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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. *