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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.