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SUNDAY GAZETTE.
pu3lish:d every sundry mornh;.
32 BROAD STREET, - - ATLANTA, GA.
THE “GAZETEE” SERIALS.
'S’iokt Stories of the Gazette during
the past year have been the most brilliant pub
lished in any Southern paper. We now ha ve
the pleasure of announcing
Six Serial Stories.
which we will publish'during 1880.
“TIIEIIPERONTHBIIEWfII,’'
AND
“ How He was Scotched,’’
a short but thrilling serial, the first of the six,
is commenced in this number. This will be
followed by a charming love story, entitled
“WITH A SILVER LINING.”
We shall then commence a powerful story
by that most popular of Southern writers, Mrs.
MARY E. BRYAN, entitled
“WILDWOOD LODGE;”
OR
“UNDiNE’S SECRET.”
Other announcements will follow. The Ga
zette wiW continue all the features that have
made it so popular, and the Serial Stories
will be added to its attractions.
For SIXTY CENTS we will send the Ga
zette, post paid, for six months on trial. Send
in at once, and secure the continuation of
“THE VIPER ON THE HEARTH.” Only
Sixty Cents.
t Address
,1. IL PERRY A CO
ATLANTA, GA., SUNDAY, JAN. 11.
J 7’7; ll' WORDS.—PERSONAL.
In announcing the half*dozen Gazette se
rials with which we shall entertain our readers
during the coining year, it must be distinctly
understood that wc do not intend to change
the character of the paper.
It shall not become a mere story paper, but
shall retain the characteristic features that
have given it such popularity in the past.
We merely add the serial stories, in order that
the Gazette may fill the full measure of a
family paper. The serials that we have on
band, while they are sufficiently intense and
entertaining, have none of the sensational
elements of the ordinary blood and thunder
story.
There are 10,000 persons to whom the Ga
zette is sent this week as a specimen copy.
We ask of all such persons who receive it tc
read it carefully, study its various features,
and decide if it is not worth the small sum ol
two cents a week. The regular newspapers—
tilled with the rapid events of the day—can
not carry the delightful freightage of gossip,
sketches, sermons, stories, etc., with which
the Gazette is loaded down every week.
Read this copy of the Gazette, then, anc
study its features. 1 <etyour wife ami childrer
read it, and then if you think it is worth twe
cents a week, send us sixty cents and it wil
be mailed to you every week tor six months.
We feel sure that there is nothing that wil.
carry so much pleasure, entertainment anc
instruction for so email a sum. Let us havt
10,000 subscribers this week. Read the papei
foryourself, and send us your name, with sixty
cents, for a trial of six months!
OVR NEXT GOVERNOR.
A careful survev of the hid must lead t<
the conviction that Governor Colquitt will be
his own successor. The scattered clumps o
opposition that were noticeable a few montbj
ago have melted away, the slanders and in
sinuations that were whispered about have
lost even their echoes, the excitement created
by the last session of the Legislature has sub
sided, and the people are quietly studying
Gov. Colquitt and his administration.
Such a scrutiny he does not fear. It i.-
such a scrutiny as this that he invites. Electee
by the people, in spite of the politicians, hi?
responsibility is to the people. He stand.'
upon his administration and his record, am
these show:
That he has reduced expenses in every de
partment of the government under his con
trol;
That the taxes have been reduced one-thin
in amount during his administration ;
That in all the corruption, alleged and real
about the capital, not one stain has been pm
upon his name, but that whenever suspicior
reached the door of his office it rolled back ir
confusion.
The politicians never fool the people. Ir
matters where it is important to think at all
the masses always think right. A gentleman
said the other day that he had never seen any
man gain strength so rapidly as Colquitt in
the past three months. “You are mistaken,”
replied a veteran observer, “he has not gained
at all. He has always been the strongest
man in the State with the people, and he is
to-day. While you were here with the Leg
islature you heard the politicians talk; since
you have been home you have heard from the
people.”
Never in the history of political strife has
a man so wronged and so fiercely assailed,
come out of the trial with name and charac
ter so spotless. Os all the charges and insin
uations brought against our Governor, there
is only one that has been proved, and that is
that he has dared, in spite of his power, to
reverently avow his allegiance to the same
God that he worshipped, when he was a pri
vate citizen. We do not believe it has come
to pass that tin* people of Georgia will sub
mit to see a man defeated because he has
championed the cause of religion.
We predict that this State has never seen
so unanimous a vote as the one by which
Alfred IL Colquitt will be re-elected to the
office he now holds —not even when he went
into it backed by 80,000 majority !
GRANT AS A PEACE-MAKER.
We must confess our inability to see exactly
how General Grant is going to bring peace to
the sections.
When General Grant was President he
showed none of the elements of a peace-maker.
He was brutal, despotic and unjust in his
treatment of the South. He tilled our State
capitols with troops. He dispersed our Leg
islatures. He surrounded our ballot-boxes
with blue-coats. He overturned the will of
the people with bayonets. All protests were
met with contempt, or insult, and there was
no man in power in the United States from
whom the Southern people did not hope for
more, than the sullen soldier who sat in the
President’s chair.
How it is that this man can now be looked
to for peace and reconciliation, is more than
we can understand. lie is the very embodi
ment of force and violence. The “stalwarts’’
of the North, disgusted with the policy of Mr.
Hayes, (who, when he first took Mr. Tilden’s
seat, showed much reason,) turn with audacity
to Grant as the “strong man,” who can force
the South to keep the peace. Considering
the possibility of the election of a Democrat
to the Presidency in 1880, they rely upon
Grant as the man w!-o, at the head ol tin*
army, can again force the President elect to
cither resign his claims or wade through blood
to the White House.
What the South can want with such a man
we cannot comprehend. Besides being op
pressive and cruel to the South, his admin
istration- was the corruptest that was ever
known in American history. It bred more
thieves, and developed more rings, than re-
sulted from the four years of war. It was
brutal, shameless, and inefficient.
As far as we are concerned, we shall take
none of Grant. Weave for Samuel .1. Tilden
first ami for (he Democratic candidate, who
ever he i after I'ildrn. Wr believe il possi
hie for I'ildeu Io succeed if he is nominated
ami has (he hearty support of the party but
whether lie Mieceeds or not. it will be better
for the South to vote fir him and bear with
him the burdens of defeat, rather than enjoy
with Grant (he spoils of government!
OUR BOOK TABLE-
Tin Books of the Week GoftMp Reviews and
Chit-Chat.
1 .ETTEus From a Cat.- Hugh R. Hildreth A
Co. H. 11. has written so many good things
th it another good book from her pen need sur
prise no one. “Letters From a Cal” isthe taking
title of her last contribution to juvenile litera
ture, which opens with a life of the wonderful
Fussy that indicated the equally wonderful
epistles that follow. Pussy had a variety of ad
ventures after her young mist less left, ami she
I«-Iis I hem just as t hey looked from a cal ’x point
of view. In the first place, she knows more
than many eats, and as her implied advice is
always good, the little people will find much
to learn in her adventures ami opinions. Her
adventures an very curious ami consist ot a
catalogue ot scrapes into which she got herself.
A gentleman cal from over (he way escorted
her home one evening, and in jumping into
the cellar through the window, instead of the
usual pile of cabbages upon which she had
lighted heretofore, poor Fussy landed in a bar
rel of soft soap and was nearly drowned. Care
ful nursing brought her round, however, and
her details of the process form not the least in
teresting part of this very good book.
Tin Serpent Charmer. By Louis Rouselet.
Charles Scribner's Sons. This is a story of life
in India during the period of the Sepoy rebel
lion. The narrative is interwoven with dra
matic incidents and scenes characteristic of
Oriental life. In fact, is® chief value is its por
traiture of habits and inodes of living with
which no amount of descriptive writing ever
makes us entirely familiar. The story is well
told, with that skill in the development of
dramatic situations which so many French
writers possess. The volume is handsomely
illustrated, and is altogether a striking book.
Rabelais.—Edited by Mrs. Oliphant. Pub
lished by <l. B. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia.
By Walter Besant, M.A. Let no one be de
ceived by the title. This book is the life and
character of Rabelias, and a critical examina
tion of his purposes and genius, and not a trans
lation of his works, except in scat tered extracts.
The author of the book feels compelled to make
an explanation of the great dilHeuJty in treat
ing Rabelais, and he cannot advise his readers,
unless they are undertaking a serious study, to
follow up his book by reading the original. He
further explains: “Alone among the great writ
ers of the world, he can be appreciated by stu
dents only. To the general reader, to the young,
to women in all ages he is a closed hook. For
very shame he must be hidden away.’’ But on
many accounts the present book is interesting
to the general reader, it is a clear view of the
man whose works are hidden from nearly all
the world. It is a critical estimate of his char
acter, genius, designs ami works. The book
belongs to the series of Foreign Classics tor Eng
lish readers.
LITERARY ODDS AND ENDS.
The Comte de Paris, who has just completed
the fifth volume of his work on the Civil War
in America, will finish the sixth and last dur
ing the coming year.
Tile next “No Name” novel i" by an Ameri
can author, and bears the striking title, “His
Majesty Myself.” It has a significant key-motto
from Coleridge: “I once knew a man who had
, advanced to such a pitch of self-esteem that he
never mentioned himself without taking off
his hat.”
The first edition t7s.(h«»> of "The Wonderful
Christmas Number” of St. Nicholas was ex
hausted within twenty-four hours of issue, and
a new edition of 10,1X10 copies has been issued.
G. W. Carleton <fc Co , the publishers, have al
ready sold 135,000 copies of their new children’s
picture-book, "Magic Mother Goose Melodics.”
This looks like another “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”
success.
Beginning with the. January number, the At
lantic Monthly is to he printed in larger type
and on larger paper, and will be increased to
155 pages. Mr. Howell’s new story will begin
with that number.
, “11. ll..’’in tlte Literary World, has an article
on the lately published letters of Charles Dick-
■ ens, which have to her mind completed the
. downfall of loyalty to Dicken - which Forster's
’ memoirs shook, she says of Dickens: -‘The
; ugly shadow of the memory of the moral pov
erty which underlay the intellectual wealth;
of the piteous caricature which deeds were to
words, and acts to professed sentiments in the
life, will dog our old love like a headsman, and
wc shall not save it alive long.”
OUR KNOWLEDGE BOX.
Savannah, Ga.—Has Emory Speer said that
he would take a nomination if (.tiered him?
Will the Independents run a candidate for
Governor and the State officers? J. L.
1. No. 2. It is said Gen. Wofford will be run
as an independent. Wc presume he will be
I backed by a full ticket.
Eufaula, Ala.—l. What isthe proper pro
nunciation of the town of Leadville ? Is it Leed
. or Led ? 2 From what did it derive its name ?
From a good lead (leed) of gold or silver, or from
- the lead (led) ore abounding there, or was it
from neither of these? R. L. B.
1. As if written Led-ville. 2. We believe its
1 name comes from the rich leads (pronounced
leeds) of mineral in the vicinity. There is no
lead (led) near the city.
Albany, Ga.—Where can I get full informa
tion concerning the Clement attachment? 2.
i Why has not the Governor issued the fi fas.
against Renfroe and his securities, as ordered
1 by the Legislature? N.
1. By sending 23 cents to J. B. Derby for a
pamphlet containing everything that has been
written about it, including statements of cost,
profit, etc., from all mills now running. 2. He
is now preparing the papers, we believe, and
the fi. fas. will be issued within a few days.
Lake Weir, Fla.—l. What size tree does the
English walnut grow to be, and is it an ever
green? 2. Are ships ever struck by lightning
atse.? If not, why?
1. The Juglans Regia, the English walnut
tree, reaches a very considerable size, being
one of the most stately of trees. It is deciduous
in its character. Os course it is not an ever
green. 2. They have been struck by lightning
and destroyed. Sailing craft are more likely to
bestruck than steam vessels, the iron of the
steam vessel being a protection.
Jackson, Ga.—Why is the book called “A
Fool’s Errand” by “one of the fools ?” 2. Who
wrote “Curfew shall not Ring To-night ?” 3. If
a lady rejects a gentleman, is it right for him to
address i<r again ?
1. It is the slanderous record of a Northerner
who came South to live, and treats of ku klux
outrages, etc. It is like Uncle Tom’s Cabin. 2,
Rose Hartwell Tharpe. 3. We cannot advise in
cjT'atrs cornc/-, but if we loved a woman we
should exhaust every honorable method of.
winning her.
CHURCHES AND CHURCHMEN.
Bishop Gilbert Haven is dead.
.Major Penn, tiie Texas revivalist, has been
ordained to the Baptist ministry.
Canada has a Roman Catholic population of
1,846,800, with 23 bishops, 1,509 priests, and 1,617
churches.
Leading Israelites of Nev York, clerical and
lay, have just formed a Sabbath (Saturday/Ob
servance Society.
Four of the seven Bishops of the Methedist
Church South have been in the ministry from
titty to sixty years, and possibly this is true of
five oi the seven.
Brooklyn has only one church for every 1 721
of population, while Washington has one’for
every 932. Cleveland has one for every 1,044 •
New Oi leans, one for every 1,315; Cincinnati,
one for Baltimore, one for every 1,112, and
Boston one for every 1,(566. St. Louis has one
for every 1,8020 t population. The proportion
in New 5 oik stands one to 2,613.
The Fiji Islands, which are now a district of
the Australian Wesleyan Methodist Church,
now have Ml chapels and 291 other preaching
places; ten missionaries, forty-eight native
missionaries, and 23,274 members, exclusive of
39 European members.
An odd sort of lawsuit has been brought
against a church in Westfield, Mass Nearly
two years ago a young lady named Alice Wes
ton, while attending a temperance meeting at
Hie church, w s unable, owing to lhe crowd, to
pass from the vestry into the audience-room,
and wlitle standing in the doorway the ropes
which held the hanging doorgave wav and the
door ltse.lt tell down, breaking one of her legs,
it was nearly a year before Miss Weston could'
walk, and she still usesa crutch. Soon after the
accident the ladies of the church gave her Sfls
but notwithstanding this a suit has been
brought for damages. Her lawyer, it is said, Ims i
offered to settle the dispute lor si,(Mm.
BEAVERS CAUSE A DEADLY SCOURGE.
Americus <_( la.) Recorder.
.1 he beaver was hardly known in this sec
tion before the war, but within the last de
cade they have become so numerous as to be I
a positive curse in some neighborhoods, j
Those acquainted with the habits of this in
genious rodent know what powerful dams |
they throw across a stream, obstructing its I
walers and thereby causing overflows, killing
all the timber, crops and vegetable matteron
the laud. Many attribute the deadly scourge,
hemorragic malarial fever, an annual scourge
oi some localities, to this cause. Trapping
these animals has become quite a brisk busi-i
ness in the last few years to the initiated. '
Ihe pelts are very valuable, and sell rap- 1
idlv hi this market for $2 50 to $3. and the -
flesh is used for food, though it is rather I
tmarse and strong. Last week .Mr. .John 11. I
’’ alker caught twenty-one on a single stream. |<
THE GAZETTE, STESTEAY MORNING,
■■■■■ ■ gA ■
THE VIPER ON THE HEARTH.
HOW HE WAS SCOTCHED.
A Story of Love and Adventure.
[The First of the Gazette SeriaH.l
I.
The Tinley farm, hy virtue ol its location,
was as carefully concealed front public gaze
. as it could have been if originally chosen as
. the site of a monastery or nunnery, although,
1 heavi'ii knows, the Tinley.s had never been
monastically inclined, the male repres nta
tives of the line for four generations having
I been just such rubicund, joll.t farmers as was
1 the inheritor of the family name and cares at
the time when the present chronicle opens.
But whether you viewed Ascutney Mountain
from a distance, or traversing the stage road
from the Black River Valley over into the
valley of Mill Creek ami so on to Windsor,
passed around the base of this, the most pic
turestpte and lofty height in the Vermont
portion of the Connecticut vale, you would
never dream that the slight depression which
appeared between that mountain and its near
est neighbor, Little Ascutney, afforded room
for a large and productive farm. And the
very road itself which was the means of com
munication between the main highway and
the farm took anything but a direct course,
as if, in its inmost heart, it wore quite doubt
ful whether it were really worth the while to
penetrate the gloomy recesses of the hemlock
thicket which lined the miniature canon be
tween the two heights, and so it at first ran
for quite a distance nearly parallel with the
stage road, affording room for three or four
thrifty farms. But at length it turned ab
ruptly to the right, and then commenced an
ascent which speedily took away the breach
of the best windrd pedestrian. This accent
continued for nearly a mile, following the de
vious course of a brawling mountain stream,
so densely’ shaded that the sun scarcely ever
had a peep at its limpid pools, where plump
trout glided leisurely to and fro, well knowing
that they had little to fear from the incursions
of fishermen, inasmuch as John Tinley was
an active Justice of the Peace, and his prem
ises were duly “posted.”
Those who had the courage and patience
to elimb this winding road found that the
depression between the mountains terminated
in an almost level plateau, of considerable ex
tent, and bearing evidences of long continued
and faithful cultivation. The farm house and
outbuildings, alike guiltless of paint or win
dow blinds, stood at the right hand side of
the cleared portion of the farm, four huge
Lombardy populars standing guard in front
of the house as firm and rigid as the sentries
nt any navy yard or arsenal goto. The view
from the front of the house was extensive and
varied. Directly at one’s feet lay the valley
of Black Biver, a checkerboard of plowed
fields and meadow lands, through which ti e
river pursued its sinnuoifs course, resembling
very strongly a piece of b ! ack ribbon care
lessly thrown across the aforesaid checker
board. Bevond the valley rose the Green
Mountains, height on height, while far to the
west a faint blue haze indicated where the
placid waters of Lake Champlain laved the
feet ot the wild Adirondack range.
Although late in December, the morning
air was not uncomfortably cold, there having
been quite a protracted thaw, following an
early snow of unu-ual severity, of vvjiieh slight
traces still remained in the nooks and cor
ner ol the Tinley farm. But, as the proprie
tor of that estate remarked to his daughter, as
he climbed into his stout red wagon, there
were evident signs of an approaching storm.
Although the sky was completely overcast
with dense gray clouds, the air was exceed
ingly clear. not a vestige of a “cap” resting on
the rugged head of old Ascutney. But there
was that vague stillness and heaviness in the
atmosphere which is instantly recognized by
dwellerspn the mountain regions as the precur
sor of a heavy storm.
As her father drove slowly and carefully
down the steep descent and disappeared in
the dense foilage, Minnie Tinley stood in the
kitchen doorway, gazing upon the familar
landscape. In the deep silence which brooded
over the scene distant sounds were borne to
her ear with almost startling distinctness
She could hear the creaking of the unvvieldly
well sweep at Farmer Brown’s, a mile down the
valley, said creeking forming a somewhetdis
cordant accompaniment to the ringing tenor
of young Stephen Brown, as he lustily sang
“Pull for the Shore.” Miss Minnie unconsci
ously made a very pretty picture as she stood
in the open doorway, with a half repressed
smile on her rosy’ She was one of those
plump, sparkling eyed brunettes so often
found among the rugged hills of New Eng
land, whose personal charms seem to entirely
justify the defense of the schoolboy who,
when arraigned for the heinous offense of kis
sing his fair seat mate, could only stammer,
“Please, sir. 1 couldn’t help it.” The reflec
tions of our heroine were evidently not of an
unpleasing character, but alas for Stephen
Brown, and alas for his clear tenor voice,
which fell unheeded on her ears, while her
thoughts had wandered far down the Connec
ticut \ alley to meet a loved brother, who was
speeding toward his Vermont home, and who
she knew was not alone. To-morrow would
be Christmas Day, and when a year ago
young Tinley had brought home with him
his particular chum at college, Robert Leon
ard, the time had passed so pleasantly ami
quickly that it needed no supernatural pow
ers of prophecy to tell where Mr. Leonard
would spend his next Christmas. Ami al
though Minnie would have been exceedingly
loth to admit it even to herself, the prospect
of again seeing the fascinating stranger was
undoubtedly not the least agreeable antiei
pation in connection with the approaching
holiday.
The air grew thicker and chillier, and a
vague mist gradually overspread the southern
horizon. Although the trees were apparently
i motionless, an uncertain, ghostly murmur
seemed to issue from the deep recesses of the
f dense forest which fringed the base of Ascut
-1 ney, and a few stray leaves scurried around
lhe corner of the house, as if seeking shelter
from impending danger. Minnie was so lost
in agreeable meditation that she did not per
t ccive the growing chilliness in the air. until
i ' recalled to more sublunary considerations by
I i a loud hissing ami spluttering in the direction
j of the kitchen .stove, mingled with a yell of
l | agony from the cat, who had received a rath
' I er too liberal sprinkling of boiling applesauce.
\ Thus rudely summoned to her housewifely du
l ties, Minnie, with a slight shiver, closed' the
‘ door, through which the cat, sorely injured in
both mind and body, had just made a'hurried
r exit . ~ ■.
.Minnie’s life was indeed a lonely one, and
: it was not to be wondered at that she should
’. anticipate the coming of visitors with more
| than ordinary pleasure. When nearly two
| years since, she had been summoned from a
; distant school to a mother's death-bed, she
j had, not without n severe inward strugg.e,
; i abandoned long cherished plans, feeling that
j her duty lay in the old home, beside the re
■ ' maining parent, who without her would be in
i deed alone, and cheerfully had she taken up
the burden, displaying, as is often the case
| with women, an amount of moral heroism far
greater ththi is required of the soldier, who,
| as he leads the forlorn hope, has the stimulus
I of companionship and the prospect of tangi
| ble honors. And though she was frequently
I left, alone for hours in that secluded farm
house, her courage, never deserted her, and
| she flitted through the dismal rooms like a
sunbeam, her joyous songs making the rafters
: ring again.
| While she was intent upon her Christmas
preparations, time passed quickly until at
I length the huge cabinet clock in the corner of
! the kitchen, in a piping voice strangely dis
| proportioned to its size, announced the hour
,ot noon. I hen she glanced out of doors for
the first time and Saw that it was already
j snowing fast, and that the southwest wind i
I was gradually rising. “Well,” soliloquized ■
| she, “Pa'll certainly have time to get back be-1
j fore the. snow gets deep enough to trouble I
him. He’s got to the street [localism for the I '
village] by this time, and it’s almost train i i
time now. Even if it does come on to storm , I
pretty hard, they ought to be here by six I
o’clock.” So saying she again plunged into I ‘
the sea ol household cares, while the storm
rapidly increased its force, the wind rising Io
i gale, and the snow accumulating with a
rapidity nnknoAii except in mountain re-
Sliortly aft■ r noon Minnie had eaten a little
lunch and fed the cat. who had returned to
his old quarter.' near the stove, when for the
first time she noticed the absence of Hover,
the huge Newfoundland, who was always her
protector in her father's absence. In vain
she called and whistled: the only r-spouse
w as the shrill scream of the wind as it rushed
down the wide chimney, and the rustle of the
dense clouds of snow against the window
panes. Could it be possible that the dog had
followed his ma-ter to town—a thing lie had
never been known to do before? In spite of
her natural (-outage, Miunie began to foel
vaguely alarmed, and her mind was not at all
reassured by a glance through the window, as
’ she realized that the storm was something out
of the common. I'he wind was now blowing
furiously, and darkness was already closing
in. Siu foil that longing for companionship,
if only that of the faith'ul dog, which is so
natural Io the human heart in time of im
agined or actual 1-eril. But the dog was no
where to bi> found, mid she was forced to con
clude tiiat he had billowed his master.
Ihe storm increased in fury as the day
s waned, and the lonely girl as she drew close
to the lire, could hear the fierce blasts calling
to one another in trumpet toms as they
swept through the tops of the huge maples,
while mi oecas onal gust would rock the house
g to its very foundations. At 4 o'clock it was
s already int- nsely dark, mid Minnie lighted
( several candles and placed them in the front
windows Io light the expected travelers to
their destination. But as she listened to the
tierce onslaughts of the storm she began to
fear that those travelers would be unable to
force ihej wtiy up the mountain road, and
that she would be compelled to pass the night
alone in the dreary bouse. But she consoled
herself with the thought that the very tury of
the storm was in itself a protection, for if it.
kept away friends it would also keep away
foes.
But there were the poor sheep and
the barn: they must be fcjl and milked storm
or no storm. So thinking, she put oil her
rubber boots and, wrapping herself in a large
shawl, started for the barn. But as soon as
she turned the corner of the house she was
convinced that it would be useless for h< r to
try to reach the barn. Indeed, it was only
with the grea'est difficulty that, breathless
and fatigued, she regained the kitchen a d
closed the do r. Familiar as she had been
from girlhood with mountain storms, she re
alized that the present gale exceeded in vio
lence any she had ever seen, and that it would
be utterly impossible for her father to return
that night.
So she replenished the fire, and, l iking her
crochet work mid the last Harper’s, strove to
forget her dismal surroundings. But the
fierce wind rattled the casements and moaned
through the key lures, rendering it impossible
for her to keep her attention upon her read
ing. Occasionally there would be a partial
lull, when the loud roar of the wind would
subside into a weird sobbing, and the snow
would sift softly against the windows, as
though they- were brushed by the wings of
passing birds. Then the distant roar of the
next gust would seem to gradually approach
from the depth of the forest, until, with a
mighty rush, it would swoop down upon the
house, milking it quiver like an aspen, while
huge masses of snow would beat again t idle
stout door, like giant hands knocking for Al
, mission.
Six o’clock had struck, and Minnie had
arisen to make a cup of tea, when, in one of
those partial cessations of the storm, she
thought she heard a feeble human cry. Spell
, bound, she listened for its repetition, but a
• savage gust of wind rattled every door ami
window, and she was compelled o await its
subsidence. At length it died away, in ghost
ly inurmu’-s, and then chilling her very heart’s
blood, came that agonizing cry, "Help, hel^i!”
For a moment she stood transfixed, but only
for a moment. Os course it must be het
father and the expected visitors. As this
, thought flashed across her mind, she sprang
to the door, and, throwing it open, regardffess
i of the dense mass of snow that poured into time
. room, sent our upon the air a cheery shout of
I welcome. Then lighting a lantern, sheequip
. ped herself for the rescue.
11.
When, four days before Christmas, Samuel
. Lane, alias Slippery Sam, was released from
; the \ ermont State Prison, his four years term
i of imprisonment having expired, it is but sim
ple justice to that individual to state that
tain resolutions'which he bad tiifhrlsi coil*'
• cerning bis future career were at least partly
s I made from an honest desire to quit the devi-
■ ous ways of crime; ways which had been to
him anything but way s of pleasantness. And
: as he passed the massive iron door, which for
- four long, dreary’ years had inexorably cut
i him off from the busy world outside, aiid re-
■ alized that he no longer wore the livery of the
■ convict, but was decently clothed, and' had a
• small sum of money in his pocket, he was
- fully determined to follow the advice of the
Chaplain and seek a home at the West, where
amid new scenes and new faces he might can-
, cel the dark record of the past. As he walked
, slowly down the broad main street toward the
. railroad station, his newly formed resolutions
I caused him to unconsciously elevate the head
, so long bowed down, and to meet unflinch
ingly the curious gaze of the passers by.
But the discharged convict soon found that
. he was not exempt from the common lot of
- weak humanity. The tempter, in the form of
■ one of his late companions in the prison, laid
. in wait for him at a convenient corner. Os
- course he was not going away without taking
just a friendly drink? And so the old, old
story, so sad, and, alas, so common, was re-
■ peated, and late in the morning of the day be
fore Christmas Samuel Lane awoke from a
troubled sleep to find himself lying on the
ground under the shelter of a little thicket,
just outside of the town. The sky’ was over
cast, and occasionally’ a snowflake would float
leisurely down through the interlaced brandies,
and would rest lightly on the soiled and tat
tered garments which had replaced the good
suit ot clothes furnished him only two days
ago. He was chilled to the bone, and at the
same time burning with that intolerable thirst
known only to those who have drank deeply
of the intoxicating cup after long continued
abstinence. Sitting up, he peered through
the bushes with bloodshot eyes. Just across a
narrow valley, and not more than half a mile
distant, glimmered the whitewashed wall of
the prison, which had so long been his enforced
home. He knew just how the interior of those
long shops looked at this moment, with the
rows of human automatons bent over their
tasks: the silence unbroken save by the rattle
of the machinery and the regular blows of the
hammers; the watchful keepers, with their
ever ready weapons: the harsh voiced over
seers, continually urging on their unwilling
servants— all this was vividly pi, tured to his
mind, and in his chilled and destitute con
dition, like many another man under similar
cirucmstances, he wished himself back again,
standing on that spot where his feet had worn
a depression in the floor. For there, at all
events, he would find food and shelter, the
obtaining of which was now entirely problem
mat ical
He had lain down quite close to the high
way, but was effectually screened from the
observation ot those passing along the road
by a dense undergrowth of oak bushes, while
at tne same time he could see all who passed.
He had risen to a standing pos tion, and was
Vigorously chafing his benumbed hands, when
his attention was drawn to the road by the
sound of approaching wheels. Dropping to
his knees he sought a convenient gap in the
bushes, and availed the approach of the ve
hicle. It was a substantial ted farm wagon,
ami the animal by which it was drawn audits
sole occupant, a man of middle age, did not
in the least detract from the impression of
solidify and trustworthiness which was made
by the first sight of the wagon. Immediately
opposite the spot where the hungry eyes of
ihe e.xrconviet were peering through the
bushes, the red wagon was met by a convey
ance of an entirely different description,
ibis was a, light buggy, resplendent with
green and crimson paint, and drawn by a coal
black mare, delicate limbed and spirited.
Nor was the appearance of the occupant of
this tasty equipage less widely different from
that of the sturdy farmer in the wagon. The
sunken cheeks, clean shaved chin, keen black
(‘yes, and neatly arranged dress, bespoke at
once the professional man.
Both horses stopped without any intimation
from their drivers, for every well bred Ver
mont horse early learns that the common .
courtesy of that region demands a pleasant. I
greeting even to strangers; but in this easel
the animals were n» strangers to each other,
having held frequent interviews with the as- I
sistauee of their respective owners. The gen-I
tleman from town opened the conversation, I
not a word of which was lost, by Lane, as he i
crouched, in the bushes within a few feet of I
lhe speakers.
“Good morning, Tiuley. You’re just the j
man 1 wanted to see. 1 should have come
out to your place in a day or two, had 1 not
met you this morning.”
“Well.” replied the farmer, “when Squire
Comstock wants to see John Tinley, 1 s’pose
its pretty easy to tell beforehand the object of
his visit.”
“Yes," laughingly responded the lawyer,
“our dealings thus far have been of one kind. I
:J?ld 1 may sav om siib d You Tinleys have
tw-vi-r been much ol a family for going to law :
indeed, if all men were like yon, 1 am afraid
we attorneys woulil fairly starve But 1 be
llbve 1 may say that I have been the means
ot putting you in ti e way of st veral excellent
investments, which are even now bringing
you in a comfortable amount of inter* st.”
“You have, indeed, replied Tinley, “and
you we.l know that i have perfect confidence
in you So, if you want what money I hap
pen to have on hand vou re welcome to it,
mid no questions asked.
"That was what 1 wanted to see you about.
I have a chance to buy an excellent mortgage,
which will pay si p. r ceut. How much cun
■ tmi let me have?'’
Well, let me see.'’ musingly returned the
farmer I ve got just s2,.'ithl on hand at
I picsent. I s’pose Jack will need about S4OO
between this ami spring, and the odd SIOO
would see me an’ the gal through 'i'cs, 1
: can let you have the $2,000, ’Squire.”
: “Just the sum 1 wanted, Tinley. Let’s see,
. you don't bank your money. 1 believe.”
i “No, sir. Ever since I lost that S7OO down
the river, I've been my own banker. What
i little time 1 have any money on hand 1 keep
■ it in my own house.
“But you have such a lonely place out
; there. 1 should think you’d be afraid to leave
1 that pretty daughter of yours alone, with so
i much money in the house.”
r . ‘Well, you see, the very lonesomeness of
.. ■ the place is a protection. All the tramps and
e: strollers fol'ow the main road, and no one
s I ever thinks that a man who is stuck way up
1 ■ there on a hill farm makes any money. But
I I tell you my place has made a better show-
ing of late years than some of the rich river '
farms. Another thing, ’Squire, I’ve got about i
the best dog in the State, ami he’s a better]
protection to Minnie than anyt ing of hit- ]
man kind would be.”
“I hope so. Well, suppose I drive out one I
day next week and bring the mortgage with :
nie.”
“All right,’Squire, any time to suit you.
Looks like a snow storm, don’t it?”
“Yes. 1 m afraid we’re going to get a
heavy’ storm, and J must be moving along.
Good day.”
The farmer returned the lawyer’s farewell,
and the two vehicles passed on out of the
range of those eager eyes in the bushes. All |
the good resolutions of two days before were ]
forgotten, and the thievish instincts which had
been nursed by- long years of crime asserted .
themselves with; renewed vigor. Over $2,000 ;
in a lon ly- farm house, guardi d only by a:
young girl and a dog! 'That money must be ]
his. Once secured, it would furnish him with
the means of a long season of riotous pleas
ure in the great metropolis. But he must act I
quickly. This house might be many miles ■
away, and he must reach it before the return
of the owi.er. Rising to his feet he limped
painfully into the road, and nerving himself
for a prolonged effort, started in the direction
from which the farmer had come.
It was now snowing rapidly, and the wind
was increasing to a gale. Fortunately for
the pe kstrian, however, the wind was at his.
back, and urged on by his wicked motive he
made rapid progress. About noon he knocked I
at the kitchen door of a farm house and
begged something to eat. Taking pity upon
his forlorn condition, the housewife gave him
a seat by the fire, while she placed upon the
table a substantial meal, such as can be found
only in a New Eug'aud farm bouse. The ex
convict cautiously engaged his hostess in
conversation, and at length inquired if she
knew where John Tinley lived.
“John Tinley?” npl ed she, “why, of
course I do. He married my cousin, and a
go-, d wife she was to him, although some peo
ple have accused her of being stingy. But
that she never was, and now she’s dead, poor
thing. The Tinleys have always been fore i
handed people. Seem s if they had better !
I luck way up there on the mountains than
other folks had on go.-d river farms.”
“ But,” interrupt- d he, despairing of ex
tracting any useful information from this
garrulous Hi od, *'how far is his house from
here ?” ’
“ Well, if you take the turn to the 1< ft,
about a mile from here, and go over the hill,
’taint mere’n six mi'es. You want to take
the Felchville r< ad, and turn off at the wa
tering trough. If it wasn’t so stormy, and
you could find your way, v ou could cut across
through the woods, hut a stranger would have
hard work to find the path, and—”
But Lane could wait no longer, and, cut
ting short the woman’s directions, he thanked
her for Iter kindness and went forth into the
storm, which was now raging furiously. The
snow was already ankle deep, and fast in
creasing, while the fierce southeast wind urged
,J’im forward at a sp:-ed that rendered him
breathless. His clothing was an entirely in
adequate protect!.-n against the storm, and
he was compelled to use the greatest exer
tions to keep his ears and face fiotn freezing
But he felt that he could nut spare the time
to stop ai d warm himself, and like an evil
spirit sped on before- the wind, until darkness
closed in around him. Stopping to make in
quiry, he found that he had wandered from
the road, and was obliged to retrace his steps
for two miles in the face of the pitiless storm
At length he turned into ti e road leading to
the Tinley farm. Ready to sink with fatigue
and benumbed with cold, he pushed on past,
the cozy’ farm bouses, whose gleaming lights
seemed to invite him to come in and be
warmed and fed, but the evil impulse within
him gave him strength still to stagger.
Once within the shelter of the wood he
found progress easier, although the steepness
of the ascent and the great accumulation of
snow rendered it necessary for him to fre
quently pause for breath. A drowsy feeling,
too, was fast creeping over him, and threat
ened to entirely overpower his faculties
Once he sat down on a huge log in a sheltered
nook. He could hear the sullen roar of the
storm in the treetops, but was entirely pro
tected from its force. The drowsiness in
creased upon him, and visions of his past life
flitted before him. Again he seemed to hear
the church bell in the little village where he
had spent a happy and innocent boyhood, and
his subsequent wild career of crime was for
gotten. A smile played upon his lips, and he
was fast lapsing into fatal unconsciousness,
when a gust of unusual severity broke off one
of the branches of a tree near'by, and hurled
it violently’ against the recumbent man. Half
stunned and badly bruised, he once more
struggled to his feet, and climbed wearily up
the steep road. In a few moments he emerged
from the wood, and saw, glimmering through
the driving snow, a bright light. He was now
exposed to the full fury of the storm, which
fairly swept him from his feet. Clutching the
fence, he raised a feeble cry for help, but his
voice was drowned in the roar of the wind,
and dense masses of snow threatened to bury
him. But the instinct of life was not yet en
tirely dormant, and staggering onward, nearer
to the friendly light, he threw all his remain
ing energy into a repeated cry for aid, and
thou sank unconscious into the drifting snow.
(To be continued.}
WHEN WILL THE MILLERS GIVE THE
PUBLIC NUTRITIOUS FLOUR ?
Atlanta Mills Do it Now—The Flour of Wheat
BY HENRY S. CHASE, M.D., ST. LOUIS, MO.
The Millers’ Journal contains an analysis
of wheat. This analysis shows that wheat
contains all the elements for the nutrition of
the body in plentiful supply. No other grain
equals it in this respect But its elements of
nutrition arc distributed through the grain
unequally.
The gluten forms flesh, and also contains
nearly all the phosphate of lime, which latter
is the bone and teeth-lorrning material. Now
this gluten is a thin coating lying irnmedi
i ately under the bran coat and adherent to the
j latter. The gluten coat surrounds the great
I interior magazine of starch c. Ils, of which
| the greater bulk of the grain of wheat is corn
' posed. These starch cells are glittering white,
i and under the microscope look like a moun
i tain of snowballs. These starch cells com
pose the bulk of superfine flour. The gluten
coat, under the microscope, is of a dark brown
color, and is composed of much larger and
more irregularly-shaped cells than the starch.
Therefore, it is evident that if the gluten coat
I be excluded from the flour a much inferior
sody-nourishing substance is sold than wheat
j meal. The starch cells are only heat and
fat-producing— not muscle.
My experience as a professional man has
convinced me that thousands of women and
children suffer, both in mental and physical
health, from the want of the gluten and phos
phates which are excluded from the flour of
wheat. 1 believe this to be ti e prominent
cause of dental decay. Ihe teeth are imper
fectly hardened for the lack of phosphate of I
lime; the brain suffers for the want of pbos- I
phorns; the bones are diminished in length, I
and the muscles are dwarfed. When will the '
millers give the public more nutritious food ? ;
We wish to state that a great deal of the ;
patent process flour does not contain the nu-I
tritious gluten element that is so desirable, j
M e know, however, of some brands of flour, :
one in particular, manufactured in this city, j
that does contain all the elements of nutrition i
distributed through the wheat so unequally.
Most of the patent process flour is taken only [
from the center of the wheat, and therefore |
does not contain the elements so desirable in j
a health building and sustaining flour. I
A HAIN OF GOLD.
A NIGHT IN THE PHILADELPHIA MINT,
WHERE THE GOVERNMENT PRO
DUCES ITS CASH.
How It is Accomplished The Methods in
Use-Coining Dollars—The Wealth
of Nations- Gold Notes.
Philadelphia Press.
1 lie I nited States mint was established by
act of Congress on the 2d of April, 1792, and
a building was soon erected on the cast side
of Seventh, near Market. The first Director
of the mint was David Rittenhouse, LL.D.,
and among his more distinguished successors
have been Elias Boullinot, Robert Patterson.
Janus Ross Snowden, Ja.n.es Pollock, the late
lamented Dr. Linderman, and the present
efficient and capable superintendent, Col.
Snowden. Ihe first money coined by the
, United States were
COI’CKK CENTS,
t which were coined in 1793. Silver dollars
( were next made in e794, and gold eagles in
■li 95. Ihe first tnaclii'ery as well as meta'
I , used came from England, and up to 181 G the
' : work was altogether done by horse or hand
( power. During five year’s of tl e mint’s ex
-1 | istence work has been suspended, owing to
-1 the prevalence of disease in the citv. The
present building, on Chestnut, near Broad,
was finished in 1833. It is built of white mar
ble, in the Grecian style. In 1854 it was
made thoroughly fire-proof.
But now the grim watch-dog of the mint is
wait ng to go through the building with us.
All is silent and still; the buzz and beat of
machinery has ceased ; the flashing colors of
the day are dead, and but a dim, dull light
suffices to show the powerful agents of mak
ing money. On the left of the hall, as we en
ter, is the Treasurer’s office; on he right, the
cashier's, both now deserted. Passing through
the hall to a yard on the left, is seen the
weighing-room. Here all the precious metal
received is weighed. Gold from California,
Georgia, Montana and Nova Scotia; silver
from Nevada and the Hurt of the world.
: Here comes the valuable family plate Io be
' mel ed up, telling the glory of decayed for
| tunes and destroyed hopes, just as the first
bricks of silver but recwly wrenched from
the bosom of mother earth tells the tales of
hopes realized and fortunes made. Here, too,
comes copper (rum Lake Superior and nickel
from our own State at Lascaster. Here are
piled huge bricks of glittering silver, tons in
i weight; each brick weighs from 10(1 to 150
pounds, which are handled as though they
were clay. Near at hand are the scales to
weigh this mass of potenfal money. As in
fallible ns the scales of justice, they will mark
the slightest and most minute amount as well
as the greatest. The largest weight used in
the weighing-room is 6,000 ounces ; the small
est weight u«ed in the mint is in the assay
room, and one-thirteen hundredth part of an
ounce in size; it can barely be seen by the
naked eye. Here is the vault where the gold
is kept prisoner; double linings of iron,
| double doors of steel, and locks and bolts of
the most intricate description—all show the
care and caution necessary to be observed.
Stepping inside, there lie quietly small dull
ingots, which give a dull yellow gleam in tl e
candlelight, hardly betrayed its nature, yet
which will soon go forth and exert a greater
power for weal or woe than that exerted by
the mightiest living potentates.
BLOCKS OF SOLID GOLD.
Gold dust, grains of gold and crystalline
lumps are here ready for the melter's pot.
To the deposit melting-room next it goes in
locked iron boxes, from which it is placed in
pots, and with a suitable flux is melted and
moulded. Bits are cut off for assaying, and
then it goes to the refiner and melter. For
assaying the gold the small piece is taken to
'the nssayer's room nov, a dark apartment re
sembling Dr. Faustus’ chamber, with its cru
cibles, kettles and pans. The gold is put in
a black-lead pot, melted and stirred and
fluxed to make a comp'ete mixture; cooled
and rolled out. Then half a gramme is ac
curately weighed, which is stamped 1,00
and all the weights hereafter used are deci
mals of this to the ten-thousandth part. Sil
ver for the alloying is next added, and then
the lead for the cupellation ; then the whole
is cupelled until the base metals are used,
and then the remaining bullion is beaten in a
spiral and the silver dissolved out, and the
remaining gold determined by weight. To
return to the melting room : it is there that
all the gold and silver used in the mint are
melted; iron moulds are used, which are pre
viously greased to prevent sticking, and as
the metals are] in a molten mass they are
poured into these moulds and speedily cooled,
after which they’ are called ingots and are
long, thin blocks of a rich color, though not
yet showing their perfect beauty. Here liter
ally gold and silver are in the air, for the
very clothes on the workmen, the sweepings
from the floor, and the water used for wash
ing, are found to be full of them, and are
worth about $25,000 a year. From the melt
ing-room the bars go to the rolling-room. The
mighty revolving jaws, which in the day put
forth squirming and writhing tongues of gold,
are now still. In the day the ingots are
passed through the rollers to the number of
200 an hour to each pair of rollers, and come
forth just the thickness of a coin. Behind
them, in the same room, are the cutting
presses, which with a continual snap, snap,
bite out 225 planchets or plain coin pieces a
minute. Os these machines there are nine
As the planchets are cut they’ are taken in
boxes to the annealing furnaces for the hard
treatment they have received makes them
brittle. In these furnaces the metal is heated
to a red heat, when it becomes as soft and
pliable as leather, and is then taken out to
cool
Then the planchets go to the adjusting
room, where they are weighed and insp cted.
If too light, they are retnelted; if too
heavy’, but near the weight, they are filed
down to it; but if altogether too heavy, they’
too are remelted. From the adjusting-room
they goto the clearing-room, where with acids
and heat they are thoroughly cleansed, then
dried with sawdust and peanut-roaster ar
rangements. Massive monsters are the presses,
of which there are ten, and each capable of
turning out over 100 coins a minute, which,
if they were double eagles, would amount to
$34,000. Belore the planchets are put in the
, coming presses they are milled or have their
edges turned up. Now conies the final ope
ration by which money is literally made lhe
amount of pressure required to make a per
fect coin is from twenty to eighty tons —the
larger the coin the larger the weight.
l he planchets are put in a brass tube, and
with each impression of the press are caught
in two iron arms and placed on the lower ibe
which is in the bed of the press, correspond
ing to the upper die, and by the coming to
gether of these two dies are the coins struck.
As the planchet rests on the lower die, lhe
upper descends and the planchet is pressed
by them; in-tantly the two arms catch the
struck coin and throw it into a box beneath.
At this moment it is legal coin, and not be
fore. Gathering the coin from the boxes,
they are placed on counting-boards, which
ate grooved boards, somewhat like washing
| boards, which are divided so as to hold just a
certain number of coins. As the coins aie
run in the grooves and counted, they are
poured in a drawer, from which they are
taken, counted, put in bags, and are then
ready to go forth to make their work of
wretchedness or happiness But the cabinet
of ancient and modern coins remains. In it
are the widow’s mite of the Scriptures, and,
curiously enough, there is a coin from an old
Philadelphia mint, one 2,000 years old. which
existed in Asia Here, too, are specimens of
coins of all nations of the globe, and here is
the end of the visit to the mint.
RABIES IN A COON.
From the Tyler (Texas) Courier.
Some time last winter a gentleman in the
northern part of Smith County, on the Sabine
river, was riding a pony, and as he was ap
proaching the river a raccoon ran out and bit
the horse on the leg. lhe raccoon repeated
or continued its attack until the gentleman
put the pony into a gallop and ran off. A
tew days ago the gentleman was leading the
pony out of a pasture. While he was letting
down the fenee the pony suddenly commenced I
biting the rails furiously, had a fit, fell down, I
and in a few.moments was dead.
ESTATE OF W. A. KAWNOX. Special.
F. G. HANCOCK,
SUCCESSOR TO RAW-SON & HANCOCK,
WHOLESALE MA.M FA4 Ti ll ER AX» JOBBER OF
Paper, Paper Roxe.s ?
BLANK BOOKS & STATIONERY.
r»r*izx r rEj«.s3’ si pi’l-ies a. ssxvecji-a.lty
No. 4 MARIETTA STREET.
Factory and Warehouse, Rawson Building, 26 Alabama Street.
A MORMON WEDDING FEAST.
How a Woman’s Heart Rebelled Against the
Dogma of the Church.
Sacramento Union.
Some months ginee, Mr. R. brought the ;
beautiful Miss Finnell home to be our neigh
bor—a plural Mrs. R. To my surprise I was I
the recipient of an invitation to attend the ’
supper given in celebration of this event. |
Mrs. It. (the first.) received inc kindly, for ■
away down deep in her life this woman and (
I have qualiti'-s in kinship. We sat down to !
supper at 6 o’clock. Mr. R. and his first wife
sat at opposite ends of the table. The new
Mrs. R. sat by “Sister Julia.” I had the post
of honor at the right of the bridegroom. This !
new kind of Benedict wore an almost sheep- j
ish air, and was ill at ease throughout. It
dawned upon me at last that my presence on
such an occasion was a reproach to me. I
was more than ashamed of my own stupidity
in yielding to what appeared so plainly as a
most vulgar curiosity. In such a mood it was
of course difficult to be amiable, and as the
best substitute for that amiability due from a
guest at a marriage feast, I tried to be witty.
Suffice it to say. we succeeded in stinging i
each other like a nest of angry hornets, and 1
nothing but our good breeding prevented an
open quarrel. We animals fed at that supper
with som thing of the snappishness att ibu-j
table to feasting wolves. That agonizing
supper over, we stood round the bright lire in i
the cosey little sitting-room- Mr. R. had ;
planned to take his bride to the theater, and
so preparations in the way of gloves, cl oaks ;
and bonnets b<-gan. The late Miss Finnell
was soon toileted for the opera in most fash
ionable attire. Mrs. R. —my old friend
stood half r- dining against the piano. We i
bad been silent for a moment, and, to relieve
the emba: rassment taking possession of us, 1
said: “Mrs. R., ir almost makes one wish to
be a bride again.” Mrs. R. laughed accom
modatingly. Just then Mr. R. placed his arm
gently around the slender waist of his new
bride, folding her handsome opera-clock close
to her form and drew her toward him. She
responded to this caress by a tender upward
g'ance of her beautiful eyes. Then I looked •
toward my friend, to find her face pallid as
death, while a look of agonizing endurance,
mingled with devilish malignity, almost froze
my blood. I had said aloud in actual sur
prise before turning toward her, “As I live he
.actually loves this girl.” Mrs R.’s look met
mine squarely. That face told me all. No
lies now, with ready lips, at the bidding of
fealty to religion. That antagonized, refined,
sensitive face proclaimed the system damned. |
A wo nan’s natural love rose grandly in the j
awful denunciation of those fierce eyes. A .
great throb of pity tilled my own woman’s ‘
heart 1 saw all the torture and noble rage
of self-restraint. I stepped toward her, as if
to hold her in pity to my heart My Mormon
lady friend took me by the arm with almost
rude force, and whispered warningh', “Mrs.
Castine, for God’s sake remember where you
are.” I did remember, and, discomfited, re
turned to my place near the mantle. Amid this
liitle flurry the bridal party took their leave. '
We women were a silent party at first Mrs. i
R. still stood leaning on the piano with her i
look bent on me almost resentfully. “You
don’t think yourself called upon to pity me,
Mrs. Castine?” she said, with au almost
quarrelsome tone.
“1 do pity you, Mrs. R , and I have a right
to.”
“You think me jealous of mv new sister,
then ?”
“ Mrs. R., we are both proud women. We
only need to look into our hearts to learn
what a real woman must feel under the ordeal
through which you are passing.”
“ I am not jealous. Mrs Castine. Not only
not jeal us, but happy in this new love of my
husband. Our faith teaches us to love our
sisters in marriage as our own flesh. This
marriage is not an est’angement of my hus
band’s love as it would be in an unsanctified
Gentile, but a remarriage to myself. In this
marriage I live over again my own espousal
my own bridal, and renew again the first
sweets of married love.”
We were all decidedly uncomfortable, and
our two lady companions tr ok their leave to
getlier. But my impulse of pity had not been
lost, and, without a word having been spoken
between us after our friends retired, she sank
into a chair, and, covering her face with her
hands, cried out in bitterness:
“Oh! Mrs. Castine, I am most wretched!
Between me and any celestial light, or any
glory or peace or consolation in this life or in
the world to come, there stands that woman.
Between me and all the light of my rel’glon
stands that woman This girl’s face is hate
ful to me —that my husband shou d love one
for her mere beauty a'one! My imagination
cannot be held buck from ali the soul tortur
ing, crucifying things which follow in the
train of this marri ige. The box at the thea
tre holds to-night a man and wife —not more.
There are the gentle pressure of hands, the
glances of lovi-.g eyes, the blending of lives ;
into one destiny in this life, the first exquis '
ite rapture of honeymoon, which cheats itself !
with the delusion that a capital stock of love i
has been laid in sufficient to draw upon for i
life. Beyond these rise, in spite of all pre- .
tense to spirituality, the bridal bud, the cra
dle, the child, in whose veins there can be
the c mimingiing life-blood of but one father
and one mother. All these things one man
tan have with only one woman in marriage.
No, M rs. Castine: marriage to one woman]
unmarr es a man to all other women, or there
is no marriage.”
There was no answer: I offered none, but.
kissing her cold forehead, left her alone with
her desolate sorrow.
BEAD TAUtAVO SEK.VIoy.
PAINTING DESTRUCTION,
And decide if it is not worth
Two Cents a Week!
To have such a Sermon brought to your fire
side. Then send Sixty Gifts for six months
of the Gazeite.
Read
“ The Viper on the Hearth,”
and decide if it is not worth
Two Cents a Week !
IO get the continuation of this Story, ami a well
tilled paper besides. Send Sixty ( enls for
the Gazette for six months.
With
COTTON AT 12 CENTS,
Can’t you spare
Two Cents a Week!
for a large, well-tilled Raper, with which to
Make Your Family Happy ?
Semi Nixly Cents, ami the Gazette will he ’
sent you lor Six Months.
Address J. u. DEBBY A- C®.
1880
D. B. PLUMB & CO.,
Family Drug Store,
26 Whitehall Street, Atlanta, Ca.
Have on hand and are daily receiving
FRESH AND PURE
Drugs and Medicines,
Chemicals, Paint--, Oils, Dye Stuffs,
Choice Perfumery, Toilet R-quisites,
Surgical Instruments, and all
necessary article* for a
Physicians’ outfit.
Plumb's Cologne Waters,
for so many years a favorite, a
specialty Prescriptions carefully
prepared with the purest articles known. j
Open on Sundays for I he sale of medicines only
REMEMBER TIIE NUMBER
•-3<5 AVI, it oil it 11 (St reet. 20 1
A MONTH !
THAT LIMITS THE SALES FOR SNOOK’S
FURNITURE HOUSE.
A Brilliant Month’s Work—That is ah Index
of the Future—Can any Southern Fur
niture House Match it ?
The Gazette has had frequent cause to ad
vertise the energy, and nerve and enterprise
of Mr. P. H. Snook, the proprietor of The
Cheapest Furniture House in Georgia, and
to chronicle the success that has attended his
efforts.
The universal popularity of Mr. Snook has
led everybody to wish him prosperity from the
start. The enterprise with which he has run
his business has led the newspapers to sound
his praises; and the fact that he has reduced
’ the prices of furniture so heavily has made
him a benefactor to all who have had to buy
: furniture!
But Snook depends on none of these. He
J is grateful to his friends for their good wishes,
to the newspapers for their praise, and to the
: public for its appreciation of his success in
putting down prices; but
He asks the patronage of the public for
none of these reasons. His claims upon the
i buying publie are these:
Ist He sells furniture cheaper than itcan
be bought anywhere in the State, and he de
fies the closest scrutiny of this preposition.
2d. He offers the newest, freshest and most
attractive stock of goods to be found in Geor
] gia, and he begs customers to compare his
i stock with others.
By these two simple rules —which, in their
simplicity, embrace everything—he has built
up a trade that has no equal in the Southern
States.
In the month or December he sold $19,G00
I worth of Furniture, and his books will
I show it I
i It is well-known that large sales allow small
percentage of profit. A man who sells $20,-
000 can sell for less than one who sells $3,000’
Snook’s sale in December alone, were more
than any other dealer in Atlanta from July
to January. In 1879 he sold over twice as
much as all Atlanta dealers put together,
( and his books are ready to show it.) while he
i had no more expense than any one of them.
■ He was therefore enabled to m H much cheap
i er than any of them.
I He figures so closely that in sales of $140,-
I 900 he made less than ten per cent. Small
dealers charge from 25 to 33 per cent. The
difference will make you rich. Then buy
from Snook'
But what does this record mean ? It means
that the people have found that Snook’s is
the cheapest furniture house in the State. It
] means that they have made prices elsewhere
I and found that they could do better at Snook’s
: People do not trade on friendship. They
] are not deluded by newspaper articles. And
when with half a dozen stores competing for
the trade it sets in, with a mighty current to
one store, it means that that store is the best
and cheapest-
Water don’t run up-hill. Trade don’t seek
the highest priced stores.
In opening the new year, Mr. Snook re
spectfully appeals to the public in making
l their purchases of furniture to bear only one
thing in mind:
"Never think of buying anything, not eren
a chair, until you hare tried Snook's prices."
He will answer for the rest, if you will only
do this much. M ishing all his customers a
“Happy New Year," he pledges himself to
make his store an honor to Georgia as well as
a pleasure to shoppers, and to make it deserve,
more than ever, the appellation:
The Cheapest Furniture House in Georgia."
DAVID H. DOUGHERTY
I have just finished ta' i g an inventory of
stock on hand, but why tax your time bv
placing it before you and asking you to read
it, when 1 can assure you my stock is immense
and comprises even thing needful that is kept
by any first-class Dry Goods House South ?
It is my desire to reduce my entire stock be
fore getting in my SPRING PURCHASES,
and to do this I have marked my goods at
figures that are bound to move them. I
lon’t ask you to buy my gaods before looking
it others, but look at mine before buying of
ithers, and I am sure that I will convince
ou that it is to your interest to buy of me.
Somebody is going to get Bargains from
iow until the First of March next. Don’
ou forget it. You won’t, will you? Terms
’ASH.