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TW ROWERS COLLECTION
VOL III. J. H. & W. B. SEALS,fraormrro^' ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1878. TERMSjOTv'K!* .NO 138.
THE SOLDIER.
The battle-cloud rends, from its bosom burst out.
The red lightnings play ronnd his forehead in wrath.
His heart leaps to meet the mad fray with a shout,
And follows death fearlessly on his wild path.
What recks he of life and the things it has won him*
He's alone, with eternity looking npon him,
Honor, liberty, love, these are hid in the cloud
And he’ll win them or sink to his torn banner-sbreud.
Bat the cloud rolls away and the stars clamber up.
The eyes of beloved ones look down in their light.
Bve sprinkles the earth from a dew-brimming cup,
And fragrance, rest, peace, reign abroad In the night.
How sweet now is life and the things it may win him.
Thonghta, flocking like birds, make sweet music within
him,
Love, liberty, life, he has won, he will keep,
Bright visions enfold him, he smiles in his sleep.
Mrs. Laura Vmnvh..
THE FIRST ROSE OF SUMMER.
’Tie the first rose of summer !
It bndded alone,
And now. In its beauty
I call it mine own.
First born of the season !
No roeebnd ie nigh !
To rival its blushes,
Or list to its sigh.
I’ll not leave thee, thus lovely.
To wither and pine ;
Till thy blossoming eistera
Thy beauty outshine.
Not unkindly I sever
Thy cup from the stem,
To place on my bosom—
A bright, living gem t
Thns. thus I’d be living.
Obscure and alone ;
To be sought for and cherished
By one, only one.
This boon Fate, this only
I pray thee impart.
Let me bloom, tar and lonely
Till loved by one heart.
Zoa Zb were
The Old Tatty House.
Gertrude thought hi& attitude was one of entrancement.—.See the “ Girl-Rivals ” on 8th page.
wants were tew, and it bis good dinners were ! angle opposite the iron gate, andnothing
flavor when they did cor. ■
t pon his visiting
have brought him out of his
uld
shopwithont
The first observation made by the young lady
i was the absence of servants id waiting. It oc-
; onrred to her, also, that there was no lady’s
maid assigned her the night before. She bad
not been accustomed to this state of things, but
i sbe repressed ber curiosity, and quietly began
to satisfy ber appetite, which was not a little
sharpened by the wakeful night she had passed
under that roof. The stately bntler, whose hair
t was nearly as white as tbat of the mistress of the
house, stood deferentially near the door, ready
I to answer any call upon him. A very short
( time elapsed, before the elder of the sisters ad-
; dressed him:
“You say, Alfred, that the poor gentleman
j was not seriously hurt?”
“It ’pears not, Ma’am. ’Twas very sing’lar,
indeed; wbat I calls a downright miracle !”
“And you gave him the purse, and saw him
: comfortably dressed, I suppose ?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Leastways, I knows that he
j was a werry ’tiklar sort of gentleman, and I
f thought maybe he might sorter object to a pre-
! sent, Ma’am, so I told him the lady of the hous?
would lend him the money for the time bein’,
seein’ he was in snch a strait, as one might
say."
“Very thoughtful in you, Alfred," said the
old lady, smiling at the well-meant caution and
consideration of her old servant.
“The worst of it all, Ma’am,” continued Al-
j fred, “he seemed to be awfully distressed about
| losing his silver-buckled shoes, and his snnff-
j box. Ra’ally, Ma’am, he ’peared to care almost
as mack about them old souveners, I think he
j called ’em, as be did about savin’ his own life."
“A queer old gentleman, truly,” replied the
j mistress. “It is a singular affair, Ellen,” she
; said, addressing herself to the young lady.
; “An old gentleman lived in a garret of a house
j over the way, and the cot he slept in was sus-
I pended from the rafters. The storm last night
j lifted up the roof, and brought the old gentle-
! man down upon a flower-bed in our garden!
1 Did you ever hear of such a thing ? ’
j “Never! What a funny sight it must have
been, Aunt, to see him whirling through the
i air, spinning like a top, I suppose, and then
deposited with a thump upon a bed of flowers!”
“Yes, indeed, it was a comical adventure,
,-i-
BY GARNETT jtfcIVOR.
CH AFTER I never opened them again to friend or foe, if foes
they had. The coach gate in the rear had been
There was an air of mystery about the quaint c j 08e( j so long that the hinges seemed to be rust-
old house. Above the roof in six-sided col- e( j j n * 0 W all of brick masonry. Throngh a
limns, fluted and circled with dingy bands ot SHja ii side-gate the only commerce with the
bricks, tinted once alternately with chocolate ; wor id was carried on, the bntler issuing with
his market-basket in the morning, and the milk
man halting there in the morning and evening
and crimson hues, rose the chimney-tops, and
on each pinnacle sat an arched hood, whereon
certain friendly birds were accustomed to spend
their leisure hours. The house had four gable
ends, fronting eaoh npon a street, for the
grounds occupiod an entire block in the old col
onial town of Oglethorpe. A dim oriel window,
with dusty panes, looked down from the lofty
gables, like a great architectural eye, a little
sleepy from constant watching through balf-a
twilights, were all the indications of life which
the patient housemaid over the way could dis
cover. Often had her curiosity overcame her
awe of the stately bntler, and she plied him with
many earnest questions; hut nothing came of it,
except a polite invitation to mind her own
affairs. An industrious cobbler in the little
house across the street, sat with his hammer and
dozen generations. The sides, Iront and rear aw j on jjj g knee and gased npon the closed
walls were lined off in blocks, and colored with windows oi the enchanted house, and shook his
the peculiar tint that gave the popular name to head ever and anon, as if he knew a great deal
the establishment, “ 1’he Old Tabby House. | more than he felt at liberty to tell. He was Hit-
Lofty windows, with grey blinds without, and I ting by the open window of his small bed-room
walnnt-section blinds within, nearly joined the overhead, one snltry summer night, and heard
mantles of the first story to the granite sills of plaintive sounds issuing from the upper story
the second. In front, a massive peristyle, with ’ 0 f Tabby House. He distinguished the
stately columns and Corinthian capitals, formed
a shelter for the great oak door with double
panels, carved with rude designs whioh in the
early days were considered a marvel of art. A
large brass knocker with a venerable head and
beard, stood ready to announce the presence of
a visitor to the inhabitants within.
A high briok wall shut in the grounds from
pryiug eyes, and fragments of glass bottles sunk
in cement on the top of the wall advertised the
difficulty which a prowling thief or burglar
would encounler in trying to force an entrance.
The gate in front over-topped the wall, ending
in sharp spikes of iron, and on either side a
lamp-post with a bell-crowned lamp of thick
French glass, with aperture below to light the
oil-flame originally, but now the modern gas-
barn er.
Within the enclosure orange trees bloomed
and bore their fragrant frnit, surrounded by
beds of many-hned flowers, whose walks were
lined with evergreen shrubbery. There the
roses opened to the balmy air of spring, and
there they faded and ca-peted the soil with their
wan and wasted leaves.
For many years no one had seen the front gate
open. The lighter of lamps came in the even
ing with his friction matches, mounted the step-
ladder, and gazed wistfully into the flower-gar
den below, hut even he never canght sight of
man, woman or child about the premises.
The few servants dwelling in the lodge in the
rear of the mansion, were as reticent as their
superiors, and seldom mingled with their fel
lows in the world withont. In vain the enrions
gossips of the neighborhood songht to unravel
the mystery of the silent house. There were
two very old ladies dwelling there. In snowy
caps, as white as the locks which they partially
concealed, the ancient dames preserved the cos
tumes of their early days. They had little bus
iness to transact in the town, and this was always
negotiated by a venerable bntler, in cooked hat
and knee-breeches, whose appearance on the
streets excited the rabble with a variety of emo
tions. His deferential, solemn air impressed
the multitude, and bis costume was not then so
very strange as it would appear at this day.
The old ladies in the Tabby Honse bad a his
tory, and there was a spice of romance in it.
A tradition existed which connected their name
with two English gentlemen, who many years
voice of some one in distress he thought, and
with stealthy Btep he approached the wall of the
yard and listened, hnt nothing came of that. No
lights passing or flickering in the lofty halls —
no sound of hnman foot-step—no one seemed
to be astir. He mentioned the matter to his
confidential friends, bnt nobody else had heard
the cries, and the cobbler was compelled to sub
side, with a lecture for his audacity in venturing
a theory of the case.
A faded old gentleman, who still affected a
snuff-box and silver-buckled shoes of antique
pattern, occupied a garret chamber in the tali
honse on the northern side of the square. He
had been a gentleman of moderate fortune half
a century before, bnt good dinners, fine wines
and gay company had exhausted his estate, and
with his property his friends departed. Now
and then he contrived to get an invitation to an
extremely select party of three or four of his
old boon companions, and for a few hours he
lived over the famous years of his youth. He
had a select reportoire of anecdotes, which he
told with great relish for the thousandth time,
but as he was a harmless, good-for-nothing old
fellow, and had known better days, his worn-
out stories were applauded by the generous com
pany. Ho had no income, no employment and
no family. Precisely how he managed to live
and pay the few shillings rent for his serial
quarters in the old lodging-honse, few people
knew, or cared. He, too, had heard sounds, as
of plaintive mnsic issning at midnight from the
old Tabby Honse, and he had half a mind to be
lieve the place was haunted, bnt he seldom men
tioned the matter. In his prosperons days, he
hid baen a frequent visitor at the old mansion,
and even now ii did not displease him to insin
uate that he odcb entertained a decided partiality
for one of the sisters. Whenever he grew merry
over a bottle of good wine at his occasional din
ners, he was want to mention the strange mid
night mnsic over the way, hnt the subject always
ended with a remark from one of his compan
ions, to the effect that possibly one of the hermits
was reviving memories of happier days when
he was yonDg, and she had hopes that never
came to their fraition. The old gentleman was
greatly flattered, even at the possibility of being
connected with a tale of blighted love. He had
made conquests, but he could not positively say
tbat she was one of them. It might have been,
The fresh sea-breeze wa spYqiging up just as
the sun sank behind a'oauk of clouds in the
west. All day the pitiless sun had poured a
constant stream of dazzling light, and the very
air seemed to he on fire. Doors, windows
everywhere were opened to catch the first cool
breath coming from the sea. All doors, all win
dows except those of the old Tabby Honse. The
people there never needed fresh air, and the
house was shut up as usual. But in the little
“stoops” and balconies the neighbors all around :
the square were sitting or standing, and young :
children and their nurses collected in idle ,
groups on the grassy lawn. The leaves of the I
water oaks were still and motionless all the af- j
ternoon, until the sun disappeared, when there
on, and a general armistice was enforced upon ’‘That is the phrase Aunt, although Iwolud
the anxious dwellers in Monmouth Square. i P refer ° nr own En 8 ll8h term ’ 1 do not hk *
The dark cloud from the west grew in size and
threatening appearences, and once more the sea- ! . ‘ Wel J- " as a “ accomplished diner out and
breeze ceased The heavy air seemed charged { 1D ! atpr da >’ 8 1 learn that , he j^dom dines
with electricity, and when the distant rumble I « nle88 18 at the . expense of his friends,
was heard, each Hash of lightning on the bosom
of the cloud increased in vividness. The storm
approached with rapid strides, and soon peal
after peal of thunder, flash after flash of light
ning, accompanied with terrific winds, that howl
ed and shrieked through the street. It was a
terrible night. The fall of shopmen’s signs, the
clatter of shutters wrung from their fastenings
and dashed upon the stone pavements the^croils
of flying tin-roofs, doubled up in fantastic shapes
ago were guests ot the family, but for some perhaps, but in those days the world was large,
cause not understood to any, the Englishmen ! and opportunities were many. After all, he had
never returned to Oglethorpe, and when the I not much regret that he nerer ventured to test
aged master and mistress of the Tabby Honse j the matter. Time had dealt kindly with him,
, died wh»ch happened in the same week, the two | even in his poverty, and if lie had nothing in
sisters closed the front windows and doors, and the way of bonds, bank-stocks and rentals, his
came a gentle sigh of wind from the south, and j —the toppling bricks from shaky chimnies—the
torn branches of lofty trees wildly sweeping
through the air—the cries of alarm, of terror,
rising in higher and higher keys than the voices
of the storm, made a fearful scene. Floors of
dwelling-houses shook, timbers creaked and
groaned, the very ground seemed reeling to and
fro. The street lamps were blown out, and to
add to the horrors of the night, a falling tree
was thrown npon the reservoir at the city gas
works, and in a moment the whole city was in
darkness, except here and there a dwelling-house
whose occupants still continued the use of oil
or candles.
The consternation that followed, neither
tongue nor pen can describe. The rain storm
ed through broken panes of glass, and gusts of
wind and floods of water rushed through door
ways whose panels had been torn from their
hinges. Mothers gathered their frightened lit
tle ones, and huddled up in corners of their
bed-rooms, strove to soothe the cries of terrified
children. Grave people whose philosophy of life
had been put to many a test before, were pale
and trembling, and each flash of lightning re
vealed the terrors which not even the voice of
prayer could not hush. Lips unused to sacred
words, moved now in frantic words of supplica
tion, and for once midnight orgies in dens of
sin and vice were arrested in mid career.
Day dawned at length, and the storm subsi
ded. When the morning sun came slowly creep
ing over the shattered clouds, the relics of the
storm, the snubeams fell upon a city apparently
in ruins. Out of the thadows crept the old
Tabby House, calm and serene as was its wont,
little damaged by the tempest, but another vis
itor had invaded the privacy of its grounds.
Poised upon a flower bed, rested the garret-roof
from the lodging-house over the way, and im
prisoned in his swinging cot, and scanty night-
apparel, lay the incient gentleman in the gar
den of the Old Tabby House !
then a fluttering of branches, iollowed by a
steady current of cool and grateful air. There
was a sense of relief everywhere expressed.
The young children began to romp and play on
the grass, the loungers walked to and fro, and
conversation sprang np on every side. The
shadows of trees were growing more and more
indistinct, when the sound of carriage wheels
was heard. The vehicle passed by the crowd
upon the green, and stopped at the gate of the
old Tabby House!
There was a genuine sensation among all be
holders. Many young eyes that had never seen
the iron gate swing upon its hinges, looked in
amazement as a lady passed throngh the gate,
approached the door, which opened as if by
magic without the touch of hnman hand, and
those trunks, or boxes were landed by a porter
within the mysterious walls ! The coachman’s
assistant tarried but a moment, there was a
jingle ot silver, the door closed and everybody
drew a long breath of mingled surprise and
pleasure. The news spread like fire in a prairie
over the whole quarter of the town. There was
a visitor at the Tabby Ho^se ! That visitor was
a lady—a young lady—a beautiful young lady
with everso much luggage; she had come to stay!
What now ? Another hermit, to add perplexity
to public curiosity, or a solution of the mystery?
Who could tell?
Mrs. Nimblepenny, who kept a small family
grocery on the remote corner ot the square was
eye-witness of the sudden arrival. She had her
theory of that honse and its belongings, and it
was not a complimentary one. She sold store-
candles to the old butler now and then, besides
a small matter of cheese, pickles, and such
things, and would freely have discounted ten
percent npon their cost, if she could have drawn
a satisfactory answer out of the provoking old
fool. Bnt she had tried in vain. He simply
said there was nothing to tell, and thought it
disgraceful that people would not let quiet, civil
folks, who paid their debts, and troubled no one
—alone. Besides, he said, if there was a ory
to tell, there were places, and there werf per
sons, but a sixpenny grocery was not the place.
Such were his answers, and the good storekeep
er had great difficulty to repress her ange”. But
she remembered that the butler never jf ed her
down in the prices of her goods—never watched
the scales to see if there was really “down weight”
always paid promptly for what he purchased—
and after all, it was none of her business. She
would not lose a customer, unless there was a
certainty of getting some information.
But the time had come for revelation. She
determined to close early that evening, and
visit her friend, Mrs. Tattler. True, that estima
ble lady, whose name expressed her disposition,
had been making rather free with the aff iirs of
Mrs. Nimblepenny of late. Sharp words were ex
changed at ..heir last meeting, hut on greater
occasions than this, breaches among friends
had beec healed by the intervention of a com
mon enemy, or an absorbing topic of scandal.
The frowsy head of the Ii.tle cobbler was
seen posted in profound meditation at the
CHAPTER II.—Breakfast for Thref..
The calm which followed the storm in
Oglethorpe revealed by no means the heavy
losses which were at first expected. As to
human life, only two persons had been
killed outright. A score or more were
bruised, and some seriously hurt, but after all,
the casualties were comparatively few. The
losses to property were very great, it is true,
but in a fortnight there remained only here and
there a memento of the tempest.
The quiet order which prevailed at the old
Tabby House, or Howard Hall, as we must
henceforth call the place, was somewhat ruffled
on the morning succeeding the storm. The
lady who had arrived the night before, together
with the fright daring that terrible evening,
and the fatigue of a long journey, was advised
to keep her room, and take her breakfast alone.
But a short slumber of an hour oi two had re
freshed her so much that she requested to be
allowed the privilege of the family table. YVith
some reluctance the request was granted, and
after a hasty toilette, she entered the dining
room.
The
poor man wasted his property in good living.”
j “Then we should call him a sponge," replied
! Ellen.
“Perhaps that would be a little harsh, Ellen.
He is really a kind hearted gentleman, in his
way, and serves his friends as best he can. He
tells good stories of the old times, and has no
enemies, for he has nothing that anybody
wants. These particulars I have learned from
Alfred, who purchased a suit of clothes for him
by my direction, this morning, aDd he tells me
that Major Barton (for that is his name) was
quite overcome by my kindness.”
“Indeed he was, Miss Mary,” said the butler,
“and he made me promise to ask you if he
might call upon you and return his thanks for
your everlastin’ goodness to him.”
“As to that, Alfred, there is no need of it, at
all. I would have done the same for any other
unfortunate man.”
“But he says, Ma’am, if you please,” replied
the butler, “that he has a special reason for ask
ing the privilege.”
“Well, well, it does not matter. If he comes,
I will see him a few moments.”
The sound of the brass knocker at this instant
announced a visitor withont, and Major John
Barton entered the Blue Parlor, the first time
he had seen it in twenty years.
“Pardon me, Miss Howard,” said he, as the
graceful form ot the old lady appeared in the
doorway, “I could not suffer this occasion to
pass, Madam, without tendering you in person,
the assurance of my lasting gratitude for your
kindness this morning. An overruling Provi
dence spared my life, most wonderfully, and
next to God, I feel that I am indebted to you. ”
“Pray, do not mention it, Major Barton,” she
replied]! “I have done no more for you than I
wonld have done for any other unfortunate per
son in your situation.”
“I have no question of that, Madam, nor does
that fact lessen my obligation to yon. But I
acknowledge that I have another purpose in
seeking this interview.”
He paused for a moment, as if in doubt wheth
er he should proceed. Miss Howard seated her
self, and looked rather dubiously at her visitor.
“Proceed then, sir,” she replied; “I have no
idea what yon mean.”
“Perhaps not, Madam, and it may not seem to
you to be a matter of any consequence. Bnt to
me, it is a matter of the gravest importance.
The fact is, Miss Howard, as yon may probably
know, 1 have seen better days. I am now poor,
hut thank God, I an* not quite friendless. Bnt
to tell you the truth, I am exceedingly sensitive
to ridicule, and if this affair should get to the
ears of the public, I should be the jest of every
company I meet. I really—”
The poor old gentleman had snch a painful
expression npon his face, and the evident earn
estness of his manner contrasted so strongly
with the ridiculousness of his situation that the
lady was half in doubt whether to laugh or to
cry. She had not lost, by seclusion from the
world, the tenderness of a nature, which, what
ever might he her real faults, could never mak«
sport of the inisfortnnes of others.
“I do not see,” she remarked, “how this un
lucky adventure can be concealed.”
“As to that, Madam, allow me to suggest. The
transportation of my humble cot, literally a cot,
Madam, from the opposite side of the street to
your garden, by the agency of this terrible
storm, I know can not be concealed. But, Mad
am, it is not at all necessary that people shonld
know that I was in the cot at the time of its
rival at Howard Hall!”