Newspaper Page Text
j
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YOL.
J. 2. & W. B. SEALS} peopriItors.
ATLANTA. GA., FEBRUARY 12 1881.
Terms in Advance;
.Copy, 5c.
NO. 281
SOMEBOBrS HOTHEH,
The woman wis old and ragged end gray
And beat with the chill of the winter’s day ;
The street was wet with a recent snow,
And the woman’s feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing, and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by.
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street, with laughter and shout,
Glad of the freedom of‘ school let out,”
Came the boys, like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snew piled white and deep.
Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way.
Nor offered a helping hand to her,
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir
Lest the carriage wheels or the horses’ feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street
At last came one of the merry troop—
The gayest laddie of al 1 the group; ’
He paused beside her and whispered low,
•• I'll help you across, if you wish to go.”
Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm.
He guided the trembling feet along,
Proud that his ow n were finn and strong.
Then back again to his friends he went.
His young heart happy and well content.
"She's somebody’s mother, boys, you know,
For all she’s aged and poor and slow;
And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
If ever she's poor and old and gray,
When her own dear boy is far away.”
And “somebody’s mother” bow'd low her heal
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was, "God he kind to the noble boy.
Who is somebody's son and pride and joy!”
MARY ANDERSON
AND
Peacock the Mineral
ogist
THE BAD LICK OF A YOU A Li
souther:* girl.
BY CHARLES T. PECK.
CHAPTER XXIX.
(CONCLUDED.)
Mary, through the laws of her country,
was now free from Peacock. The divorce
was obtained without any trouble. She was
not called Mrs. Peacock, as none knew that
hated name but Mr. Belmont. She was in
the store always called Miss Mary.
One bright, lovely morning, a small bridal
party entered a fashionable church two
weeks after Mary’s return, and the principals
in this transaction were Mr. Belmont and
Mrs. Mary Anderson. After the ceremony,
hearty and true were the congratulations
spoken to the bride and groom. Mr. Red-
wine had charge of little Harry, who wanted
to know what that tall man in his night
gown was saying to mamma. Redwine told
him to listen and then he would know.
From the church they drove home to Mr.
Belmont’s palatial mansion and there, for the
first time, Mary entered to be introduced to
new friends and to take her place at the head
of the sumptuous and elegantly set table.
This was no triaL She was only returning
back to her old accustomed life before she
had the misfortune to marry Peacock. Mary
was thankful to God for His protecting care.
She now no longer felt herself forgotten by
Him. But even in this waking dream we call
life there is something still wanting.
‘ If 1 could only know where my parents
and sisters are, then my cup of happiness
would be fu'l t overflowing.”
Months passed on. Mr. Belmont had en
gaged Mr. Redwine as his attorney and he
lived with them, and he and little Harry
were as inseparable as old Dominie Sampson
and little Harry Bertram.
One day Mr. Redwine had to go some dis
tance to a large town. 1 was on business
for Mr. Belmont, and he had always been
told by both Mr. Belmont and Mary, when
ever and wherever he went to make enqui
ries for her parents, as thej- had not returned
to the place reported to her. Redwine re
plied that he had set enquiries afloat in every
direction and had left nothing undone to find
them. He left for H—. The next day after
his arrival, walking along one of its principal
streets, he met Col. Hill with the very gen
tleman he was in quest of. He was* intro
duced to Col. Hill and was struck with his
improved likeness to his old and staunch
friend, John Hill, and in a little time asked
if they were related. How bands were
grasped when John said:
"I did not hear distinctly your name, but
I was thinking you must be a relation of my
old chum.”
1
I
I
Col. Hill said to the gentleman,
“We will see you to-morrow,” and took
Redwine immediately home with him. They
went to the library, Hill saying,
“My wife is out visiting and we will re- \
mam in here uutil her retu rn."
Old news began to be talke over. Soon the
Anderson name was called up by Mr. Red- 1
wine. He told all about how he had again
met with Mary. Hill listened with breath
less attention, making exclamations of pity. '
astonishment and joy on hearing at last of
her happy aud prosperous state.
"Perfectly happy she would be if she could
only find her parents and sisters," said Mr. 1
Redwine.
"I could not interrupt you, so great was
my interest in poor Mary’s case, but now I
will tell you. Anderson and his family are
living about ten miles from here.”
“Let us go right away,” said Mr. Red-
wi ie.
Hill ordered bis buggy and as they drove
on he told of all their troubles and told how
Peacock had betn convicted of forgery and
would be sent to the penitentiary in a few
days._ Hill said:
’ We will drive up to the gate,” and he
jumped our, followed by Redwine.
Mr. Anderson was sitting in his little gal
lery alone, but Eva saw the gentlemen stop
and told her mother who came out, hoping
TUBS U ARLYLE—See 511i l’agc.
i manner was nervous and frightened. After
i the most friendly and kindest salutations, he
I conducted the party to his carriage and in
troduced his wife. She insisted that Mary
must drive home with them and take some
refreshment before driving out to the village,
but she said:
‘ Many thanks for your kindness, but 1
■ could not rest until I see my parents.”
Hill took a chance moment to whisper to
her that it was impossible for that villain,
Peacock, to live long, he was in a manner
dying of consumption.
The Belmonts drove off in Col. Hill's car
riage while he and his wife reiurned home in
his buggy. He moralized ou the danger of
forming an intimacy with persons we know
nothing of, aud taking his wife’s little hand
between his own, he said:
“I am speaking my own experience, for
the first time I met Peacock he was to me the
most repulsive person I ever saw, bat I let
that feeling wear off. I endeavored to do so,
for I began to think it must be meanness in
myself to have such a dislike to a stranger
without a cause. He amused me and 1 for
got the warning, but even worked the harder
to make amends for the dislike that at first I
had for him.”
Mr. Redwine was at Mr. Anderson’s. He
and all the family were in nervous excite
ment to meet again after all the dreadful
trials and after this long separation.
Mrs. Auderson exclaimed:
“Ohl I am afraid it is a dream and all this
happiness is not for mv poor wearv heart to
feel.”
“Oh! Mrs. Anderson, it is all true and you
will realize it,” said Redwine cheerfully.
The meeting soon took place betwen those
long atff cted and separated ones, but t was
beyond description. It was Mr. Anderson
who first recovered his equanimity an 1 play
ed to his son in-law, as far as lis means would
go, the el gant host, but Mr. Belmont's at
teution was mostly given to his wife and her
mother. He was unremitting in his endeav
ors to make them forget the dark past and
look on the bright future that loomed up so
auspiciously before them.
“Oh I I am happy, but I am afraid 1 can't
be sufficiently thankful to Heaven for the
restoration of my deal - child and her boy, ”
Mrs. Anderson exclaimed.
The first day was pissed in a sober, melan
choly happiness. The heavv hand of affile
tion had been too strong for them to emerge
immediately from its influences. But the
next day Col. Hill and his charming wife
drove to see them, and during the day plans
were made Mr. B-lmont proposed that the
whole family should get ready to go home
with him. Col. Hill aud his wife sai 1 no,
that Mary and all of them must come and
spend some time with them, but M»ry—a
model of grace—thanked them so v ry kindly
and ashed them to wait until her nervous
system had quieted down to its usual tone.
Mr. Belmont seconded his wife's true re
quest. Then a time was specified and if they
did not come. Col. Hill and his wife would
visit Mr. and Mrs. B lmont. After the Col
onel and his wife left, Eva with Mr. Redw ine
went to bid good-by to the poor neighbors
who had been kind to them. Her little
I scholars wept tears of sorrow as they bade
! farewell to their kind teacher. Mary told
j her mother to give the few things they had
to the most deserving, and not to take with
them anything but their clothes, The next
morning they were all ready by the time the
conveyances sent by Mr. Belmont's orders
arrived, and a lust farewell was given to the
place that had known them in such sorrow.
Col. and Mrs Hill met them at the depot and
there bade them all good-by. As he shook
Redwine’s hand—who had little Harry in his
arms—he said:
“You must come and stay a longtime with
me.”
He closely scanned little Harry’s face,
fearing he might see a line of Leacock, but
was delighted to find there was not in feature
or expression one particle of resemblance, but
he was Mary in miniatuie.
The travellers arrived safely home and for
some time all lived together, but Mary saw
that her father missed his old home.* One
day she proposed to her husband—timidly at
first, for she thought he had done so much—
but he reassured her, and then they said they
would go to the old home, without sav ing a
word to anyone, and see w hat arrangements
could be made.
On pretence of business, Mr. Belmont said
he would have to leave home for a few days
and take Mary writh him. They- left and in
a few days were in the vicinity of Mary’s
old home, her childhood’s happy home They
got a carriage aud the husband and wife and
little Harry started to the old. dear place.
On arriving tl ey found it in rather a dilapi
elated condition. They learned that Col.
Rollins owned it but had leased it out. They
went to see him about buying it back. They
found all the family in the greatest distress.
Mary and Ada fl - w into each other's arms.
They found out the trouble. Rollins was un
der indictment and it was going hard with
him. Mr. Belmont made a satisfactory pur
chase of the homestead and those who had
leased it were bought out and left the pla e
to the aew purchaser, who retained the hands
to work out the crop. Carpenters were em
ployed to build up and renew the house and
fences. An order was given to furniture
dealers to s-nd in carpets and all required
furniture. Mr. Belmont left a supervisor,
and he and his family left for home.
CHAPTER XXX.
Mr. and Mrs. Belmont's return was hailed
with joy by the loved ones left at home.
Little Harry was almost devoured with
kisses and Mr. Redwine was rejoiced too,
and as demonstrative as a boy in his rejoic
ing when Mr. Belmont whispered to him
what he had been absent for. Some weeks
passe 1 in quiet happiness in that happy heme
Justice Alley had hardly been opened to
legal business yesterday morning when a
sleigh containing seven or eight persons
from beyond the city limits drove up to the
doc; of the populur justice <u.J piled out
with air of business. His Honor was poking
up the fire when an old man beckoned him
into a corner and whispered:
| “Got a job of splicing here for ye! My dar-
I ter Sarah is going to hitch to that chap
there with the blue comforter, aud then
i we’re going out to have some oysters.”
| “All right—all right,” was the reply, and
| in two minutes the official was all ready.
The man with the blue comforter peeled
j his overcoat, laid aside his hat and extended
1 his hand to Sarah.
j "I won’t do it—I’ll die first 1” she said, as
i she shrank away.
j “She’s a leetle timid—a leetle timid,” ex-
j claimed the old man, while the mother
| rebukingly observed:
j “Sarah, don’t you make a fool of yourself
1 here, William will make you a'good hus-
| band.”
| “And don’t you forgit it 1” added William,
i “Come, Sarah.”
“I won’t unless we can go to New York
j on a bridle tower!” she snapped.
; “You’d look nice bridle towering around
I New York with no better duds than you’ye
; got!” said the mother. ‘ Now, Sarah, you
stand up and git married!”
j “Be keerful, mother—don’t make ’er
[ mad!” warned the old man. “Now, Sarah,
i if ye back out everybody will laff at us."
i “I don’t keer! 1 want to travel.”
,, , ,, t, , , . ... , , ; “Sarah, I’m yer father, haint I?”
O.ie day Mr. Belmont got a letter saying al j <iy es >i ’
had been finished: the house was now ready, ! T , . • . , „ »
an 1 he read it to Mary. When he finished it | Y
hC “Now we will tell them we are going on a j yL JLSFS! t0 Se ? ye
pleasure trip—Redwine and all—and we must , - a H’ w ~
ht 1 rpflriv on Thiirsdiv ff nor a 1 ln 8» nor a set of furs, but
Theannouncemen?Vas made and Mr. An- wiB^v^or th** S ^vh W0 £“
derson was willing to go, but Mrs. Anderson ; ^/divides up V dishes andteddffig
with ve. Sarah, do you want to see my
said:
“Let me stay?”
“Not a bit of it, dear mamma: we must all
go.
gray hairs bowed down ?”
“No-o-o.”
“Then don’t flunk out.”
“T\ ill they be two dollar gaiters?" she
asked.
“Yes.”
“And all the oysters we can eat?”
“Yes, all you kin stuff.”
“And a tower next fall, if wheat dos
‘.Dear Mary, I will do just as you say.”
The day came round, and in a few days the
father and the girls recognized their old vi
cinity. They stopped at the hotel. Old ac
quaintances—not one of the family called
them old friends—their old acquaintances
greeted them in the friendliest manner; all , „
returned the greeting, but still they had a “Yes ”
memory of former slights. Their memory utv, ' r r •„ , . ,
was not impervious to the unnecessary slights , t m, 0 **} 6 ’ * ??. n 1
in the day of their deep trouble—the day of ; Ce tS ^ or - ° U| ^ ut * want oblige
the sale. Their stay in town lasted no long- j
er than the waiting for conveyances. The ( •**
drivers were told where to go, but the An- [
derson family did not hear Redwine tell '
them. j IN Y World
As they drove up to the house, Mr. Bel „ . . , ' 1 ' ... ,J
mon'said- Talking to boys m public meeting is get-
“We will go in here ” tin g to be an art and a science. Billy Ross
“Oh, no.' 5h, no!” cried Mrs. Anderson, !“ a . S rea f temperance lecturer, and at
“not in there. It will kill me to go in there.” I ■R° s “ erv m e >,Hnnois, was preaching to the
“Is Boys.”
Mr. Belmont took her by the hand and said
“Oh, no I you must come to please me. ”
That was sufficient. She would have died
if it would please him. They all went in and
Mr. Anderson exclaimed:
“Way, no one comes to receive us, to do
the honors of this new, fine house.”
Mrs. Anderson looked around.
young on his favorite theme. He said:
j “Now, boys, when I ask you a question, you
' musn’t be afraid to speak right out and
S answer me. When you look around and see
| all these fine houses, farms and cattle, do you
I ever think who owns them all now? Your
fathers own them, do they not?” “Yes, sir,”
j shouted a hundred voics. “Well, where will
Mary, dear,” she said, “this is all finer I ^?. ur fathers be in twenty years from now
imin when we lived here. No one has come j , • 'touted the boys. ’That s rigt_.
to receive us.” Ana who will own all this property then/
Mary threw her arms about her mother’s ! ,J " s shouted the urchins. ‘ ‘Right.
neck and laughingly said: ?u OW I me ’ ^ along
“Why, dear mamma, have you forgotten ' the streets, notice the drunkards lounging
your politeness/ Why don’t you welcome I ar °und the saloon doors, waiting for some
Mr. Belmont and me to vour dear old home?” j treat them? Y es, sir, lots of them.
Taen began a scene. Questions were asked; _ ” e B> where will they be in twenty years
thanks were returned, and then Mr. Ander
son strolled out to look on old familiar ob
jects Mr. Belmont said:
“My dear Mrs. Anderson, it seems your
last days are to be happier than your first.
Now you are back in your old home every
thing will be as it was.”
“Mr. Belmont, a life time of gratitude
could not repay you. 1 am more thankful
than I can tell, but. my friend, where there
has been a change, nothing can be as it was
before; and, oh. heavens! such a change.
This is my old house, but my old home is
gone and the same feelings can never return.
But I am so thankful, oh! so thankful to you
that has been so kind to me and mine.”
He replied gaily,
“Well, cheer up and come see and-help en
joy the good supper the girls and Redwine—
from now?” “Dead,” exclaimed the boys.
“And who will be the drunkards then?”
“Us boys?” Billy was thunderstruck for a
moment, but recovering himself, tried to tell
the boys how to escape such a fate.
The Hon. Henry W. Hilliard, of Augusta,
Ga., United States Minister to Brazil, was
recently robbed in Rio Janeiro of over £5000
in money, bis clothing and watch and chain.
Thieves entered his room during the night
and administered chloroform.
The Emperor Maximilian’s scarf pin, set
with a hundred diamonds of fine water and
valued at $15,000, is now in the possession of
an Indiana iady, wt use husband purchased
it sometime since ir Mexico for rip o.
i How Slie was Coaxed to Licl
married.
and Harry helping—has got for us."
At the table was real enjoyment. The
happy faces around it would have cured an
anchorite of his love for solitude. After sup
per, all s: rolled about the yard in the bright
moonlight. Mary leaning upon her husband's
arm, walked up and down the moonlit gal
lery She was telling him every moment that
her life must be devoted to him in thought
and deed. He answering that she had made
the world to him an earthly paradise.
One day Col. Hill came home and his wife
gave him a letter she had received that
morning and asked him what she must do.
He read it and said:
“Will you let me do as I please with it?”
“Most certainly, you know your pleasure
is the only law 1 know.”
“Well, then, here it goes into the fire,” and
suiting the action to the word, he continued,
“to think of such impertinence! How bare
faced! After treating you with abuse and
wrong, then to write to you for assistance!
! Surely that girl must take you to be without
sense or memory. Nol we will set her new
husband up in business. They can forget us,
| she says,but we will not forget them,my love.
1 But, Bess, here is a letter more to my taste.
[ It is from genial hearted Ashley Redwine.
! Let me read you the news from Happy Hol-
i low, as he named it.”
: “And, Colonel, a good name, too. You
j don’t know how much I rejoice in their hap-
j piness.”
j “But, Miss Bess, I want to know why, or
! how you came to call me Colonel instead of
1 the pet name you gave me. Were you feel
ing dignified?”
“Yes, 1 am feeling very matronly just to
day. You know our boy put on liis first
trousers to-day. I can assure you I think
my little John will be handsomer than my
big John, handsome as he is.”
Hill laughed and gave his wife a hearty
| kiss. He said:
| “And 1 hear nurse coming with Bessie
number two.”
And nurse, with a little beauty in her
j arms, came smiling in.
(THE END.)
there was some news from her dear child.
“Mrs. Anderson, I have brought an old
friend to see you. Don’t you remember Mr.
Redwine V asked Hill in his cheery, clear
tone.
After the meeting of the family with Red-
wine and much talk, he said to Mrs. Ander
son:
“1 have some good news for you. Now
listen and make up your mind to tell me w hat
I must telegraph to Mr. and Mrs. Belmont,
your Mary.”
“My Mary! my child!” screamed Mrs. An
derson, in the fullness of her heart.
“Yes, she is now the wealthy Mrs. Bel
mont and would be happy indeed, if she only
had you with her.”
Tears flowed fast from the mother’s eyes,
but they were the tears of j y and thanks
giving. The whole family were deeply af
fected. Mr. Redwine did not tell all of
Mary's sufferings with Peacock, but they
knew they were terrible. He told of her
present style and state, of her charming boy,
her noble and kind husband.
“And now,” he says, “let me hurry to tel
egraph them and you will see for yourselves
1 have not exaggerated. 1 have not told
half.”
Hill said:
“Now, all fix up to be supremely happy,
for she will be here as quickly as steam can
bring them.”
“And now,” he said again, “my w ife will
be wondering about me. 1 only left a little
note for her. Come, Redwine, let us be go
ing: and will we not leave a happy mother?”
he said as he took Mrs. Anderson’s hand.
They drove back rapidly to town. Mr.
Redwine was presented to Mrs. Hill and he
thought, what a picture of loveliness!
He had telegraphed and soon as possible an
answer was flashed back, “Weare starting.”
Hill said:
“I will meet them with my carriage and
take them right out, but i* do not think I
have the fortitude to see the meeting of the
mother and daughter.”
Mr. and Mrs. Belmont arrived one bright
day in the early forenoon.
Mr. Hill and his wife were both at the depot
waiting fur them. But there was another
class there, hardly belonging to the same
species of humanity: a class of the vilest and
blackest character; but there was one, head
and shoulders above all the rest in cruelty
aud crime. Col. Hili could not see these
criminals, for he had told his driver to move
up a short distance fr-m their view, but
when the train approached, he went on foot
to meet Mary, her husband and child. The
convicts were put in motion, guards guard
ing them on the train, and suddenly the cru
elly treated wife came face to face'with the
fiendish husband. As she came out of the
car she saw Peacock with his wrists in steel
cuffs aud he was looking so horribly. She
was thankful that her thick veil prevented
his seeing her face. CoL Hill met her and
knew she had recognized the v iliain for her
