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