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NORTH GEORGIA TIME
C. N. KING. ) f J r.>i>ri«!or
S. B. CARTER, t
Her Refrain.
‘Do yon lore me?” she said when the skies
were bine,
And we walked where the stream through
the branches glistened;
And I told and retold her my love was true,
While she listened and smiled and smiled
and listened.
"Do you love me?” she whispered when
days were drear.
And her eyes searched mine with patient
yearning.
And kissed her renewing the words so dear.
While she listened and smiled as if slowly
learning.
‘‘Do you love me?” she asked, when we sat
at rest
By the stream enshadowed with antumn
glory;
Her cheek had been laid as in peace on mv
breast,
But she raised it to ask for the sweet old
story,
And 1 said I will tell her the tail again—
I will swear by tne earth and the stars
above me;
And I told her that uttermost time should
prove
The fervor and faith of my perfect love;
And I vowed it and pledged it that naucht
should move;
While she listened and smiled in my face
and then
She whispered once more, “Do you truly
love me?”
—[John Boyle O’Reilly.
The Malmaison Emerald.
Br HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
“Eli?” said Uncle Vonable. “You
—want—to—get—married?”
“If you don’t mind, sir,” said Ver¬
bena. drooping her pretty head, while
a blush like the lining of a pink sea
shell crept over her face.
“But what nonsense that is!” said
Mr. Venable, shutting his cabinet
drawers, leaning hack in liis chair and
looking at Verbena with eyes like gim¬
lets. “Who is the young man?”
“Please, uncle,it’s Fritz,” whispered
Verbena, half inclined to run away
aud hide herself.
“Fritz!” roared Mr. Venable.
“That—farmer fellow?”
“He’s a farmer,” admitted Verbena,
“but he owns his own farm, sir. And
his mother is very anxious for me to
come there, because—”
“Oh, I can imagine that!” said Mr.
Venable, with a sneer. “Y r ou—a
Venable—talking about marrying a
farmer I You, the heiress of the Mal¬
maison emerald! You, that might
take any place in society that you wish,
when once tho value of the gem is
known, to talk of allying yourself to
a clodhopper liko that, who don’t
know an opal from a moonstone!”
Verbena burst into tears.
“He isn’t a clodhopper,” said she.
“And I wish there wasn’t any such
thing as the Malmaison emerald!”
Mr. Venable transfixed liis niece
through his spectacle glasses with a
glare that might have paralyzed her.
“Silence, miss!” said lie. “Do you
know it is on the reputation of the
Malmaison emerald that tho Venables
will go down to fame? The Empress
Josephine—”
“I don’t care for the Empress Jo
scpliine,” said Verbena, who, having
drawn the sword, was now minded to
cast the scabbard away. “Anil I’m
not particular about fame, aud I don’t
suppose I shall bo a Venable for¬
ever—/
“This sort of talk won’t do, Verbe¬
na,” said the old gentleman, solemnly.
“Where would society he if every one
refused to hear the responsibilities and
shoulder the cares of their stations?
Yon are not merely my niece, Verbe¬
na. You are the representative—the
last surviving representative of the
Vefiables. To you in my will is left
the guardianship of the Malmaison
emerald.”
“I’m sick of hearing of it,” vehe¬
mently protested Verbena.
“And,” went on Mr. Venable, “I
desire you to give up all idea cf mar¬
rying this young man. It’s entirely
ont of the question—entirely. ”
“But what is this about the Mai mail
coil emerald?”asked Fritz Elcombe, id
a bewildered way, when he found
Verbena crying, by the sitting
window, a few hours later.
Her blue eyes sparkled through their
veil of tears.
“You don’t mean,” said she, “that
ydu Lave never heard of the fampus
Malmaison emerald?”
“That’s my meaning exactly.” ad¬
mitted Fritz. “Do consider, in my
behalf, that I’ve only been here a
year, and have lots still to learn.”
“Well, listen”! said Verbena,
crying, half angry. “It’s a famous
onset gem.”
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. OCTOBER SO, 1890.
“Ob, it is, is it? 1 '
“And it used to belong to the Em¬
press Josephine.”
“Did it, indeed?”
“And she wore it in those days at
Malmaison.”
“Hence the name, eh?”
‘ ‘I suppose so. And Queen Ilor
tensc gave it to some one who sold it
to somebody else, and it was finally
given to one of the Venables who wa9
a surgeon in the English army, hv a
dying officer out in Hiudostan, to
whom he hadbeeu able to vender kind
offices; and so it has come down to us.
It really is a wonderful story.”
“I should suppose so,” politely
incredulous.
“They say,” went on Verbena “that
when unde kepi it in the little iron
safe let into the guest-chamber wall,
whoever slept there used always
to dream of a beautiful, sad-faced
lady, who walked up and down a
marble terrace, under the trees, and
wrung her hands. That was the Em¬
press Josephine, of course.”
“Of course,” still more incredu¬
lously.
“And my uncle declares that the
color in the stone is always dim and
turbid when the anniversary of the
poor lady’s death comes around,” fur¬
ther added Verbena.
“Yes, that is exceedingly probable,”
dryly observed Mr. Elcombc.
“My uncle lias been offered a great
deal of money for the gem,” said Ver¬
bena, with a sigh, “and I wish to
goodness he’d sell it. But he won’t.
And, wiiat is worse, lie wants me to
marry a hateful, spectacled, little old
man in New York, who, next to him¬
self, is the best judge of jewels in
New York, aud who owns a green
ruby which is a dead match to Uncle
Venable's unset emerald. lie calls it
an Archaeological Alliance.”
“Well, I should think it partook
somewhat of that nature,” said Fritz,
thoughtfully.
“He is going up to New Y'ork to¬
morrow to a lapidaries’ convention,”
said Verbena. “And I suppose he
will bring Mr. Twistleton hack with
him. Oh, Fritz!”
“Don’the alarmed, heart’s dearest!”
said Fritz, consolingly, encircling her
waist with his arm. “The only way
in which we can effectually guard
against tins complication of ills is—”
“Yes, Fritz?”
“To get married while Mr. Venable
is gone.
“Oh, Fritz, I wouldn’t dare openly
to defy him, like that! He lias been
very good to me,” fluttered Verbena.
“I’ll be good to you,too, my darling.”
“Nonsense, Fritz! You’re spoiling
my hair! Do stop, Fritz!” protested
the girl.
“Then promiso me, Verbena.”
“No, I’ll promise nothing!”
At the lapidaries’ convention there
was a stormy session that year. Herr
Heidelgrun was tin re, a snuffy, dried
up old man, of groat age and still
greater arrogance, who had apparently
come out of his spiders-web in Vienna
for the sole purpose of discomfiting all
the antiquaries of the western conti¬
nent.
“De Malmaison emeralt!” said Herr
Heidelgrun. “Dat ish a mishtake.
Vat you call one big lie. It occupies
you all your time to chase dese lie, and
den nail him down. I haf the Mal¬
maison emeralt in mine collection.”
“IIow can that be?” said Mr. Ven¬
able, choking with rage, while Mr.
Twistleton stood by, ready to espouse
his friend’s cause, “when here it is—
the very stone itself?”
He opened the velvet case which
contained the drop of green fire. It
blinked at the circle of eager faces
above it like a baleful eye.
Ilerr Heidelgrun laughed a shrill
cackle of derision.
“Dat de Malmaison emeralt!” said
he. “Oh, how easy are some people
hoodwinked! A verr^ goot imita¬
tion, I grant. Oh, yes, I can tell you
all about him! But de genuine Mal¬
maison emeralt it was sell me in 1830,
at Vienna, by one Captain Giles Ven¬
able—”
(“Verbena’s father,” thought Mr.
Venable, with a start and a sinking of
the heart.)
“For de gracious Empress Augusta,
who was den making de collection for
a necklace which should outshine all
the courts of Europe. I pay Captain
Venable three thousand florins for
him, and I engage my best workmsu
to make him an imitation Malmais"-
emerald which shall deceive do tot
jeweler himself. 1 fink I make my
fortune, but I am wrong. De captain
he pockets his lioritis and he rides
away. De gracious Empress she
change her mind. She get tired of
cmeralts, and she t’ink she will haf
pearls. But I know derc will some
day he market forde Malmaison emcr
alt. I keep him. I haf him yet.
Here he is, and here is de letter from
Captain Giles Venable, which proves
his genuineness. Eh? Are you to he
satisfy now?”
And the green blaze of the real gem
put the artful imitation to shame at
once.
Air. Venable came home without
waiting for the adjournment of the
lapidarieg’ convention, lie did not
bring Mr. Twistleton with him,
“A man who couldn’t even tell a
bogus stone from a real one,” sput¬
tered Venable, “and calls himself a
judge of gems! Verbena, come here!”
Verbena came accordingly, with the
teapot in one hand and a pan of hot
Graham muffins, fresh from the oven,
in the other.
“I’ve got something to tell you,”
said Mr. Venable.
“Yes, uncle,” murmured Verbena,
her little heart giving au ominous
throb under the cluster of roses she
wore.
“The Malmaison emerald is a—hum¬
bug!” said Mr. Venable, distinctly.
“Oh, uncle!”
“And Caleb Twistlotou is a charl¬
atan and an adventurer!”
And he proceeded to impart to liis
niece the whole revelation of Hert
Heidelgrun. •
“Your father, my dear,” said he,
“has wrecked the family fortunes and
broken my heart. Henceforward 1
give up the study of gems. I’ll do¬
nate my collection, such as it is, to the
Middieville museum. It may serve
as the nucleus for something greater
in time. And I’ll devote myself to
roses. They can’t Imitate flowers.
And, Verbena—”
“Yes, uncle.”
“You may marry young Elcombc,
if you choose. After this, Twistlctoij
don’t deserve a wife.” I
“Thank you, uncle,” said Verbena,!
demurely.—[Saturday Night.
Walking Sticks of Old Times.
A curious, almost a unique, little
collection is to he sold at Chfistie’s.
It consists of half a dozen walking
sticks, dating most of them with thq
beginning of the century, and shov¬
ing well what were the dandy pro¬
clivities of the period. Ivory and tor¬
toise shells are the chief materials, nit
of the handles, but of the sticks then
selves, the handles .being of muih
more precious stuff'. One is of cboty
with a gold top. The top opens likea
circular snuff box, and in concentre
rings are, as an inscription record^
locks of the hair of three Englia
princesses. Diamond-eyed snakes
with enamel heads, are the decors
tions of this costly walking stick
which is very heavy and nearly foil
feet long. Pope has a lino famous fo
praising “the nice conduct of
clouded cane.” One of these canes i
here, (he handle of clouded amber. 1
stout hazel set in gold, which is ainou<
the collection, comes nearer the ntili
tarian tastes of today. — [Londoi
News.
Influence of the Seashore on Leaves
M. Pierre Lcsage shows by conclu¬
sive evidence in a recent thesis, that j
marine habitat leads to a thickeninj
of the leaves.. The palissade colls an
more numerous and larger than in thi
leaves of the same plants grown in
land. Apparently the sea salt is th<
cause of this alteration, as plants eul
tivated in artificially salted soil yielt
thicker leaves. The observations o:
M. Lesagc hear on some ninety species
of plants which are found in theii
natural state near the sea as well a
inland.
Toe Suggestive.
Miss De Pretty—Let’s form & secre
society.
Miss De Pink—Let’s. Just like th<
Odd Fellows, and Red Men. Cali i
the “Ancient Order of—of Kings
Daughters.”
Miss De Blond—Or the “Ancien
Order of Dianas.”
Miss De Young—Or the “Ancien
Order of American-”
Miss Oldmaid—Oh, don’t let’s ca
it the Ancient Order of anything.—
TNew York Weekly.
r
LOST THEIR
People Who Have Survived
Terrible Ordeal.
How the Indian Secures
Bloody War Trophy.
Did I Cver see a man who had
scalped and who recovered?
General J. S. Btirbin in the
Y'ork Ledger. Yes, once. His
was Thomas Cahone, and he was
freight conductor on the Union
Railroad. One day in April, 1868,
Cahone was running his train
Sidney, Nebraska, while crossing
small sircain, he lmd to halt for
time, and he and a man named
Edinonston got, out to fish. They
(inarmed, but did not think of
although Indians had been
and going through the country.
terminus of the road was then at
enne. They had not been fishing
when suddenly a party of
Sioux Indians rushed down upon
although they were in full sight of
town of Sidney.
The Indians first attempted to
off a band of horses near by, hut in
they failed. They then turned
the fishermen, and, riding up to
began firing arrows into their
Edmonston received four arrows
died. Cahone had several arrows
into him, the Indians riding up
alongside and firing at short range.
One arrow pierced Cahone’s lungs
lie fell bleeding profusely. An
advanced, dismounted, and took
lioue’s scalp proper f rom the top
his head. Anoiher Indian rode up
cut a strip about four inches wide
seven inches long from the side of
hone’s head. All this time the man
was cither unconscious or lay still.
The Indians, thinking him dead,
not mutilate his body beyond
him.
There was at that time a small
tachment of United States troops
tioned at Sidney, under command
Lieutenant,now Captain Bubb, United
States Army. Seeing the attack from
the village, Lieutenant Bubb and his
men, reinforced by the citizens, rushed
out to the assistance of the men. They
found Cahone still living, took him in,
and sent him to Omaha, where the
arrows were extracted and his wounds
dressed. It was not believed lie could
recover, hut lie did, and regained ex¬
cellent health.
I often saw him afterward on the
Union Pacific Railroad, where he had
been advanced to passenger conductor,
and one day lie showed me his head.
It was not a pleasant sight, but ho said
it did not hurt him in the least. He
wore a wig, and seldom took off liis
hat, which entirely covered up his
wounds. He was a handsome young
fellow, and was only twenty-five years
old when he was scalped. He had
served in a Pennsylvania regiment
during the Civil War.
Many years ago, when 1 was at
Fort Buford, the Indians at Fort
Berthold, just above Buford, had an
old Indian who had been scalped by
the Sioux, liis head was entirely
skinned down to the ears. He was
kept in a lodge by himself and seldom
came out, nor did the Indians like to
have any one go and see him. They
considered it a great disgrace that one
of their tribe should have been scalped.
I have been told that the Crows, at one
time, had several houses which they
called “the scalped men’s houses,” and
in them lived Indians of the Crow
tribe who had been scalped in wars
with the Sioux.
That scalping is not necessarily fatal
is proved by the case of Mrs. Jane
Johns. This woman was scalped, in
Florida, by Indians, and survived.
The physician who attended her re¬
ported :
“I measured the extent of the skull
divested of its natural covering, and
found it nine and one-half inches from
above one car to the ear on the oppo¬
site side of the head. Only a few
hairs had been left above the forehead
and at the hack of the neck.”
This was certainly a had case of
scalping, still the woman lived to a
good old age. From this it will ap¬
pear that, whib being scalped by an
Indian is a decidedly unpleasant op¬
eration, it is not necessarily fatal; aud
that, while Indians scalp their enemies,
they do not do it for the sake of cru¬
elty, but to prove to their people that
Vol. X. New Series.
is the Indians' road to the Happy
Hunting-Grounds, and all who die in
battle go there immediately, riding on
their ponies, which the Indians kill to
accompany them on their journey.
----—
The Conductor Did Not Understand.
It is a custom on some street rail¬
ways to give annual passes, which are
numbered, These passes are not
necessarily shown each time a man
rides on the cars of that line, but each
one hears a number, and when asked
for his fare, the holder of the pass
calls out the number of his pass.
Not long since the holder of pass
No. 13 on one of the Seattle lines got
on a car, accompanied by two ladies,
for whom he must, of course, pay
fare. It happened that the conductor
was a new man and not acquainted
with the pass system.
The conductor entered the car in
quest of fares, and the first person he
approached was the holder of the
pass.
The gentleman handed him a dollar
(o take the ladies’ fares from, at the
same time remarking distinctly “Thir¬
teen.”
The conductor took the dollar aud
then began ringing the boll of the
register. “Ding, ding, ding, (ling,
ding, ding, ding, ding,” went the
hell.
“Here, here,” broke in the passen
ger, “What in thunder are you trying
to do!”
“Didn’t you say that you wanted to
pay for thirteen?”
“No, you double-breasted lunkhead!
I hold pass No. 13, and want to pay
for two ladies!”
“Oil,” exclaimed the conductor,
mildly, “why didn't you say so be¬
fore!”
Then the bell-puller gave the passen¬
ger hack liis change and inwardly de¬
termined to get even on the first small
hoy that attempted to steal a ride
—[Seattle (Wash.) Press.
Fate of Old Wooden Ships.
A man stepped into one of the old
shipping offices on Front street the
other day to have a look at the Mari¬
time Register. An old sea captain
who hail been reading it remarked as
the visitor laid the sheet aside, after
an apparently fruitless inspection;
“Don’t find what you were looking
for, eh ?”
“No,” was the answer; “I was
looking for the B —, but she isn’t
listed in this number.”
“Old ship?” «
ago. < *'i) CS * ^ sailed in her twenty years
“Oh, well, then she belongs to the
Germans by this time.”
“How’s that?”
“Well the Germans don’t build
ships, leastwise wooden ones, so much
as some other people do. They buy
second-hand ships, aud they do most
of their buying in America. The
German merchants operate on smaller
capital than ours, and thoy can’t or
won’t put as much money into timber
as they do here. They have a sharp
eye for bargains, too, let tell *
mo you,
and when they find a tub that’s some
wise slow or leaky, hut presentable
and cheap, they buy her, copper-bot¬
tom her, and start her on her travels
again. There’s lots of American-built
ships flying the Dutchman’s flag at our
wharves. Some Norwegians buy ’em
too, but it’s mostly Germans that get b
’em.”
This throws a light on the old ships,
but the pins, pianos and sewing ma
chines are still to be accounted for.
—[Maritime Register.
Not Signed by tho Bank President.'
The cleric of a well-known New
York hotel proved a day or two ago
that he possesses a sharp, quick eye.
A young business man from the West
handed him a $100 bill in payment of
a small amount. “I cannot accept
this,” replied the clerk to the aston¬
ished young man, who had taken the
note from a large roll of bills received
from a bank in his native town. “It
is not signed by the president of the
bank.” Investigation proved this
statement true. The note was issued
by one of the national banks of Stock
ton, Cal. It was signed by the cashier
of the bank, hut the space reserved f ot
the signature of the president was
blank. The note boro evidence of
use, and perhaps had been in circula¬
for a number of years.—-[Chicago
Times.
A"; the A !- Child ’>'i'iuiHH| of U ■|§§|
o.
A M tin 1 o( bi’.'n , n
Aii (In il w imls on riirth togetbei^B m 'lHfl
A sweet souuds
Sweeter Hand of far harper, than all tilings of birdX ln^B
tone
Sounds W '■ilue.r of woods at sundowjJH .nie^Ejij"!
water's \\ i.
Wind in warm, warm
II' arliid is. .sHH <^k <
. r 1 v
t stl
lb ."■! • : I..-I1 bene i:b I
Ih'i ■ ! in ilea-.. II S.e.'iH3M£|j
S' It and Aron::, and
Very round and very II V
Ht ard from morning’s
Where the soul of all delily laugher.. 1
Fills a child's clear '
Golden bells of welcome rolled \J
Never forth such notes, nor toltf !
.Hours so blithe in tones so bold n:
As the radiant \
mouth of gold,
Here that rings forth heaven.
If the golden breasted wren j
Were a nightingale—why then,! qfl
Something seen and heard wlieiB of
Might he half as sweet as
Laughs a child of seven. 1
— [Algernon C. SwiJ
HUMOROUS, .
A joint concern—A ski,
Always struck on
Matches. I
A house divided j -j
not stand the ren[)9fl
Railroad mi iti^H l
in keeping track
In regattas
first In nunc
It
be nniln l' d M|j§j||l|§ jjj|jP |l
There is u
sip. II is a!J
An opMM -Jj
jnn| limflM
W
brll-roi^W fa,.5IWr
cord.
It is a question which is tn^
helpless, a baby or tho man \
trying to hold it.
“We have one hentrances au -r
e n£ s its” is the way an English poultry
dealer quoted it.
A diamond merchant may speak ol
his goods being of the purest water
hut tho milkman may not.
“Mamma, let me hold the baby, will
you?” “No, dear; mother is afraid
you might let him fall on Fido.”
Johnny, you little dunce, no l Of
course a hen doesn’t make a goose of
herself if she sets on duck’s eggs.
A rabbit was among the prizes of¬
fered in a Western athletic contest.
The man who won it took the bun.
Tom—“We can never marry. There
is a chasm that keeps us apart.” Jack
—“What is it?” Torn—“Her sar
casm.”
“I’ve time but for a lino,” wrote
tho Arizona horse-thief to his parents. *
And in five minutes the line was
stretched.
It is a sign that her husband is mak¬
ing money when a woman begins to
get the look on her face of looking at
yon without seeing you.
Weeks—“How does this weather
agree with you, Wentman?” Went
man—“It doesn’t. I find it cheaper
to agree with the weather.”
Yeast—“Do you quarrel with your
neighbor yet about his hen coming
over in your garden?” Crimsonbeak—
“No, we’re all over that now.” “Bur¬
ied tlie hatchet?” “No, butte; *t9ff
Ifii'icd the hen.” * Jr
“Oh, no; let’s not go!” exclaimed
the little boy as his nurse proposed go¬
on board a yacht, and then tho
burst into tsars. “Why,
Willie, what in the world is tho that
tor?” “I justli-h-heard one m-m-maq
tell another to set the s-s-spanker.”
How liappy is the thrifty man,
What peace attends his soul, J
Who ip the Winter lays in Ice,
And iu the Summer coal.
Woman’s Home Duties. [ 'v.
The man who considers that
the duties political of work a woman of are inferior
a man must be
a bachelor or blind. The very
qualities of the heart an# in*
may be exercised by a mother,
or an elder daughter, in watch
over tho physical, mental and
growth of the children in her
Ileroi* patience and vigilance
never tires, an adaptation of
to the end, a caref ni study of
traits, and a keen psycho¬
insight, may find ample room
exercise within the four walls
humble home.
*
