Newspaper Page Text
( EfiTADLISHEI) ISSO. )
(J. H. EsTILL Editor and Proprietor, f
From the Fit If burg Bulletin.
in her copy, little chamber, with her feet upon
She wap reading Walter Scott, the while her
husband, young and tender,
Wore a smile upon his lips that neither tongue
nor pen could render.
“Not one person out of twenty with the first
fond lover marries,”
Bo sbe reads, and o’er the sentence fora passing
While her question, with a subtle subterfuge, he
“Was vour ardent protestation unto me your
fii-st confession ?”
And, “Was your beloved admission your initial
“Well: I married my first loro, providing you
did,” she said faintly.
“If you didn't—why J didn't,”—with a smile so
rene and saintly.
Thus, by woman's wit, the nuarrel was averted,
NORA OF THE ADIRONDACK.
BY ANNE E. ELLIS.
authoii ok “them women,” etc.
•‘Gee! ha! g'lang, ye lazy brutes!” said
Timothy Tideout, as he goaded on the sleepy
oxen that tugged and pulled the wagon load
of lumber along the dusty roads.
Now almost stopping as if indisposed to
go further—then starting forward with a
rush, while Timmy urged and lashed, then
wiped the perspiration from his taco and
neck with his huge handkerchief.
“Whew! This here's the hottest day I
ever did see! I’ll be glad when these dog
days be over. It it wasn't fur Nora I’d give
up and rest a spell, but she’s tuck sich a
powerful notion of lamin’ that I hain't got
the heart to disappoint her.”
So saying, Timmy urged on the steers,
whistling a merry tune and between whiles
putting an immense quid of tobacco in his
month by way of comfort.
How he managed to get the huge piece in
his mouth was a mystery. That cavity did
not look so large, but it certainly did hold
an enormous quantity of “pig tail,” and
Timmy evidently found an enormous amount
of solace therein.
A man on horseback was now seen in the
distance, and Timniv stopped his whistling
and looked up in wonder as he saw he was
a stranger in those parts.
The equestrian approached and his whole
tearing gave evidence of a gentleman of
education and apparent wealth, while his
hands, which were ungloved, were white and
delicate as if unused to labor.
The stranger rode up to Timmy and, lift
ing his hat and with smiling countenance,
“Friend, will you be kind enough, to tell
me how far it is to the nearest inn t ”
“Wall, it be a. matter of twenty mile ter
one as is wuth goin’ ter. There be a place in
the woods as keeps travelers sometimes, but
it do be said folks as goes there sometimes
don’t come away. Barney as keeps it is a
strange, sneekin’ sort of a fellow, and folks
is keerful not to go through the woods arter
nightfall,” replied Timmy.
“Is there any place near where I could get
n night’s lodging ? My horse is too tired to
go much further,” queried the stranger.
“You might stop with us. stranger. We
hain’t no great ’conuuodations fur big bugs
like you, but I guess ye'll And things clean
and wholesome, and ve needn’t be afeerd to
take out that there watch of vour'n fur fear
yer brains ’ll be dashed out ter git it.”
“Thanks, stranger. I will accept your
kind offer and be grateful for it,” replied the
The traveler turned his horse and rode on
by the side of Timmy, with difficulty keep
ing his mettlesome horse to the pace of the
The stranger was a tall, well-built yoifng
man, with black hair and dark gray eyes,
which orbs, shaded by their biack lashes
and overhunk with the tinely-arehed black
brows, looked at times as if they were dark
hued also. While the broad, open brow mid
finely-cut mouth, uncovered by moustache,
betokened gentle breeding and honesty. His
dress was soiled with heat and travel, but
was put on with care and neatness.
The two traveled on in silence until Tim
my’s curiosity overcame him.
’’Traveled much in these here parts,
“Not muMi,” was the reply.
“Purty country, I oalkelate.”
“Yes, very beautiful I bad no idea
America could boast of such scenery. 1
think it wonld lie to my advantage to stop
awhile and take sonie views,” responded
the stranger, gating around him admir
“You be one of them picter takers, lie ye,
that we trails about;”queried Timmy, look
ing at the stranger in astonishment.
“Yes, Ido something in that line," an
swered the stranger with an amused smile.
“Wall, I reckon ye kin find somethin'
purty among these Adyromlneks. lam of
the opinion tljat there hain’t no punier
country in these here States,” exclaimed
Timmy, with a burst of enthusiasm.
“Grand 1 , sublime!” echoed the young man
as a magnificent landscape presented itself
to bis artist’s eyes from a gap in the shrub
bery of the mout .iu road which they were
“Nora ’ll he sot up now! She hoz a fancy
fur picter paintin’ tool” cried Timmy, joy
“ And who is Nora, n*ny I ask’”
“Nora' mv dartovj. The old woman and
mo never hed'no time fur nuthin’hut hard
■work; but. Norn, the only child ns lived, she
took to book lamin’ and music. Ye knight
tor hear her sing, stranger! Him do sing
more like a bird nor anything 1 ever did
hear!” cried Timmy, with a burst of enthu
siasm, the love light shining in his honest
eyes ns he recounted the accomplishments of
The stranger smil'd pleasantly, and the
strong, handsome, aristocratic face showed
the interest,'Hie felt in this flower of the
“You say your daughter draws?” asked
“Yes, she makes some party picter* for
one ns iiez never been larut. It frets the
old woman because sire don't keel* to work.
Hlio ilrAry to help, but it don’t coma nat
oral, so I tells ma’am to let her alone; fur
I’m afeerd she don’t lielong to us; she Ins too
like a picter herself, and ma’am and me
never was hnn’some.”
Tlie stranger’s interest grew ns he heard
the proud father’s account of his daughter,
and lie could scarcely wait to see what, man
ner of prodigy this wild mountain country
could contain" He fully expected to nee .a
large buxom lass with a kiud voice singing
love ditties and wild songs, and whose liter
iiturc consists of unimaginable love stories
They now approached the house, and as
the stronger surveyed the old ruiu with its
If I jt' Horning W cto&
dilapidated surroundings he became still
more dubious of anything like a being of re
finement being found within its walls.
As he neared the edifice he saw two female
figures, one of which disappeared into the
house, while the other shaded her eyes with
her hand and stared at the unwonted sight
of such a fine-looking individual approach
She was a hard, grim-visaged woman of
about five and fifty, with an eye that looked
as if such a thing as tenderness had never
gleamed from it. Her very appearance
threw a chill over one, and made him feel
that it was better to get as far away as pos
sible from her. Yet still, there was no
choice but this, or a ride of twenty miles
and the doubtful house in the woods, so the
stranger decided to remain.
Timmy took the stranger’s horse after he
had dismounted and gave the animal into
file charge of a large, freckled face, shock
headed boy, who answered to the euphonious
name of Sampson, which individual led the
horse to the dilapidated building that was
called the stable, while Timmy conducted
the stranger to the presence of his wife.
“Ma’am, this yer stranger wants lodgin’
for to-night. I guess you kin put him some
The old woman stared hard, and at last
“I don’t know where ye kin nut grand
quality folks like him.”
“I reckon ye kin store him away some
where for the night. You know tho tav
ern’s twenty miles or more, and it beeut
safe ter go to Barney’s,” replied Timmy.
“I think, madam, I could manage for one
night if you will bo kind enough to take
me. My horse is tired, and I will gladly
pay for accommodations,” said the traveler,
anxious lest ho should fail to secure even the
haven of refuge for himself and weary
“Well, I guess we kin store ye away
somewhere,” replied “ma’am,” not over
The word “pay” liad influenced her decis
“Walk in, stranger! walk in!” said Tim
my, ushering the stranger into the living
room—which room was kitchen, sitting
room and parlor, all in one.
In the meanwhile the old woman bustled
away to prepare a room for him.
In a few minutes she returned and ushered
him into a large, unplastered room,
roughly furnished, but with an evident ap
pearance of refinement and taste. A few
prints and drawing in rustic frames graced
the wall, while the bed was dressed in showy
white, and curtains of the same pure hue
gracefully festooned the windows.
A vase of flowers stood on the little home
made shelf, and little articles of female
handiwork were strewn about.
Evidently it was the room of a woman,
but not of the old woman who had first
brought him there.
Who was she?
The stranger’s curiosity was now thor
His desire to see this mountain lassie was
He hastened to refresh himself by a plenti
ful ablution in water so he could go down to
the room to investigate.
But bafore he was quite ready a heavy
knock at the door and a summons to supper
He hastened into the kitchen, and as he
entered the door he just caught a glimpse of
a white dress disappearing out of the door
on the other side, but nothing more.
“Draw up, stranger, and make yourself
at home,” said Timmy, his honest face
gleaming with pleasure at this unusual
presence of a guest.
The table had a coarse but snowy white
cloth upon it, and an abundance of coaree,
pfciin food, and, to the stranger’s surprise,
the bunch of flowers so welcome to the eye
of the lover of the beautiful, and so seldom
found even on the tables of the rich much
less on those of moderate circumstances.
“Flowers, beautiful flowers.
Thy language is innocence.”
But let us descend from heuven to earth.
Coarse though the fare was, it disappeared
But the daughter—where was she? Every
sound and the stranger turned anxiously ex
pecting to see her enter. But she came not.
She evidently was trying to evade notice.
“Who be ye. stranger?” asked the old
“My name is Beaconsfield,” responded the
stranger, not without some hesitation and a
feeling of disgust as the coarseness of his in
terrogator grated on his sensibilities.
“Come from these parts?” again asked
“No,” responded he again.
“I reckon ye lie Engiish, stranger?” said
Timmy, nervously, fearful of offending by
asking unnecessary questions.
“Yes, 1 am from England.”
“Been in these parts long?” again ques
tioned the wife.
“Only a short time,” responded the now
almost exasperated stranger.
••On business?” persistently inquired the
dame, unmindful of the annoyance of her
guest. , . ~ .
“No, for pleasure, i nni traveling for
pleasure." . .
As he replied the stranger s voice evinced
so much impatience that even the blunt sen
i-ihilities of the old woman prompted her to
desist from questioning. .
“He’s one of them chaps as pamts pieters,
“Umph!” granted the old woman, as if
she didn't think that of much moment.
“I tel led trim our Nora could make pic
ters. too,” said Timmy.
"She’d a heap better lain to wash and
scrub. Yer can’t eat pieters!” growled
Mag as the stranger found the old woman
was called. “I never seed no good in ’em,”
“The.y’s han’soine, mother.
“Good 'nuff fur them as likes 'em! As
fur my part, I never had no time to look at
’em.” continued Mag.
••I should like to see some of your
daughter’s drawings,” said Mr. Beaconsfield
to Timmy. , ~ . ,
“I’ll try ami git some fur ye. Mr. Jackons
field But Nora's might}' shy of strangers -
she aliens runs as ef she was skew ed when
any one comes,” replied the old man, pleased
at the notice taken of the one evident idol
of his heart. ,
“DeekenhoM’is tho stranger’s name, dad,
“No— Dcfti-oiwflelll," replied the young
stranger with a shade of annoyance at the
mil-c alling of his aristocratic name.
“Well well, stranger! it's all one—nothin
but ft name. Fur my part, I'm ji*t as well
pleased with l’ideout as one more high-fer
lutin’,” replied Timmy, laughing.
“Urnph!” exclaimed Mag, mid she gave
a chuckle that was evidently intended tor a
Huriper over. Timmy and the young guest
walked out to view the wild mountain
scenery, and as he gazed on the overhanging
rocks and down into the deen ravines with
the mountain forests on either side, young
Reaconstteld did not wonder that this might
be the birth place of romance.
The air was redolent with flowers, the
birds sung their evening song, thrilling the
whole being with joy and nonce.
The two returned to the nouse, but no ap
pearance of Nora. Had it not been for tf.e
glimpse he had liad of the white drew, the
young Englishman would have thought this
'''overcome bv*fatigue he retired early aoa.
to he well rested and refreshed for the mor
row’s journey, and slept the sleep o f an ewy
conscious and tirtxi txxiy, )ued by t >
sweet, refreshing mountain atr.
SAVANNAH, GA., SUNDAY, JUNE 1!*, 1887—TWELVE PAGES.
“Now I lay me down to Bleep.
And the blue eyes dark and deep,
I cl their snowy curtains down,
Edged with fringes golden brown;
All day long the angels fair.
l‘ve been watching over there;
Heaven's not far, tis just in sight.
Now they're calling me. goodnight!
Kiss me, mot her, do not ween,
Now I lay me down to sleep."
Arthur Beaconsfield slowly opened his
eyes, his dreamy thoughts shaping them
selves to heavenly visions as the sweet voice
ended the song.
“Over there, just over there.
List the angels' morning prayer;
Lisping* low. t Urn' fancy creep,
Now I lay me down to sleep.”
“ ’List the angel’s morning prayer, ” he
repeated, over and over again, trying to
collect lus thoughts so as to realize where he
was. And then us he awoke more fully he
remembered the adventure of the night be
“But who was the owner of the voice? It
certainly was most bird-like; it could not
belongtoacoar.se person!” he thought to
His faculties now thoroughly awakened
young Beaconsfield hastened to attire him
self read}' for his morning ride to Danforth,
whither he Liad been bound the day be
His toilet arranged ho opened the case
ment and inhaled a long whiff of the sweet,
pure mountain air, thereby gaining renewed
The wild American mountain scenery was
The house was built upon a bluff over
looking tho valley beneath with its ravines,
locks, streams, waterfalls and houses, the
latter dotting the ground below, looking in
the distance like play houses.
Arthur stood enraptured, his artist’s eye
taking in the whole magnificent landscape.
“I must have that picture! There never
was one so lovely!” exclaimed he in ecstatic
In the midst of his rapture a vigorous
knocking at tho door recalled him to earth.
And a loud voice calling, “Stranger!
breakfast!” reminded him that he was hun-
He entered the large kitchen and enjoyed
his breakfast of brown bread, bacon, eggs
and black coffee immensely.
“Sleep sound, stranger: 1 ’ asked Timmy.
“Splendidly! I was quite wearied after
my ride, and your bracing mountain air
quieted my nerves sufficiently to cause me
to sleep soundly,” answered the young Eng
“Goin’ on?” grunted Mag.
“Yes, I must lie on my journey after
breakfast so I can have the coolest part of
the day for the longest part of my jour
“Can’t stay longer, stranger? \\ e hain’t
got much to offer ye, but I think ye might
find somethin’ to make pieters of around
here; there hain’t a purtier piece of moun
tain country any whar,” said Timmy, look
He had taken a notion to young Beacons
field; his education and refinement suiting
his American taste.
“I cannot possibly stay now; but perhaps
I may come back again. I should like very
much to see some of your daughter’s draw
ings and perhaps I can assist her.”
“Come on, come on! yer weleome
stranger!” so saying, Timmy called the
shock-headed boy: “Samp, go out and sad
dle the stranger's horse, and, mind ye, give
him a good feed.”
Sampson departed, and as Arther found
the time for leaving nearly at hand his dis
appointment at not seeing Nora was keen
The sweet voice he had heard in the morn
ing haunted him continually, and he was
anxious to see the face of the sweet song
stress of this mountain home.
He answered abstractedly Timmy's and
Mag's questions, trying to persuade himself
that his anxiety was foolish.
Sampson put his head into the door.
“The stranger’s horse be lame, sir, so he
can’t put his foot to the ground.”
Beaconsfield looked aghast at the hews,
and he ami Timmy hastened out to see the
extent of the injury.
When they arrived at the stable the horse
was led out for their inspection, and sure
enough lie was beyond a doubt lame.
The animal whmueyed and rubbed him
self against Arthur as if to ask for relief.
Arthur patted and rubbed him, looking
into the. horse’s eyes with pity.
“Poor Romeo!”said he, patting him fond
ly on the neck.
The young man knew that travel was now
out of the question. His horse was a valua
ble one ami almost as intelligent as a hu
man ticing. Beaconsfield had brought him
from his English home, and he would
rather endure pain himself tiian see his
beautiful favorite suffer.
Tiie foot was duly bathed and bandaged,
and Timmy and the young Englishman re
turned to the house—Beaconsfield resigned
to his fate of several days incarceration in
his mountain prison.
But little did he think that the days
would be prolonged into months.
Fortunately he had brought drawing ma
terials in Ins'portmanteau, and he resolved
to make good use of his time in copying the
beauties of the mountain scenery of the
The young Englishman's desire to see
Nora became stronger. The sweet voice
rang in his ears and tie resolved to he more
vigilant and catch the sly bird unawares.
With imrtfolio in hand he sauntered out
along tho mountain side, each view as it
hurst upon ha- gaze from the openings in the
thickets filling him with rapture.
At last lie selected a spot where he had a
clear view ofjthe lovely valley beneath, and
clambering down the rocks he found a
sheltered niche where a good view could be
had and, as he thought, away from all in
He sketched lazily on until, tiring of his
occupation, lie st rapped Ids |K>rtfolio to his
side and crept along the ledge until lie
reached a perfect Is over of trailing arbutus,
columbine and wild honeysuckle, while tho
ledge was carpeted with rich, Alvety mow.
And what else ?
A beautiful maiden sleeping wweptly in
this lovely bower.
She was half reclining on a mossy seat
with her head on her arm, wlihni was
thrown carelessly oil a slight cmba*nnit.
Such Iwuuty Arthur >n
never beheld. •
Hurelv the good 1 tropic of Erin's gWen
isle were not mistaken in their belief in
fairies, and this must Is- one of their wood
land nymphs which he had taken unaware*.
The'lovely waxen skin with it* peachy
bloom; the hair like spun gold and hanging
in graceful ringlets; tlm beautiful outlines
of the perfect face with the closed eyes,
shallowed by their dark lashes and the tmy,
penciled brows, while the foot, from which
the slipper had fallen, was small and beauti
fully arched. The delicate hand and taper-,
ing fingers with their almond-shajmd nails
showed aristocratic breeding ahd ignorance
of toil. Beautiful as an hour! was she.
As young Bea<stnsfield gazed on this pic
ture of rare loveliness, hardly crediting the
beautiful vision with earth, he gave an ex
clamation of surprise which awoke the,
Hue uncovered eyes of heaven’s own blue,
from out whose depths the beautiful sogi
shone with all its innocence.
The maiden was start lisi as she lieheld t.he
intruder, and arose hastily to flee from the
spot, like a startled fawn
•‘Pardon, fair lady!” said the young man.
,“I did not mean to Intrude. I ouly came to
sketch some views of this lovely country
and discovered unexpectedly your bower.”
The maiden blushed, and with down-oast
eyes bid him “welcome!”
He seated himself on the mossy ground,
for the first time in his life abashed by the
presence of a woman.
To his great astonishment he discovered
that this lovely, fairy-like creature was the
daughter of Timmy and Mag.
As Arthur overcame bis shyness the
young girl conversed freely, and' he drew
her out. to speak of herself, her plans, her
aspirations and disappointments, and lie
found her—notwithstanding her rough, iso
lated surroundings—a person of culture and
She hail early learned to read and write,
and liemga favorite of the kind old gentle
man who had taught school in the neighbor
hood for many years, she had received such
instruction as enablod her to continue Iter
studies, and through his assistance had se
cured a fe-.v valuable books, such as were
instructive and improving.
Arthur was surnrisesd to find the degree
of culture to which this rustic mind had at
tained with the few facilities at hand.
Her sketches were entirely from nature,
and, for one altogether untutored, showed
a natural talent for art.
Arthur picked a book from off the green
moss at his side, expecting to find an un
imaginable romance, but nis astonishment
was great upon finding it a Volume of Long
Upon opening it there was every evidence
of its having bean well studied and read.
The choicest passages were marked.
To the Englishman who had been accus
tomed only to fair dames in baronical halls,
and who had been taught that women born
beneath their rank were ignorant and un
tutored, this beautiful young girl with tier
cultured tastes was a mystery.
He congratulated himself upon his dis
covery, for now liis stay at the old home
would not be so tedious. It would be a posi
tive delight to train this rich mind and en
joy this sweet companionship.
Ah, my young friend! Fly while you
have time, for you are in danger—you are
too near the fire to escape with your wings
Earl Beaconsfield was one of the proudest
lords of the realm.
Descended in an almost unbroken line from
royalty, he was haughty and austere. A1
though kind and condescending t* his infe
riors, his dignity and hauteur showed them
that no familiarity was allowed.
He had. early in life, brought to his an
cestral halls bis voung bride—Anne, only
daughter of Lord Hapsburg—a lady famous
for her beauty and accomplishments.
She had early been left motherless and
her girlhood’s years were mostly spent in
the companionship of her easy, indulgent
father, who made her his heart's idol and
would allow none of her wishes to be
thwarted. She had one other devoted at
tendant —Margaret, the faithful and affec
tionate servant of her sainted mother
Margaret w-as, fortunately for Lady Anne,
a woman of good, sound sense—and, al
though she loved her little lady devotedly,
strove to train her so as to become an upright
Anne was naturally of a gentle, yielding
disposition and she grew up as lovely in
character as she was m person.
Lord Hapsburg, knowing that his years
foretold speedy dissolution, although dread
ingsorely to part with his idolized daughter,
yielded to t.lia request of the then young
Karl Beaconsfield for his daughter’s hand
knowing that she would lie well guarded
from harm by such an honorable man as
Arthur Dugan, Earl Beaconsfield.
Anne was by no means averse. Hbo had
known the young Earl from childhood Rnd
hail grown to love him, almost impercepti
bly—and she was happy indeed when she
had his manly strqpgtn and sheltering love
And fondly indeed the Earl loved his sweet
wife. Her disposition was one that looked
to a stronger for protection and shrank with
timidity from harshness.
Several children had 1 teen born to the Earl
and Countess, but thesp young buds had only
blossomed to fade and wither, until the birth
of young Arthur—who, although delicate at
birth, grew into a sturdy, romping boy,
quick and apt and honorable.
Arthur cared for no companions more
than his mother and Margaret, for although
they ruled him with firmness, there was a
gentleness and affection that w on his heart’s
The young lord loved his father, also,
dearly. But the haughty dignity of tho
Earl forbade his approach with any degre •
of familiarity—and his love was more that
of fear than pure affection.
Arthur loved his father and felt proud of
him. but it was into the car of his gentle
mother that he poured his youthful trouble
“Remember that you are a Beaconsfield,
my son,” from the Earl repelled the young
boy but quelled any youthful folly in his
“My dear son,” and the tender look of
love from his mother drew him constantly
to her side to lay his head on her shoulder
and caress and lie caressed in turn.
“My bontiic boy,” from Margaret, brought
him bounding to her side, his bright eyes
gleaming with boyish fun.
As Arthur grew in years and too large for
the training of home,’ he was placed under
the tutorage of the neighboring vicar, a
man noted for his learning and piety, who
sought not only to train the youthful mind
for Oxford but for the higher duties of life.
Tile boy had but few playmates but the
one lie loved most was the little Lady Betty,
the only daughter and heiress of their near
neighbor, a wealthy lord.
Tlie little lady was much younger than
Arthur, a little brown thing with blue, black
hair, and great eyes like midnight- who,
although homely as a child, was one uf those
who develop into that rich, warm beauty of
the South as they grow in yea re.
She was a mischievous sprite and dearly
loved to tense the groat boy who was so de
voted to his tormentor.
The parents of both looked upon the
youthful friendship with great delight, ns
the 1 >eglnning of n older and a stronger
affection, which was to terminate in an nlli
ance which would I# most desirable and of
interest to lmth houses.
But the young l*y soon outgrew his tutor
and entered Oxford. The parting from his
mother and litllo playmate was sad, but his
“ Remember you are a Beaconsfield.” fill
ing him with the pride of his noble birth*
IDs mother’s—“ God bless you. my son!
Remember your mother's teachings.”
Margarets last greeting over her “bonnio
And the last words of his much loved
“ Remember, Hir Arthur, there are two
kinds of manhood, therefore let it be your
aim to strive for the nobler .”
These spurred him on to the highest aim,
together with hie natural nobility of char
He loft Oxford, having done honor to him
self and friends. The pride of the Beaoons
flelds was never once outraged by any dis
graceful srrajjes, and the Earl gazed upon
him with proud satisfaction as he welcomed
his son back to his paternal home.
\joAy Anne’s eyes were filled with team of
joy, as she was folded with unchanged affoc
tlon in the arms of her son. now grown to
But with Margaret he wu# still—“her
Lady Bet ty was in her sweet girlhood and
was fast fulfilling the promise of her earlier
years by becoming a beauty.
The face was growing exquisite in its out
lines and rosy bloom, while her form, yet
undeveloped ns it was, gave promise of rare
She stood somewhat in awe of the fine,
manly friend of her childhood a. I there
Was a restraint in their bearing towards
each other. But that soon wore off and
they were re-established on their old friendly
foot ing. Their friendship was that of brother
and sister, and a warmer feeling never once
entered their hearts.
Young Beaconsfield was allowed to remain
at home for a few months and was then sent
away again, to spend a few years in travel,
ns a finishing touch to his education.
When we met him in New York he had
traveled over the greater part of Europe
and Asia, and was finishing with the United
States, where he wished to obtain some
sketches of the romantic scenery of which
he had heard so much.
Sir Arthur had early shown a taste for
art,; and as lie grew in years it had become
a passion with him.
In search of subjects for his much loved
study he had met his fate and the cause—
and innocent cause—of much sorrow and
Arthur liad spent much time in Italy,
perfecting himself in painting and sculpture
and he little Know that what he deemed a
mere pastime was to be the means of earn
ing the daily bread of himself and one much
dearer than self to him.
For although the Earldom and estates
were entailed upon him, Sir Arthur lind
nothing during lfis father’s lifetime hut
what ins father chose to give him, which
which was most liberal.
Young as he was lfis pictures and one gem
of sculpture had received much praise—and
lie was already classed among the leading
artists of the day—and had he have chosen
to part with lfis artistic productions his in
come would have been ample.
Well for him that it was so. He would
have fared badly should he offend his proud
father and lose nis support while that father
[TO 11E CONTINUED.]
WHITHER ARE WE DRIFTING ?
BY GAGE HAMPSTEAD.
The setting apart of the seventh day for
rest never sprang from human intellect. So
grand, so wise and heneficent a law must
emanate from the mind of Deity alone.
Heathen nations of the past and to-day,
though attaining a high degree of civiliza
tion, are still a worn, a weary people. In
cessant toil, treading the tread mill on, till
death castejipon life the gloom that yearns
for rest in the grave. No Monday finds the
people of China refreshed, ready for the
new week of work. How blessed that laud
that possesses this invaluable, loving law!
where it is kept, not as man perverts it, but.
simply, purely, as the Great Law-Giver
knows it will conduce to the welfare of
To deviate in*the slightest degree from
heaven's commands is to burn strange fire,
to invite death. Holy, hallowed, the day of
rest! No mortal of any intelligence can
misconstrue this command. The |>ea ce and
sanctity of the blessed day affects even the
wicked, the very atmosphere that pervades
him seems to invite him to a “land of rest.”
In no land was the Sabbath more correctly
observed than in our own South and her
cities. Blit to-day we behold anew innova
tion. What jar upon the holy day is the
rush of the feverish throng to go on an ex
cursion! is the grinding toil of men wh"
lielong to a “soulless incoi-poration!" By
their wear and tear of muscle, by their sigh .
for the lowly home and the dear inmates on
this day of rest, is the cry of the witnesses
of this sin gone forth. Yet the fallacious
argument is boldly made that this pleasure
of Sunday excursions is given in view of
lienefit to the poor.
What of benefit to the prior Inlsir outside?
Only on thisdny, is it claimed, that the poor
workingman finds time for such recreation.
This should be a keen blade piercing into
our legislation, our Christianity, to admit
that no means can be devised so t hat the
poor can have a pleasant recreation, with
out being driven to violate the Kabbath
day! Each patriot heart must throb in
sympathy over our toiling bread-winners.
Over their lives let strong hearts unite to
cast every possible ray of sunshine.
But after all, do the poor avail themselves
more than others of the Bunday excursion?
The day of l ost, the only day they can sjiend
at home, is to ninny most. gladly passed with
their families. For many such the Kabbath
affords tho many sacred recreations and
pleasures, for the thought to intrude of join
ing that which, to say the least, is question
11l fact, what classes compose the ordi
nary Sunday excursion party? The man
about town, the heedless girl, families who
can afford to go in the week, but who are
willing to break the Sabbath to save a lew
dimes. Dove-coted among these are the
]oor, who could never go unless the terms
were so low and the day Kabbath!
Where is the statesman whose heart burns
with love to his fellow-man who will devise a
plan >o that some week day the poor laborer
can take a whiff of salt air, or dash through
den and dingle on the iron horse? Kogrand
a work is worthy the brain of some t rue
man. With paw, sail faces, the poor, shut
in their lowly homes, appeal to us as a
Chi istian people to remove from them the
temptation to break this law. Will their
voices he heard?
Bum one barrier, break down one rain
part, and another is quickly demolished.
Those who look in dismay on this first great,
public violation of God's day may witness,
in another decade, other strides toward the
breaking of the fourth command. Why Is*
amazed to wake up ten years hence and find
tin* theatres open, the ball room alluring
in the throng oh Sundays? One step only
Now in time, lei our Christian and
jotriotic people read their danger. On each
of these is laid the finger of (led. as In voice
of love and command He cries from Klnai’s
burning mount: "Uemcmlier my Kabbath
day to keep it holy.”
An Unexpected Suggestion.
From the Merchant Tea crier.
“Hay. Gaddemby," said Mr. Smith, as he
came into the flnh store with a lot of tackle
in his hand, “I want, you to give me some
fish to take home with me. Kind o’ fix ’em
up so that they'll look ns if they've I wen
caught today', will you?”
“Certainly, sir,” said tho grocer. “How
“Oh, you'd t>ert**r give me three o
four bass. Make it look decent, in quantity
without appearing to exaggerate, you
“Yes, sir, but you’d 1 wtter take white fish,
hadn’t you?" •
•‘Why, what makes you think tor
"Oh, nothing, except that your wife wus
flown bore early this afternoon and said if
you dropped ui with a tlsh-pole over yoiu'
shoulder and a generally woe-be-g<uie look
to have you trtkw whito if powHibto
as she liked that kind better than any
Mr. Smith took white fish.
Thikus One WmVd Hather Have Left Unsaid
--Bhe~ No, I cannot give you another dance.
Hiu i ii introduce you to the prettiest girl in the
He- 3ut I don’t wan t to deuce with the
r#vui*f>t xirl iu the fount. I want to dance with
ST ROLL IN'CENTRAL PARK
EARLY VISITORS AND HOW THEY
Business Men, Loafers and Angloma
niacs Who Love the Cool Mornlhg
Breezes A Visit to the Metropolitan
Museum of Art -Beautiful Creations
and Extraordinary Daubs.
New Yoke, June 18. —There are a good
many surprises in Now York even for the
most knowing of the natives. Yesterday
morning I arrived from Boston on an early
train. I had not been able to sleep well on
the cars coming over, and had risen at (5
o’clock and watched the green fields and
wooded slopes of Connecticut as we whiz
zed through at the rate Of fifty miles an hour.
Perhaps it was this that gave me a desire
fora bit of the (country, for, when I arrived
in New York at 8 o’clock, I found that 1
could not get the green hills and wooded
slopes quite out of my mind. So I turned
around on my way down town to breakfast
nnd drove up to Central Park. I had vyith
me n man of distinction in the political
world who had quite as restless a night as I
hail suffered from. But he protested at first
ugainst the trip to the park.
“ Who ever heard," he said with the fine
contempt of a man who invariably does the
proper tiling, “of going to Central Park in
the morning f"
A ride before, breakfast.
I had never heard of it , but I insisted and
wo droVe through the Fifty ninth street gate,
and ambled gently northward with the
steady and jerky but sincere enthusiasm
which a New York cab horse is apt to im
part to an excursion of this sort. A little
wav from the entrance we alighted, sent the
call back with our hags awl strolled gently
up the mall. I eould not avoid a feeling of
gentle exhilaration. It was partly due to
the lovely scenery, the freshness of the
verdure and the mngnif cent banks of bloom
ing flowers and floweiing vines on every
side, but candor compels me to admit that
it was also due to the presence of about 1 i>,-
000 people who were enjoying the park pre
eisely os wo wore. They were not the
poorer classes, by any means. At, one point
we came to a bridge wldeh crossed the bridle
path and we leaned over the parapet for
half an hour and watched the stream of
thoroughbred horses and stunning
women taken a morning gallop
through the park. Most of the women sat
their horses like centaurs. Their close
habits, bright eyes and red cheeks as they
dashed along, followed in many instances
by groonnt and nccnnuwnied occasionally by
escorts, made a picture [ shall never forget
I have been a firm believer in the beauty of
New York women for many years,
hut, I do not think that, I ever be
fore saw so many undeniably handsome and
spirited beauties as 1 did yesterday morn
ing during that half hour’s loih*ing on the
(Jceasionally, stout old gentlemen on sub
stantial horses cantered by, and there were
many elaborately attired Anglomaniacs on
English looking steeds. What, surprised n
both was the number of business men with
whom we were acquainted who passed be
neatli the bridge. There woreniglit editors,
lawyers and Wall street, men whom nobody
over suspected of riding, but who were
evidently taking a half hour’s dash lief ore
breakfast. They did not seem at all sur
prised to see us—which shows how much
more they knew than we did. We pushed
on along to the lake front here, and finally
reached one of the pretty resturants with
which the park is supplied. It is a low
gabled roof cottage, where I have occasion
ally seen people lounging at 3 or and o’clock in
the afternoon without their husband's
knowledge. The place is renowned for its
cuisine, and is cozy and comfortable. We
saw the roof from afar, and the man with
me sighed gently, as he said:
“1 would give a good deal if that place
was open, but, of course, it isn’t as early as
as this. It, strikes me that, planked shad,
boiled potatoes and a roasted chicken would
just, about start me even with the day.
There’s no better place to get them either
than over there”—with another wistful
glance at the roof—“but, ofjfourae, liter* is
no use going at this uneartb™hottr.”
'', ■ ■ -
An early promenade.
fn spit*' of tliis. morose <#nviction we
push odour way toward the hogse The
main door* were open. Wo went up the
step* softly and looked in, expecting to see
tlio porters cleaning outthopie Instead,
we saw that every table was occupied, and
most of them by'people whom one would
not for a moment suspect of going to Oen
tral Park for breakfast,. For instance, at,
one table I saw a prominent theatrical
manager, who never goes to lied before 8
o'clock, sitting with two of his pretty sisters
and innaling the fragrant air from across
the meadows with expanded chest. He was
ait Imppv as a main at high tide. At another
table was a broker, his wife and four chil
dren. And so on all through the room we
saw people breakfasting ’sociably near win
dows that commanded a magnificent pros
pect. VVe ordeitsd our breakfast. atul went
back to the lake, where w e watched some
children in a rowlxiat. ]jter we went back
ami lin ukfasted and wei-e about to start
down town, when tny companion suggested
another walk. By this time myriads of
beautifully dressed children, in charge of
snowy-capped, red-cheeked nurse* were
romping through the park, and t.rimlv clad
young girls in charge of governesses were
reading as they sat under the spreading
trees, The walk, which we had taken at
i PRICE AlO A YEAR. I
5 CENTS A COPY, f
random, skirted the drive, and we amused
ourselves by watching the endless stream of
private carriages carrying people of all Rorts
nnd conditions at a brisk pace along the
drive. In some of the carnages were old
ladies and older men Others were filled by
groups of laughing children ana many of
tne lighter phaetons and carta were driven
by ladies tvho bold the ribbons over spank*
ing teams of well-groomed horses. Before
we knew it we had arrived at the Metro*
politan Museum of Art, and as we both felt
that there was no cuance of either one of til
getting there again for a year or two, w®
hurried up the steps and went into the big
building. The collection of modern paint
ings, it will lie remembered, has recently
taw-ii added to by the gifts of Cornelius
Vanderbilt, Judge Hilton and the late
Catherine Wolfe. The centre of attraction,
of course, was the magnificent Meissonier,
"IViedlmi I l-itT.’’ The picfuc\, which, by
the way, has !-en disci- . and u-'death of late
b> tin- papers, has the place of honor in the
gallery, while opposite it hangs Dotal lie’s
masterpiece, “The Defense of Charnpigny •”
Tin r - were la-sides many magnificent speci
mens ' f modern masters in the gallery, and
it if- evident that at last New York is to have
a collection of painting* which will compare
decently with those of the great European
cities. The special gallery which is being
built under the legacy of the late Catharine
Wolfe is already up to a height of one story.
The addition, which will cost 8350,000,
seems as large as the original building, aud
will probably li finished within a year.
There is no room for the Wolfe collection
now, nnd the pictures are stored pending
the completion of the annex. It seems to
me, though, that it would be a good idea
for the Trustees at the present time
to remove some of the less meritori
ous pictures—and this is an exceed
ingly mild and amiable way of speaking of
some of tho extraordinary dauhe in the
room which is honored by Meiasonier's great
hattlo piece—and place a few of the late
Miss Wolfe’s pictures in their places. It
would add greatly to the tone of the present
exhibition, and there is no reason why the
lovers of art should he debarred from seeing
tbe Wolfe pictures during the construction
of the addition.
We wandered around the gallery for a*
much time as we could spare and then
crossed the roadway for the return walk
through the nark. It was as pleasant, an ex
rursion as I have oyer made, and one that
has been at my doors for many years, but
which I have never even thought, of. If
the tired business men of New York who
hurry from theirstuffy lodging, 'loae flats or
small hotel apartments to their closer office®
down town, could be prevailed upon to
follow the example of the many men whom
I saw that morning taking a spin through,
the pirk, it would Improve their health and
spirits immensely. We were down town
in our offices by the time the rush began,
but the walk through the park that morn
ing was os refreshing as a cold shower
Isith on a muggy August day.
A PROGRESSIVE DINNER PARTY.
The Latest Thing That 1* Popular with
New York, June 18.—Ladies with endlee®
obligation* of hospitality to cancel are al
ways yearning for some new form of enter
tainment to present to their guests. Pro
gressive euchre parties, as a mild recreation,
wore in high favor last year; but, the gilt
edge of novelty has worn off of this specie®
of entertainments, and after many frantic
efforts and dismal failures, some brilliant
genius has devised the scheme of a progres
sive luncheon or dinner party.
This is absolutely the latest thing, and
promises to be very popnlar among young
people. Considerable skill must be exer
cised in selecting the guests, and lazy people,
above all, must lie omitted.
A good sizer! room is cleared of unneces
sary furniture, and small tables (each ac
commodating four people) are placed along
the room a* for progressive euchre, or in
horseshoe shujie, according to the size of the
room. The number of tables and course®
must be regulated by the number of guest*.
We will suppose that fort y young people are
to be invited, making twenty couples, in
which ease ton tables will be required and
ten courses served.
Ten of the twenty ladies present are
(•bo on by the hostess to lud, os hostess for
each table, and they r*inain sea tod in th®
same place during the entire meal. When
dinner or lunch las the case maybe) is an
nounced, music is played in an adjoining
room, and these ton ladies take their plaoo
at each.table and receive the other lady and!
two gent lemen who are to sit with her dur
ing the first course.
By this time each guest understand* what*
is expected of them, nnd when the Bin®
Points have disappeared and the plate* re
moved tiie head waiter rings a gong and.
the Indy and two gentlemen at each table
rise and go to tho next in suev'eesion, leav
ing the hostess to entertain the newcomers.
The gong is rung and music played between,
each course during the progression from tin*
first to the tenth table, thus giving eri
guest an opportunity to converse with the
other. A pile of small finger napkins ar®
placed at each table and the soiled ones re
moved with the plafee, or they can be car
ried front table to table by the user. Favor®
are served with the last course, and with %
little taste in decorating the table* the effect
is charming. This progressive meal hna
many advantages. First, and foremost, it
is a whole evening's entertainment, and.
then it does away with the usual conven
tionality and stiffness of an ordinary dinner,
and bv the constant change of partner* in
t reduces a newelement into conversation, so
that there is no excuse for any one getting
“talked out." ,
The number of guests invited mult b®
divided into four, and the result* will give
the number of tables and course* fob*
served, but fit a thing of this kind forty is a
gfod number. The menu need not be so
elaborate or extravagant as that everything
should lie daintily served by good waiter®
and no confusion in changing tne tables.
Mrs. Allan Forman.
Things', One Doesn't Like to Hear.
“No, Mr. Smith; but I will be a sister to
•Gdod morning. 1 am introducing m
work which should be in every library.”
"Sorry, dear boy, but I can’t let you have
tiie amount, for I’m dead broke myself.”
“Charles, it is 8 >SO o'clock. Where have
you Ix-eu until this hour!”
“Mr. t)e Browne, your services will not be
reuniml after Saturday night.”
“YOu want to marry my daughter, eh I
Well, young man, what are your expectac
tiowr .... ,
“Here is the milliner’s bill, Algy—only
“1 soy, Jenkins. 1 heard a good story to
day ana 1 must tell it to you.
“Oh, Alfred, what do you think! I re
ceived a letter from dear miunma this
morning, and she’s coming to spend a
month with us.”
“When will you lie ready to return that
#lO, Robinson! This is the fifth time I've
asked you for it.”
“If ye plane, soor, Miss Heavy*well touUJ
me ter tell ye she's not at home.
“And fifthly, dear brethren ”
“You are a moderate drinker, eh! Now,
my dear sir, let me direct your ta
a few statistics.”