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NOfiTH GEORGIA TIMES % G S. B. N. CARTER, KfNO, t f Proprietor The Song. Tie poet sang of War, that mighty king AVhose crown is flame, whose oath is thun dering, Whose sceptre steel. The paean shrilled unheard OI fiery souls by battle-fury stirred; Aud screaming sheds out-sang his minstrel ing. Again he sang the glories Cold can bring; Out-voiced him noiv the coins’ metallic ring; And, mad for gain, men heeded not a word The poet sang. Then softly to his own heart did lie sing; And trembiing-sw eet a song of Love took wing, As tender as the call of mating bird . The smoke-grimed soldier in the trenches heard, The flushed gold-heapcr caught each wliispor ing Tho poet sang! — [Dorothea Dimoml in Frank Leslie’s. HER PARTY. 4 l',Y SI1IRI.EY BltOYVNE. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, little girl,” said Doctor Deemer, “but I am afraid this party of youis is quite out of the question.” Stacy set down the quaint old Chinese coffee-pot and looked at him with large beryl-blue eyes of disapproval. “Uncle,” said she, “you promised it to me.” Doctor Deemer retreated behind the stroughold of the weekly paper. Stacy’s reproachful eyes were too much for him. “Yes,” he acknowledged, “I know I did. And I meant to keep my prom ise, but I couldn’t foresee then how* things would turn out. Our funds are very low; in fact, we seem to bo in debt everywhere. I don't really know what is to be the end of it.” “Yet,” said Stacy, with slow, severe accents, “you went to the book sale and paid forty dollars for that old edition of ‘Beaumont and Fletcher.’ ” “Yo=, I know, Stacy; it was a great bargain.” “Forty d liars would have furnished music and refreshments for my party.” “Don’t scold, child,” said the doc tor, stirring his egg. “I’m very 6orry! I forgot all about the party.” “You to always forgetting me,” said Stacy, a big tear balancing itself on each reproachful eye. “My poor party—and I’d told so many people about it, and promised to invite all the girls I I shall never accept any more invitations, now that I can’t repay them!” Plash—plash! went the big tears on the old Canton china breakfast plate. Doctor Deemer was a tender-hearted man, and the two diamond drops went to his very soul. “Don’t cry, Stacy,” said he. “Have your party just the same, with cake and lemonade. Debby can make very fair cupcake, and lemons arc only thirty cents a dozen. And Simeon shall bring up his fiddle.” “Cupcake, and lemonade, and Simeon,” scornfully uttered Stacy. “No, Uncle Deemer, I haven’t fallen so low as that. I can do without a party, but I can’t ondescend to second rate invitations.” And she ran out of the room in the tempest of tears, coining into collision will) old Debby as she did so, and scattering a plate of graham gems on the floor. Doctor Deemer and his niece, Anas tasia, lived all alone in Roslyn Hall, one of those great echoing houses where everything goes to prove the empty glow of the past. Doctor Deemer had lost his fortune, and Anastasia’s too, in a series of disastrous speculations. He had all the tasts of a man of wealth, and a blind adoration of his ancestry. lie himself was quite con tent to dwell in life’s shadow; but sometimeg it seemed to him as if Stacy ought to have a little more sunshine. Stacy thought so, too. Her 18-ycar soul revolved against tho sort of lifo she led with a great rebellion, t “Louise Melton is engaged to be married,” thought- she, “and Emily Eldon spends her winters in New York. But I shall live and dio an old maid, for I never see any one, nor travel anywhere- Louise was going to bring her Chicago cousins to my Easter party, and Emily was going to write to Mr. Vavasor to come down from New York for it. Emily said Mr. Vavasor thought I was the pret tiest girl in Clanconnell. I don’t be lieve that; but I should like to have him see me in a white serge dress with baby-blue sash ribbons. I wore a hid- SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. JUNE 111, ISilO. eous blue seersucker that day when he came to see the prize chrysanthemums in the garden.” Up and down, up and down the long oak-floored gallery tore Stacy with flaming cheeks and yellow curls stream ing out behind. It was Stacy's way when she got into a passion to walk herself out of it. Just opposite a por trait of l.er great-grandaunt, whose name she had somehow inherited, she came to a sudden stop. “AA'cll,” she cried, “why do you stare so steadily down at me, Aunt Anastasia, with those big blue eyes? It really docs seem as if you bad some thing you wanted to say to me and somehow couldn't get it out. Really, one don’t wonder that old Debby scur ries past you in the twilight and says the family portraits haunt her worse than any ghost. Oh, it’s all very well for you to smile in that simpering, inane fashion,” she added, shaking her little dimpled fist at the counterfeit presentment of her dcad-and-gonc an cestress. “You were an English beauty, and danced at General AVash ington’s state balls, and Gilbert Stuart painted your portrait, and you were married at eighteen and went to the AVest Indies. That was life and hap piness enough, even if you did die young. People say your eyes and mine arc exactly alike, but I’in sure I never was half as pretty as you. But perhaps it’s the string of pearls and the satin gown that makes you so lovely and—” She stooped suddenly and picked up an opened letter lying on the dark oaken floor, directly under tho tar nished gilt frame. “AVhat’s this?” she cried, “Oh, a letter from the picture dealers in New York. They want a genuine example of Gilbert Stuart for a private collec tion, and have heard of ‘The Lady with the Pearls’ in the old Roslyn Ilall gallery. ‘Anastasia Roslyn, 1789.’ Are prepared to give two hundred dol lars for it if Doctor Deemer will kind ly consider (heir oiler. And here’s Uncle Deemer’s pencil writing upon it. ‘ltec’d March 3d, 18— Mem. To write back that the Roslyn pictures are not in the market 1’ Oho! But Un cle Deemer never consulted me—arid I ain the owner of the Roslyn pictures! Two hundred dollars—that’s a deal of money. AVhat do you say, Aunt An astasia?” looking up with eager blue eyes at the dim pictured face—“will you help me with my party? It isn’t that 1 have no family feeling, hut you’re dead and buried, you see, and you went to parties and danced when you were a girl, and you must know exactly howl feel.” Stacy Deemer rushed upstairs to her room, wrote a hurried letter to the New York picture dealer, ran to the postoffice just in time to save thp mail, and came dancing back, her yellow curls afloat, her cheeks pink as roses. The wreaths of snow were melting away from the hillsides, (he maple trees were bursting into red stars of bloom, the lilac and white crocuses lifted their tiny heads along the shel tered edge of the path, and an adven turous bluebird shrilled his tiny trum pet from the old cedar grove. Stncy, too, could have sung aloud in the full ness of her girlish glee. “I shall have my party, af.er all,” said she. t. AYhat’s tliis, Stacy?” Dr. Deemer stared first at her, then at tho slip of pale-green paper in her hand. “It’s a check, Uncle Deemer, for two hundred dollars. Can you cash it for me?” “A—check I” “Yes. I’ve sold my aunt Anasta sia,” calmly admitted Stacy. “She’s going to help me give my party, tho darling ‘Lady AVith tho Pearls.’” It was some time before the old gentleman could bo made to under stand the full extent of his niece’s der eliction. Then lie grew pale. “Stacy,” said he, “you don’t desrve to have any ancestors! I would re deem this picture with a thousand dollar bill if I had itl Has it gone?” “A week ago, Uncle Deemer.” He threw the check back to her. “I’ll have nothing to do with it!” said he. “It’s almost equal to trading in human flesh and blood! Y T ou’lI bo selling me next, ypu wicked girl I” “But, Uncle Deemer—” “Please leave me, Stacy; I’d rather be alone.” Stacy went away rather awed. There was something in Uncle Deemer’s pale old face that frightened her. “I—almost—wish I hadn't sent the invitations,” thought she. "But, after all. Aunt Anastasia was my very own grandaunt, and I’in quite sure she was willing. I could read it in her eyes. She was a girl once, and 1 know she liked parties.” But Stacy had not calculated for all that followed. Uncle Deemer was an old man and very feeble, and the shock was too much for him. lie took to his bed. A physician was sent for, who shook his head and looked un utterable things. I Something on his mind,” said he. It’s Aunt Anastasia,” faltered Stacy; “and it’s all my doing, I—I sold a family portrait that he is especially fond of.” “(Jet it back again, at all hazards,” said the doctor. ‘I can’t light disease as long as all the mental forces are against me.” “Do you think he’ll die?’ said trembling Stacy. “I hope not,” said the man of medicine. For the first time in her life Stacy went to New York, to interview the picture-dealer. The picture-dealer was sweeter than milk, smoother than oil; but it was beyond his power ho said to help her. The picture was already hanging in the private collection, No. — Fifth Avenue. “Can I go there?” said Stacy. “Well — I suppose — you — can,” doubtfully observed the picture dealer. “But I don’t believe it will do any good.” Stacy, however, was resolute in try ing to undo (ho mischief she had done. She went straight to No. —, Fifth Avenue. “I have called ab ut a portrait,” said she. “A Gilbert Stuart, ‘The Lady With the Pearls.’” The butler eyed her closely. She had no leather bag in her hand, nor did she appear like a solicitor of sub scriptions. ►. . “I’ll ask master,” said lie. “Take him my card,” said Stacy, loftily. “Miss Deemer of Roslyn Ilall.” The butler showed her into a l-ecep tion-rooin with crimson crape festooned between pink marble umns and a great, grinning idol in old ivory and eloisonnee, and departed noiselessly. Presently another footstep crossed the threshold. “Miss Deemer.” Stacy uttered a little cry. “Oh, Mr. Vavasor, is it you? Oh, please, I want my grandaunt bank again, and here is the picture-man’s cheek. 1 haven't even cashed it, you see.” “But,” said Mr. Vavasor, looking with artistic admiration at the sun shine glinting on her golden hair, the shifting light in her wonderful blue eyes, “I don’t think I quite un derstand.” And then Stacy, blushing and em barrassed, made her confession. little wrong-headed, impulsive Stacy. “I didn’t know uncle Deemer was so fond of her,” murmured she, “or I never would have sold her. And please, may I have her back.” <T don’t think you realize, Miss Deemer, how much I value that ‘Gil bert Stuart,’ ” hesitated Vavasor. “Oh, but she’s my ancestress,” urged Stacy. “And she was my namesake, and people say I am like her, and when I sold her I sold the luck of ltoslyn. Please, please,” cried Stacy, wringing her poor little hands, “let me have her back.” “On ono condition only,” said Mr. Vavasor. Stacy looked terrified. “That you allow me to give you that party. You are to supply the old hall for dancing and the evergreens, and I am to send down the music and the supper, and mind, you are to give me the very first dance of ail.” Stacy clapped her hands. “And I sha’n’t have (o recall the invitations after all,” said she. “Oh, how splendid it will bel If only Uncle Deemer gets better!" Uncle Deemer did get better, dating from the dav when the “Gilbert Stuart” was hung up on his bedroom wall. “The luck of Roslyn has come back,” said he. It was very kind of Mr. Vavasor to travel down with you, child. I suppose he knew the picture must be carefully guarded.” The party came off with eclat. Stacy looked like a newly opened rosebud. The music was delightful—the supper such as onty Charezzi could get up. “But Stacy,” said Emily Eldon, who was of a rather critical turn, “mamma says yon shouldn't accept so many favors from any gentleman who is neither your relative nor your ac cepted lover.” “Docs she?” said Stacy, with a mis chievous sparkle of the eyes. “Well, thou, tell her to set her mind at rest; Mr, Vavasor is my accepted lover! He asked me to marry him last night, and Pin sure Aunt Anastasia knows it"— with a bright upward glance at the por trait—“for see how she smiles down upon me.” And for a moment it did seem as if there was a smile on the face of “The Lady With the Pearls.” — [Fireside Companion. Ban Ilis Train Through the One Ahead. “There are heroes and heiocs, and there are heroines and heroines,” said Chauncey M. I)epcw in speaking of personal bravery. “There are blue shirted men who go over our railroad lines every day in engine cabs who would laugh at you if you intimated to them that they are heroes, and who in spite of all are as brave as any man who ever drew a sword or carried a musket. Railroad men have seldom much time to think. They are cowards or heroes in a second. Not long ago ono of our engineers of an express train rounded a turn in the road and saw that another train hud been derail ed, and lay right across the track. A collision was inevitable. The engineer might have taken chances and jumped, but he didn't. As he said afterward: ‘“I saw right away we were in for it, and like a tlash it struck me that our only chance was to go right ahead and cut through if we could. So I threw her open and let her go.’ “ The experiment was perilous, but it was successful. He did‘cut through,’ ;uul no one was injured. This act of the engineer was'tliatof an exceedingly courageous, cool-headed man. “Another engineer on a Western road performed a similar act sometime ago with tragic results. Ho tried to —or in fact was forced to try to—cut through a freight train that had been thrown across the track. Non; of the passengers were injured, but (lie engin eer ami his firemen were killed. This is but too often the reward of bravery n all walks of life.”—Philadelphia Press. Gold From Siberian Mines. A very heavy consignment of gold from the Siberian mines recently ar rived at St. Petersburg. Our corres pondent telegraphs that tho caravan, which left Irkutsk on the 9th of De cember, took 183,840 ounces of gold. Tho wagons containing it were escort ed by 300 Cossacks, under tho com mand of Lieut. Cols. Mckrassoff and Karneyoff. Part of this gold was frern the Amoor fields. Aery Timely. Stranger—“I have here a poem, sir, on ‘The Beautiful-’ ” Editor—“My clear sir, we have 10, 000 on ‘The Beautiful Snow’ on hand now, and we don’t want any more.” Stranger—“Then perhaps, sir, you will allow me to continue. My poem is on ‘The Beautiful Mud.’” Editor—“AVe’ll take that, young man.”—Judge. Helping an Author. A French millionaire who wanted to help a French author to some money, in an indirect way ordered 75, 000 copies of his book and burned (hem for fuel. Then he learned that the author had sold his right, title, and interest before publication for the sum of $150. To Be Inferred. A Michigan weekly says of a sub scriber who died the other day: “Had he maintained a different attitude to wards water, we have no doubt that he would have lived on for a score of years to come.” AVe infer that lie drank too much water—altogether too much. A Fine Distinction. Under the laws of New Jersey “a disorderly person” may be a person who “stands and looks over a fence at at a woman standing on a step-ladder to wash a kitchen window.” A man’s privileges are being whittled down pretty thin nowadays. Vol. X. New Series. NO. 20, TOWING CITY OF PARIS. THE CAPTAIN OK THE ADRIATIC GIVES HIS VERSION. Laid by the Steamer for About Seven Hours and Left Her. The 'White Star steamship Adriatic brought in to-day the true version of what occurred when she steamed many miles out of her course to assist the disabled Inman liner, the City of Paris, early on the morning of March 28. '1 his version will be observed to differ a good deal from the version which made the Adriatic flit by, “hardly checking her engine, saying that she would take passengers to* New York, . but would not tow us to l’astnct,” and followed her with the execrations of the City of Paris’ passengers. Capt. William Roberts of the Adriatic says lie observed a boat from the City of Paris in chargo of (lie chief officer at 1:80 A. M. He immediately stopped and took the chief officer nboavd. “He reported the condition of his ship,” Capt. Rob erts said, “and said that Capt. Wat kins wished to bo towed to Queens town. I told him (hat I had the Eng lish mail aboard, and (bat 1 would not feel justified in towing the Cify ol Paris, but that I would do all in my power to save life. Another steam ship, which I supposed to be the City of Chester, of the Inman line, hove in sight just then, and 1 sent up rockets at frequent intervals to intercept her. She was bound west, and was witliin four miles of the Adriat’e. The boat of the City of Paris, with the chief officer aboard, meanwhile bad been pnt betwcon the west bound steamer and our ship. The steamer kept on without paying any attention to our signals, which she must have observed. The chief officer boarded us again. I told him I was going to the City of Paris, ;« save life if necessary, but not to tow her, and asked him to go back .with me. Jle declined, saying lie would make for the land. It was now 4 o’clock. On our way to the City of Paris wo sight ed the Aldcrsgate, bound for Liver pool. ' We signalled her, and I sent my chief officer aboard. Her captain said lie would go to the City of Paris and help to take some of the passen gers from her if neecssary. We then proceeded in company with the disabled ship. AVe wero pre pared to take the passengers to Queens town or Now York if necessary. When wo arrived along-sidc of the City of Paris an officer from her came aboa:dand said that Capt. Watkins wi'licd us to tow bis ship to Queens town. 1 answered th \t I had come to save life. After tho officer had con veyed my refusal to tow the City of Paris, Capt. "Watkins hoisted the sig nals, ‘Thanks; go ahead.’ We then, at 0:54 o’clock, pioceedcd, leaving the Aldcrsgate and the City of Paris in communication. "We received no in timation from either Capt. Watkins or the officer who came aboard thatg thc City of Puds was in danger of foundering. We stopped within a ship’s length of the Inman boat, and waved for the captain's representative to come off in a boat. She did not seem to be in any danger. There was a long westerly swell, but the sea was not rough, and there were no indications of a sterm. AVhen Capt. Watkins signalled that we could pro ceed, we saw no reason for remaining. That Capt. Watkins appreciated our services in bringing the Aldei-sgateTo him and in offering to save life if nec essary,was apparent by his signal thank ing us.” The Adriatic had 80S passengers aboard herself, beside her large crew. Thej-e were over 1000 souls on the City of Paris. The Adriatic passed 21 ice bergs off tho banks within a space of 100 miles. The first officer of the City of Chest er, which arrived yesterday, said they did not sight the Adriatic on the trip, and that if they had seen her signals they wonld have responded. The City of Chester’s course was further south than the Adriatic’s, he said. Not Giving Away News.—He (cau tiously)—“AVhat would you say, dar ling, if I should ask you plumply to be my wife?” Darling (even more cautiously) “Ask mo and find out.”— AVhashington Star. The Difference. A smiling dame. Unknown to fame, Yet sauev, sweet and and fair, Stood chattering to a girlhood's “flames,” Mow gray, in heard and hair. He urged some plan ; And eager ran The gamut of its pleasures; As oft before, they scan A day of brimming measures. “If we can go, Pray, let me know,” She said, “the hour of starting"' “How can I—let you—let you—let van know?” ( With /ait in hand) at parting. A rising sigh, A kindling eye; Vexation, (though she hid it—') “When wo wore young"—she made reply, “You never asked—you did it!" HUMOROUS. Hearts are never really broken, but many a ono has been tired with a “bang.” Mepliisto (behind the scenes)—Ha! what do l see? Only four wreaths thrown on the s'.age, and I paid for five. A Paris milliner has made a ten strike by teaching her parrot to* say every time a fair client euters, “Oh, ain’t you just lovely!” Guest (helping himself pretty freely to the Cognac)—It is very peculiar. I never feel an appetite for dinner un less I take a glass of Cognac after wards. Husband—Can nothing dissuade you from your determination to go on tho stage? Wife—Nothing. I have already tiled my divorce papers. “Well, I'm sure,” said Miss Passee as her poem was returned to her, “I don’t seo why the editor returned it.” “Because you sent a stamped *and directed envelope, my dear.” Mrs. Timothy Seed—I know that speckled hen is laying eggs every day by the way she cackles, but I can’t find the nest. Mr. Timothy Seed—Perhaps she ha» mislaid her eggs. Friend—Were you ever in Switzer land, lieutenant? Pompous Lieutenant—I never have been there. If the people of Switzer land really went to seo me, let them come to Berlin. “Say, waiter, I reckon you’ve taken my order ifll wrong. 1 ordered a spring chicken and a bottle of 71 claret. Here you’ve gone and brought me a 71 chicken and a bottle of spring claret.—Racket. Quite Tasteful—“Oh, Sophy! I hear you kissed Mr. Rondo, the poet, in tho conservatory last night?” “Um-in m!” “Tell me. AVhat was it like?” ,‘AVell, he has a very pronounced liter ary taste.—Punch. AA'ciglicd and Wanting.—AVill—“1 believe editors weigh carefully all manuscripts sent to them.” Bill (an author)—hi order to ascertain the amount of return postage neces sary.”—Yankee Blade. ’A Delicate Hint.—“Return my best thanks to your master, John, and tell him 1 am much flattered by his kind present of the game.” “Yessir—an’ supposin' master arsks what you guv me formysclf—what’ll I tell him, sir?” - Pick Me Up. Student (to his v fri.end)—See, yon der comes oVl Mr. X- , who has helped to dry so many a tear. “Tho dear, kind-hearted gentleman! And pray tell me bow ?” “He is a manufacturer of pocket handkerchiefs.” Luring Him On.—Servant (at sweet girils boudoir)—“Mr. Nicofellow is in the parlor, miss.” Sweet girl (throw ing .jlowri a novel)—“Horrors! And my hair is all down! Tell him ho’U have to wait a little as I’m in the kitchen helping mother.”—Life. Hussle—Pullman of Chicago had an order for a parlor car the other day to te done in 48 hours, and he got it out. AVhat do you think of that? Flash—Friend' o’ mine in New Yerk had 10 minutes to make a train in yes* terday, and he made it. Still at It. Dr. Brown-Scquard is still working away at his elixir of life, and he says that ho will experiment until even the cynical American newspapers will ad mit that he can take an old man of 70 and return him to youth and beauty^ W* shall all hope to be there.