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VOL. V. -J. H. & W R SEALS,} proprietors. ATLANTA GA V SEPTEMBER 27th, 1879. Termsin advance:! Si n n K R. e co P y 3 ic No. 220
TO .4 POET.
“Oh, when in Fashion's crowded hall
Where every eye is turned to thee,
To thee, tlie brightest star of all
That form her brilliant galaxy;
Or when the hand of deathless fame,
A garland for thy brow shall twine,
And proudly trumpet forth thy name.—
I would not claim one thought of thine.
“Hut when the busy crowd is gone.
And brightly on the western sky
Tiie changeful sunset hues are thrown.
Oh, wilt thou thither turn thine eye;
And send one gentle thought to her
Whose spirit, ever turns to thine,
I.ike Persia's idol-worshipper.
Or Moslem to his Prophet's shrine?
“Ei.i.ex.
BESSIE GOLDEN.
Gold Story in two Nuggets.
BY T. C. H.
Xl'GGET THE FIRST.
Near the close of a rich day in mid autumn, a
stately vessel at whose mizzen floated the stars and
stripes rode into the placid waters of the most pict
uresque cove oil the coast of California. There
were signs of active life on deck, and a boat put off
for the shore immediately after the anchorage. It
contained two persons, beside the sailors who pull
ed lustily at the oars, and sent the little craft
through the waters with the swiftness of a bird.
The couple mentioned stood side by side in the
bow of the boat, and kept their eyes fastened on
the high cliffs that rose above the cove, and seemed
to lose their heads among the fleecy clouds. Both
were dressed in expensive mining suits, and their
general appearance betokened both refinement and
wealth.
One Was tall and robust, dark haired and beard
ed, anti a handsome man of thirty. His comp; n-
i< -i wp.s below him in stature, gracefully built, a:yl
eyes were gentle blue, and his hands, encased in
gloves, were like a babe’s compared to those of his
giant companion.
I do not wonder that the sailors watched the
youngest member of the little group more than his
companion. They did not seem togrow tired gaz
ing into the blue depths of his maidenish eyes, nor
in studying the contour of his lithe figure. They
were thus impertinent, perhaps, because of a cer
tain rumor which prevailed on the vessel for sev
eral weeks to the effect that the effeminate look
ing youth, was. in truth, a woman.
Sailors, you know, aie very credulous, and
when the ship dropped anchor in the gold cove,
the report had gamed much credence, and seem
ed to rest on a good foundation.
“Look at those grand cliffs, Besson,’ the dark-
bearded man said to his companion. ‘ IF hat do
you think of the new home?’
1’ he blue eyes of the youth seemed to sparkle as
his lips moved in reply:
‘You know I always liked the wild and grand,’
he said, in a tone soft and silvery as a girl's ‘I
trust we shall find that for which we seek. Are
you certain. Coryl. that this cove is the right one;'
‘I cannot be mistaken. Is this not Golden Cove,
Benson? for see how the sun gilds the trees and
rocks! The description says: ‘a mountain with a
broken peak stands to the right.’ Look at your
cliff. It looks as if some vengeful spirit had hurl
ed its peak into the sea.’
‘True, Coryl, but—’
The youth hesitated, and a slight palor of fear
flitted across his face.
‘But what, Benson;’
‘I was thinking that after all, our quest might
end in failure,' was the reply.
‘What! fearful again;’ exclaimed the tall man.
with a smile. ‘Come, come; faint heart never won
fair lady, my boy. H e have not come so far to
fail.’
Then he said to the sailors:
‘A little to the right my boys! There' there!
Come, now, Besson: let us set foot upon tae golden
shores of California.’
A moment later the singular couple had left
the boat, and stood on the wave-washed shore of
the little cove. Above them towered the magnifi
cent cliffs: behind stretched a little forest of trop
ical trees, and the air was musical with chattering
parrots and the songs of finches. It was a lovely
spot, sheltered from the winds by the stately c-iffs
—a place over which biue .-kies seemed to hang in
cessantly.
The penetrating eyes of the robust man took in
the beauties of the landing-place at a glance, and a
smile of satisfaction overspread his lace. He ap
peared happy, triumphant, and turned tc the sail
ors with a light voice.
'Now bring the baggage, boys,’ he said. ‘This is
the place where we take leave of you.’
Tfie boat was put about and skimmed over the
smooth water towards the ship, leaving the couple
on the shore.
In a short time the little craft returned, and the
already constructed portions of a small Liouse were
deposited upon the lieach, far front the grasping
fingers of the tide. The several boxes of provis
ions and clothing were landed, and the strange
couple returned to the ship.
Night settled over the scene, and the stars looked
down upon the gallant ship riding proudly at an
chor in the cove.
‘Your voyage ends here, I believe;’
‘Yes sir.’
‘The ship will sail tomorrow and leave you and
Mr: Cresson on the beach. I think you have se
lected a strange home. But it is decidedly roman
tic, and the quest for gold will make it doubly so.
May I enquire whether you have reliable evidences
that the precious metal abounds hereabouts?’
‘Certainly. Mr. Cresson, my friend, has strong
evidences of its existence in the mountains. He is
an old gold hunter,’
‘Just so. Is he a relative of yours?’
‘I believe not—an old friend—that is ail.’
The person addressed by the last speaker was a
good looking man of two and thirty. He stood on
the deck of the vessel and in the light of the stars,
and face to face with the youth called Besson, the
dark iiearded man’s companion.
‘An old friend, eh?’ he echoed with a sinister
smile, that did not escape Besson's quick eye.
‘Yes, sir; he and my father were very intimate.
‘Your father is dead then?’
‘Yes,’ with a sigh.
‘Pardon me, Mr. Besson,’ and the speaker almost
dawned, a vessel stood out to sea. Coryl and Bes
sie were down by the shore, the latter now dresses
in a garb more befitting her sex. and kneeling up-
'»ti the rocks, they watched their retreating ene
fines with triumphant, and happy emotions.
The following day the Birdwing returned to the
Golden Cove and the miner and his courageous
companion, with the immense treasure-trove, re
embarked..
They left, the cabin behind, left the tall cliffs, the
oranges, the trysring rocks, and—the grave of the
man who had attempted to destroy their happi
ness.
To-day he sleeps the sleep of death in the litttle
cove which, strange to sav, is -till deserted, while
Bessie dwells in the Quaker City, the wife of the
man whom she followed to the land of gold because
-iie had learned lo love him.
And Coryl Cr -son will tell you to-day that, in
all his minings, he never found a nugget so rich as
his little wife.
Kneeling on the Rdcks, they watched their Retreating Enemies*
impudently emphasized the name. ‘I have discov
ered something,’
•Ah!'
A sign of fear was in the youth’s eves.
it, inasmuch as wemart ,company
false colors, for you are a woman!’
The person called Besson started back with a
light cry, and gazed iuto the face that confronted,
his.
I ‘Sir, the absurdity—’
‘Pardon me! there is a great deal of absurdity
about it.’ was the interruption. ‘A young lady on
the coast of California disguised as a miner, and
in the company of a miner, old in trickery, if not
skilled in crime!’
•Beware!’was the cry. ‘You must be careful
with your accusations. The man whom you gross
ly insult is not far away.’
I ‘Hell, well, perhaps I have been too fast,’ the
* other said, noticing lhe light of resentment teat
burned in the eyes that regarded him. ‘But you
| have not denied the charge against yourself—that
1 your garments belie your sex."
‘It is nothing to you,’was the rejoinder, and the
speaker evinced an inclination to leave the man
alone. ‘1 say that who or what I am is nothing to
you.’
| The last words were spoken almost defiantly.
‘Ha! ha! a couftssiou!’ cried the other,with an air
j of victory. 'Now, let me tell you something else,
J before you depart to tell Mr. Cresson of this star
light meeting. Your name is Bessie Golden, and
yon live in Philadelphia. Your father died two
years ago to-morrow. His ancestors were, a
: general rule, well-to-do citizens; but among them
was one who actually turned pirate, and ploughed
tiie waters before any one dreamed that these
mountains were filled with gold. It i- said that lie
—the pirate—buried mil'll treasure. You may lie
looking for it now, Be-ste Golden; but I tell you if
you have allied yourself to that mail, Coryl Cres
son, you will never touch a dollar of it. Never.”
I Tiie listener whose sox could no longer be doubt
ed, stared into the man’s eyes.
‘You are saying a great deal,’ she said. ‘What is
your name?’
‘Mv name?’ and the speaker smiled as if the ques
tion provok-d the mirth. ‘1 think it but fair that
I vou should know, since 1 am cognizant of yours.
Know me as Starr Livingstone.’
It was a name that did not surprise the girl. She
j did not appear to have heard it before.
‘Good-night, then, Mr. Livingstone,’ she said
blandly. ‘We will part in the morning, since you
1 say that Iaiu to tarry on the beach.’
‘Not so fast, Bessie Golden!’ lie exclaimed, laying
his hands upon her arm. ‘Break away from this
I Coryl Cresson before it is too late. I have loved
; you long—loved you in thequaker City. You know
me not, and yet i have stood near yon when you
I never thought that 1 was by. My whole life is
! wrapped up in yours, Bessie Golden. I have fol
lowed you hoping to save you from the man who
has drawn you into this wild, delusive scheme,
j Here me, Bessie Golden! Turn from this schemer.
; and trust in the word of Starr Livingstone. H’hat!
I are vet going?’
I ‘\es; 1 didn’t sail hither for the purpose of lis-
1 teuing to such words as you have uttered!’ the
I young girl said, breaking from the passionate man.
j ‘1 am not being duped by Coryl Cresson. 1 reject
I your offers, and repeat that at dawn we part.”
Starr Livingstone bit his nether lip and clenched
his hands.
‘But not forever/’he cried- We are destined to
meet again.’
‘1 assure you, that I shall not seek the repconire,’
‘Perhaps not. There! I like the flash of your
blue eves, Bessie Golden. I know that you could
hale rigiit well. I must kiss you good bye.’
The disguised girl blushed to the temples as she
stepped forward; but the strong hand of the impet
uous man closed over her slender arm.
‘Not so fast!’he cried in triumph, drawing her to
him till his eyes fla-hed over her face. You’re a
stubborn lassie, but '
His sentence was broken by a wild shriek from
Bessie’s lips.
The next moment, a stalwart form sprang up
; from below, and, as the girl was snatched from
Starr Livingstone’s grasp, a well-directed blow
staggered hint against the vessel's side.
Tht rescuer was the giant miner Coryl Gressson.’
NUGGET THE SECOND.
‘What do you think about the guest, now, Coryl ?’
‘I think I have been mistaken in my bearings.
The chart is not as definite as it might be, but quite
enongh for its author I supi ose.’
‘You will continue the huut until the Birdwing
returns?’
Acs. Are you tired of this place. Bessie?’ I
‘No. 'Tis the sweetest cove beneath the sky. I ;
believe." I worrtler if winter .pyr*-- copie • thither; !
By .md l y, when ct inm A-'ierjyy build ai
ud V VibvJlfWf 'iil/ilV -!
The girl blushed, ijf |
‘Do you not know ;’
Coryl Cresson shook his head
‘With you, perhaps,’ laughed the girl, as she :
toyed with the miner’s glossy hair.
They were seated on a rock that commanded a !
view of the little cove and the breakers just be- !
yond. It was balmy eveutide, and the breezes, as :
gentle as angels breathing, fanned their faces. _ -j
- Both were bare-headed, and wore the mining ;
clothes in which we first introduced them to the j
reader.
One week ago we were left here.’ Cresson contin-
lied, after a pause. ‘I wonder where Mr. Starr ;
Livingstone is now.’
Bessie Golden laughed.
‘On the watery road to the States, no doubt, .
she replied. ‘I did not expect that you wereiisten- \
ing to his avowal of love. Why, just to think,
Coryl, that I nevei met him before.’
"He was a hot-headed fellow—a regular Hotspur,’ ;
said the miner. ‘I am glad that the Bird wing j
saile I away with him. The captain assured me-
that, he would get rid of his passenger.’
"I trust he will,’ Bessie said, looking into the min- |
eris eyes. ‘If he could, I believe lie would come
back.’
‘No ! no ! He is too cowardly for that, Bessie,’ |
was Creason's reply.
While the miner answered he did not look at the
beautiful one at his sid«. He did not see her lecn-
towards him with one hand buried in her dark
hair, and the other resting on the gray rock at her |
right, and love and animation in her pretty eyes, j
No. he did not see her, for lie was looking over her !
shoulder at two figures on the distant beach.
They had appeared quite suddenly and attracted >
hi- attention.
He watched them till they turned and passed
from sight in the gathering twilight, when his gaze
again returned to the person at his side.
While the figures at the edge of the sea had ex- i
cited him. he did not betray himself, but, remained
at the rock until the sun's reflection no longer crim
soned the waves. Then, with his arm about Bessie j
Golden, he walked to the pretty little cabin nest- :
ling among tropical trees and within sight of the j
cove. Rich, golden oranges lay in profusion about 1
the step, and parrots screeched among the boughs
that bore loads of the luscious fruit.
They passed into the cabin, and Bessie trimmed a j
lamp, whose mellow tight soon revealed the neat 1
little apartment. Everywhere was visible the tidy j
work of gentle hands. A piece of unfinished cro
chet lay on the table, and already the rough, but j
strong stools had been converted into tasty otto
mans. I
‘I am going to try the bearings again,’ Coryl !
Cresson said to the girl, who looked like a hand- j
some youth—a young god of mythology—in the
tasty mining suit- '1 cannot help but get right if 1
keep at work.’
‘1 will accompany 3-011.’
‘No, no, Bessie; stay at home and keep house,’ he
said, quickly. .Here is 1113* revolver,’ and he laid
the weapon on the table. ‘You know how to use
it.’ |
‘Upon a target, Coryl,’ she said, smiling; but her
face soon returned to sotierness. ‘What do 3’ou ;
fear ?’
It was the first time he had left her the revolver
since their landing.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘But it is night, Bessie, and I
will be away for a time.’
Then he went out ami the girl took up t he crochet
work. SShe looked like a 3-outh—but a fair one —
in lhe lamplight as her tb ger deftly made loop,and
stitch, and her lieautoul pattern grew into expand
ed beauty in her l ands.
She thought of tiie past while she worked at the
tidy, upon the gold-enchanted coast 01 California.
Her home in t he Quaker City ro-e before her vision
and she reviewed her htstor3 r which, briefly told, is
this;
Bessie Golden was an only child. Raised in
luxury in the midst of the refinement of the east,
she had grown to womanhood wiih all the accom
plishments which wealib and wit bestow on their
fortunate possessors" Her father was a prosperous
merchant; but when a certain commercial crash
came, he fell with hundreds of others, and bank-
ruptcy and ruin stared him in the face. He died in
the midst of bad luck, and Bessie, with the little
saved from the wreck of fortune, continued to dwell
in the old home.
fShe met Coryl Cresson, the handsome,big-heart
ed miner there. He and her father had often con
sulted an old chart which asserted that a large
amount of riches was hidden upon the coast of Cal-
ifflrma. She recollected the old chart, bow the
two men used to bend over ir. hod talk and specie,
iere oisaft,i(g.lines aad_dpts, r.:{<) she thought that
emperor.
She thought of the night when, ir. miner’s clothes,
she left the Quaker City with Coryl Cresson, eager
to find the gold. She did not think wrong in going,
for the fellow was the soul of honor, and she had
learned to love the horny hand which had wielded
the pick, and the face bronzed by the sun of distant
climes. Behind her were friends who wondered
where she was, and before her were mountrins and
Coryl Cresson.
Thus the girl reverted to the past, and finished
with the present in the cabin on the California
beach. While -he thought her fingers continued to
work, and the long hours wore away.
It was near nine o’clock when a footstep caused
the girl to look up from her crochet.
Was Coryl returning ;
No; the sound was not repeated, and the blue
eyes, tinged with disappointment, fell to the nee
dles again.
‘I’m afraid we will not find the gold,’ she said, in
a low tone. ‘Coryl hates to relinquish the hunt,
and I do not want to see him defeated,’
The last word still quivered on Bessie Golden's lips,
when a sound much like the one which had lately
starcled her, aroused her attention again.
It. sounded like some one among the bushes
which Corel's axe had spared before the door.
•H’hat does it mean Bessie was sat ing, while
she laid the work aside and rose.
‘Something—a bear, perhaps—
She stopped abruptly, and started for the en
trance, upon the threshold of which had suddenly
appeared the apparition of a man,
Bessie recognized Him in an instant.
‘Starr Living-tone, how dare you ?’
‘i dare anything for such beauty !’ he cried*
flushed wii h triumph. ‘Bessie Golden, you thought
1 would give up such a prize as 3'ourself after the
treatment 1 received at the hands of the mad gold-
hunter, Coryl Cresson. It 011I3- stimulated me to
ultimate success. He have met with easy victory'
to-night, eh, Byrd ?’ and the speaker turned to a
tall man who was peering over his shoulder.
‘We have, indeed, Starr,’ was the man’s reply.
‘She’s a pretty bird in the plumage which she wears
to night.’
A moment's silence followed the laugh that rip
pled over the speaker’s coarse lips.
‘You will leave me !’ Bessie said, firmly.
‘Leave you ; No, Bessie, we want you.’
‘Beware ! Coryl Cresson ’
‘Ha ! ha !’ laughed Starr Livingstone- ‘We
came upon him suddenly, and—we had to do it.’
The girl’s face grew deathly pale.
‘Is he dead !’
‘Well, he isn’t in a condition to balk me /’ was
the reply. ‘Come, girl! the boat >• waiting.
The next moment Bessie Golden snatched the re
volver from the table and stepped back m an atti
tude of defense.
The men exchanged significant glances.
‘None of that, Bessie !’ said Starr Livingstone"
‘Stand back, if y-ou do not want lead !’ was the
firm reply. "I shall defend myself to the last ex-
tremiry.’
There was a dangerous flash in the girl’s eyes;
her hand was steady like that of a practised marks
man, bui Starr Livingstone did not heed.
Perhaps he was goaded by a sarcast ic word from
the man behind him. At all events, he sprang to
wards the girl, ami the revolver flashed in his face.
There was a loud cry- taken up by the man in the
door, and St irr Livingstone fell on his face and
lay at Golden's feet !
His accomplice fled like a coward.
For a moment tne girl did not know what to do;
but she ‘lashed impulsively from the cabin and tied
down the path.
All at once she came to a sudden halt, and start
ed from the figure that confronted her.
‘Coryl! I thought you were dead.’
‘Dead !’ and 1 he miner drew the trembling girl
to his heart. 'Not dead, but lucky. I got the prop
er bearings to-night, Bessie, and my pick found the
treasure. Now let the Birdwing return. The old
chart was right after all. Fifty thousand dollars,
Bessie 1 Just think of that !’
He talked -e fast that the excited girl did not
more than half comprehend him.
He almost carried her back to the cabin where
Starr Livingstone still lay—qnite dead.
Then she told him all.
‘I feared it, for I saw them on the beach in the
twilight,’ he said. ‘That is why I left the revolver.
An examination showed that Starr Livingtones
companions had left the coast, and when morning
THE LATE GENERAL HOOD,
Particulars [of the Death of General Hood and
His a Wife-Appeal for Their Orphaned Chil
dren.
General Randall Gibson, member of Congress
from Louisiana, who is now at the Greenbrier
White Sulphur Springs, has received a letter set
ting forth in an affecting manner the last sad
scenes in the life of General John R. Hood. The
following is an extract from the letter :
“Mrs. Hood, after her last sickness, was better.
Friday week, feeling so well, she imprudently took
a bath. Immediately after she was taken with a
chill. Dr. Richardson having left on the first of
this month. Dr. Bemiss was called in, and during
his temporary- absence, and when taken with this
chill. Dr. Beckham was called, and in consultation
with Dr. Logan treated her for intermittent fever.
On the following Friday Dr. Bemiss returned. I
heard him sav Mis. Hood’s case was the most re
markable one he had ever seen in his practice : that
there was not a single symptom of yellow fever,
and they did not know that she had it until the
black vomit appeared. She died at 9 o’elock p. m.
Sunday night, and was buried at i0 o’clock Mon
day-morning. I never saw a man so completely-
crushed in my life. I was with him Monday morn
ing till the funeral. • Pie said he’d rather God
should have taken every one of bis children in one
f’ "V t T > - if <‘. -■ that he, was com -
nothing to live for. The precious little Iambs, who
had gone to bed Sunday night knowing nothing of
their mother’s death, began to come in one by one
until nine came in, and such a scene I never wish
to witness again. After the children left he said:
•Major, I have never had the fever, but if I should
have it, and it is God’s will, I am ready to go. I
have requested Colonel Flowers to take charge of
my children and appeal to the Confederate soldiers
to support them, for I have nothing on earth to
leave them.’ He was taken Tuesday morning at I!
o'clock, and died Friday morning ar 3:30 o’clock,
perfectly in his mind to within tan minutes of his
death. At about two o'clock he asked the doctor
if his time to die was not near at hand. The doc
tor said. ' Yes, General.’ Then a minister was sent
for, at his request, to give him the last communion.
I hear his house is mortgaged to it- full value, and
he left but little insurance on hi- life, not being
able to keep up his policies. He b id me his book
was finished, and he was just about starting to
Philadelphia to make arrangements for its publica
tion. Old Mrs. Hennen. his mother-in-law, can
live but a few months, and here are eleven little
lambs left fatherless and motherless."’
N'EOI.IXT OF ITIIS: AGED.
Lone Fixe, August iTth.
I c-innot cry for him. Annie,
I have not lorg to stay;
Perhaps I shall iee him'the sooner,
For he lived far away.
—[The Grandmother, by Tennyson.
Hliat a grand, sad truth is breathed forth in the
simplicity- of the old grandmother's words. It
makes my heart ache to Think how many of the
ki*l old fathers and mothers of our land are left
alone in the old homes. There they are. year after
year, while their old hearts are yearning for the
i love and sympathy of the bright young creatures
that have passed out from the old home nest into
the wide, wide world to finds home for themselves.
Poor old parents ! Over the cradle of these,
when they were little, they- watched. They guided
! their first tottering steps. They worked fi r them :
they prayed for them, and, seemingly, they
thought only of them, till it seemed os if those lit
tle lives were interwoven with their own. M'ith
tender solicitude they watched over the develop
ment of their young" minds. Il'hat efforts they
ma le trying to give them an education, of which,
i as to themselves, they perhaps had felt sorely the
need. And when the time comes for the boys and
i girls to leave, when the mother packs the things in
1 the trunk, her tears dropping upon them, and
! father and mother give them their parting bless
ing, only the good God will ever know the heart
aches they have ! Like the tendrils of the vine,
love and affection for their own flesh and blood
have entwined themselves ’round the parents’
hearts.
A 1.1 i'll IX BED.
A few weeks ago, says the Lowell (Mass.) Mail,
we published a paragraph concerning a woman in
some far-away land who had been twenty years in
bed. We have been told of a case more remarka
ble than that in a town in New Hampshire, within
half a day’s ride of Lowell. More than forty years
ago a handsome, intelligent daughter of a thrifty
farnier of that town became attached to a young
man in her neighborhood, toward whom her pa
rents were not favorably disposed. They would
not consent to her marriage, and she, although
competent to reason with herself and them on the
subject, gave up a school which she was teaching,
went to her bed, and never again arose from it to
work or go into society. At the time she was not
more than seventeen or eighteen years old—
healthy, sprightly, intelligent and good looking.
The world to her, it would seem, had as many
charms as for any one else ; but without the man
of her choice—though that choice may have been
regarded as a poor one by her friends-'-her bed was
her world, and for more than forty years she
clung to it, never once leaving it to help herse If to
anything out of her room. The members of the
family were her servants.
Incoming European steamers are overcrowd
ed and the homeward voyage is made with
many discomforts.