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j : 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