Newspaper Page Text
(Sundown!
BY SHALER G. HILLYBR, Jr.
Author of tlit Prize Story in the Savannah
CHAPTER III (Continued )
‘Yon are very welcome, Mr. Lockwood,’ she
said in a quiet way, ‘to stop the night with us,
if you ean put up with or.r poor entertainment.
I have known Mr. Geenleaf for many years, and
I am so nnfortnnate as to owe him a sum of
money, I forget the amount, with two years in
terest. Perhaps you have the note with you ?'
I told her that I had it; and then, after speak
ing of Mr. Greetthafs necessities, mildly urged
that if she could make even a small payment on
the note at this time it would be acceptable. I
spoke then that I might getovsr the disagreeable
part cf my visit at once, believing that my hoR-
tess, as well as myself, would feel relief only af
ter this business wa« disDosed of.
‘lam very sorry, Mr. Lockwood,’ she answer
ed, very sorry that 1 will not btahle to pay Mr.
Greenleaf any part of that debt this winter; un
less. indeed, he will take a mule or some of my
land for it?
‘Mr. Greenleaf has more of land and mules
than he knows what to do with.’ I answered.
‘But let us change the subject for a little spaee,
we may recur to it again. Miss Goldie, I bear
a request to yon from the daughters of Mr.
Greenleaf; it is that you will make them a visit;
not a flying one of one or two days, but that you
go prepared to stay several weeks. One of them
would have written to you, but thoy did not
know, nntil I was ready to start, that I would
probably see you.’
The youDg lady, I had observed; was neatly,
yet simply dressed. I know not now, nor pe"r-
Laps did I know then, of what material was her
dress. I only know that I was impressed by its
neatness, and that it showed to the best advan
tage a well-rounded, graceful form. There was
something about her in striking contrast with
all else in the room—it was the freshness of her
youth. There was the bloom ot perfect health
in her face, the elasticity of young life in her
every movement. Her complexion wos clear,
her eyes dark brown, and her hair luxuriant and
black. In the fol Is of the latter she had fasten
ed a white rosebud.
‘I would be much pleased to make such a vis
it,’she answered quietly, ‘but I cannot.’
‘Don’t decide too hastily,’ I replied. The
young ladies a:e expecting friends from Macon.
They will give a ball soon after the arrival of
their friends, which they expect to be followed
by others. In fact, the young people of Cuth-
bert are looking forward to a gay season. You
will change your decision now, and say that you
will go ?’
•No, I cannot change it,’ she answered. ‘I am
mnch obliged, however, to Clara and Lotta for
thinking of me. Please tell them so.’
‘The truth is, Mr, Lockwood, she has nothing
to wear, and I am not able to snpply the things
needed without going in debt for them, which
she will not permit me to do.’
‘No, we must make no more debts,’ said the
girl in a low tone.
‘Ah, me!’ said the mother, with a sigh, ‘things
have sadly chRDged fsince Mr. Goldie's death.
In his lifetime we had everything in abundance
and something to spare. But since then, now
about five years ago, everything seems to be go
ing wrong. Each year I make less than the year
before. lam sure,’with another sigh, I don’t
know what is to become of u».’
•Yon make a comfortable living - are you not
doing well to do so ?' I asked.
‘Comfortable, do yon call it? Well, I don’t;
and each year, as I said, it grows less so. Be
sides I should be making something to pay on
my debts.’
‘You owe then more than this note to Mr.
Greenleaf?’ I said irrquiringly. *'
‘Yes, I do,’ with a little hesitation, I thought, !
bnt she lost this as she went on. *1 owe a gen
tleman in the neighborhood, Mr. Stephen Swet-
well, several hundred dollars, whioh he has from
time to time advanced me.'
•You do not then know the exact amount ?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘What rate of interest do yon pay on this mon
ey?' I asked, at she risk of showing an undue
in'er st in her affairs. But her reply showed
that she did not ill-judge my free questioning.
‘I do not know, indeed, I signed the notes
without reading them.’
I did not reply immediately for I was consid
ering the condition of this family—it was the
same with nearly every one in the country—
thev were rapidly approaching insolvency.
‘You are nola poor woman,Mrs. Goldie,’ I said
atleDgth. ‘Here yon have aronnd you some
two thousand acres of land that were once pro
ductive; you have six or eight mules, wagons,
plantation-tools, etc., a comfortable bouse, com-
: o tably furnished, and yet you can't make a liv
ing.’
Both mother and daughter looked at me with
surprise, but I went on:
‘Your condition is that of a gTeat many, per-
hsps of a majority of the people of this section.
With lands that will produce any and everything
whether to eat or to wear, with a climate propi
tious, and with labor abundant, our people are
growing poorer every year; they have nothing to
wear, or to eat. Yes, it is fact, and very often
an inconvenient one to me, that our people have
nothing to eat. Have I no*, time and again, sat
down to supper when there was nothing upon
the table but a dish of fried bacon and pones of
corn bread ? Sometimes there is coffee, more
rarely there is sa_ar to go with it, and more
rarely still is there milk or cream on the table.
As for butter, I have almost ceased to look for it.
To have a country honse where all these things,
except coffee, may be had, with many more I
have not named, and yet have none of them,
shows a lack of energy, or a want of manage
ment, that is, to say the least of it, lamentable.’
I noticed while I was talking, a serious ex
pression come into the faces of my auditors; the
mother’s looked perplexed, while a flash over
spread the daughter’s. I say I noticed these
changes, yet my notice of them was casnal, for I
was too engrossed with a new idea which had
just taken possession of me to speculate about
them.
After I ceased speaking, the mother rose up,
and saying that she ‘must see about Bupper,' leii
the room.
For the past half hour I bad been watching
with some impatience for the announcement
that supper was ready, so I was not sorry to see
‘It was you that siid I conld stand an examin
ation on these studies, not L’
•Ah ! 6o it was. Well, we will not press the
examination. As I was saying, you learned all
these things in those precious four years at
Stauntcn. What I want to know now is what
you have learned in the sixteen passed here.'
Xeics. She looked at me in some surprise, and evi
dently at a loss how to answer my question, so
I went on.’
‘One thing you have learned and tbat is to
ride horseback, and a very fine equestrienne you
are. This is a beautiful and useful accomplish
ment. It has already been of great service to
me, for had your skill as a horsewoman been
less, 1 would have been in the Pataula yet, or
else been overturned, and perhaps drowned.
This is one (htog you have learned—what else?
Do you know how to dress and cook a chicken,
or how to make good biscuit? Do you know
when and how to plant beans and peas and cab
bage? Or going out into the farm do yon know
when corn is to be planted, when cotton ? I
dare say now, notwithstanding you have iivod
here sixteen yeais, where you have seen or heard
mention made of plows almost every day in
that time, that you eanrot. tell me what a heel-
pin is, or a clivis, nay, 1 doubt if you know the
difference between a turning-plow and a sweep?’
‘Well, if I do not, whi.t then ?’
‘Ab, Miss Katie, much, much, much ! But I
will tell you the rest at another time.’
. Taking np the lamp, I went to a certain large
oil painting which, with several others, graced
the wails of the room. A while before, when I
made reference to painting arid drawing, I had
noticed the young lady cast her eyes quickly,
but only for a moment, towards this picture. I
therefore went to it with the lamp, and pretend
ed to examine it with some minntene&s. I say
pretended, for I knew very little about pict
ures.’
‘Miss Kate,’ I said, at length, giving expres
sion to my conjecture, ‘this picture dots yon
some credit.’
‘How did you know it wr.s mine ?’ she asked,
her face showing some astonishment, as well ns
pleasure, at my knowledge.
‘1 saw you own it by a glance just now. Yon
did so unconsciously, of corns". But, as I was
siying, it decs you credit. It has some faults ’
(I could venture to say this much, while it
would have puzzled me to have discovered them
to her,) ‘but I will not stop to speak of them. I
will only say that it teDs this much of you, tbat
you can, when you will, work patiently and
with diligence.’
She had followed me from the fire-place, and
stood before me with a questioning look in her
dark eyas.
‘Let us have some music,’ I said, proceeding
to open the piano. ‘Will you play ?’
•Suppcse I say that I cannot?’
‘But you will not say it. The faot is, I really
want to know wha. yon accomplished in the four
years at Staunton. I know what you pretended
to do; I want to know what yon really did. Be-
sidts— I dislike to say it, the phrase is so hack
neyed and meaningless—I really love music.'
‘ You love music ?’ she repeated archly. The
only rbyhm that you love has a loga before it,
has it not?’
‘No, I have no taste for the higher mathemat
ics—because, perhaps, I learned first to inflect
a mo. By the way, translate for me amos ?’
‘You love,’she replied promptly.
‘You are mistaken, I think.’
‘Thou lovest, or you love, you do love.’
‘Yon are at fault, I am quite sure,’ I again an
swered.
‘I will look up my grammar,’ she said, ‘that
will settle it.’
‘It is not necersary to introduce evidence,’ I
rejoined. ‘I am an old bachelor of thirty years’
standing, and surely ought to know whether, or
not, I am in love’’
‘But that was not the question,’ she said, smil
ing, yet blushing slightly as she spoke; ‘at le!:st
it is a question which I cannqt__dispnte with
jfru.’ —
‘Perhaj g not. But the piano is waiting tor
you. Wlun you play for me, Miss Kate, don’t
expect me to stand by and turn the leaves far
you, neither expect me to make complimentary
or other remarks at the end of each piece. Take
your seat, select such pieces as you can play,and
play them; leaving me to enjoy them in my own
wav.’
But ere she could take her seat at the instru
ment the long-looked for summons came. As
we went towards the dining-room I let her know
thet I would ex( ect her musical entertainment
alter supper.
At the tea-table I was made acquainted with
another member of the family, Mrs. Goldie’s on
ly son, Master George, a lad about twelve years
of age.
After we had taken onr seats, Miss Kate hand
ed me a plate piled with pones of corn-bread.
‘Heie is your corn bread,’ she said. ‘I sup
pose mother thought that you had become so ac
customed to it in your travels that you could
not do without it tc-r.ight.
‘Thank you,’ I replied, helping myself. ‘I
love plain corn bread alwaj s when I have good
butler to go with it.’
‘But you will not have that here, I fear,’ she
answered, glancing over the table.
‘No,’said Mrs. Goldie,blushing; ‘I sent George
to a neighbor s to get b:.th milk and butter, bat
he came back without either. And it happens
that wo are without flour, so I am afraid that you
will make but a poor supper, and that too, after
waiting so long for it.’
I now saw how I had innocently caused my
kind hostess much unnecessary troublo by my
remarks to the parlor. Sorely vexed with my
self lor my heedless blundering, I hastened to
make her feel easy, if it were still possible.
‘Mrs. Goldie, we do not need flour when we
know how to prepare and cook Indian corn
meal. These brown pones, those lignt muffins,
and those well turned batter-cakes, with this
iried ham and red gravy, would bo enough to
tempt a much less hungry man than myself.
Bui wh> n wo have in addition to these, a cup of
good coffee, and the fragrance arising from this
tells me that it is such, it would be strange, I
assure you, if I failed to make a most excellent
supper.’
Sue seemed reassured by my words, yet an
swered:
‘Though you talk thus, Mr. Lockwood, yet
you caunot understand why our country people
are so often without such things as milk and but
ter, chickens, egj.s, etc.’
‘I thonght 1 understood it,’ I replied. ‘I
thought it was because they did not try very
hard to have them.’
‘Well, well,’she said, with something like a
‘How has he made it?' I inquired.
'I know nothing exoept what I have heard,’
she replied, ‘for I have never yet been in his
store. He sells whiskey; his customers, for the
most part, are negroes, and he takes his pay in
cotton, corn, or any other farm product they
may bring him. These transactions usually oc
cur at night Those who say this arc very "bit
ter against him, accusing him of enconraging
theft and of doing everything else that is
mean.’
•And they are right, too,’ put in George with
some emphasis.
‘Comp, Geordie, don’t be too quick to speak
evil of your neighbor,’ said his mother with ad
mirable consistency. ‘You know that when I
spoke to Mr. Swetwell about it, he laughed—’
‘Smiled, you rneaD, mother ?’ said George, in
terrupting her; ‘he was never known to laugh.’
‘Weil,(smiled,and said they were all mistaken,
that old Levi was at heart an excellent old fel
low, and perfectly upright in all his dealings;
at least lie had found him so.’
CHAPTER IV.
A Rift in the Cloud.
After tea I returned lo the parlor, where I was
soon joined by Kate and George. The face of
the young lady still wore the serious expression
I had noticed a* the'^ upper table.
•Who is this Mr. Stephen Swetwell, of whom
I heard your mother speak just new?’ I asked,
when they were seated.
'He is a sweetheart of sister Kate’s,’ said
Georgs, gravely, as if he were really giving me
the.inforrnat'on I had asked for, yet a mischiev
ous spirit that I could see lurking in bis eyes
showed his object to be to tease his sister.
‘Don’t b9 silly, Ueorge.’said Kate, with a slight
curl of her lip.
‘Excuse me,’ he replied, *1 suppose I should
have said, ‘an admirer of yours.’
‘You should have said nothing of the kind.’
•Well, then, tell him yourself; it seems you
object to my way of doing it.’
‘Yes I do object, to it. Mr. Svetwell is a
neighbor of ours; he is about twenty-aight years
of age, and lives, I believe, by himseif. Teat is
all I know of him, and—it is enough.’
‘Yon believe he lives by himHeif?’ said George,
with something like a sneer; ‘you know it, and
you know too why it is he lives by himself. It
is only because sister Kate— ;
‘George,’ she said warningly, and with a slight
frown contracting her pretty brow.
But he went ou without heeding her.
‘It’s only because—eh ter Kate knows it as well
as I do—nobody has yet consented to live with
him.’
Kate drew a sigh of relief, while George broke
into a little merry laugh.
‘You are mistaken, George,’ said the sister,
‘in supposing me acquainted with Mr. Swet-
well’s affairs; I know nothing about them.’
‘Of course not,’ answered the boy, ‘I wouldn’t
know, if I were you. Bn* I’ll tell yon, Mr. Lock-
wood, all about him. He is one of your good,
pious fellows; he goes to all the meetings, prays
in public—he can pray loud, too—sometimes he
exhorts, and he has a class in the Sunday school.
Oa Sundays you can see him ‘brothering’ about
among the men, or shaking hands with the ‘sis
ters.’ He likes this last the best too, I’ll bet,
especially—’
‘Your description is rather long, George,’ in
terrupted the sister, ‘I am sure you weary Mr.
Lockwood with it.’
‘On the contrary,’ I answered, ‘I am mnch in
terested; let him go on.'
‘Well, I don’t like him,’ continued George,
without waiting for any sigDal to proceed, ‘he
comes palavering about here, pats me on the
head, and says I must be a good boy. (lu an af
fected drawl.) Now ma likes him, wlr n he
comes round her with his ‘sister Goldie’ this,
and ‘sister Goldie’ tLat; why she thinks every
thing he says is just right, and so it hss come
about that she is constantly asking his advice
about QJifi thinajand^^pAo?.’ _
Jnst then Mrs. Goldie entered. When she
learned who was the subject of our conversation,
she said:
‘Yes, Mr. Swetwell has been very neighborly.
Were it not for his advice and help at times I
really do not know what would have become of
ns. Ho is not only a pious young man, Mr.
Lockwood, but a very industrious one. There
is no one in all this section more prosperous
than he is. He makes money every year, ~
longer than yon can sit there to play.’
■I have no new pieces,’ she oontinned ‘so yon
mnst be contented with old ones, most of which
yon have, no doubt, heard many times.’
‘Music loses nothing by age,’I replied. ‘As
a general rule, I enjoy that most with which I
am familiar.’
She turned again to the piano and sang
several songs, most cf which I had heard snng
with the same beauty and pathos as on that
nigbt. Her voice was peculiarly clear and
full of melody, and capable of giving expression
lo the accurate conceptions she bad formed of
her pieces. She took me at my word, and
played and sang piece after piece without wail
ing for me to make any comments, nor* evident
ly expecting me to make them. Whan she had
be* n at the piano about an hour and a "half, she
got up, laid aside her music sheets, and resum
ed her seat in front of the lire.
‘Miss Kate,’I said, ‘let mo assure yon that
you did : improve some of the time yon spend
in Staunton. The hours you devole 1 to paint
ing and music, especially the latter, were well
employed. ’
‘Why. I thought from your remarks before
supper, tbat you rated snch acquirements but
lightly,’ she said, with jnst a little surprise,
real or effected, expressed in her brown eyes.
‘You misunderstood me; you will understand
ma better after awhile. Consider these accom
plishments as things of real value, as talents
placed in your hands to be some day accounted
for, aud then consider how yon eau well and
wisely nse them. By a proper use and cultiva
tion of them yon cannot only add to your own
pleasure, but give pleasure to your friends. But
you have other gifts tbp.n these, Miss Kate,
which can be of far greater service to your friends
and yourself at this present time.’
‘I do not understand you,’ she said, turning
on me her tine eyes, with an earnest look of in
quiry in them.
‘Yon have courage, determination and a well-
balanced mind,’ and then, to give my words
greater force, I repeated them—‘You have cour
age, determination and a well-balanced mind,
and ir addition to these you possess industry.
Now you ask what can you do with these? Why,
they can accomplish all things. Your mother
has here what was once a tine estate. You see
how, year by year, desolation is creeping upon
it. In a few more years, a very few, it must be
come a waste, and hope’essly loaded with debt.
What is nee led to arrest this desolation and to
make its waste places to again blossom as the
rose ? A mind to direct and the courage and
will to execute. Your mother cannot do this;
her age and all the habit3 of her life render it
impossible. Your brother is yet too young to
undertake it. There is no one to do it but your
self.
•Why, Mr. Lockwood,’ said Mrs. Goldie, ‘what
would you have the child to do ? She surely
caunot do a man's part on the plantation ?'
‘No; but if she does her own part all will yet
be well. She is lacking experience, yon will
say; she will rapidly acquire it. One tenth of
the lime she devotes to painting and music,and
used with the same diligence, will make her
familiar with all the details of farm work. George
can assist her in many ways, especially in look
ing after the stock. Perhaps, too, you have
some near neighbor, an experienced farmer, who
would gladly give her advice when called upon.’
‘Yes, there is Mr. Swetwell,’ suggested Mrs.
Goidie.
Kate made no reply to the suggestion of her
mother, yet the curl ot her lip as the name of
Swetwell fell upon her ear, plainly revealed how
far she would be from calling upon him for ad
vice or assistance. Her face had in it an earnest
look, as if she were debating with herself some
not-easily solved problem. And yet a skilled
physiognymist might have seen there that the
question was already decided, and that its seri
ousness was due rather to a contemplation of
the duties aod responsibilities arising from that
decision thur *o any doubts as to the protniia&y
of her making it. I was looking upon her and
entertaining in my mind some such thoughts as
these, when she turned to me and said:
‘Will you tell me, Mr. Lockwood, something
more of this work yon have called on me to do.
You have spoken of it to general terms, will you
please give me the details of a part of it at least,
that I may know how to start.’
I wi s glad indeed to hear thi3 request, so lost
no time in complying with it. After giving an
,u»u LIO AO. UC Luanva UiUUD V D,CIJ , CtU. EV- , - - 1J —
ery year he buys more land and still has money ! account ot the nature of the work to be done, I
. *"« v « t. « ..... ... V I (i 11 ;1 AAii unmn riinfci na 4 r\ tbn manner m xxr h ■ /• h if
to lend. I don't see how it is,’ she sighed, ‘that I ac ^, e ?u 0I ?t as 10 m ?l'P er *9 which it
Mrs. Goldie leave, secretly hoping she would sigh, ‘I don’t know bow it is, I only know that
hurry forward operations in the kitchen.
‘Miss Kate,’ I said, somewhat startling that
young lady, who, with her hands crossed, sat
gazing into the tire, ‘how old are you ?’ You
need Lot mind telling an oldjbachekr of thirty.
■Mind it? Why should I mind tel tog you or
anv one else? I am twenty.'
•All of your twenty years, except a few passed
at school, yon have passed at this place, I sup
pose ?'
•Yes, I spent four years in Staunton, Virginia,
the rest were passed here.’
‘In those four years at Stsnnton you learned,
doubtless, to play on the piano, something of
painting and drawing, and acquired a smatter
ing Latin and of French. Besides these accom
plishments there was the regular currioulnm,
embracing the higher mathematics, rhetoric,
logic, astronomy, the natural sciences, mental
and moral philosophy. These, of courts, you
mastered, and, without doubt, can stand a cred
itable examination on them even now. By the
wav, what is an isosceles triangle?'
while we once had all these things in abundance,
we now find it hard to got oven the necessaries
of life.’
After a short silence I thought to change the
subject by making some inquiries of one, Levi
Fiapp, wLoie note for two hundred and fifty
dollars, more than two years past due, was among
my papers for collection.
‘You passed his little store about a mile back,
dose by the church,’ said Mrs. Goldie.
•A short, hump-backed man, whose hair hangs
about his head in feather-like tufts, in fact, he
has an owlish expression about him? I saw such
a one standing in the doorway of the house you
mention as I passed by. He bad on a shabby
coat that reached to his knees, and was smoking
a oharred wooden pipe ?’
‘That was Mr. F.'app,’ said Mrs. Goldie; ‘he is
never seen, I’m told, without his pipe. As for
his weartog shabby clothes, if all they say of
him is true, there is no need for that. They say
h a has more money than any one else in thiB
) part of the country.’
ing so much of one with whom he is unacquain
ted,’ said Kate. Mr. Swetwell would certainly j
feel flattered did he know how much of our at-1
tention he had claimed to-night.’
So spake this young lady with the intention j
of changing the subject, bnt I was not quite
ready to dismiss Mr. Swetwell, so I answered,
‘You are mistaken, Miss Kate, I am mnch in
terested in this gentleman, s i mnch so, that I
will now ask George to give me a description of
his person, that, should I chance to meet him,
I would recognize him.’
‘Well, sir,’ began George, evidently glad of
the opportunity for this portrait making, ‘he is
rather above medium height, quite fleshy, with
dark hair, and grayish eyes. But it is by his
complexion you can recognize him more readily
than anything else; you would expect it to bo
| ruddy, but it is of a pale, sickly hue, and mot-
' tied—both his face and his hands—with large,
yellow soots. H6 has regular features, and wears
a beard on his chin. Some may consider him a
good-locking man; I don’t. I believe the girls
generally think him so. Don’t they, sister
Kite?'
‘How do I know what the girls think ? Go on
with your brilliant description.’
‘Thore is not much more of it, only this, he
always has a smile on bis face, but I have never
yet heard him laugh. That is all, I believe, ex
cept that he talks through his nose, If you ever
hear him talk you will recognize him.’
George uttered the last sentencejwith a nasal
twang, intending thereby to give particular force
to that part of his description. It served how
ever to elicit a rebuke from his mother.
‘Come, come, George’ she Baid, ‘don’t make
fun of *Mr. Swetwell. I doD’t know why you
and Kate dislike him so much, when he thinks
so much cf both of yon. He is an excellent
man, Mr. Lockwood, and I’m sure you will like
him if you ever meet him.
I was not so sure of that, yet answered that I
would be glad to make his acquaintance. Turn
ing then to Miss Kate I said that I would like to
hear some music. She arose at once and went
to the piano, saying, as she did so. that the in-
s rument was sadly out of tune, but that she
would do her best.
George, who had commenced to nod, got np,
and remarking something of his familiarity with
tbo proposed pieoc-s, having heard them not less
than live hundred times, and intimating that he
did not care to be bored with them the five hun
dred and first, bid us good-night, and went out.
I thought I saw a larking desire on the part of
his mother to follow his example, fori doubted,
not, that the hour at which she usually retired
had long passed, but, yielding to her sense of
propriety, she kept her seat.
The young lady played first several instru
mental pieces. I recognized among them some
of my old favorites.
When she had thus played for some time, asd
not a word had been spoken by any of ns, she
asked, looking at me across the piano.
‘Are you asleep ? ’
No, indeed,’ I answered, ‘unless to dream is
that she seek advice from some experienced
neighbor.
‘I need not mention Mr. Swetwell’,’ said the
| mother, ‘for I know Kate will never call on him,
although she knows nothing would give him
more pleasure than to afford sneh assistance.
Well, on the other side of us is old Archie
Yocuui, who has always been very friendly.
Bat what is the use of naming him, or anyone
else? You know, Katie, that yon cannot do
what Mr. Lockwood suggests. I dare say now,
that he was not in earnest about it.’
‘Indeed I was, Mrs. Goldie. I tell yon,
ma’am it is time some one was very much in
earnest about this business.’
‘Is it so bad as that ?’ she asked, looking up
now with some alarm exdressed in her face. ‘But
what can I, a woman, do ! I have tried to look
after my business, and have done the very best
with it that I could. What must I do ?’
‘Attend to your duties here at home Mrs. Gol
die, as you have always done. Wo have just ar
ranged for some one to attend to the work of the
farm.’
‘Surely you do not mean Katie? Oh, no, no,
she cannot do it. What an idea !’
But the face of the young lady revealed that
she would make an effort to do it, and I was
sure that it would be a resolute effort. Con
vinced that nothing more could be accomplished
that night, I apologised to Mrs. Goidie for hav
ing kept her np so loDg, and intimated my read
iness to retire.
Mrs. Goldie at once called a servant to show
me to my room. As she was doing this, Miss
Kate went to the piano to close it. She stopped
as she was about to do so, and looking towards
me, asked:
‘How long? always?’
‘Oh, no, no,’ I answered, ‘not for twenty-four
hours, but take the time every day to come here
and play, if only for fifteen minutes.’
I soon after said good-night, and followed the
servant to my room.
TO BE CONTINUED.
The Three Greatest Physicians.
As the celebrated French physieiau Dssmou-
lins lay on his deathbed, he was visited and al
most constantly surrounded by the most distin
guished medical men of Paris, as well as other
prominent citizens of the French metropolis.
Great were the lamentations of all at the loss
about to be sustained by the profession, in the
death of one they regarded as its greatest orna
ment; but Desmonlins spoke cheerfully to his
fellow-practitioners, assuring them that he had
left behind three physicians mnoh greater than
himself. Each of the doctors, hoping that his
own name would be called, inquired anxiously
who was sufficiently illustrious to surpass the
immortal Desmoulins. With great distinctness
thedying man answered, ‘They are Water, Ex
ercise and Diet Call in the servioe of the first
freely, of the second regularly, and of the third
moderately. Follow this advice, and you may
well dispense with my aid. Living, I could do
FUN.
‘Where will you put me when I[come to» §ee
you at your castle in the air? asked a gentle
man of a witty girl. ‘In a brown study, she re
plied.
Every man is a miserable sinner in church,
but ont of church it is unsafe to say mnohabon
it, except to a small man.
‘Ah,’ sighed a hungry tramp. *1 wish I wrs a
hoss. He most always has a bit in his month,
while I haven’t had a bitin mine for two days.’
Falstaff a3ks. ‘What’s honoi?’ as though it was
hard to tell. But let my wife sit behird another
in church, and she’ll tell what’s ou her in less
than two minutes.
‘Take back the heart that thou gavest,’ as the
gambler said to his pal, who had passed him
under the table the wrong card to fill the flush.
It is stated by eminent naturalists that the
very rats cr.me creeping out of the woodpile
and laugh like demons when a woman tries to
saw a stick of wood.
‘I never knew a fashionable woman who didn’t
think more of a fool than of an upright, sensi
ble raan,’ says Talmage. Judgment on brother
Tel mage. What makes s> many fi shionabie
women think so much of him?’
‘We have seen a good many cheeky men in
onr time, but the follow who owes a three week's
board bill and asks his landlady to put blankets
oa his bed these cold nights -well, he stands a
good chance of being elected to congress.’
‘When a man goes to the street-corners to
tell how religious he is, and how much he loves
his church, go to the poor and heavy at heart,
and leara there how much that man has done
secretly for his fellow-man, before you pats
judgment.’
‘A policeman who had offered his hand to a
young woman and been refused, arrested her
and took her to the station house. ‘What is the
charge against this woman?’ asked the lieuten
ant. ‘Resisting an oft ir, sir,’was the reply. She
was discharged, and so was the officer.’
A good story is told of a college president,
who, meeting on the cars a student whose char
acter for sobriety was not good, and whose then
appearance evidenced a recent debauch, ap
proached him aid solemnly and regretfully
said, 'Been on a drunk?’ ‘So have I,’ was the
immediate reply.
Having been presented with Bosnia, Austria
is now fighting for it. ‘To you, John,’ said a
dytog man, ‘I will give $10,000.’ ‘Why, father,’
said the son, ‘you know you haven’t a dollar in
the world.’ Of course I haven’t!' exclaimed the
indulgent father; ‘yon must work for it John—
you must work for it!’
•I was never on intimate terms with the pris
oner,’ said a burglar who was used as State’s ev
idence against a ‘pal.’ ‘He was no gentleman.
I've known him, when he was robbing a house,
to drink a gentleman’s champagne, and go off
with his silver, wishont leaving a card of thanks
on the dining-table. He brought discredit on
the profession.’
A veraoious old gentleman living on a fash
ionable street in Washington, avers that, hear
ing a singular noise in the hall of his residence
about four o’clock in the morning, he repaired
to the spot, and discovered his eldest daughter,
attired in the customary 4 A. M. garments, fast
asleep and dancing the Boston with the hut-
raok; and when he inquired of the fair somnam
bulist what she was doing, she replied: ‘lean
give you the last quarter of the Blue Danube, the
other three are engaged.’
There is a station on the P.ttsburg, Fort
Wayne and Chicago Railroad called Hanna, in
honor of a deceased citizen of Fort Wayne. A
train stopped there the other day, and the brake-
man. after the manner of his class, thrust his
head inside the door and called out ‘Hanna,’
loud and long. A young lady, probably en
dowed with the poetic appellation of Hannah,
supposing he was addressing her, and shocked
at his familiarity on so short an acquaintance,
frowned like a thunder cloud, and retorted,
‘Shut your mouth!’ He shut it.
A lady was the mother of a bright little boy
about three years old. The whooptog-cough
prevailed in the neighborhood, and the mother
became very much alarmed lest her boy should
take it. One night, after the little fellow had
been put to bed and to sleep, a jackass was
driven past the house, and when jest opposite
Sit np his he-haw, he-haw, he-haw. With a
3hriek the little fellow was out of his bed,
screaming at the top of his voice, ‘The whoop,
tog-cough is coming, mamma: the whooping
cough is coming.’ He didn’t catch it that time
CONSUMPTION CURED.
An old physician, retired from practice, haring
placed in liie hands by an East India missionary
formula of a simple vegetable remedy for the speedy a-d
permanent cure for consumption, Bronchitis, Catarrh
Asthma, and all Throat and Lung Affeciions, also
positive and radical cure for Nervous Debility and al
Nervous Complaint?, a ter having tested its wonderful
curative powers in thousands of cases, has felt it his
duty to make it known to his suffering fellows. Actua
ted by this motive and a desire to relieve human suffer
ing, 1 will send free of charge to all who desire it, tills
recipe, with full directions for preparing and using, in
German, French, or English. Sent by mail by addressing
with stamp, naming this paper, IV. W. SHERaR,
149 Powers’ Block, Rochester, N. Y.
LIFE REALIZED.
“Life is earnest, life is real,” and the hopes that
cheer us, as well as the duties that we bravely en
counter, stimulate us to guard the treasure with
unceasing vigilance. Therefore vigorous health
should be preserved, and as diseases arising from
torpid liver prevail in our warm ciimate. we rec
ommend for their cure Portaline, or 'fabler's Vege
table Liver Powder, the best remedy in the world
for dyspepsia, constipation, sour stomach, heart
burn. and billiousness. Price 50 cents a package.
For sale by Hunt, Rankin & Lamar, wholesale
Agents, Atlanta, Ga.
. , _. ~ , ... i . . nothing without them; and, dying, I shall not
to sleep. Listening to such strains always puts j p, 0 digged if you make friends with these, my
me to dreaming. I ean listen, wide-awak, i faithful ooadjutors.’
ASTHMA CAN BECUERD
Bead the following certificates and try Dr. P R Holt's
Asthma specific and suffer no louger:
Smyrna, Ga.. Sept. 15, 1878.
DR. IIOLT.—Dear Sir Your Asthma specific relieved
my wife in a few hours. Seven mouths afterwards fhe
had another attack. It relieved her again in six hours,
and site has not had a spell since, (nearly 2 years). She
had been subject to it for 13 years, a paroxysm lasting
from 3 to 5 weeks, had tried a number ot Physicians aud
almost everything that was recommended, but (ouud very
little benefit from cither. I have recommended to it a
number of persons and never knew it to fail in a single
instance, when iven according to directions. From my
experience with the remedy I believe it will cure any
case of Asthma. Y< tits,
REV. A. G. DEMP3EY.
Atlanta, Ga„ Oct. 12, 1873.
DR. P. B. HOLT,—Pear Sir 'Two years ago my wife
had a severe attack of Asthma. A few doses of your
asthma specific relieved her and * *-- not had an attack
since. Yours,
JOHN CRAWFORD.
Atlanta, Ga., Oct. let, 1878.
DR P. R. HOLT,—Dear Sir:—Yonr asthma epeclte
relieved me in 21 hours of a severe attack of Hay Fever.
Yours truly.
JOHN KEKLY.
ryDR. P. R. HOLT, Prep.,
26 Whitehall St.
jy $1.50 per Bottle.
G rporal Noonan shot and killed himself to
day at Ft. Lincoln, Dacota. Noonan was th«
third husband of the supposed woman who re
cently died at Ft. Lincoln, but proved to be a
perfectly formed man. jif