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« t \ - * FLOWERS COliECTIOi,' VOL. V. .r. H. & W R SEALS,} fiKfSSSAS ATLANTA, GA., AUGUST 30, 1879. Terms in advance:} ty'io. No. 216. A CHILD'S «|I ESTIO.XS. Mother who made the stars, and why do they lie Scattered like pearls throughout the blue sky ? How large is the very largest one I see. And how many miles from us can it be? Who made the ocean so broad and so deep. And why don't its waters the earth oversweep? Why did God make more water than land And how did he make it? I can't understand. What makes the new moon so queer and small. And where does it go when it don’t shine at all ? Does it take tlie sun a long time to ride, Down the sky to the folks on the other side? Who painted the clouds so roseate nud fair, And how high do they float’hove the earth in the air ? Does the storm-king dwell in their bright sunny folds. While thunder and lightning in his hands he holds? Mother you tell me that sometime we must die. Does Heaven lie far away in the distant sky ? 1 wonder some white winged angel don't come, And tell us about that beautiful home. Did God write the bible with his own hand. If not. how did he maae the men understand? Which is the oldest the moon or the sun. How long did God rest when all was done? Some questions I answer, others I cannot, you see Some of his queries are too difliculi for me, Earnestly I pray that Faith may impart, Answers of peace to his mind and his heart. Mks. W. A. Fuller. Sunday, July f-tli 1879. IMPLICIT FAITH, —OH— A Woman's Stratagem. CHAPTER I. ‘Going fishing again, Harvey ? why you are a 1 ■ ik Walton. '! Wanted y. v to go with me to Mr?. Clyde’s, but no place seems to have any at traction for you but Beech Lake. What is there so fascinating about it. I’d like to know ?’ said my good mother in a discomposed and irritated tone. ‘What is there so fascinating at Beech Lake ?’ I repeated, feeling myself color under her jienetrat- ing eyes. ‘Oh there’s fine trout and croakers and splendid rowing and delicious fish dinners at the Lake House. But I’ll come back early, mother dear, if I have good luck fishing.’ ‘I wish you would, and call for me at Mrs. Clyde’s. I want to bring Annabel home with us. She’s a nice girl, Harvey.’ 'Oli, yes,’ I said, repressing a grimace, for though Annabel Clyde, tlie heiress, might lie nice so far as a milk and roses complexion ami plenty of money were concerned, I knew a girl I should see at the Lake worth twenty dozen of her—a piquant, bright eyed, brilliant, graceful little creature with her black lmir in ripples and her neck like the pearly throat of a lily. I had not named her among the attractions of the Lake, but indeed she and not the trout or the rowing was the magnet that drew me there. Yet she was only the pretty waitress at the Lake House, or ut least that was all she claimed to lie though 1 fully believed her lot in life to be high er and that she had some secret, but I could not think, criminal reason for disguising her identity. The fact spoke in every look and tone, so high bred in spite of her simplicity and quietness But, though she conversed frankly when talked to, she was com pletely reserved on her own affairs, and quietly re pelled bv her dignified manner, any inquiries as to her family and former life. She appeared at the Lake House suddenly and without anyone being able to tell where she came from. If BenDribats, the proprietor of the hotel knew, he would not tell, nor would his elder brother, old Culeb Dribats.who had come front the city for a few days’ visit to his brother, he said, but the few days had lengthened into weeks and some unusual attraction seemed to keep the dry man of business away from the scenes of It is beloved money making, for Caleb Dribats had the reputation of being over fond of filthy lu cre and not all scrupulous how lie ma le it.- He was the|eonfl<lential clerk of the great broker Brasmuck. who had some years ago been the partner of Mr. Mainwright, a private banker, who received large sums of money from private parties to invest for them. Caleb was also employed as clerk in this es tablishment, which did a flourishing business, until one day Mr. Mainwright declared that his de-k had been robbed of valuable securities, but somehow a rumor got out that this was merely a trick to de fraud his depositors. There was a run on his bank, and he was ruined. Though he sacrificed every dol lar of his large private fortune and paid every de mand against him, his credit was destroyed. He took the affair so much to heart that lie removed his family from the city and was never heard of af terwards. Mr. Brasmuch, his partner, resumed business in bis own name, with Caleb Dribats as his right-hand man. Caleb was a dry, hard-looking custsmer. and I never thought of being jealous of him on bis ac count, lint it might be that his money was attrac tive to pretty Bessie Small, for undoubtedly she received his attentions complacently, and smiled upon him in her winning way, until' I half feared sometimes, she might be bought with his gold, un til a flash of her eye and a curl of her lip, made me think she was made of finer mettle. Old Caleb liked me as little as I did him and never missed an opportunity to sneer at my youth or ignorance of some things in the world it was quite as well not to know about. Today lie began by making fun of the poor success in fishing that I and my comrade old Ex Captain Hutchins had had this morning. I took it goodnaturedly at first, then I began to make sharp retorts in turn and fi nally I said something real bitter and cutting, and Label who sat leaning his hands across his cane and looking at me with his small ferret eyes half started from his seat, with a muttered oath and a snaky gleam of his eye. At this juncture, my rough but whole souled old friend the Captain strode up and put himself between us, and thrusting his hands in his pockets gave me a keen, significant look, saying at the same time in a low tone: ‘Harvey, let that old fellow alone. He's danger ous I tell you. He’s jealous of you. and you’d bet ter not rile him. He’s too old to pitch into fair fight. and he might serve you an under hand trick. Come along and let’s try our luck again. The wind’s about right now.’ I went, without casting another look at Caleb Dribrats, but as I passed Bessie on the piazza, I contrived to prefer a whispered request that she would come down to the lake shore at twilight. She blushed and looked thoughtful a moment, and ‘Upon my word I must plead ‘I will tell you, Faith. The • and hopes one day to win me, i She blushed and looked thoughtful a moment, and | ana hopes one aay to win me, then noddedA consent. tire, absolute, implicit fait 1,;.^. Mit just av .-rC-ar-lightiag tt• the .Viimws'J-- questered littie sjiot., I had designated all shut in with rocks and cedars. ‘I could hardly elude Caleb Dribrats watchful eyes,’ she said half laughing and breathless. ‘The old dastard!’ I exclaimed. ' Why do you waste time on him ?’ Her brow darkened, I could see it even in the dim light in which we stood, and her thin lips con tracted with a cold, hard expression. “I may have a purpose,” site answered absently. “What purpose? Surely you would never think of marrying hintj” “Marry him?” She laughed. “Oh, no! I should J 'ust as soon think of marrying my grandfather, larrying is the last tiling l think of at present.” “Don’tsay that. I began to have hopes that I could persuade you to marry me.” “Did you?” She laughed again. “11'ho says that men are not fools? Do you know what you are talking about, Harvey Pastern ? You are young, wealthy, and tif a good family: you might take your pick—for you really are, without any flat tery, a fine type of manhood—our of the best in the land; while 1 am poor, obscure, and of a family whose name might be a disgrace. And yet you have made ine a proposal of marriage. What do j olt think your friends woul 1 say if they knew if ?" “D—deliver me front my friends!" I exclaimed. ’ “I mean to marry to please myself, not my friends.” J “Very true: but still it is very annoying to meet the contempt and derision of former associates.” “The world is wide, Bessy: and 1 have wealth enough to make a home far front all annoyances. 1 wo united hearts need neither friends nor associ ates. “True again,” she answered, bravely. “But your mother! have you thought of l et? She would not consent: and could you deprive her of the pleas ure she feels in your society?" 1 became thoughtful. I Lad very strong doubts of gaining my mother’s consent myself. I had not yet arranged matters if she refused, leaving them until I had decided the question. “Now, then,” said Bessy, rightly guessing the cause of my silence, “acknowledge that I am right, shake hands and say good-night, and forget that so humble a personage as Bessie Small ever crossed your path.” She held out her hand, and I took it ill mine, and held her fast. I had more to saw “I dare say, Bessy,” I said, “that you have given me the very best of advice; but unfortunately being in love, I am not in a condition to profit by good advice. I love yon fervently, with the first pas sion of my fife. You are the only woman I have ever met whom I consider worthy of a second thought. I shall never cease to love you, and could not, even if such was my desire, which is not, drive your image from my mind. You are not, I feel as sured, in the position to which your birth and ed ucation entitle you. Confide in me—you know you can do so in safety—and suffer me to restore you to that place in society which some misfortune or accident has deprived you of.” “Why should you think me otherwise than I seem ?” she asked abruptly. “Your manner, air, conversation, all convince me of the fact.” She seemed annoyed at my words. “Have I played uiy part so badly, then;” she murmured almost petulantly. “Do you think oth ers share in your opinion?” she ad led quickly, i aloud. “Perhaps, but not to the same extent as myself. They have not been so interested in discovering your true character as I have.” My answer appeared to afford her great satisfac tion. “It seems to me,” she laughingly exclaimed, •‘that your discoveries have not amounted to much. ” “True; I look to yon for a solution of what still invstifies nte.” “Proceed, Mr. Lawyer, with your cross-exami nation ; for such appears to be your desire. ’ “Briefly, then, who and what are you?’’ “You shall have my history in a nutshell. I call myself Bessy Small, 1 am twenty years of age. and 1 am tnaid-of-all work at Mr. Benjamin Dribrat’s hotel.” ‘Is vhat all you can tell me?’ ‘That is all lean tell you.’ She laid a Jong stress on the ‘you.’ Do you think you are dealing justly with me, ssy ? I love you. I do not doubt it. Do you know the first article of a lover’s creed?’ Ar, be must ■Jen lmot uc- ; 'il leave me •absolute, so Vaporize. < there is love confess that ik mini romptly: 'and convince you.' however strange my conduct! never doubt me for a moment, cede to that condition, you mat for you ttre only wasting your t ‘Did ever lover have a mist] provokingly cool?' I attempted t •Bessy, you are hardly fair, fl there must lie confidence- Come your name is not Bessy Small.’ ‘My name is Bessy,’ she answer that I am small, your own eyes c; In law we would call that ‘dodging the question.’ I tried again. ‘You are here for some secret pufpose?’ ‘If I am,I intend to keep it a secret,’ she answered with provoking coolness. ‘Even from me?’ reproachfully. ‘Even from you,’ coldly. ‘You do not love me!‘ ■Do you think so?‘ archly, and in that vivacious tone which was -o charming from her lips. ‘Bessy, 1 am going home.’ ‘Good-night.’ She held out her hand. I took it. It lay passive ly in mine. ‘Do you know what I shall do when I reach home?’ •Go to bed. 1 •Not at once. I shall go to my mother, shall tell her that 1 have at last found a girl whom I think worthy to become her daughter in-law, and ask her consent to our marriage.’ The little fingers closed over mine with a gentle pressure. ‘You are bfginning to have faith in me?’ ‘Yes. ‘ 1 reached forward, and, quite by accident of two. Don't tell people where you found her, and they will never know it. Good Lord! I wouldn’t have our relations know about it for a mint of monev. Don't tiring her here: it when you get igne. —or ! gj_tjejj. T vrl'lftfwne attdfsee you.” 1 was too LMctfpie’AstYi mTiuv't gan.uo «uei . sent to grumble at the conditions, though I had an idea that she would feel it an honor some day to receive Bessie Small beneath her roof. And so the affair was ended between us. Bessy Small's name was never merttioned from that night, and matters went on as usual: only my mother would smile sig nificantly whenever I took my fishing pole, and started off for the lake. One evening after leaving the little hotel where I had supped as usual, atten ted by Bessy, who was strangely thoughtful and absent, Captain Hutchins persuaded me to go up to his cabin and smoke a pipe. His house lay on the other side of the lake, beyond the hotel. The road took quite a curve; hut there was a short cut through the woods: I was familiar with this short cut, and as it was a moon light night, I came back by that way. As I approached a small grove of trees that lay at the back of the hotel, I saw a woman's white dress shining in the moonlight, and heard the sound of voices. I paused, and then stole quietly behind a tree to listen. 1 performed this decreditable ac tion because I had discovered that the woman was Bessy in close and earnest conversation with a man. •All's fair in love,’ you know. If I had a rival, I was justified in using an accident which might lead to the discovery. I could see Bessy’s face quite plainly; but her companion, the man, who was so muffled up (this was in the summer, mind, a very suspicious circum stance). that I coulil not distinguish a single fea ture. Nor could I. front where I stood, overhear a word of their conversation. How long the conference had lasted, I knew not. I had arrived just in time to see the end. There was a close embrace, a ringing kiss, and the mail course, my lips came in contact with hers. The | disappeared through the trees, making for the road, next instant Bessy bounded away in the darkness, j My first impulse was to follow him. and annihilate That was our 'good-night.’ j hint on the spot: but. on second thoughts, 1 consid- I walked home like one in a dream—an ecstatic j ered, that, if anybody was to blante. it was Bessy; delirium. If you have ever been in the same po- | Sol concluded to give her a ‘piece of my mind.’ sition, you know just how I felt: if not, words are j She was so absorbed in thought, that she did not inadequate: and, as we say in euchre, 'I pass.’ j perceive my approach until I stood at her side. ! Then she started with a shrill cry of alarm. But, PH ' PTFR TV j the moment she recognized me, the look of terror 1 ' • | vanished front her face, and she grew quite at ease. On arriving home I was glad to find my mother She held out her hand to me andsmileda welcome, alone sitting by the lighted lamp with her crochet | ‘Is it you, Harvey ?’ she said. ‘Only you ? You work. I drew a chair beside her, and opened the quite startled me.’ ball at once. I need not recount our entire conver- | I was rather bewildered at this reception after sation—which was prolix, anil of a somewhat j what 1 bad seen. I rejected her hand, folded my stormy nature. _ J arms, and sternly confronted her. I began by reminding her that her great desire ‘Jealous again, eh?’ cried this incomprehensible was to see me happily married and settled for life. She immediately disi woman with a ringing laugh. •Have I not cause? I saw the man who just left your side, after such an affectionate farewell.’ ‘Saw him, did you.-’ she asked eagerly. ‘Then . not see his face. I only isplayed the greatest interest. I ben told her that I had at last found the one I had been looking for. Of course she was naturally cu rious to know who it was. There was no help for | you would know fiim again? it: she had to be told all I knew myself; which was | * ‘No: I should not. I did ti nut much. j saw that it was a man.’ Her indignation knew no bounds; and the ‘idol! ‘How do you know that it was not a woman dress- of my affections’was spoken of as a ‘trollop,’ a | ed up in man’s clothes?’she asked. •cunning minx.” who had artfully entrapped ail in- ! ‘I am satisfied it was a man,’ I return with deeis- nocent young man. | ion: ‘and now who was it:' “But she was not a fool if I was,” I quote from | ‘I decline to answer that question,’was the curt my mother now. “The good-for nothing need I reply. never expect to be received as her daughter.— j ‘Have I not a right to ask?’ Mother to a tavern girl! Good heavens! what were | ‘No; our compact was ‘implicit faith.’ If your we coming to? And we descended from the first families of Louisiana!” Then I began. I ventured to suggest that this was a great republic, the fundamental law of which was that “all men (and women) are born free and equal;” that true desert did not arise from any po sition in life; with a slight touch from Bulwer,' that “kings had stooped from their high sphere” to wed peasant inaids. In fact, I mixed up history and logic until I got liefogged myself, and completely bewildered my maternal relative. Her anger died away in speechless wonder, her crochet needle fell unheeded in her lap, and she sat gaaing at me in open-mouthed admiration. “Ah, Harvey!” she said at length, shaking her head gravely, “you are smart, though I say it; and if you would be a, little more attentive “to bnsiness, you would make the stnarte-t lawyer in the coun try. Your father always said that a good educa tion was the best thing in the world; and often and often I have heard him wish he had the same op portunity he gave you. Well, I guess you know, after all. what you want. If you love the girl, and she is what you say she is—prettv and well-educa ted—wh>, marry her. I suppose you have made up your mind to do that anyway. But take' my advice in one thing. Don’t marry her here; take her to the city, and keep her there for a year or eyes see black, and I tell you it is white, you must believe me, not your eyes. This much to satisfy you. You have no rival; what you have seen to night needs no justification, did you know who that man was?’ ‘That is precisely what I want to know.’ ‘That is precisely what you cannot know at pres ent. ’ ‘Do you take me for fool?’ ‘Oh.no! If I did, I should not take you at all: and I expect I shall have to one of these days.’ ‘It was no use: she had bewitched me. I felt my anger and jealousy melting into thin air. ‘If you do not like my conditions,’ she continued, ‘renounce me. But so long as you follow me, you must be blind and deaf at my will. Now listen; I leave here to-morrow ’ ‘Leave ? Where are youtgoing ?’ ‘To the city,—to be housekeeper for Mr. Caleb Dribrats. He is in love with me. and thinks I will marry him. IFhat fools love makes of the men !’ ‘Me included ?’ ‘Oh ! that is your own application. Now kiss me ’good-by;’ it is late. ’ ‘I shall follow you to the city.’ ‘I know you will. I may have a use for you.’ She was gone,—dancing through the trees like a fairy. I went home more in love than ever. You would not have been such a fool ? Oh, wouldn’t you ? Just you get in love once, and try it ! The next morning, very ifgent business required my immediate presence in New York. My mother smiled. •Don’t tiring her here,’ she said. ‘William the Conquerors niothei ntav have been a tanner’s daughter; but the ancient Romans came over be fore the Conqueror.’ CHAPTER V. I had re-opened my office, and had resumed bus iness to all appearances, though few clients favor- e 1 me with a call. The chief part of my time was occupied in loitering around the habitation of Mr. L alab Dribrats, with the hope of catching an oc casional glimpse of Bessy. I could not call upon her, as she hail expressly forbidden me to do so. I hus a fortnight passed away. One day, while I was seated in my office busily engaged in sketching pen-and-ink portraits of Bes- s\ on a blotter, a lady was announced. She seated herself in the chair I proffered, and, when we were alone, raised her veil. It was Bessy herself. she laughed heartily, in her usual free-and-easy manner, at my astonishment. \ ou here ? I strnuuered, as soon as 1 rtcovered from my surprise. ‘As you see.’ she returned merrily. ‘The moun tain could not come to Mahomet, and so Mahomet comes to the mountain.’ ‘It is an age since I have seen you.’ ‘A lovers age,—only a fortnight. You are look ing remarkably well. You have not pined away to a shadow yet. Why don’t you protest how glad you are to see me ■ Where are all your rhap sodies ? Dumb as an ovstor ! I have come to take you into my confidence.’ ‘At last ! It is about time.’ ‘Don t lie too sanguine: 1 don’t intend to tell yon any more than I can help. Don’t look so disconso late; rememlier -faith’ to the end; which. I hope, is not far distant.’ ‘I ain rejoiced to hear it.’ ‘In the first place, of course you are anxious to know what I have been doing in the last fortnight. I have received two offers of marriage, and—ac cepted them both !’ ‘The deuce you have !’ .That is to say, I have made both my swains be lieve that I have accepted, which amounts to the same thing.’ ‘I don’t exactly see in that light.’ ‘No matter: I know what I am about.’ ‘I wish I diil.’ Y»r~ patience, tny . Hi.ia’J* : a.'. [ Now listen: I came here as Mr. Caleb Dribrat's housekeeper, with the understanding, on liis part, that l ain soon to change that title for the more sounding one of Mrs. Dribrats. But mark what fol lows: his employer, Brasmuch, calls to see him, and I receive him in the absence of the ancient Ca leb. Mr. Brasmuch is a widower, without kith or kin; a pompous old schemer, with uncounted wealth. He is quite charmed with me, and chats an hour while he awaits the arrival of Caleb. I improve the opportunity. Caleb comes at. last, and is very pinch chagrined at finding us together. The jackal is a frail l of the lion, and with reason. Mr. Bras- niuch goes away verv much in love. He repeats his visits, always haj.^ening to come when Caleb is out. He is in want of a housekeeper, and hints vaugely at placing me at the head of the finest es tablishment in the city. IFhv not ? Gold often buys youth and beauty, though the hand that offers it is palsied. I desert the disconsolate Dribrats, and take up my residence with the millionaire; and, when 1 wish to be Mrs. Brasmuch, I have only to say so. ‘I d give you a small sum, Bessy to know what you are driving at ?’ 1 II ould you ? The idea of a little woman,like me, puzzling a lawyer. But I won’t forget you in my good fortune.’ ‘Thank you,’ I returned dryly. I was not altogether pleased with what I had heard. ‘Do you know Mr. Brasmuch ‘No, never saw him.’ ‘I)o you think he knows you—that he has ever seen you ?’ ‘Not to my knowledge. I never mix with his set.’ ‘I thought not. Then you will do very nicely. Yesterday Mr. Brasmuch mentioned in my pres ence that he was very much in want of a confiden tial secretary for some new speculation he is about to engage in, and would prefer a young man from the country, if he could get one, unacquainted with city life: in short, he wants a r/reen hand, who might he made a tool of to further some rascality. A thought flashed through my mind like an inspira tion; and I instantly replied that I had a brother, well educated, and a good penman, who was most anxious to obtain a situation in the city. He jump ed at tiie chance, and told me to write for my brother,—that the place should be his.’ ‘Where is this brother ?’ ‘Not very far off,—about the length of your chair from mine.’ To say that I was thunderstruck is a mild descrip tion of the effect her words had upon me. ‘Me?’ I your brother ? Do you mean to say that you intend to introduce me to Mr. Brasmuch as your brother, and that you expect me to become Lis private secretary ?’ ‘That is what I intend to do. anil what I expect you to do,’she returned in the most positive ina- ner. ‘It is tlie easiest thing in the world. You have only to shave your mustache, and cut your hair short: you are pretty well browned up fishing on the lake, and you would not look unlike a coun try youth of twenty-three.’ There was never a woman who had such a de cided way of making everybody (witness old Caleb and Mr. Brasmuch) she came in contact with do just as she pleased. She overruled every objection, pooh-poohed all my scruples, laughed at my wound ed dignity, and the affair ended (as of course you knew it would) by my consenting to do everything she wished. I shaved my mustache (I had been six months cultivating it), clipped my curls until I looked like a prize-fighter, put on a last years’ suit so as not to appear fashionable, packed up a few necessaries in an old valise, was driven to tlie house of Mr. Bras much, where I was introduced as Mr. Harvey Small (and small enough I felt) by the artful Bessy, ami speedily installed as “private secretary.” entering at once upon the discharge of my duties. CHAPTER YI. I AM INDUCED TO COMMIT RORBERT. I soon discovered that Mr. Brasmuch had engaged in an oil speculation, and tuy business was to send a stereotypi-d letter to ilie gudgeons who were nib bling for shares. and acknowledge the receipt of the moneys they were foul i nough to send. I enjoyed myself amazingly, however; being domiciled beneath the same roof with Bessy, and [CONCLUDED ON EIGHTH PAGE.] ;5S£;