The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, August 21, 1875, Image 2

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9 rami “It is a request (why not say command?) from the Duke that you, Amalia, accompany these men to the palace, and at once,” said Paulo, when he had finished reading the note. “Oh, I am lost!” cried Amalia, in great agita tion. “Speak to me, dear Paulo,—what shall I do?” “ Refuse to go before morning, my cousin. I will strike the first man who dares to come near you !” And drawing a slight poignard from his belt, Paulo stood defiantly beside his cousin. “Have a care, Master Paulo!” exclaimed he who seemed to be the leader. “ You are rebel ling against your father’s commands; and if we were to repeat your hasty words, it would be the worse for you. Come, lady; we were com manded not to waste a minute, and we have wasted ten.” “Oh, if he would but return!” cried the mother of Amalia, supporting the daughter in her arms. “Are you looking for the return of the gallant who but just now left you?” asked the man, starting forward. “If you are looking for him, we must make haste, or we may have to silence him, and the Duke commanded that no blood be shed. Stand aside, Master Paulo; we must have the lady.” “If you so much as touch her, I will kill you !” exclaimed Paulo, straightening his slen der figure and looking defiantly at his oppo nent. “Be reasonable, Master Paulo!” exclaimed the Duke’s messenger. “You know that resistance is useless; your cousin must go with us.” “I know that; but she must wait here until, morning. I will not suffer her to leave the house' at midnight,” answered Paulo. “Oh ! you shall go wftli her, Master Paulo— and her mother, the Lady Annina, also—to see that no harm befall her.” With a wave of his hand, the messenger com manded one of his men to seize Paulo, and it was done, though not until the boy’s ready wea pon had been freely stained with blood. ‘ ‘ Thank you, Master Paulo, ” said the wounded man, pressing Amalia’s handkerchief, which he had picked up from the floor, on his wound. “The Duke commanded that no blood be shed, and you have chosen to disobey him. You are so ready with that blade of yours, that I am sure his Highness will pardon me for tying your hands—if he ever finds it out.” “Good Litro, I am sorry for your hurt,” an swered Paulo; “but I was determined to defend my cousin.” “We will waste no more time,” interrupted the leader, impatiently. “Litro, take charge of Master Paulo; I will keep the Lady Amalia, and do you others bring her mother. ” * * * * * * As Tlieodoric entered the villa, the Duke’s messenger with his prisoners reached the pal ace. They were instantly conducted to the Duke’s presence. (TO BE CONTINUED.) [For The Sunny South.] MV GIFT. BY HENKY C. MANER. Why need I distant climes to roam In search of spirits that will love me ? Why need I care for marble dome, §o long as Nature s sky's above me? It little recks where I may be— * On land or on the swelling foam— So long as Nature grants to me * The freedom of her boundless home. As well upon the stormy flood Have I her endless love enjoyed, Aa in the deep, seductive wood Where elfin chants my soul decoyed. As well upon the mountain height, In all the blaze of radiant day; As 'mid the vestal worlds of night, - I trace the footsteps of her way. The childish brook that bubbling sings Unto the listening flower, To me as much of Nature brings As does the ocean’s power. Why need I sigh for marble dome, Or seek for sunnier climes, When Nature grants my forest home Amid her woodland chimes ?— Where from her bower the anthem swells Through congregated trees, Adown the aisles of sombre dells, In breathing symphonies; Or where the tiny, helpless brook Seeks out its mother sea,— A painting sketched in Nature’s book Of immortality— An offering purer in its thought Than diamonds in Golconda’s mine, Or Scandinavian maiden brought To cold Valhalla's shrine. [For The Sunny South.] A Ride for Life, or a Woman’s Escape. . AS DEBATED BY HERSELF. Ugh ! here she comes now !” and he beat a hasty I retreat. They were corresponding regularly now. Weir did his utmost to make his letters interesting; and his reader must have thought that John Lord was a very talented, agreeable and noble My father was an early settler of Northern type of a man. He wrote as he had never talked Georgia. At the time of the incident which I to any woman. In his hands, John Lord became am about to relate, the inhabitants of that sec- such a character as he knew that he himself ! tion were few and widely scattered. In one di- could be—nav, such a character as he himself rection, our nearest neighbors were ten miles was conscious of being in his inmost soul. Un- distant. Having occasion to visit their settle- fettered by conventionality, hidden by the vail ment, I rode over one afternoon and tarried over of obscurity, he felt free to write as his heart nigl^t, intending to return home early next; morn- I prompted. Minnie’s letters were full of graceful ing. Soon after the dawn of the succeeding day, thought and delicate feeling. They revealed having partaken of a repast hastily prepared. I her character to him in a new light. Though set out unattended on my journey homeward, he had suspected that there was an under-cur- The road, which had as yet been but roughly rent in her nature, he was not prepared for the marked out, lay through a dense forest of chest- womanly maturity of heart, nor the depth of nut and oak. interspersed with hickory, maple genuine sentiment and practical “common and pins. Not a single habitation nor a trace of sense ” which breathed from her pages. If he human hands, other than the fallen trees, broke loved her before, she was dearer than ever to its monotony. A feeKng of loneliness involun- him now, and he grew desperate at the thought tarily stole over me as I entered upon this soli- , of being unable to win her. Every successive tary way, but it was soon dispelled by the en- | letter was a source of pleasure and misery to chanting scene through which I passed, and the 1 him. Ah! if they were only intended for him, * impressions of which were heightened by its j and not a nonenitv ! Evidently, she loved this , very solitude. John Lord. She confided in him, she trusted It was one of those beautiful May mornings, him, as no woman can trust a man to whom she when nature seems to put on her sweetest smile, is indifferent. She did not attempt to conceal As the sun, lighting up the heavens with glory, i her admiration of him, nor the enjoyment she slowly rose above the wooded hills, not far dis- felt in receiving and sending communications, tant in the east, and poured in floods his golden Weir usually brought the mail from the office, beams where the trees shot up their majestic j and he observed that John Lord’s letters were 1 trunks and lifted high their umbrageous boughs, invariably welcomed by Minnie with a pleased I thought I had never seen him make his ascent look and a rosy blush. On one occasion, as she more imposing and magnificent. The squirrels i was returning from one of her daily rambles, : were chattering among the leaves and the birds she dropped a letter in passing him. He stooped ; made the wood vocal with their happy lays, j and picked it up, recognizing it as one that he while the air was scented with the perfumes of had written. He called her and gave it to her, fresh foliage and wild flowers, which everywhere looking at her inquiringly, almost sternly. She bloomed in profusion. The appearance of an | thanked him, and blushing deeply, snatched it unbroken forest is at all times grand and im- from his hand and hurried away. • In short, pressive—especially is it so when viewed at sun- : everything tended to make him conclude that rise, in all its glistening freshness and shadowy ! she had surrendered her heart to John Lord. ! beauty. [For The Sunny South.] . JEALOUS OF HIMSELF. j He hardly ever spoke to her now, only recog nizing her by a cold bow when they met. She too seemed changed, for she never sought him now to quarrel with him. What a fool he had ! been! Here was a girl whom he perhaps could Absorbed in contemplation, I heeded not the flight of time, and ere I was aware, found that I had left near half the distance behind. I was then approaching a long stretch of swamp land, where the road on either side was hedged by a BY KENNETH Q. Saul Weir was considered by his acquaintances a grave, retiring, studious man, and they would have been very much surprised had they known the character of his thoughts this summer after noon, as he lounged with his friend, Ned Bar- PARAGRAPHIC. Surely, it was a fearful responsibility he must answer for. How could he ever face that once blithe, light-hearted girl and tell her that hers ton, on Mrs. Hurd’s shady lawn. For some time , was an idol of clay ?—that her dream was but a he had been evidently engaged in meditation. ; fata morgana ? How dare he tell her that the At last he broke the silence. j man to whom she had given her love was he “Ned, I have an idea.” 1 whom forweeks she had shunned and disliked? “Keep it, then, if it’s one of your learned i Why had he not-stopped ere it was too late? have won had he acted like a sane man. But '■ thick bramble and tangled brush-wood, and instead, he had yielded to a romantic whim— where the giant beech and elm interlocked their had resorted to unfair means to find out her gnarled branches high above the undergrowth opinion of himself and to become better ac- that crouched at their feet. The place was pecu- quainted with her nature. He had not only de- ; liarly dark and dreary. feated his own hopes by this course, but must j Inured to frontier life, I was by no means some time be the means of blighting her life, cowardly; but as I penetrated this gloomy path, A defective memory overlooks a multitude of sins. Mosquitoes must be happy, for they always sing while at work. Perkins says a long yarn from the pulpit has a sympathetic effect in provoking long yawns in the congregation. The doryphora decern lineata is all around us. The reader needn’t pack up for Europe—it is only the potato bug. Whether a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush depends much upon the nature of the bird—for instance, a buzzard. A landlord, having let all his houses but one, was asked if that unlet house was his last. “Yes,” last but not leased,” was his reply. The latest agony in stationery is “Beecher note paper.” It has a “ragged edge,” and what ever is written on it means something else. Being asked what made him so dirty, an un washed street Arab’s reply was: “I was made, as they tell me, of dust, and I suppose it works out.” Mark Twain is accused of removing the cush ion in his church pew at Hartford, and putting it into a seat he has purchased on the base ball grounds. A cat and kittens were recently found inside the organ of the M. E. Church at Tuckerton. Not being recognized members of the choir, they were summarily dismissed. He told the girls that he had a rare specimen of the blatta orieidalis which he wished to show them, and they nearly fainted when he let loose a gigantic cockroach. An old tcper has been very sick, he having accidentally swallowed a glass of water, mistak ing it for gin. He ought to have been more careful of his diet this hot weather. Some ingenious observer has discovered that there is a remarkable resemblance between a baby and wheat, since it is cradled, then thrashed, and finally becomes the flower of the family. Tom Hood is now accused of being a crema- tionist, because he said, shortly before his death, that “he was dying out of charity to the under taker, who wished to urn a lively-Hood.” A citizen of Springfield, Ohio, came very near j tains, having to pay several fines for profane swearing, a short time after Ned’s departure, Weir when to the census-taker s reiterated inquiries : wrote a note to Miss Minnie, signed his name tU !! S „ surname ' vou hl only reply, “John ■ “John Lord,” enclosed it in another envelope and Begod. directed it to Ned at Baltimore. A few days A Nevada sheriff, among his items of charges afterward, he had the satisfaction of seeing Min- for executing a criminal, presented one for the nie receive it, and the suspense of seeing her re hire of the rope. Truly in this case may it be tire to her room to read it. In a week, he re said, “ Westward the course of hemp-hire holds ceived a reply, a portion of which he read aloud its sway.” ! with many misgivings. The slats fell out of a bed that held a two hun- “Of course, Mr. Lord,” she wrote, speculations.’ ‘ ‘ I like your cousin. ” “Who doesn’t?” “But she detests me.” “Pshaw ! she likes you well enough.” “ I think not.” “ What are you going to do about it?” yawned Ned. “Try strategy, if you will give me a little as sistance.” “Assistance? All right; but I’ve damned you with praise already. What now ?” “When do you return to Baltimore?” ‘ ‘ To-morrow night. ” “And your cousin remains here till autumn?” “Yes.” “Good. Now listen. I want to correspond with her over an assumed name. I will write the letters here, send them to you to be dated at Baltimore and returned to her at this place. You can send a note of your own with my first letter, introducing me as Mr. John Lord, a very dear friend of yours, and a perfect gentleman, who wishes to cultivate her acquaintance through a correspondence. I think if you will use your influence, she will consent to the arrangement. Will you do it?” “Whew! Who would have supposed Saul Weir, A. M., capable of such a thing ! Well, Mr. John Lord, if you will give your word that you will act honorably in this affair, I will do as you wish. ” “Oh! certainly. I will leave the letters for you to seal. You are at liberty to read them if you care to do so.” “Very well; I will do all I can for you, though I confess I cannot see your object.” This conversation took place at a farm-house in the mountains of Virginia, where a few sum mer boarders were at that time stopping. Saul Weir and his old college chum, Ned Barton, had met there by appointment, the latter bringing with him his cousin Minnie. Saul, who had been much fonder of his books than of ladies’ society, suddenly found a peculiar charm in his friend’s wayward, girlish cousin; while that young lady took particular delight in teasing and provoking “old Diogenes,” as she called him when his back was turned. Many were the word-battles between them; but Minnie was always victorious, driving her enemy up-stairs or off to the woods, “to find a little peace,” he would grumble. Ned’s business soon called him back to Baltimore; but as it was then in the middle of summer, lie decided to leave his cousin, who was also his ward, in the moun- Why had he not broken from the powerful fas cination which the correspondence possessed over him ? He had created with his own hands a rival which he was conscious was winning his all—a phantom of the brain which, like the phoenix, must cost its author his life. Day by day he had knowingly created a maelstrom which was drawing his darling swiftly from him to her own destruction. He was constantly racked by such thoughts as these. The sight of the merry or demure face of Minnie goaded him painfully. He could en dure it no longer. He resolved to act the part of a man by confessing his deception immedi ately, and for that purpose sought her one after noon in September. He found her in a secluded summer-house, engaged with her needle. Stop ping in the eDtrtyj^e, he asked: “May I come in, Miss Minnie?” She glanced up with a surprised but not dis pleased look. Nodding affirmatively, she made room for him by her side, laughing: “What will happen now, I wonder? It is very unusual for you to waste your time in this way, Mr. Weir. ” “Would that I had spent in this way all the time I have wasted disgracefully in another,” he said gloomily. She looked puzzled, but did not reply. “How have you enjoyed your summer in the mountains?” he asked. “ Very well indeed. I ” “You have ?” he interrupted suddenly; “why, I thought—oh! yes, I remember now;” and he stopped in confusion. “I have been very happy here, and sometimes sigh because I must soon leave.” “Miss Minnie, I wish I had never seen you !” abruptly. “Dear me ! you are very candid.” “You, too, will soon regret the day we ever met.” “Mr. Weir, why are you so disagreeable?” “Miss Minnie, suppose some one were to do you a great wrong ?” “Please let’s don’t suppose such things.” “A very, very great wrong?” “ Oh ! I should forgive him, I hope.” “ Could you, Minnie?” He had arisen, his attitude expressing intense earnestness. “Mr. Weir, what is the matter?” “ Minnie, I’m a hypocrite. I’ve deceived you !” he exclaimed passionately. “ I do not ask your forgiveness; but oh ! darling, I was mad. It was I who wrote the letters—lam John Lord.” Her eyes were downcast, her face radiant with blushes. She looked up and said softly: “ And I have known it all the time, Mr. Weir.” ‘ ‘ What! Minnie ! Minnie ! Can you mean it ? Is it true you do not dislike me ?” A shy smile was his answer. Then there were long explanations. She was surprised that her “ John” could think she would write to a stran ger. Cousin Ned had told her all about it before he left. I felt a shudder run over me. However, I quickly regained my spirits and fell again into my dreamy musings. They were suddenly broken by a slight rustling in the cane. I ut tered a shrill whistle, thinking to see an affright ed deer try its nimble limbs in a precipitate flight; but what was my terror when I beheld the form of a large panther, as it leaped upon the stem of a bended tree, and with his keen eye glared at me fiercely. At the same instant he sprang forward into the air. The blood seemed to curdle in my veins; in imagination, I felt my flesh torn by his fangs. But my horse had also caught sight of the danger, and made an instant bound. The air stirred my loosened hair as the panther brushed behind me, only to strike the ground beyond instead of his intended prey.- But he was not to be so easily baffled. Finding himself thus disap pointed, he uttered a scream and gave imme diate chase. In my horse was now my only hope of escape. I knew him to be sure-footed and fleet, and thought if I could pass out of the panther’s im mediate reach, that I would be safe, feeling sure he would not continue the pursuit to a great distance from his accustomed haunts. So I gave the reins to the noble animal, and urged him to the utmost. Nor did he deceive my expecta tions. In a very few minutes, he had borne me more than a mile from the first scene of danger; but to my utter dismay, the panther was still in hot pursuit. Already he was only a few steps in the rear, and evidently gaining ground. A moment later, I heard his grating claws as he leaped upon a tree beside me, and turning has tily, I again met his fiery glance and saw his distended jaws, set with deadly fangs, as from his elevated position he descended upon me. With thoughts and feelings unutterable, I in stinctively fell prone upon my horse’s neck, and at the same instant the panther passed above me, with a low, sullen growl of rage, seeing he had again failed of his aim. But as soon as he had recovered from’his unexpected fall, here- turned to the chase with ferocious persistence. Twice already had my good horse borne me narrowly from the grasp of death; but now I saw that I must have recourse to other means, or I was lost. I bethought myself of all I had ever heard or read, but to no purpose. In my distraction, I could fall upon no plan to elude the ferocious beast. Another leap and he would be upon me. Life or death was the issue of the moment. Still, every nerve seemed paralyzed and thought impossible. But in this last extrem ity, sudden as the lightning’s flash, an idea gleamed upon my beclouded mind, and instantly loosening my shawl, I cast it to the ground. To my infinite joy, I beheld my blood-thirsty pur suer check his impetuous course and seize the garment in his fury. One moment he paused to rend it in pieces in his disappointment, and before he had accomplished this, I had gained considerable advantage, and was speeding home ward. But on he came again, more furious than before. I was now in sight of home. In vain I endeavored to cry for aid; my tongue cleaved to my mouth. With eyes fixed and muscles knit, I now bent every energy to outstrip mj r relentless foe in this desperate contest. My horse, too, seemed to catch my spirit, and under the inspiration of renewed zeal, appeared to gain [For The Sunny South.] Let Us be Proud of Ourselves. BY DEAN ASHLEY. With a cosmopolitan interest in every other country-, our most active hopes and sympathies centre naturally in our own. Our beautiful Southland !—we have reason to be proud of it. Nature has dowered it richly.—given it a balmy climate, prolific soil, diversified loveliness of scenery—grand mountains, beautiful lakes and noble rivers. There is no reason under the sun why we should not build up a glorious nation ality upon such a foundation,—why we should not have an original and independent literature, a system of manufacture and industrial enter prise, an efficient school system, and more than all, a countless number of happy and prosper ous homes. These, with energy and progressive zeal, the South can have. Let her people culti vate their soil with economic skill, adopt labor- saving implements, beautify their homes, sup port their own papers, patronize their own man ufactures, and get rid of their slavish depend ence upon foreign industry and foreign litera ture. It shows a want of back-bone for a tree people to ape another nation. This mania has intruded itself into our social and literary life. We find almost every piece we attempt to read thickly interspersed with foreign words. A good old maxim says, “When you are in Rome, do as the Romans do.” Then, let us have English in America. It is an erroneous idea that we cannot be polished and refined at home—that foreign words and objects are more compatible than those of our own native land. Let the Southern people have schools and col leges of their own, and educate their children at home. And while they are training them mentally, they should not be neglected morally and physically. The old folks know that work often keeps boys away from dissipations fostered by idleness, and adds strength and grace to the more delicate forms of the girls. Give the va cant situations to our home folks; patronize Southern literature. Let the boys and girls teach in the schools and colleges where they have been instructed; many of them are com petent, and stars at home should not be eclipsed by dimmer lights from abroad. Many of the South’s noblest men sleep upon grassy battle fields, and many a heart-broken wife and mother, purest of women, lie in church-yards; but we have still a pure and intelligent people, and it is their duty, while encouraging peace and good will, to stand by themselves, support an inde pendent literature, honor their own prophets, and build up manufactures, schools and beauti ful homes upon their own soil. ABOUT WOMEN. Miss Helen M. Ely appears as the first girl graduate of Minnessota University with the an- amolous degree of “Bachelor” of Arts. Victor Hugo says that woman is the conun drum of the nineteenth century. We may not be able to guess her, but we won’t give her up. “It’s generally the case with bad boys,” phil osophically remarks Miss Anthony, “that they look like their mother and act like their father.’, They have a female barber in Brooklyn. She is seventeen, soft handed, sweet of breath, pretty, plump and graceful, and, what is better than all, deaf and dumb! It is said that nothing will cure a poet’s affec tion for his idol sooner than to catch her at the dinner table excavating the kernel of a hickory- nut with a hair-pin. “ I wonder if it's sea-sickness that makes sail ors always a heaving up anchors!” exclaimed Aunt Hepzibah, as she looked thoughtfully up from her morning paper. A German countess is engaged in collecting all the poems written in every language in honor of the rose, and old paper dealers anticipate a brisk trade in a few months. This world would be a sandy desert of lone someness if women were not privileged to attend auction sales and pay more for an old bureau than a new chamber sett would cost. The following conundrum gained the first prize at a charity ball: Why is a lady at our ball like an arrow ? Because she can’t go off without a beau, and is in a quiver till she gets one. “ We were married just one month ago to-day. We went to Bawston and New Yawk, and ever so many places, and had a perfectly gawgeous time. New Yawk’s just lovely!”—Returned Chicago bride. Most of the European ladies at Bangkok, Siam, have signed a petition to the king praying for the abrogation of the law which allows a man to pawn his wife in payment of a debt contracted by gambling. A Boston girl, just one month married, upon meeting an old school-mate in the street, put on 4 a very wise look and remarked: “You cannot im agine the labor and anxiety incident to the care of a family. ” Miss Clara Louise Kellogg bagged $40,000 during the last season. Has no incumbrance but a mother, who hangs on to her darling daughter with wonderful tenacity. Who wants a mother-in-law ? I accept your kind offer with thanks. How could I do otherwise, when my cousin and guardian, in whom I place implicit confidence, speaks so highly in your favor ? I am sure that in reading , , T , r . . i fresh strength. His clattering hoofs scarcely And I Minnie, saul Saul “was jealous of t(racHn th e e S0U nding earth, he dashed through • Se “‘ 1 could have throttled ‘John Lord. my fatker > 8 uninc losed yard, nor checked his +*+ speed till he stood before the house. But ere he Salvini. j paused, I had sprung to the ground and dashed ’ through the open door of the cabin. As I left Rosso, though younger than Salvini, has not : the saddle, the exasperated panther leaped into dred pound drummer at one of our hotels the other night, and caused him to run to the win dow and shout “Police, police !” thinking it was an earthquake. ... _ Statistics show that the average longevity of an t danSWeri “ gy °^ r w tter t’M Sha11 finda ^ IeaS ' 1 .- a , - - lawyers is greater than that nf rGW ni JL. I ant manner ln which to while away many long, his fire of genius nor the power of losing himself mT place, and missing his aim at me, turned sion or class They have more sins to renent of dul1 hours thls summ er, and gain a valued in the character he personates. Sometimes, as upon the horse, burying teeth and claws in his than Other iiennle J eonsennenti^ f rlend besides. You have no idea how exceed- ! with all true actors, this faculty takes possession neck. The affrighted beast reared and plunged time and it is kind and thouuhtfii? in Prnvi. lngly stQ P id 11 is here - dear ! I really of Salvini more completely than is pleasant or safe frantically, striving in vain to dislodge his un- dence to indulge them D d ? n ^ know what I shall do. I think it was pos- to the actors who take part with him. He him- welcome burden. But soon the dogs caught the , „ B ‘ , „ , . itively mean in cousin Ned to bury me alive self tells an amusing incident illustrative of this, alarm and came to his rescue. At their approach, A Scotchman went to a lawyer once for advice, i here in these old hills, where no Aladdin would j He says: i the panther, releasing his hold upon the horse and detailed the circumstances of the case, ever think of coming. How I sigh for the ‘olden “ I was in Paris and had an overflowing audi- and springing into a large oak which grew in “Have you told me the facts precisely as they days and golden,’ when gallant knights periled | ence, half of whom were English. I wished to ■ the yard, crouched on a declining limb, ready occurred, asked the lawyer. “Oh! aye, sir!” j life and limb to rescue just such unfortunate ; make a decided impression—to triumph. The ; for the conflict; whence, at the report of my replied he. “I thought it best to tell you the maidens as I. True, we have several boarders, play was ‘Othello.' logo should drop upon brother’s rifle, I saw his huge form fall prostrate truth, le can put the lies into it your- but all are married and grumpy except two, and one knee in such a way as to be able to fall en- upon the ground. Selt ’ _ 1 one of these is grumpy also—yes, grumpier than tirely a moment later. The poor fellow who Thus I was snatched from death, and thus the The average American boy "will make a great the married folks. His name is Saul—a hideous took the part of Iago was unaccustomed to act community was freed from a dreadful pest. Ever fuss and complain bitterly that it will spoil his name, isn’t it? He is an incorrigible old griz- with me, became frightened by my vehemence 1 afterward, did I regard my horse as a faithful clothes, if asked to bring in an armful of wood My— a musty book-worm, who never comes out and forgot to kneel properly, and so could not friend, to whom I was indebted for my preser- for his mother; but give him a gun, and he will to sun himself without annoying everybody near. fall. I told him in a low tone to fall; I repeated 1 vation; and never did I pass that road again crawl half a mile on his stomach, through a ditch He has one admirer, however,—our other'single ; it; still he remained unmoved; I was furious, without trembling at the thought of that fearful with four inches of water in it, to get a shot at boarder—a dear, sweet old maid, thin and thirty, With all those English in the house, fall lie must, ride for life. some ducks. “ Please, sir,” said a boy with two bottles, to a grocer, “mother wants a cent’s worth of your best yeast.” “ Well, which bottle will vou have it in?” “Please, sir, she wants it in both; and won’t you put corks in ’em and send ’em home, as I’m going t’other way? And mother says she hain’t got no cent, but you must charge it.” it is true, but one who never finds fault with any one—not even Saul. I think he is beginning to appreciate this fact and to recognize her worth (she has a handsome fortune exclusive of her sweet self.) Oh! what a splendid match it would be! I know I shall be bridesmaid, and I caught hold of him, lifted him, and threw him down with such violence that he bounded. When I saw him bound, I was filled with terror. I leaned over him and said: ‘Mon ami, are you hurt? He answered, in a feeble, gasping voice, I can’t rise; you must lift me.’ it is quite probable that matters can be manipu- j his hand with a grip of iron; he placed his foot lated in such a way that you can come down and j against my knee, and in a moment the thing A good deed never goes unrewarded. A young lady in Brooklyn, who recently abandoned the use of chewing-gum, has been mentioned in a fashion journal as a “beautiful creature with I took hold of blonde hair and a scarlet imagination.” Quin, the actor, being asked by a lady why T-i«... 7“ V . act as groomsman, should you care to do so. was done. I seemed to hurl him in scorn across there were more women in the world than men, AMowa paper tells of a champion httie baby Wouldn’t that be nice ?” tins time, to,i ^ — —— -ii —i f - .. , . . ^ ..uuiuii l moi uc men! : the stage. It had the effect of almost superhu- 1 replied: ante Rani, tn two ,’f s P aJ l that^its par- “Humph!” muttered Weir; “I'm grumpy, man strength. The house rang with applause, _ if Hip nrai'tiVo nf P lpe ' s em ’ J\5^’ am and an °^ d grizzly ? and musty book- and from that night I adopted that style. Poor ill r -iii frii n£i. -fan, for, 8 8rown-up babies worm ? But you won't have an opportunity of logo's back was almost crushed, and for some niwiTc i»ii IrTiiinaV'n ten-foot jps-pipe, h a d attending my wedding with this precious John time he was confined to his bed.” • t j,:: q\- Tvst f 6 caed of yours. Miss Minnie. Seems to me she is “Poor Iago ’’might well exclaim, as did the mn nn to.irc sn mi^w ' rchiefs for sop- rather familiar with this John Lord, whom she pelted frog in the fable: “That sort of thing at breakfast. ^ g P do now * has never seen nor even heard of till a week ago. may be fun to you, but it is death to me!” ain’t I?” It is in conformitv with the other ar- A mother and father are trying to force their daughter to marry. Daughter (loquitur): ‘ ‘There are many reasons why I won’t marry him. In the first place, he’s too hideous and stupid ! ” Mother (with dignity): “Stephanie, did I not marry your father ?” A Nebraska woman has papered her cabin in side with the reports of the Beecher trial, and she makes washing day shorter, and causes time to fly while at her knitting, by perusing the cheerful pages on the wall. By industry and perseverance, a woman can make a quilt from 21,963 pieces. Such a thing has been done in Georgia, after years of labor, and the quilt is as good in all respects as one made from one piece in a single day. Athletic sports for the ladies: Jumping at conclusions; walking round a subject; running through a novel; skipping full descriptions’; throwing the hatchet; and, during the holidays, boxing the ears of troublesome young brothers. An old lady in New York particularly desired that a certain cushion on which she sat in church should be buried with her, but as there was a difficulty in getting it into her coffin, it was pro posed to cut it, when several thousand dollars in greenbacks were found inside. Recently the local paper at Grass Valley said: “The prettiest girl in Grass Valley doesn’t carry herself straight enough when promenading. ” For a week after, all the Grass Valley girls stalked about like so many ramrods, and every girl said: “That horrid paper! Ma, don’t I walk straight ?” She had been sewing, and laid it down a chair with a long needle pointing heavenward, as it had got too dark to continue work. A caller was announced, who unfortunately sat down in thi« chair, and when she asked an explanation of his strange conduct, he explained that he had “only tried to grab a fire-fly off the ceiling.” M. D. Conway tells of a lady in one of the man ufacturing towns of Great Britain who recently had her attention attracted to the window of a rangements of nature—we always see more of milliner s shop by a beautiful and very express- heaven than of earth.” ' v e French bonnet, and she inquired the price. 1 She was told it was sold. “Oh ! I had no idea “Why, Jennie, you look good enough to eat,” j of buying such an expensive bonnet,” said the said a loving husband to his wife one morning lady; upon which the milliner said: “It is a ■ - ° Well, I'm eating as fast as I can, joint-stock bonnet—that is, it belongs to three factory girls, who wear it by turns on Sunday.”