get
you gone. And my curse ot gold go with
youl”
The flask was given over without a mur
mur, and after a last look of horror and
sympathy upon the suffering maniac, tho
trapper-hoy turned and mounted Lis pony,
and sot out over the white-shrouded plain.
And the howling wind pursued him and
rung in his ears the cry that ever after
haunted his life:
“Gold! goldl oh I it’s all mine I”
* * * * *
Five years later, Tom Lisle was stand
ing, one summer’s afternoon, upon the
bank of the Missouri river, idly watching
a steamboat that was puffing along on its
way southward, when suddenly his eyes
became riveted upon a man, who, from
an upper deck, was wildly gesticulating to
him. A man in tattered garb, and with
wild, streaming hai rand heard, and burn
ing, sunken eyes—Tom Lisle, now a man,
recognized him, even though five years
had passed since that wild blustering
night on Big Flats plain.
It was the Money-Maniac I
Or was it his apparation?
That was not the last time the borderer
saw the frightful face, he it dead or alive.
Once he beheld it pressed to a window
pane from the outside, while he was sit
ting in a St. Louis hotel; again it glared
at him through the window of his own
cabin, away out on the far frontier.
And even was the hideous face a visitant
to his nocturnal slumber; it haunted him,
night and day, as tho yea rs rolled by,
prosperous to him, and the world wag
ged on.
* * * * *
The expiration of ten years from that
eventful New Year’s Eve, when he had
found the maniac upon the plain, discov
ered Tom Lisle riding along in the mellow
moonlight, through a broken piece of
country contiguous to the North Fork of
the Platte river. He was a man of six
arid-twenty years, now —a brawny, stal
wart knight of the West, handsome,
brave and fearless.
Wcdl mounted, armed and previsioned,
he appeared at homo upon the trail—for
he was following a trail, which was out
lined upon a pen-map hold in his hand.
Nor was it far he had to go, for a snow
covered cabin loomed ahead, during the
next hour, and he reined in Lis horse be
fore the door.
“So this is the treasure trove, eh?” he '
muttered, glancing sharply around.
“Surely it is lonely enough, if them's all
the requirements. Hello! there, inside;
d'ye keep stragglers?”
In answer the door swung open, and a
grim, stolid-faced Indian stood upon the
threshold, rifle in hand—a burly old fel
low who showed his age in evety linea
ment.
> “Waghl what does tho white hunter
want?” was the query, and the savego
never let his eye leave the horseman.
“I want the money of one who called
himself the Money-Maniac!” replied Tom
Lisle; “soe! I am the right man," and he
laid the throe golden bullets in tho palm
of his hand.
“Good! the hunter is right. Red Pino
will givo up the white miner’s gold, and
lead the way to where the white maiden
dwells in the squatter’s eabin!” was the
rcplv. “Let the hunter oome with Red
Pine!”
So saying tho Indian turned hack into
the cabin, and dismounting from ho horse
that had borne him many a mile, Tom
Lisle followed suit. Inside were warmth
and rude frontier comfort, to which Tom
Lisle was used.
“White minor Rod Pine’s friend,” tho
old savage went on; "once saved Red
Pine’s life, an' Injun no forget it. He
stay hero fifteen years watch b old.
Wagh!”
Fetching forth a pick from among
other implements in tho cabin, he pried
up a log in tho floor, and rolling it to one
side, a hole in the ground was revealed.
Out of this the red-skin fished a dozen
or more buck skin pouches of various
sizes, and with a fast beating heart Tom
Lisle proceeded to examine their con
tents.
Goldl gold! pure, shining gold, in
nuggets and in shining dust—Tom gave n
great yell of delight as he gazed at the
glittering treasure.
“Ileapee much nice!” Red Pine
grunted, enjoying the hunter’s surprise.
“He go for Lily-white minor’s girl.”
And when the Indian returned with
Lillian Grayol, Tom thought he had some
how gotten into wonderland. She was,
he found after further acquain aneo, a
rough, uncut diamond —a wild flower
grown up in the wilderness, untrained
and uncultivated. She was beautiful ot
face and form, with a sunny nature; quick
(o comprehend, studious.
And all that she lacked was education,
which Tom Lisle lias given to her in the
last two years. And this New Year’s Eve
will see them united in matrimony, as
happy a couple as fate ever brought to
gether. With their marriage may the
Money-Maniac no longer visit Tom’s
dreams.
Tho novelty of the happy occasion will
he the groomsman, who will bo no other
than the aged and faithful Rod Pine.
-
RUSSIAN PROVERBS.
Praise not tho crop until it is stacked.
Bread and salt humble even a robber.
Love, fire, and a cough cannot be hid.
A full stomach is deaf to instruction.
No bones are broken by a mother’s fist.
God is not in haste, but Ilis aim is
sure.
A fox sleeps, hut counts hens in his
dreams.
If you hunt two hares you will catch
neither.
Lies march on rotten legs; who lies will
steal-
Truth is not drowned in water, nor
burned in fire.
Make friends with a bear, hut keep
hold of the axe.
Dog, why do you bark? To frighten
the wolves away.
Everything is hitter to him who has
gall in his mouth.
Whose bread and whose salt I eat, his
praises I sing.
The wolf changes his hair every year,
but remains a wolf.
Tho wolf asked tho goat to dinner, hut
the goat declined.
It is not necessary to plow and sow
fools—they grow of themselves.
A fool may throw a stone into a pond; it
may take seven sages to pull it out.
An epsorn salts mine has been dis
covered about twelve miles from Chat
tanooga. The deposit is in a stratum two
feet thick, and is easy of access. It is
pure, and only requites crushing to ij ake
it marketable.
The religious observance of Sunday
practically ends at noon in hen Francisco.
In the afternoon tha law permits all public
amusements, and race courses, theatres
and other resorts ure open. Sundaycveu
ing sermons are called lectures thero.
■ ♦
A spread-eagle orator of New York
wanted the wings of a bird to fly to every
village and hamlet in the broad land, hut
wilted when a boy in the crowd sang out:
“You’d he shot for a goose before you got
half a mile,”- ,
NUMBER 21.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
Desperate game—a stag at bay.
The Spaniards nover fight with fists.
Pockotbooks are generally worn flat
now.
The hungrier you are the faster your
brain will work.
The phonograph is the parrot of the
mechanics’ kingdom.
A muff—A thing that holds a young
lady’s hand without squeezing it.
A little boy’s first pair of trousers al
ways fit if the pockets are deep enough.
Tho consumption of pencils in this coun
try i- at the rate of about 250,000 a day.
The monkeys are not so ignorant, sfter
all. They aro all educatod in tho high
branches.
When does a farmer act with great
j rudeness toward his corn? When he pulls
its ears.
Mrs. Jane Higgins, of Shelhyville,
Ind., has attained fame by cowhidieg
her father-in-law.
When aCwoman, however gentle at
home, goes to market, she’s pretty sure to
have her own weigh.
A Wyoming man won ten dollars on a
wager by eating twenty pig’s feet. This
was a pig's feat, indeed.
Russia ar,d Turkey are now lying down
peacefully together like the fox and the
goose—only the goose is inside of the
fox.
The largest bronze statue in the world
is at Nara, Japan. It weighs over 450
tons, and a man can climb through eneof
its nostrils.
Edith Morgan was of a crew that went
out in a small rowboat in a recent terrible
storm on Lake Michigan, at the peril of
their lives, and rescued a drowning sailor
from a wreck.
A young lady who wanted anew pull
back, hearing that gold was down te
“Pa,” was almost broken hearted on
being told by him that ho was unable
nevertheless, to pay for it.
Hotel guest on retiring—“l want to got
up at eight o’clock.” Facetious night
clerk—“ Have not got one, sir.” Guest,
“Not got what?” Clerk, “A potato
clock.”
One hundred and fifty superfluous wo
men shipped from New York to Oregon on
speculation were seized and married im
mediately on arrival. There are 150,000
bachelors in Oregon who want to
marry,
Avery usefnl sheep is kept on a stoamer
plying botween San Francisco and Stock
ton. He is trained to go out on a gang
blank at a landing when a flock is to bo
loaded, to show that the approach is safe
and to act as a pilot.
WANTED MORE.
The old saying- that some men would
waqt more if they had a billion was exem
plified yesterday when a Windsoriteand a
Detroiter got into a dispute at the ferry
dock. Said tho Canadian:
"You ought to be well pounded, and I’m
the man who can do it! However, I don’t
understand the laws over horo and don’t
want to bo locked up. If you will como
over to Canada I’ll pay your fare both
ways on Uio boat, buy your dinner, treat
you to ciprs, lick you till you can’t squeal
and send you homo with beef on your
eyes!”
The American thought of the proposi
tion awhile and then asked:—
“If 1 go over with you will buy me
anew overcoat?”
“I—l—yos, by thunder, I will!” re
plied the mad Windsorite.
“And a suit of'clothes?"
“No I won’t. That’s asking too muchl”
“Well, those aro the only terms I waa
ever licked on,” calmly replied the other,
and your rejection of them shows that you
arc all blow and no fight."
They took it out in jawing.— Free
Frees.
An ex-Prcsident of tho United States
is a victim of the back tax law of Mis
souri. The Hillsboro Democrat contains
two orders of publication of suit against
“said defendant, U. S. Grant,” who is
ordered “to he and appear at the term of
the court to bo begun and hold at the court
house in the town of Hillsboro, within and
for the county of Jefferson,” and answer
why he should not pay tho seven years’
delinquent taxes on certain lands owned
by him in the county aforesaid.
Josh Billings says: “Doant karry aigs
in your cotale pocket. Aigs ain’t good
after they’ve been sot on a while,”