Newspaper Page Text
HAVE HOPE.
Father Ryan's latest poem.
The shadow of the mountain falls athwart the lone
ly plain,
And the shadow of the cloudlet hangs above the
mountain’s head—
And the highest hearts and lowest wear the shadow
of some pain.
And the smile is scarcely fitted ere the angr’shed
tear is shed.
For no eyes have there been ever without a weary
tear.
And those lips cannot be human that never
heaved a sigh.
For without the dreary Winter there has never
been a year.
And the tempests hide their terrors in the calm
est Summer sky.
So this dreary life is passing—and we move amid
its maze,
i d we grope along together, half in darkness,
naif in light:
And our hearts are often hardened by the myste
ries of our ways,
Which are never all in shadow and never wholly
bright.
And our dim eye* ask a beaeon and our weary feet
a guide,
And our hearts of all life's mysteries seek the
meaning and the key;
A lid a cross gleams o'er our pathway, on it hangs
the crucified.
And he answers all our yearning* by the whis
per, “Follow me!”
" FORTY YEARS AGO”
Drifting Sands from the Mountains
and Foot-hills of Northeast Georgia.
A Brilliant Romance Based Upon Facts.
By G. J. N. WILSON.
CHAPTER XIII,
Jnne bad brought with it all the glories of
summer, and again sunshine and happiness
rested upon the Montgomery home. Again was
visible the rose-tint of Nelly’s cheeks and as the
wild wood-songsters came out to 6ing the Hymn
of Naiure, her sweet, musical voice often joined
in with their morning and evening melodies.
Olnra Sundown was her constant companion,
and together they twined the fragrant flowers
that grew upon the mountain top. Together
they walked the winding paths which, half hid
den by the shrubbery, led them through the
valleya, and on into the deep forests beyond,
where the giant oak reached out its great arms
to offer them protection, and the towering pine
bade them gaze upon the heavens. Willie, hav
ing become satisfied that his sister's health was
fully restored, bad joined bis class in college,
and Mrs. Lemon had gone to her lonely home
about two miles distant, returning every two or
three days, however, 'to see,’ as she expressed
it, ‘if dear little Nell was all right.’
To all outward appearances, the fair Nelly
was, beyond a doubt, ‘all right;' but for one of
her deep and sensitive nature to so far forget
the past as to leave the mind free from the ef
fects of her recent, discoveries, was scarcely
probable: still sbe was as grandly beautiful and
as highly agreeable and entertaining as wbeii
she thought beifceM 'he only danoju** 3-.
by her .® ft \iow Tflfi® AIWA SlwiA to brood ojrer
the incidents of her early history. For this phr-
pose an extended traveling tour was projected,
and all necessary preparations made to start at
and early day. From Charleston, South Caro
lina, a line was marked upon the map along the
coast of North Carolina, and on through the Old
Dominion to the large cities of the North—thence
to Niagara Falls and over the Great Lakes to the
Mississippi River and down that stream to the
sunny home of the Snmmervill6s. Then for the
mountains of Georgia again.
It was the fourth of July—the day designated
for the party to begin their jomney. Shooting
matohea, baibacues, green-corn-dances and va
rious other wajs of celebrating the national holi
day, was the all absorbing topic of the public
mind. The shrill blast of the horn, the discord
ant yelping of the dogs, the keen crack of the
rifle, and the joyous shout of the rollicking
sportsman, united to create a din unknown to
the busy throngs of life where all minds are de
voted to the accumulation of money. But the
tourists thought little of these things. Their
hearts beat high, and many were the pleasing
thoughts connected with the journey before
them.
Tranks were packed—farewells were said—
tears were shed—directions were given—the car
riage stood at the door—the expectant travelers
were ready. The party consisted of Mr. and
Mrs. John Montgomery, Nelly, Julius Latiain
and a servant-girl, Dolly. The driver, a negro
man by the name of Cupid, mounted his seat
and away rolled the carriage, bearing to the
nearest point from which they could take public
conveyance.
Starting at an early hour, Mr. Montgomery
hoped to reach by night-fall, the cozy home of
his mysterious friend. Prince Reville, who lived
nearly on a direct line of the route. The horses
were high-epirited, and needed but little urging
on the part of the driver, who sat upon his seat
with great dignity. For a half day’s journey
the toads were exceedingly rough, snd but lit
tle progress was made. Early in the afternoon,
however, the level country was gained, and the
carriage sped on like h thing of life.
Such an excursion was a new feature in the
life of Julius Latrain, and he so completely gave
himself up to thought and meditation that his
companions thought him unwell. The associa
tions connected with the journey were, to him,
so important that in order to appreciato them it
became necessary, as be afterwards expressed it,
‘to retire within himself.’ To be thus Bear Nel
ly Montgomery, and to heve her for a traveling
companion for so long a time, sod through such
interesting scenes as he imagined before him
was more of pleasure end of romance in real life
than he bad ever hoped *o realize. But his con-
trnplaticns upon prospective pleasure and ro-
n ai co were not bounded alone by this pleasing
outline. The fair form ol Coraiie Summerville,
his inmost heart s idol, stood at the end of his
jfurney— he would meet with her once more.
ILis was a theugl t so endearing and so unex
pected that he imagine d Limselt half dreaming
— he could scarcely think it possible'
Mingling with these thoughts were associa
tions connect*d with anotLer lame very dear to
him,—that of Olnra Sundown; she bad been
earnestly solicited to join the party; bnt she bad
positively refused to do so. To Julius her refus
al was not only strange, but even perplexing;
for if she was a ray of sunlight to every one who
know her, she was especially so to Julius La-
train. She was not only this; but she was deep
ly intereating— a book to read—a poem to atndy
—a problem to solve—a dream to interpret—a
picture to love and admire. She had given Nol
ly her reasons for refusing to join the party;
bnt Julius did not know them. They had boon
told as s secret, snd Nolly never betrayed con
fidence. The truth was, tha pretty Indian girl
did not fee] that she could endure to
meet Coraiie Summerville!
i see Julius
I would sot,’ said she to Nelly, ‘prevent them
from meeting if I could, but I do not think my
self able to bear it without showing a weakness
that I had rather die to conceal than live to
manifest.*
Then was she not a subject for deepest study
—truly, a dream to interpret ? Was not this he
roism? Where would it lead to if universal
with her sex? Would not the sickly sentimen
tality of whole nations pass awav, and the spirit
and valor of ‘the last of the Bomans' take its
place ? Verily, verily, the tone of Olnra Sun
down’s nature was high, and the dne feelings of
her soul were equal to the beauty of her form
and featarea!
However interesting the theme, the thoughts
of Julius Latrain were not confined to Nelly,
Coraiie and Olnra Sundown alone. Mrs Lemon
and his father and mother were all seriously op
posed to the tour upon which the party had
started, and this caused bitter thoughts to min
gle with his sweet ones.
Just before leaving Azilia on the previous
evening, he had plucked a white rose from the
bush given him by Coraiie Summerville. This
he intended to present to her with his own
hands, hoping the while to read something in her
features that would show a kind remembrance
of himself. The thought now rushed into his
mind that while plucking that beautiful emblem
of the past, a sharp thorn bad pierced his baud.
And so with his pleasant surroundings and the
pleasiDg prospects before him. While these af
forded him so much pleasure the bitter memory
of acting contrary to the advice of his parents
and Mrs. Lemon, whom he knew to be his true
friend, pierced his heart as had the thorn his
hand. Having noticed lines of paintnl anxiety
written upon the features of his travelling com
panions, he, with his usual decision, resolved
to confer with Mr. Montgomery in regard to the
propriety of continuing the journey, and
through him learn the wishes of Nelly and her
mother. They were, however, too far from
home to return tnat day, and wishing to visit
his unknown friend, Prince Reville. bethought
it prudent to keep his own counsels,at least until
the following morning.
While Julius was thus meditating upon his
peculiar condition, the horses, becoming fright
ened at some unknown object, started off at a
full run. Notwithstanding the immense
strength of the driver, distance seemed only to
increase their speed, and the travelers had good
cause for being greatly alarmed. Fortunately,
the road was smooth and sandy, and they felt
that the horses might be stopped before there
was any great danger of the carriage being over
turned ; but when the driver shouted that they
would soon be going down a steep and rocky
declivity which be well knew was near by and
where, in all probability, the carriage would be
dashed in pieces, all felt that something must
be done immediately. There was no way ot
ready egress only at the sides and notwithstand
ing the well known danger of attempting es
cape in that manner, Mr. Montgomery, as the
only alternative which presented itself to his
mind, resolved upon making the effort To Ju
lius Latrain, however, there seemed a better
way, which, though desperate itself, was, by
the imploring glance of Nelly, made practicable
to his mind. So asking his companions to al
low him to make one effort to save their lives,
he hastily took a pistol trom his saiohei and
asking Nelly to hand it to him when he was on
top of the carriage began with desperate energy
to cut and break his way through with an ordi
nary pocket-knife. It was a matter of life and
death, and the silken lining, the wooden frame
work and the leather covering, all soon gave
way to his determined efforts. Mr. Montgom
ery, divining his purpose, assisted him through
‘ the opening so hastily made. Nelly reached
ir followed by’hiiotuei plangd, accompanied by a
desperate struggling of the horses and a ternfi
yell of pain from Cupid, the driver, and the
carriage was still. Terribly alarmed, the
mates rushed out and to their utter astonish
ment saw Cupid dancing around in the road
with both bandB closely pressed to one sid6 of
bis head. Perceiving his master, he came limp
ing forward, exclaiming,
‘Go-a-mity, mas’r John, sich thnn’er an’ light-
nin\ Pow’fnl storm cornin’. Sakes-a-live, bof
bosses am—’ Here the negro's pain seemed to
increase so mnch that his speech failed him aud
away he went dancing and skipping through
the bushes and back to the road again, still
clasping his Lands to his head, from which a
few drops of blood were now discovered to be
falling.
‘There has been no storm, Cupid,’ said Julius.
‘I cut my way through the top of the carriage
and from thence shot the horses as they ran.
At the time of the last shot the movement of the
rocking carriage threw one side of your head in
a direct lice with my aim which was just behind
the horses’ ears. I trembled for the result, bnt
the pressure of my finger was already upon the
trigger and I could not recall it. When I saw
the horse fall and that yon still retained your
seat, I felt thankful indeed: but when I found
that all were safe, I was so overcome with grat
itude to the Father of all mercies that I actually
forgot the pcsition I was in and so remained
still for several minutes. It was a desperate
measure, I know; bnt there were lives at stake
that are far more precious to me than all the
horses in the world. I am very sorry that yon
were even slightly wounded and at the same
time truly glad that the ball pierced your ear
instead of your head. Thanks to the training
of Joe Harper who taught me to use the piste
with almost unerring aim, and though yon mis
took its language for thunder and lightning, it
has served ns well, at least on this occasion,
though at the sacrifice of two noble animals.’
Being now satisfied that be was not danger
ously wounded, Cnpid pot bis hands in his
pockets and made a deliberate survey of his
fallen horses. They were beautiful iron grey s.
of massive proportion and though high spirited
and full of life, bad not hitherto oeen consid
ered dangerous. When snot, their heads were
in suck a position as to allow the balls to enter
the biain from a point near the right ear of one
and the left of the other. Julius, after gazing
upon their sleek forms now covered with dust
and spattered with blood, turned to Mr. Mont
gomery and asked him if he was offended at
what be bad done.
‘No, indeed,’ answered the strong man with a
quiver upon bis lips. ‘Offended ? no !’ contin
ued he after a pause. 'We are thankful that
yon have been instrumental in the hands of
God in saving all our lives. For such deeds as
this, I knew thanks are gratefully received by
great hearts like yours, bnt to say we thank yon
does not express the fullness of our feelings.
Yet we do thank yon with ail the fervor of true
gratitude. ‘
The company had taken refuge from the
burning sun beneath the dense foliage ot a
wide-spreading oak. Mr. Montgomery seemed
thoughtful and at a loss to know what to do or
say. He saw before him a specimen of promis
ing manhood, born to be noble and great in
spite of circumstances and ignoble blood. To
bis mind, though the boy should be doomed to
meet tbe buffetings of a cold and selfish world
unaided and alone, tbe seal of trne greatness
was already written upon his brow, but still be
longed to do something that would hurry him
on to the high station which nature bad des
tined him to fill. Then there was something
mysterious about the noble looking youth that
made him doubly intereating. His exact resem
blance in form, feature, mind and nature to his
own mysterious darling Nelly, made the boy
atill more dear to tbe strong man’s heart and he
1H
young benefactor as is own son and cherish
him equally with Wi,e and Nelly. True, he
had long before entwined a similar notion,
bnt until now had | been firmly decided.
Such was the resolve i the warm and generous
heart ol John Montgomery—such the vow of one
who never broke his edge, nor did he ever re
veal his plans before |e time arrived for their
execution. This is (distinguishing character
istic of all gre«t m{ds—minds which never
plan only for the pnrose of obtaining some im
portant end and rid! an intention of success
almost as nnyieldingis the decrees of fate.
Such were tketioajhts born in Montgomery's
brain while Julia Lorain was replying to the
offer he had macs of his services. It was this
and not the loss c bis span of fine horses that
made him look sr ions— be was in earnest and
felt under deep oligations to his heroic young
friend. Nor werMts. Montgomery aud Nelly
less affected by le events of the day. They
were reclining i pensive thought upon cush
ions which Dotty the servant girl had brough
from the carriaj. True, they had been terri
bly alarmed; bsKheir miuds wore too strong
and well balaacl to despair at anything short
of sheer caiamy and distress. Under these
misfortunes th» sorrows wore intensely deep
and their symsthies so full that every heart
string was comantly at its greatest tension.
Though now senusly disturbed ia mind and a
little wearied ii body they were still pleasant
companions am indeed just such as to render
any place howeer lonely and dull, attractive
and agreeable tenian. True, they had said lit
tle since their Lsty exit from the carriage, but
evidently they ad thought much. The time,
however, had nw corne for all >o speak. They
were more than ialf way upon their day's jour
ney and wiihcu means ot ft turning or g.ing
forward. The notssity of the case Drought on
a consultation it which it was unanimously de
cided that in cowequeace of the advice of some
of their friends before leaving home and the
loss of thi-ir hoses, it would bs best to post
pone the journey for the present and return
borne as soon a they conid find the means of
doing so.
The question being decided to the satisfac
tion of all so fat as propriety was concerned, it
was further agreed that Julius and Cupid should
make an effort luring the evening to engage
some one t > coY-rey them home on the follow
ing morning and that as they had a bountiful
supplv of provisions and as the carriage wonld,
hv pulling it to a pretty grove which they saw in
the distance, furnish Nelly and her mother a
pleasant place to sleep during the night, they
would remain contented aud thank God that
their condition was no worse.
This arrangement beiDg made, the men took
the harness from the dead horses, aud pulled
the carriage to the grove selected. They found
it a lonely spot within plain view of the road,
and just suited to. their purposes. A small riv
ulet ran near by,' and from this they quenched
their thirst, and by the reflection of its waters
made their evening toilet. Thus refreshed Ju-
linB playfully requested Nelly to Lave supper
ready by the time be returned, and then he and
Cupid started upon their mission.
Away to the ri;.ht, and beyond a high hill
they had frequently heard, while under the
great oak tree, the pound of a woodman's axe;
and knowing of no house near by directed their
steps thither. As th iy approached the top of
the hill they distinctly heard tbe blows of two
axes in the valley below, and hastening forward
they soon came npoatwo men digging a trough.
Though rough looking, their faces indicated
iriendsijii aud frankness, and the most casual
observt^ffyuuidjpave judged them to be father
tml e /
"Visfe i-a
tnose hta”ctwt. *
•Howdy do, sir,’ said the old man in a tone
that Julius interpreted to be friendly.
‘I was directe l here by the sound of your axes,
and have come to ask a favor for which, if
granted, you w'ilbe paid your own price.’
‘My good sm, you look mighty starchey like,
but you talk so vc-spectybul, an’ have got sioh a
friendly face, that mo an’ my son Rislum thar
on the send of .‘he 'rough, is both ready to hear
yer say,’said the old man, sticking his axa in
the log, and seating himself by it.
‘Yes; me au daddy is ready to hear yor tale,’
added the sou, Rishinm, also seating himself
on the log, but unlike his father, he placed his
axe between his feet, and leaning a little for
ward, rested h V chin on the end of the helve.
Having gaino-i a ready audience, Julius pro
ceeded to relate the condition he and his
friends were in, and concluded by asking tbe
old man if he could, for a good price, furnish
two horses to take his triends home in the car
riage, adding that if he did not see proper to go
with them himself, that money to the full val
ue of both horses wonld be left with him as se
curity for their safe return.
‘Sickum spoovers, sir,' rejoined the man. ‘yer
talk is as fair as yer face, and if yer inside is as
good asyer outside, thar is nosickority needed,
snr. Bnt I’ve got no bosses, sur; though me an’
my son Rishinm thar, has got atween us as
good a yoke of steers as ever iooktthrough a bo,
sar. The youngohap kin take the steers, can’t
he Rislam ?’ asked the father.
‘Yes, daddy; an’ I‘11 go and drive ‘em meself,
kase I sorter take to the feller any how,’ an
swered the son with evident gratification at the
prospeot of taking such a journey.
As Juiius did not know that Mr. Montgomery
wonld accept the oxen, be was unwilling to close
the bargain without consulting him. So thank
ing the strangers for their kind offers, and tell
ing them that he would return after seeing his
triends, and let them know their decision, he
turned to go, but was detained by the old man
asking:
‘Whar do yer foikes allow to stay ternight ?’
‘Ih a pleasant giove near the road,’ answered
Julius. ‘We have already taken the carriage
there, and it will furnish a nice sleeping room
for the ladies. The rest of us will make a bed
of leavesand sleep on the ground.*
‘No lickum spoovers to that nother,’ said tha
whel meaning, but eccentric man. ‘My house
is not near a mile from whar yon say yer dead
hr sges is. an’ you an a inns’ all stay with me tnr
night. Ef the balance of yer folks is as nice an’
fren’ly as you ’pear io be, It will not do for
younns to sleep in ihe woods, an’ be ta-hooted
at by the owls. No sur-ree, younns mus’ all go
home with me an Rishinm.’
Really, Julius did not know what to say in
reply; but feeling unwilling to cross the wishes
of those who bad just paid him such a high
oompiiment, and wno had shown saoh readi
ness to serve him and his friends, he politely
remarked:
•You are certainly very kind sir, and I thank
you with all my heart. I will now go and tell
my friends of your generous eff-rs, and I know
that they too will thank you heartily. Such
friendship is not easily forgotten, especially
when shown by strangers. To whom shall I say
we are so greatly indebted ?’
‘I guess, young man, you ‘pear to ax what
my name is ?
‘Yes sir; that *as my intention.’
‘Yen bet, ef that don’t head all ! Why I thot
as how thatev'rv body know‘ml me an my Ris-
lum thar: Eilic Rinasy an’ Rishinm Ramsy—
that‘8 our names. I’m the boy s daddy, an he‘s
my chile whot‘11 soon be twenty year ole. Thar
is mere of us in the family. Thar's ibe ole
umeru, an‘her namr is Peggy Rumay—Peg, for
short, we call her. Peg’s mi‘ty good ‘bout
keepin* house. She's here, an* thar* an* evry
whar a sloahin roan* generally; an' sometimes
when things don't go right, she yells wos nor a
yeung Injun. An* then Peg's the bes‘ cook in
Georgy. She puts big dodgers all rounj ;
skillit, an* then dabs down a dratted little
dumplin* in tbe middle for MazinGraoe—that’s
our youngest geerl, next to Rislum. All my
boys ‘cept him is married an* gone; bnt thar‘s
pay darter* Diuipsy, an* Hepsy, an Mazin Grace,
an' you mus'ent take the little dumplin* from
her, for she'd cry in a ininit. She's our yunk-
ist geerl you know, tho‘ she‘s ‘bout grown now,
and‘s sich a rosy-bosy, pinky-winky of a nice
gal that me an‘ Rislum wants you to git a iu-
troducement to her company.*
Having gone through this singular family
history with but one or two pauses, Mr. Ram
say kere broke down; but after drawing a few
long breaths, he turned to his son, and gave
him the following orders:
X w Rishinm, you go home an* tell tha geerls
to fix up like they was a-gwine to ketch a bean
with a double-an-tristed silk string to it, an a
blue ribbin tied to both fends of the arrow.
Then tell yer mother that W6‘a a-gwine to have
sorter starchy company to-night, an she mus‘
tharfore git areg'iar corn-shuckin' supper. Aa‘
tell her to milk ev‘ry dratted ole cow on the
placs that' 11 give a drap of milk, an'I don't
want her to skim it too deep like them tarnation
Fatas does when they‘ve got company. Then
cell Dimpsy aud Hepsy that when their mother
govs to hake bread, for them to slip a little
dumplin of a paddy-cake in the skillit for this
voung chap whot‘s a-gwine home with us, an*
tell'eia 1 to put it light bv the side of Mazin
Grace's dumplin. Then Rishinm you go an‘
yoke up the steers, an fetch ‘em to the dead
bosses, an* we‘ll drag ‘em tffthe road to keep
somebody from gittin* in another runaway
scrape. Then you can take the steers to the
karrage so that this ynnkster an* bis foikes can
ride home w.th us. Now Riehlum do as I tell
you, au‘ 1*11 go along with this chap an* his
black bnck to whar the karrage is, an* help
straighten things up.*
Rislam, haring signified his willingness to
comply with these instructions, his father, who
had hitherto shown no disposition to be in a
hurry, now started off in great haste, leaving
Julius and Cupid, the ‘black back,* to follow.
Though advanced in years, the old man went
so fast that Julius had but little time to refieot
upon the enrions phase of life that had just been
presented to him—curious that such a com
pound of eccentricity and kindne>s ef heart
could be blended in one man perhaps in an en
tire family.
Without taking time for conversation, the
trio soon arrived at the grove where they found
the Momgomeries leisurely awaiting the return
of Julius and Cupid. All, not excepting Dotty,
w«re evidently surprised at the appearance of
the stranger, but when a formal introduction
had been given, and Mr. Ramsay had told them
what he proposed to do, which he thought
would be accepted as a matter of coarse, it
was hard to tell whether their mirth or aston
ishment was most highly excited.
Having made his proposals which were the
same as those offered Julius, Mr. Ramsay, with
out asking whether they would be accepted or
not, suddenly thought that it was time to go
and assist Lis son to hall away the horses.
Telling his newiy made friends that he would
be back . feer them in less than half an hoar,
he took bis biOid-brimmed hat in his hand,
and away he went in hot haste.
‘Stay with us, Mr. Ramsay, ‘ said Mr. Mont-
goniery. ‘Oar driver will attend to that matter,
and your sou need only see that the work is
done to his liking. Tell me what it is worth,
and I'll send the money to him by Cipid. 1
‘Tut, tut !‘ replied Itamsay. ‘Thats* no lick-
umspoovers. Nobody but Rislam can manidge
.them steersman* it's timd io-pngh yit to talk
juuuj tClXfck *, but
for I know yon dont want to see your xtossks
any more now they's dead—I wouldn't my steers
ef they s to git shot. ‘
Saying this in a tone rather manatory, he
bounded off at a full trot, Cupid followed, and
both were soon out of sight.
‘Well,* said Mr. Montgomery, ‘with all his
oddity, this Mr. Ramsay seems to be kind and
considerate. What shall we do ? Stay here, or
accept his proposals ?‘
‘I respectfully suggest,* said Julius, ‘that the
whole matter be left to tbe decision of Mrs.
Montgomery and Nelly.
To this proposition, Mr. Montgomery readily
agretd; and after a little disoussion it was de
cided that, in consequence of ihe selfevident
good intentions of Mr. Ramsay, they would
cheerfully accept of his proposed hospitality for
the night, and that, in consideration of the
smack of romance connected with the idea of
being drawn home by a yoke of oxen driven by
Rslnm Ramsey, they would make no further
attempt to hire horses, but accept of the gener
ous offer of ‘the steers' also.
This decision being made, Julius gave his
friends a full account of his interview with Mr.
Ramsay and his son in the woods, which was
so am using that it had a tendency to add as
much romance to the coming night as was in
prospect on the following day.
‘O Julius,‘said Nelly, thoughtfully, ‘although
I have decided to go to Mr. Ramsay‘s tonight,
there is one serious objection in the way,*
•Say, Nelly, what is it ?* asked Julius, a little
surprised.
•Why, I hope to use good manners on all oc
casions; bnt if that 'little dnmplin of a paddy
cake* that is to be baked by the side of Mazin
Grace's, is actually placed at your plate, I do
not feel that I will be able to stand the test. ‘
‘Really Nelly,* replied Julius, laughing, ‘if
snoh should be the ease, I do not know that I
myself can use good manners. I hope however,
that Mr. Ramsay was only joking, and that we
will not be put to snoh a severe trial. ‘
‘Dear me, Julius, he was certainly in earnest.
Don‘t you see that the order to cook your cake
is a precation taken to prevent yon from taking
Mazin Grace's. Mr. Ramsay even oantioned
you about tbis matter, and in order to keep his
daughter from crying, told yon in plain Eng
lish not to take her ‘dnmplin* of a paddycake
from her.*
‘I own that you have me in a olose place; but
1 think I will oome out all right yet. Having
now seen yon, I would not be surprised to learn
that Mr. Ramsay has by this time sent instruc
tions home to have a ‘little dumplin of a paddy
cake* slipped in the skillet for you also.*
‘I shall certainly think him partial toward you
if he does not. That, however, wonld be too
rich. To see you and Mazin Grace eating yours
together will be glory enough for one day.*
'All very true, Nelly; but in one ease tbe glory
will all be on your side—in the other it would
be about equally divided between ns. And as
it is almost universally conceded by those who
know ns that our tastes are alike, you will agree,
that in order to maintain tbis equality, yon
must take a fancy to Rislam if I should be cap
tivated by tbe charms of his sister, Mazin Grace. ‘
*Of that I can say more when I have an intro-
ducement similar to that which you are to hate
to have to his youngest sister. By what name
do you suppose Mr. Ramsey will introduce you ?
young chap, or youngster ?'
‘His names are so odd that I cannot imagine
what he will oall me. As yet he does not know
my name; bat the man who will call his son
Rislum and his daughter Mazin Giace ia not
particular about names. They sound droll, bnt
not any more so than his meaningless expres
sion lickum-spooners. If a favorable opportuni
ty ooonrs I intend to—’
The attention of Jnlins and his friends was
here drawn to the sound of voioee in the dis-
Jjilius ,
* ' ’ JUUUdftfi)
wnw . Presently ‘wo ! gee 1 haw thar Jo ly !
act up here Roper V greeted their ears,and Jnlius
announced that Rislum was coming.
And so it was. The oxen were soon in plain
view and as they advanced with rapid steps the
voke’ kept np a continuous knocking against
their great horns, between which _ the driver
could be seen riding in stately attitude upon
the back of Roper, his favorite leader. Both
were uncommonly large animals and as sleek
and trim as oxen can be. Mr. Ramsay brought
up the rear, but when Rislum had halted his
oxen near the carriage, he came to the front, and
flourishing a huge brush that he had been using
for a whip, he placed his feet about thirty-six
inches apart, and thus addressed Mr. Montgom-
er *Tbat is Rislum—Rislum Ramsay, my son
what I tole you ’boat jest now; an* I tell von,
sur that he ean’t be beat in these diggins. Jest
give him them steel s an’ put the lines m his
han’s an' he’ll haul you’nns to my house, an’
from thar to yer own house, or anywhar else
yon want to go, if its to the Neu> Jerrushilum, as
slick as a peeled ingun, sur. Yer wife an’ dart
er thar has hearn what 1 said, an‘ thar’s no use
a givin’ two introducements at the same time to
one company'
When Mr. Ramsay had concluded this singu
lar introduction, he gazed wonderingly upon
Nelly and her mother and then turned to his
son, saying:
‘Drive np, Rislum, an’ hitch 4 the steers to the
karrage.
Rislam, perhaps failing to hear his father,did
not move so mnch as a hair's breadth; bnt with
mouth wide open, his slouched hat thrown high
on his forehead, and leaning a little backward,
bis eyes were steadily set upon Nelly with a gaze
of wonder and astonishment more intensely be
wildered than any one present had ever before
witnessed.
The cause was apparent to all. The bewitch
ing beauty of Nelly was so far superior to any
thing he had ever seen, that his uj tutored mind
conid not withstand th» shock, and, though
rough and uncultivated, Rislum Ramsay was
neither the first nor the last man whoever stood
in silent adoration before her enchanting
beauty. Then if this rode monntaineer, who
knew nothing of life beyond the bine hills
whioh skirted his horizon, was so greatly over
come by her charms as to be lest in amazement,
let the mantle of charity be thrown over his
rudeness with hands a gentle and forgiving as
were those who witnessed the scene.
The steady gaze of the rode driver astride his
hnge ox set the roses in Nelly’s cheeks to play
ing hide and seek, and blush played into blush
in snch rapid succession that Jnlins, who was
constantly ready to fly to her relief at a mo
ment’s warning, hastily drew down one of the
carriage curtains to break the charm.
By this time Mr. Ramsay seemed to discover
that bis son had failed to hear his instructions,
and comprehending the cause also, he rather
passionatel exclaimed:
‘Ha—ho, thar, Rislnm ! She’s jest like her
brother, an’ as you’d already seen him, I'd a
thought you'd not a been so astonished at the
beauty. So now, Rislnm, my son,’ continued
the father, in a milder tone, ‘hitch np, an' less
be a-gwine, for don’t yon see it’s nearly night.
Step over the tongue thar, Jolly 1 wo—np here,
Roper!’ said he to the oxen, and giving the
leader a keen ent with the brush which he had
just thrown down, he vehemently caught at the
driver’s lines.
Simultaneously with this movement on the
part cf his father, Rislnm awoke to a sense of
duty, and giving Roper a heavy dig with a huge
spur, the surprised animal suddenly plunged
forward and threw his rider Leels over head be
tween the carriage wheeis. Mr. Montgomery
was standing at the opposite side, and with the
vuktit of Ri.slum a haifjinjjpreeaed srvqjf P'Y’ 0 '’* 1
pwffdii? features. This, However,^soon^di?ap-
lnm found himself under the carriage, and’rush
ing ont between Mr Montgomery’s legs, he hoisted
that gentleman upon his back, where he re
mained bouncing up and down for a few leaps,
and then came sprawling to the ground. This
was too much for the gravity of those inside,
and as the prond man arose to his feet, a roar of
langhter greeted his ears.
Freed from the weight of Mr.3 Montgomery’s
ponderous body,Rislnm also recovered.and hav
ing sufficient intelligence to feel mortified at the
mishaps which had befallen him just at the time
when he wished to appear to the greatest advan
tage, he sought to divert attention from himself
by pointing out a squirrel which he chanced to
see leaping from tree to tree, and which ho, in
his simplicity actually undertook to follow. He
however, soon turned back and his father, hav-
ing apologized for the unceremonious manner
in which Mr. Montgomery had been upset, met
him at a little disiance from the company, and
thus addressed him in an undertone:'
‘Now Rislam, ef you don’t be keerfnl an’ have
better manners, the nice geerl won’t go home
with yon. So hitch up, an’ drive ns all home,
an then you can look at the pnrty thing till bed
time, an ef you’ll show smart like yon gin’rallv
do, yon can see her to-morry ail day while
yon re takin* her home. What on yeth made
yon so awkward, Rislam ?‘ asked the old man
still lowering his voice, bnt sufficiently distinct
for every word to be heard by those in the car-
iage.
‘Why, daddy,’ answered the son in a half
whisper, ‘when I fast seed the aingel lookin’
creetur, I thought sbe was the young chap what
came after ns all rigged up in a gal’s nice frock,
but when I seed them blue eyes a meltin like
butter on M*zin Grace’s hot baddy cake, I
know'd in a minit that she wasn't him, but his
sister jest like him all to her eyes, 4
‘I,‘ said the old man, ‘sorty think that way
too, at fust; bnt it hadn't no sich a compression
on me as It did yon an* if it did, the old boss
didn't show his feelings so plain an* awknrd as
you did, Rislum, my son. ‘Speot it all come of
that big pnnoh you give Roper in his side.
What on yeth did yon pat on that dratted spar
for, Rislam ? It amt fit for a steer 1* y
‘Mam's the cause of the spar biznees; she tole
me to pnt it on an‘ show smart like you did
when yon was a ynnkster. *
‘It s no sich a thing. I never rid a steer with
a spur in all me born days. An* now, Rislnm ‘
continued the father again lowering his voice’
‘I ‘spect Mazin Grace‘11 cut jes 'bout such ins-
f!? 8 8 . en 8 ^ e 8ee ? young chap what‘s jest
like his party sister; bnt I don't want her to
show out so awknrd an' tarn a sommer-settle-
ment an‘ then git up an* run atween somebody's
legs an‘ throw em akitin on the groan* with a
big grant like yon did the man. Tho‘ ef she
does ont up, I don't want her to do it with as
mnch publicity as yon did, so ev‘ry bodv‘11 sen
‘er. So now, Rislum, hitch np an‘ less be a
gwine, it‘s mos‘ night.*
. Although John Montgomery and his travel
ing companions were among the last to make
sport of others, the manner and expression of
the driver, when added to all they had just
heard, was too much for human nature, of how
ever high degree of refinement, to bear without
laughing, still, they managed to keep themselves
within respectful bounds and invited Mr. Ram
sey and his Bon to take a seat with them in the
carriage and allow Cnpid to drive the oxen. To
this Mr. Ramsey objected on the grounds of not
having on their ‘Snnday clothes,' saying by wav
of apology, ‘that to-morry Rislnm will fix „p
an' nde with yon when yon gwine home.' *
Having announced themselves ready, both
father and son tock position upon the driver’s
neat high in front and with a slow, steady pull,
the carriage began to move, presenting , spec-
(Continued on 7th page.)
0