About The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 6, 1875)
pants of the room; and a general rush was made for the spot. j “You knocked him down, eh?” inquired the Colonel, as he rushed back. “Well, the only way is to stand right up and fight it out. We’ve got six-shooters, and they hadn’t better bear too j heavily on us! ” The fellow who had been knocked down rose up after a moment, and then every voice was hushed. _ _ “You will give me satisfaction for this?” he inquired of Walter, shaking with rage as one trembles with the ague. “I will!” responded the young man. A murmur of applause ran around the room. The lights in the front part of the cafe were ex tinguished, the doors locked, and the crowd drew the tables back against the wall to make a clear field. “Boy, do you understand fighting with the sword ?” asked the Colonel, while these prepara tions were going on. “I never even had a sword in my hand,” was the answer. “ Well, then, this is my fight. They don’t use pistols in these little affairs, but settle them by thrusting a fellow through the body. I ve han dled the steel a few times, and yon just stand back and hold my hat and watch the splinters fly.” When it was explained to the crowd that the young man did not know how to use a rapier, and that the Colonel was to act as principal, they were just as well satisfied. A duel was what they wanted to see, and it was of little conse quence which American took the steel. A couple of rapiers were brought out. the Colonel removed his hat and coat, and then all was ready. “Get back behind me next to the wall,” he said to Walter, “and be ready for a rush. I’m going to kill that Frenchman in just a minute and a half, and when he goes down, the balance will make for us like a party of Pawnee Indians!” The crowd could not form a circle, as the Americans had backed to the rear end of the room to prevent such a scheme. The Colonel s opponent carried a smiling face as he nodded to his friends, seeming to think that he would win an easy victory. “Now then,” said the Colonel, stepping for ward, “ hang on to in}’ hat and look out for flying buttons!” (TO BE CONTINUED.) [For The Sunny South.] WHAT GYSSIK SAYS. BY LA GEOROIENNE. What’s old cow say ? Moo—oo! That is it—but sweeter, too; For did old Brownie's voice sound so. Then mocking-birds might learn to low. What's old rooster say ? Cuckoo—oo! Yes, my baby, that will do; Yet if it were only so, Then nightingales might learn to crow. What's old clock say ? Ting—ting! That is it—the very thing; But did it half so sweetly ring, Thus sister May might learn to sing All these sweet sounds, and more beside— A happy, merry-rippling tide Of little words, all sweet and clear!— Now, who so smart as Gussie dear? for liberty, the other for a nation's glory; and “My darling—my own !” came again the low, valiantly they fought. passionate murmur from the couch; and death When at last the Southern army withdrew sul- in pity seemed to have lent back some of the lenlv from the fatal field, it left behind it very strength it had been sapping. He drew her to- many of its noblest braves. At the farthest point ward him. A moment she hesitated and casta to which the last desperate charge had been pushed, even among the bodies of his fallen foes, had been found Colonel Allen, of the —— Vir ginia regiment. Unconscious from the loss of of twelve) tease their mama and “Auntie Bach to tell them when papa will come back. “Soon now, darling, mama hopes, and Annie hides her face in the golden locks ot her young est born, to conceal her rushing tears. She has not seen her husband for four years. Ihe days pass wearily on, when one day a one-armed^, one- [For The Sunny South.] A TALE OF GETTYSBURG. glance at the dress she wore. He understood the movement, and said: « “Yes, I know. For me and my sorrows yon , legged man, clad in rusty, tattered gra} * lm P s , g.u.c I.UWUMIUUS uuiu .wo.-, w. renounced the world. But, my darling, won’t slowly up the grand avenue where s a e y c.ir- | blood, he had been borne to a neighboring farm- you come to me in this supreme hour, to fill my riages were wont to roll. But now the grave e^ house, which served the purpose of a hospital, soul with one draught of joy ere I go hence ? Let walks are weed-grown, while the gates ang and there, after science had drawn upon her ut- me know that you are mine once more; it will loosely on their hinges. Fifteen years a 8° -- - ' not be for long.” - o'God, it is too much !” and the poor old AVhat plaintive pathos in the low, broken cripple sank down on a broken rustic bench, or tones that even now seemed to ring of the eter- thonght had overcome him. nal! Fifteen years ago to-day, he had ridden up The daylight went out and left them together— this avenue, to carry off the flower of Myrtle Hall the flowers, the soldier lay in troubled slumber. | she tightly clasped in his embrace, her cheek and crown her “wife.” Now, what had he The room was a small one, rather detached from against his own. The moonlight stole in through brought her? Gray hairs, poverty, and shat- the rest of the house, and had been assigned to the vines and kissed both brows with the same tered frame, while one leg and arm lay buried the wounded officer alone. A solitary watcher j kiss. in the soil of old Virginia, enriched with the sat beside him, and had watched with devoted Daylight came again and found them still to- blood of thousands of brave men. assiduity all the day. So quickly she noted the getlier—still in that close embrace; at least, their “O mamma, see! who is that old man out ! groan that betokened pain; so deftly and ten- bodies were. Perhaps they had together winged ' detly her hand performed the blessed offices of their flight out into the great unknown, her position; so full of pit}' her eye rested upon ... | most resources in his behalf, and skill exhausted all her labors, he awaited the coming of the end. I It was the evening after the battle. Upon a i couch by the open winilow, through which the i summer breeze came laden with the breath of BY JOHN HENRY. Dame Rumor had ascertained beyond a doubt that Harry Allen and Kate Walton were to be married in a month, and, what was very remark able, the usually captious old lady expressed her unqualified approval of the match. Harry was a young Virginian, who, a few years before, had settled in Baltimore to practice law. His had been the common lot of his fraternity; but his good habits and strict attention to such business as had happened to fall to him had shortened his term of probationary obscurity, and he was just now emerging from the common herd into a noticeable position at the bar. Kate was an orphan—a circumstance of itself sufficient to awaken interest; but when in addi tion to this, you learn that her parents had left behind them, with their infant, a very handsome fortune, you will not wonder, dear reader, at the anxious solicitude with which the old folk of the neighborhood—and young ones, too, <for that matter—watched the fortunes of our heroine. And yet, despite the kindly-meant but officious assistance which all the good dames thought it tlieir duty to render Mrs. Mavhew in the care of the poor, pinched features, over which crept the 1 shadow of the death angel’s wing, while she told i her beads and conned the prayers fora departing soul. Sweet sisters of charity ! Surely, that re- 1 ligion must have much of the Master's spirit in it, that animates you to such deeds of mercy to others in utter forgetfulness'of self! How many soldiers’ dying prayers beset the throne of grace for blessings on your order! The sister sat and watched. Just then, the ■ breeze moved aside the trellised vine that shaded the window, and as it kissed the sleeper’s cheeks and lifted the long, dark locks from off his tem ple, a flood of golden light from the setting sun streamed through the opening and bathed his brow with its glory. The watcher started and leaned forward. Was it some memory of the past, half-awakened by that expression on ! the face before her, she stretched out her hand I so eagerly to grasp ? Some phantom undefined : thus conjured up from the world she had for- 1 saken? It could not have been long since she j gave up that world, JV- her face was very young, : though it bore tracts 5f much suffering; and if i its associations still had power to move her, it | was not strange. (For The Sunny South.] ANNIE. THE BUTTERFLY. A TRIE STORY, BY ANNABELLE B. WHITE. “‘Till death us do part.’ That is a solemn thought, Annie.” “Oh! do not talk of death now !” cried the bride of one hour, clinging to the strong arm of the tall, grave young husband, as the carriage rolled swiftly toward the depot. He drew her slender form to his breast as he said: there?” and Annie drew her mother to the win dow. “Ah ! now he has taken off his hat. He must be very old, for his hair is as white as m\ dress.” . , A strange trembling seized the elder Annie s heart as she approached the window; then a wild cry burst from her lips. She threw up the win dow and bounded down the steps. “ It is he ! it is my darling, come at last ! and she fairly flew toward the strange figure, sitting so silently under the tree. “Oh, Harry ! my dar ling ! my husband !” She hung on his neck, sobbing with joy. With his one arm he strained her to his heart. “ My wife !” was all he could say. At last they grew calmer, and he lifted up her head. “ Annie,” with a painful quiver of the lips, “look up, darling, you have not seen me yet. • Why not, darling ? Do you not realize what Can you give me so warm a welcome when I tell a serious thing this new tie of ours is ?” “Ah, no !” said she, with an arch look; “I have not been a matron long enough to put on a solemn face and talk of duties and responsibili ties: ’ and she lifted her ripe lips with a pretty half-pout. He stooped and kissed those childish lips, while a slight chill fell upon his mood Was she - indeed the “Butterfly ” the world pronounced She pressed her hand upon her breast, as if . ber ■> be asked himself, as they drove on to the to still the tumult there, and raised her eyes to heaven; then eagerly, wistfully, she gazed again upon his face, and her countenance as- *** : her charge, that lady had brought her little SCIENCE. niece safely through the periods of infancy and childhood; and despite the petting and flatter- i surned an expression of almost agonized uncer- Protection of Vegetables from Insects.— j ng which all rendered as their tribute to the tainty. Did the cherished image of her young Set a tomato plant into each hill of cucumbers, pretty heiress, her aunt’s good training and her love’s dream rest beneath those bronzed, war- melons and squashes, and they will not be own strong common sense enabled her on her beaten features and Mowing beard? Yet how troubled by the striped bugs usually so de- , ,/ebnt at eighteen to fulfill entirely that just and torturingly alike! At®that moment, the corner tractive to these plants. reasonable expectation of the “dear public” of a Testament protriffiing from the pocket of Purification of Smoke.—In a factory at Men- which it had taken such assiduous pains to his coat that hung by the bed caught her eye, ilmontaut, near Paris, a fine shower of. water, thwart. driven up the chimney with the smoke, dissolves When, upon the occasion of her first the impurities of the latter, and being conveyed the city, her friend Mrs. Nelson assembled depot, where Harry had taken tickets for their bridal trip to New York and the lakes. Annie, the bride, was the only child of a wealthy planter a petted darling, who had never left the beautiful home-nest, but had been carefully educated there by the best masters. She had seen something of that great mystery yclept society; for young ladies in the South “come out” very young—some of them, in fact, never having been “kept in.” She was greatly into a cistern, this formerly useless refuse is col lected and made into a superior black paint. The Great Eastern having been recently laid up in dock and cleaned for the first time since 18<>7, her bottom on being scraped was found to have adhering to it three hundred tons of living marine animals, principally mussels. Numbers of barnacles were attached to the moving rudder, and even the rapidly revolving propelling screw. Experiment aor the Parlor.—Bore a small hole in the large end of an eg; the contents by introducing a crooked wire; tures canno t know empty and rinse out with cold water; fasten to j The wedding was just one month off. Ther it a fine human hair, and suspend it irom the trousseau W as well-nigh completed, the bridal ceiling; now take a cylindrical lamp chimney, ^ r ip ] L>een planned, and the public mind was warm it slightly and rub it briskly with^fur c>r ft in a delicious flutter of expectation. Harry had dbe turned just the night before—returned in time friends to meet her, Harry Allen joined in the general buzz of admiration that greeted her en-r tree into the drawing-room. Upon further asso ciation with her, he thought that he detected a warm under-current of womanliness that had escaped the dazzled public, and his admiration gave way to a tenderer feeling. He followed her upon her return to the country. His wooing prospered well; and now, after a year’s engage ment, there had grown up between them a , , strength of attachment, a oneness of sentiment, and break up a sort 0 j- j,j en tity G f existence that ordinary na- dry silk handkerchief; now hold it by the small , lnade a visit to his frioadi ia end and try to catch the egg in the other, egg swaying freely will be repelled, and baffle the effort for a long time. How Matches Came into Use.'—We remember well when it was common to use flint, steel and tinder to light lamps of winter mornings, and what a cold and tedious procees it was. The first matches that came into use were very ex pensive. An exchange gives the history of the change: “In 1780, Godfrey Haucknitz, in Lon don, applied sulphur to the making of matches. He first rubbed it between folds of brown paper till it took fire, and it was then made to ignite a stick, one end of which had been dipped in sulphur. This was the earliest form of the com mon match, such as we use to-day, but the cost of the phosphorus prevented its being used very largely for a long time. A very few matches, consisting of small sticks dipped first in sulphur and then in a compo- rition of chlorate of potash, flower of sulphur, gum or sugar, and cinnabar, which last colored them red, were sold in a little box for fifteen shillings, or nearly four dollars. Accompanying these in the box, there was a little bottle of sulphuric acid, into which the match being dipped,, it was ignited by chemical action induced between the acid and the chlorate to spend this, the anniversary of his birthday, with his betrothed, as she had particularly de sired. Surely, the sun never heralded in a brighter day; surely, the earth never looked more beau tiful; surely, man’s spirits were never lighter, man’s heart never fuller than were Harry’s when he left the suburbs of the city behind him and sped on to Oaklawn that same September morn ing. Perhaps it was the bracing morning ride that gave the glow to his cheeks and brightness to his eyes and elasticity to his tread as he sprang up the steps of the portico to Mrs. Mayliew’s house. Perhaps so; but then that fluttering of the heart, dear Harry? Morning rides don’t unsettle one’s nerves. Oh ! those delicious moments of waiting for her in the parlor ! The heart full of the requi site joy of yearning; the mind reveling in the bliss of reading of her from every object in the room,—the books they had read together, the pictures they had studied together, the piano, the harp, the songs they had sung together, and the sofa whereon they had sat through so many happy hours—ah, well! I’ll tell no more. A step in the hall, a hand on the door, and he sprang from his seat to meet her, love’s light and of potash. In 1828, Mr. John Walker, a chemist j reunion’s own gladness beaming from every fea- in England, introduced the lucifer match, which i ture of his noble face. A\ hat a pity that disap- on the fly-leaf,—“ Henry Allen, Colonel — ijinia Regiment.” Then, with her clasped hands raised above her head and falling down upon her knees beside the couch, she uttered a prayer, almost a wail, “Blessed Virgin, pity me !” The cry aroused the sleeper, and he opened his eyes upon the kneeling figure beside him. “Thank you, sister, for your prayers. A woman’s pleading; but”—his voice grew stronger and a wild light drove the dull glize from his eyes, and a flush shone through the livid hue upon his cheeks—“ in the name of God who are you ? Kate Walton ?” “Yes, Kate Walton—once,” came the reply, in a low. steady voice now. Even as he would have struggled with death, the prostrate man seemed to struggle for self- -crtTiirr 1 ,!. - It* Trtls 11■ i^iA > -and tfie--fft-t,-., gave it to him. His voice, too, was steady, and his countenance composed when in a few mo ments he asked: “ And how came you here to trouble, at its very close, the life that you have wrecked?” “The duties of my religion send me to the bed-side of the suffering. You need my services, and I am here—not as Kate Walton, but Sister Seraphine.” A shade of bitterness crept into his tone as he replied: “And Sister Seraphine hopes to wipe out, by a few prayers, when even they come too late, the great life-wrong that Kate Walton did me. But forgive me, sister,” and the noble spirit seemed ashamed; “forgive me. I thank you in my heart for your gentle ministrations. They do atone for much.” “God knows the wrong that I may have done you has been .atoned for, if sufferings and sacri fices are noted in the court above. This garb is the sack-cloth in which I do daily penance. It is for your sake that I am here, though I knew you not until just now.” Again his emotions struggled for the mastery; it was but a compromise with them he won this time. Placing his poor, weak hands over his eyes, he murmured, in a tremulous voice: “Tell me, tell me.” I may tell you now, Colonel Allen,” she re- then ensnared by her witcheries, and was made “ the happiest of men” on this eventful day in May that we see them entering on that enchant ing epoch of life, the honeymoon, with its con comitant, the bridal tour. Ah ! those happy summer days! Life was one golden dream to these married lovers. Septem ber came, but they were still at the North. Oc tober was decking the forests in dun and gold when our wanderers reached Myrtle Hall, where “welcome home ” was arched in letters of living green over the lofty gate, and sounded also from a hundred dusky throats as Annie alighted from the carriage to be clasped in her mother’s arms. This had been their first parting for more than a few days at a time, and the mother gazed on An nie’s face to note the changes which she was sure iuul 'taken plafce; but ihe same blue eyes sparkled into hers, the same rose-bud mouth returned her kisses, and the same fairy form danced away from her to meet the grav-haired gentleman coming pantingly towards them. “ Papa—dear, dear papa !” She was folded closely to his breast. “My daughter!—my heart's treasure !” There is a silence for a few moments; then Annie runs to greet the many aunties and uncles who crowd around her with their black faces fairly you I bring nothing back but old age and pov erty ?” “Oh. Harry, my husband, do not you bring me yourself—that which I have been longing tor for I four years?” leaning her cheek on his. | His voice was choked, as he said, drawing her so closely her sunny hair mingled with his white locks: “ My wife ! my sweet comforter ! It is worth all I have gone through to meet so true a heart- welcome.” Little Annie had been slowly approaching, and now she stood so near, she put out her hand and pulled her mother’s dress gently, whisper ing in an awe-struck tone : “Mamma, is this my papa?” “Yes, darling, this is papa. Harry, this is | Annie.” “Annie, our child? Come to me, daughter.” But the white hair, the empty sleeve and the wooden leg repelled her, and she faltered: “ You are not my papa. My papa has not got white hair, and he has two arms like Buddie, for Auntie Bach said so.” Annie’s mouth quivered, but she said: “Come here, darling. This is papa; don’t you see how mamma loves him?” ami she kissed Harry’s pale brow, whose features worked with pain, as he said: “Even my own children shun me.” Little Annie came up and look his one hand gently in her two dimpled ones. “Don’t cry; it will make mamma cry, and she has cried so much. I’ll take you for my papa,” looking up with a sweet smile. He stooped and kissed her, then said to his wife: “And our boy—where is he?” Annie’s eyes tilled as she said, hesitatingly: “Our child? Oh! Harry, I—I—he is—plow ing-” i Harry fell back. “Plowing ! my boy—my baby ! It is too hard !” and he passed his thin hand across his brow, while a moan struggled up from his heart. Ah ! how it hurt to think his son, the heir of all these broad but worthless lands, should be compelled to toil for his scanty daily bread. “ Darling, do not give way thus. It is God’s will, and we should submit cheerfully.” And Annie passed her slender fingers through his white hair; then, turning aninnies roll about on the grass, turning som ersaults and standing on their wooly pates with joy, shouting: “Miss Annie done come, an’ dere will be high old times now for weeks to come.” Well, the happy days fled all too soon. Never had Annie passed a merrier winter, and never had she seemed more gay and thoughtless. “The ‘Butterfly’ still!” said Annie’s friends, j shaking their wise heads, as they watched her ! laughing face and light, dancing figure—lov- j ingly, in spite of their fault-finding. But the sunshine was soon to be eclipsed for j the “Butterfly.” In the spring, when his grand ! home was glorious with bloom and beauty, Col. Hunter. Annie’s father, laid down life’s cares j and passed over peacefully to the other side of ; the river. That summer was a sad one to the « - , -i ,, , T, i - - , inmates of Myrtle Hall, and grief pressed on was lighted by drawing it rapidly over a sheet of pomtment s shadow should darken them ! It plied, and again her soul was lifted up in j be devoted wife’s heart so heavily that she. too, sandpaper. From this time on, the steps of im- | was the servant, and she tendered him a little prayer, “ for 1 am no longer a being of the world j a jd down the burden of life, provement were many, and now we have nothing note upon a waiter. A great knot rose in his j n which we once loved, and you are scarcely of Qj d Christmas wooed in vain for the merry in our houses more useful, more convenient and more inexpensive than the match. Use of Mineral Poisons by Farmers.—John L. Le Conte, M. D., at the meeting last week in Philadelphia of the Medical Academy of Nat ural Sciences, presented vigorous objection to the use of Paris green for destroying insects in jurious to agriculture. After remarking that it is “the duty of the members of the Academy to their fellow-citizens to give such salutary warnings as serve to protect them against injurious practices introduced under the garb of science,” Dr. Le Conte continued: “Paris or Scliweinfurth green is a mixture of arsenic and acetate of copper, and in the result of certain empirical experi ments has been recommended as destructive of the Colorado potato beetle, and, in fact, as a universal remedy against injurious insects which appear in masses. Now arsenic and copper are poisons which act with equal energy upon plants and animals. The materials, though diffused upon the leaves of the plants to be protected, throat. Was she ill? He could not ask 'the question, his heart beat so. He stretched forth his hand and took the note. And while the knot sank out of his throat, and his heart stood still' in his bosom, and the light fled out of his life, he read: “ Mr. Allen,—It is best we should not meet again. Your letters, photographs, etc., I will send by mail. You will please return mine as early as practicable. Kate Walton.” And that was all. Brief, but to the purpose. It broke his bright dream. I wot 1 bloodless heart out nizing. pass his hands across his eyes as if to brush away the darkness that gathered before him, then press them to his temples and stagger to a seat. I don’t know if she stayed so Ion for when the first stunned feeling passed away and he looked , . ,. . t - ... , up for her to send to her mistress an entreaty which are incapable of absorbing it, are speedily for some explanation, an interview, she was gone, carried into the soil, and if used annually it is , And then ^ knew that she bad been • • 8 - - only a matter of time how many years will elapse and no explanation was intended for him the conviction that his great heart had fled with settled down upon his mind; and then listening with joy, while numerous pic-' white fiair; men, turning to the little girl stand- - - ing mournfully near, she said: “Bun and tell brother to come and see papa.’ Annie flew to do her mother’s bidding, and presently a firmly built but slender boy pre sented himself with glowing cheeks and spark ling brown eyes. “ My father !” “ My son !” That was all; but two more thankful hearts did not beat in all Christendom. “Toil, you see, has made a man of our boy,” Annie said, as they all rose to go in. “He certainly lias developed rapidly. But, Annie, I cannot let it go on. He must be edu cated. ” “But how?” The children were walking before, and did not hear the conversation. “If possible,” replied Harry, “Imust rent the plantation, and remove to town. I have learned there are very good public schools in A ,” a _ _ _ shadow flitting across his brow at the thought of it. I need not repeat the vows that I so otten | (jm es be was wont to see in the lofty rooms of j being able to give his son a collegiate edu cation. “I,” he added, “can practice my pro fession.” “And what shall I do?” softly inquired his wife. “You have toiled enough in the last four years; you must rest.” She shook her head. “The past four years have but fitted me for work. I could not live in idleness.” So it was settled. The plantation was rented Myrtle Hall once more had an ®ot, and tbe fam ’ :l J moved to city of A , - from the i where Henry and Annie were both put to school. r, the father did not succeed. Daily grew feebler, and he was, perforce, see his loving, faithful and unselfish 3 „ ., , „ proud father who owned those j wue go out into the hard world and win their phatic terms that the matter admitted ot no sblves tb g ]i tt ] e i ord gave p] ace , on his ' bread witn her own tender hands. This made doubt.’ fourth birtli-day, to a miniature.Annie, who soon the burden of life heavier for Harry to bear. At “And you believed that of me, Colonel Allen bec ame the pet of all ; tbe end ot 11 year, he was lying on his death-bed. groaned, as he turned his face from the narrator. Wben litt i e Annie’s blue eyes gazed on her 0ue day, 11 / said: . “ I could not hesitate. 1 hey were matters into fourth natal day, dark mutterings were heard, “‘Till death us do part. Ah. darling, how which I could make no inquiry. I had confi- and tbe „ atheri l war-clouds threatened to burst trnt - how true and faithful you have been till made you, for in your heart you know that they were true.” The soldier made a troubled movement, but spoke not. She continued: “My life was wrapped in yours, and I was happy in the expectation of being your bride. But ah!” a shiver ran through her frame, “heaven denied us that bliss. The night before your last visit to Oaklawn—the night of your re turn from Virginia—I received a letter from my cousin, living in your native town, recounting a Annie’s home. Death held grim sway there, and the pleasant chamber, that usually welcomed ' Christmas with wreaths of waxy mistletoe and i festoons of scarlet-berried holly, now held mourn- I ing badges for the dear mother and mistress, j “not lost, but gone before.” Annie and her husband settled quietly in the large house, and after two years, the gloomy pall ' of mourning was lifted from the young wife’s j brow, and she was crowned with the holy name of “mother.” before the soil is poisoned so as to prevent the growth of all vegetation. The chemical possi- ; fled witb settled, down upon his mind; and then j to denounce the perpetrator of such a crime, and g-wx-M -1 Wd-OR! s o cold, „ ,%f u T»r. lind ind name so stained. The I b “!' ! . J pleadings of love but aggravated me and . - -. - - I solemnly protest It was another man who, with firm step and j strengthened mv determination. And yet—and against the loose manner in which, simply on p roud m i e n, strode from the house and mounted V et, oh ! that night of suffering ! In the morn- the recommendation of those who have observed f be buggy and drove witb slow> dignified pace Q v OU came and I acted.” only the effects of those poisons upon the insect down tbe avenue to the road. Yes, it was an- T be sister bowed her head upon her lap, and pests to which their attention has been directed, otber man Harry felt it> and thanked God for sobs i8ue d thence, a dangerous material has been placed in the , t be nerve to hide what his other self had been, trembling . _ fingers, bidding him “God-speed” as he rode not now leave you in such poverty,’ and a deep forth at the head of a small band of determined ! 81 8 b escaped him. Oh, those dreary, awful years that followed ! Annie’s slender hands worked rapidly for her loved one fighting so desperately for a forlorn hope. The splendid rooms were bereft of their ; rich carpets to make blankets for the scantily- She laid her throbbing hand on his lips as she answered: “ Hush, my husband, it is God’s decree. We will not murmur,” and she stroked back the snowy hair. ^ ^ On the morrow he died. handsof a targe cto of men. The j I b.llZd Kjk to STSil!! 1 .^ & “wilhoM WMta ‘ A Dmafactnre of this poison has increased to a fear- | f,j m . The otde »l through which he h.d hee» voice, he added, - Go od.'” j togl, dTi oi?v‘Tep“ . £«“rff of the I Hud' «hd lieh reiotive hod token them «n?t put “Too late I learned how unjust was the judg- i luxuries to which she had never, until now, been them in college, promising to be a father to them, ment that had been passed upon you. Months j a stranger; tear up her splendid carpets, sell her Harry and Annie eagerly embraced their oppor- afterward, it transpired that my cousin, who had rich jewels, wear homespun dresses, and give ; tunities, and are now two shining lights. Harry learned your connection with mein an indefinite j up her thorough-bred horses tor the use of the ls a lawyer ot great abilities and unparalleled and indirect manner, had confounded you with | cavalry. success, while Annie, with her graceful and bril- a dissolute cousin of yours, who, it seems, was a i * * * * * * “ ~ ~ ‘ ’ o lawyer in Philadelphia and bore your family! The years go by. Annie sits alone in her large, girded himself and gone forth, and for three 1 name. I cannot tell you—only a wronged woman lonely^ house, wishing and longing. That brave , - - years held high carnival in the land. Backward can know what I suffered when the discovery was j heart is beating warmly for the absent one who j home to meet tbe one to whom she had been a and forward across the border that separated the ! made. You had left Maryland and was then, I ; comes not. The large plantations are grown up “’. ue ’ * a | and *°' ,ri o wde “ till death them disaffected States from the others, had rolled the : learned, an officer in the Southern army. \et I j in brown straw, with a few poor mules grazing ! dld P ar t- 111 crimson tide; and now one billow, stronger and hoped until at last the news came that you had j forlornly about, while the large house and negro ful extent. A friend residing in one of the great ca ]] ed p aK8 was a terrible one, but it was over agricultural centres of the West writes that the j now \s he pursued his quiet way homeward, druggists of his town order it by the ton. The ; no weak rep i n i n gs for what had been harassed ravages of the Colorado potato beetle, which has j b j g breas t been the chief cause of the use of Paris green j in agriculture, commenced in the West many «***«** years ago, and its extension at a regular rate was j The years had come and gone, and sad tales predicted by entomologists. The prediction has j were told of them. The god of war had arisen, been verified almost to a year. Now it was within the power of the government, through a prop erly organized scientific bureau for the protec tion of agriculture, to have the subject investi gated by a committee, and recommend proper measures to be adopted. The use of metallic poisons would not be one of them, but human labor, properly compensated and intelligently employed, might have been one of the agents 1 employed to avert a national calamity such as ‘has come upon us. liant pen, has drawn an admiring world around her. Their mother thanks God for two such treasures, and patiently waits her summons higher than the rest, had surged against the heights of Gettysburg, and towering for a space of dread uncertainty upon the very topmost mount, had broken its fury and receded to the land whence the storm had driven it. Long and doubtful had been the fight. One host fought fallen in battle. Then my life became all dark- quarters wear a mournful, deserted look. Of the ness, and I prayed that God would take me too j quandam slaves, but one (Annie’s old nurse) re- to join you, where all would be plain and you ! mains faithful to her; the rest have made a grand would know that, however my judgment had rush for “ freedom. ” Poor creatures! how much been led astray, my heart had ever been true to j better off are they now? you.” j Little Annie and Harry (who is now a fine boy j I told her that I loved her, And her cheek was all abeam With modest maiden blushes, As when the sunlight Hushes The distant Orient border; But—I told it in a dream. ■ mm
