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Nina, the Heroic.
b filing, foam-e i stei a a roars and swells
and f .riously threatens its burlier of lofty
sand bills.
At. nine o’clock a. m. Charles Rochefort
accompanies a lady, who is determined to
return to the city, fru.n Scoria .u me *ri .
They cross the iai^uu in tne tram-car, but
from the violence of the wind an>l rain they
are compelled to proceed very -lowly. After
an hour's rougi ride—for the track is strewn
from end to eud with rubbish—they reach the
stopping place. But the remorseless rain has
been beating in and they are thoroughly
drenched. To add to the vexations of the
moment, the steamer, H. B. Plant, is no-
| where to be seen. The regular schedule from
Tybee for S iturday morning is seven o'clock,
but it is known the steamer did not come
down the nigbt before, and they expect it
s me time that day. The lady stops at the
house of a friend, and Ooarles goes on out to
R ng’s landing. After two hours of waiting
he is rewarded by seeing the Plant heave in
sight. She comes on down with great dif
ficulty, but when C"ek-pur Lighthouse is
made she turns about and plows her wav
back to the city. And no one is surprised,
for a very te ivy sea is running—much too
heavy to i e •••*-. f *-< further.
Charles now makes his way to the house
where the lady has stopped and informs her
1 t the iruitiess trip of the Plant. There be
rr mains until five o’clock in tne afternoon,
| when he comes forth again, intending to re
turn to his boarding place. He observes with
consternation that tbs shore end of the wharf
1 has beeu washed entirely away; and that
thi huge palmetto logs and ranging timbers
co nposing it are scattered along the shore a
woeful mass of debris Truly the storm is be-
I coming alarming. There is no tram-car ruc-
j ning, and Caarles has to walk. It is a dan-
i gerou- j mrney. The track is literally heap-
I *d with all manner of storm rubbish. The
gale is still increasing, the rain is driving
pitilessly and trees are falling in every direc
tion. After great difficulty the young man
! reaches Stark’s, utterly worn out and drench-
| ed. If is growing dark now though the sun
1 is not quite down. Charles tells the lady
of t he house that he will go to his room and
be down an hour or so, but he must be called
just as soon as any danger shows itself. With
this understanding established he is soon in
his room and relieved of his wet clothes.
Donning a dry suit, he lies down and is soon
in a heavy sleep, though the storm is howl
ing with the fury of demons.
At old man Barton’s cottage that day it is
an anxious time. Nina is indifferent as to
her own safety, but she fears for this kind old
man, who has been a father to her.
Founded on tbe Great Somli
Atlantic Storm of August 27,
1881.
Terms in Advance: {
NO. 325,
“It’ll be a dreadtul night Niny,” he keeps
saying at interval* all through the day.
“Maybe not, father,” she says in answer.
“It is scarcely possible that the wind will
increase. The storm will more likely slack
up before night.”
‘Now, now, Niny; you don’o. I don’
like the looks o’ them cloud. Eighteen hun
dred and fifty were a terrible time, but this
air to be worser. Aye, a dreadful night,
Niny. 1 don’ see how I’ll live through it.”
With comforting words she endeavors to
soothe him, but without success. Nina thinks
if the very worst comes, their house will not
be in danger from the fl<JOd, for it is high and
dry upon solid land; but she fears for other
occupants of the Island, and a terrible dread
oppresses, her that Charles will come to
harm.
Tbe deep gloom of a stormy night settles
down upon the lonesome cottage at length.
Nina prepares supper, they sit down and eat
a little, and the table is cleared away. About
an hour after dark three fishermen, two of
them bringing their wives, make an appear
ance. They ask for shelter from the storm
and are cordially invited in and made com
fortable before the blazing fire of pine knots
in the fire place. The report of the fisher
men is most discouraging. Their little house
near the shore has been blown down and
8 *pt into the roaring waters. Another
.rouse, together with its inmates—three ne
groes— has shared the same fate.
One of these fishermen is good-looking and
vnung— not more than cwenty-two. This is
Anti ne Pbales, the son of a Greek sailor, who
cast him adrift on the Island years before
when a mere boy. Antone Pbales is one of
the most persistent of Nina’s lovers. From
uaid study iu stolen moments, he has acquire
ed considerable education, and in both man
ner and speech is far superior to bis fellow-
tishermeB. If she bad never seen Charles
Rochefort, Nina might have married him in
ume, since be was preferred above all
tbe others. But she did not give him a
thought in that way, now. Antone has not
been blind to Nina’s attachment for Charles
Rochefort. Soon after the advent of that
gentleman there was a stormy scene between
Nina and the young Greek. He earnestly
earned her against her fine lover, and Nina,
naving wearied of this same warning, cut
uiui short with an angry reprimand to “mind
his own affairs.” After that tbe young Greek
had no more to say on the subject.
Antone Pbales is a very patient young
man He believes he will win Nina m the
end. His observant surveil has noted the
cessation of Cbailes Rochefort’s visits and he
sets it down, as did everyone, that tbe young
city man bas tired of tbe girl and deserted
uer. But unlike tbe gossips, be does not for
a moment doubt the girl’s virtue. As be sits
silent to night, listening to the others, Nina
thinks bow kind in him it is not to reproach
her now in her misery, and she feels very
grateful
"Niny,” says old man Bartow presently,
when there is a lull in the conversation
around the hearth. “Niny, hang out the
antin. For all we know, it’s like to save
some poor soul frim death.
Nma lights the lantern at his bidding and
hangs it up outside on tbe little porch. Scarce
ly has she done so when a man runs in all wet
and dripping.
“Wbat news 1” cry the fisherman around
the fire.
“Terrible 1” says the man. “The sand bills
are giving way and the Island will soon be
flooded. Stark’s and several other bouses
have been blown down.”
“Gracious Master 1 protect us from the
flood,” groans old man Bartow, looking wild
ly around.
At the mention i
Antone Pbales i
ter quickly and finite tew i
trembling and hesitating.
“Where are yon going, Nina?” says be.
“Where am 1 going? Who said I was go
ing?”
There is suppressed agony in the girl’s
voice. She things she will scream aloud di-
i ectly. But without another word to Antone
she goes to the cupboard, takes out eatables,
carries them into the front room and spreads
them upon the table. Antone returns and
sits down. Then, while all are apparently
looking at and listening to tue new comer,
Nina snatches a hat and shawl and slips out.
But she has not been too qnick for Antone.
He is up and after her like a flash. Before
she passes out the gate he is at her side.
“Where are you going, Nina?’’ says the
yonng Greek almost sternly.
But she hurries on without an answer. De
termining not to be out done, be keeps by
her side, and presently with sadden agility
springs forward and stands before her in the
patb.
“Nina, where are yon going, I say?”
She stops before him and looks at him, her
breath coming qnick and short with suppress
ed haste. Every moment lost seems mad
dening.
“1 am going to do all in my power to save
those suffering, dying people—what is there
wrong in that?
“W hat I Do you think your feeble aid will
avail in this terrible night and storm? You
will lose your own life instead. Come into
the house out of this driving wind and rain-
Cornel”
“No.”
“Nina, yon shall not go!”
“Who shall stop me, I wonder 1” bursts
out Nina with angry defiance.
For answer, the yonng Greek seizes both
her hands, but she shakes him off, as if he had
been bnt a feather weight.
“Ob.shamel ’she cries,“upon you and those
men in yonder, who sit comfortably around
the fire while people are probably dying all
around you for the Beea of outstretched,
helping hands I”
Antone answers her outbreak calmly:
“Nina, I swear by everything not to let
yon go forth to meet death in this foolhardy
manner.”
Before the girl Is quite aware he has seized
upon her and locked his arms about her
waist. Nina possesses a man’s strength—the
wild life she leads has developed it in her—
but she does not writhe and struggle. Those
arms enclosing her are too powerful for that
to be practical. She stands quite still a
minute, then takes her captor unawares.
With one sadden and powerful effort of her
great strength the encircling arms are burst
asunder—and Nina flies away through the
night, and storm like a wild deer.
“Ninal Nina) 8 top I 8topJ” shouts the
frantic Antone, attempting to follow. “If
yon will go, let me go with you!”
But he bas lost tight of her in the storm.
Nina does not stop or answer, for she
knows he will never let her go. She flies on
and the sound grows fainter and fainter, un
til at leugth his voice is drewned altogether
in the storm-roar. All at once Nina under
stands that it bas been a reckless thing to do
—this headloDg running; for before she is
aware that she has gone astray she finds her
self in tbe midst of palmetto boshes and other
small undergrowth, and the path is lost. She
plunges about frantically in search of the
path, bnt all in vain. Her clothes are thor
oughly wet now, and the fierce wind con
stantly pelts her with leaves, twigs and
gravel. She gets out of the undergrowth at
last, then crawls upon hands and knees,
searching for the path. Oh, the agony of
delay! The storm constantly grows wilder
and every minute or two there is the crash
of a foiling tree near at hand,
‘Help me, pity me, oh, God I” groans Nina^
Tbe path n found at length. Once with,
her feet therein, the girl b enabled to move
on swiftly. Though the gloom is utterly im
penetrable, she is so familiar with this path,
that every little torn or carvels made with
perfect accuracy. She soon leaves the woods
behind and gains the road, the lights from
the cottages and hotels now cheering her on.
She canhear the mad roar of the ocean above
the wild whirring of the gale, and offers up
a voiceless prayer in behalf of the poor souls
that are tempest-tossed
(Concluded on Eighth
VOL. VII
J. H. & W. B. SEA LP }PROPRIETORS.
ATLANTA, GA., NOfT.MB 5, 1881. *
gongs of tbe South.
THE SOUTHERN STATES TO EUR0PE-6Y«fi»</
By J. B. Jordan.
And they emigrate In legions
From down trodden Europe here,
Where their labor is rewarded,
And the wcy to wealth is clear;
Where no merciless oppressor
From their cabins—roofed with straw—
Can drive them to starvation
Under sanction of “the law.”
And fair Georgia offers freely
To every one a home,
And the means of independence
To all who wish to come,
Where fierce agrarian quarrels
Forever more shall cease.
And their days be passed in tranquil calm,
In competence and peace.
Where the broad and rich savannahs,
And the gentle, sloping hills,
Interspersed by fruitful valleys
Watered by a thousand rills;
Here, uncultivated millions
01 rich acres on each hand.
Are beckoning you to settle down
And cultivate the land.
Come, then, from every nation,
Ye persecuted poor;
Friendship's hand is here extended.
Welcome opens wide her door;
Where gaunt famine never fenters,
But good nature and good cheer
Shall bless you with their influence
Through each successive year.
Lift their giant heads on high;
Where the grass to green beneath you,
And above, tbe cloudless sky.
You can here enjoy tb^lessngs
That industry surely 1-,/fgs.
Nor dread the wealth os lordlings.
Nor the living curse of kings.
Come to the land of plenty,
Choose what place may suit you best,
In the sunny Southern regions,
Where no blights your crops molest,
Where no titled thieves can rob you,
Nor feudal laws enthrall.
Come to the land of freedom,
Where there’s room enough for all.
A Romance of Tybee
Island.
By RICHARD PEFFIELli
CHAPTER II.—Coutimied.
The next day, the next and for seven
days Charles Rochefort comes down to o!.
Bartow’s cabin in tbe hope of gaining an in
terview with Nina, bnt he never succeed.-
She is never there. Truth to tell, Nma al
ways looks out for him, and long before h.
reaches the little gate, has slipped out tb>
back way into the woods beyond, where
with her needle-work, she remains until sur.
that he has gone.
But this sort of thing will not do for young
Rochefort. The fruitless visits are soon dl-
continued. He loves Nma deeply, but he is-
a proud man and considers that be has beeu
shamefully treated without cause. So t.e
comes no more to old Bartow’s, and endear
ore to put Nina out of his heart entirely.
And now Nina, who has been running away
and hiding herself from him continu ilh .
feels that all worth living for has been lo» .
It seems that the very sun shines darkly on
her misery.
The days go by. It is past the middle of
August now. All the fashionable guests at
the hotels have returned to the city, Pauline
Carlyle among them. But Charles does not
go. He cannot bring himself to leave the
Island. A change, however, is imperative:
and when all his friends have taken their de
parture, he leaves the hotel and takes rooms
at a private house where one or two boarders
are taken. This house, from the owner’s
name, is known the on Island as Stark’s.
Nina, who has heretofore bad an occasion
al glimpse of Charles when taking the milk
up to the hotel, misses him now, and is
doubly miserable in consequeic*, believing
him to have returned home. One day she
makes hold to question the cook on the sub
ject and learns to her great joy and surprise
that he has not gone. That same day Nina
steals down to Stark’s and lurks about in the
adjoining woods in the hope of obtaining a
look at Charles. She has not seen him for
two whole weeks. Matters are reversed
now. She is playing Charles’ role of a few
weeks back. After an hour’s watching, tbe
girl is rewarded with her heart’s desire. She
sees Charles through the window of his room,
sitting at a table writing, and stands devour
ing him with her eyes, until he, with cruel
unconsciousness rises and leaves the room.
As the days go by, Nina’s wretchedness
becomes almost too great to be borne. Aside
from her heart-pain, she suffers the bitter
humiliation of knowing that she has lost her
good name. Could we expect otherwise in a
fond where there aregossipping tongues?
The poor girl has walked abroad of late like
a branded creature. Such and such an ons
has seen her in his arms, and so-and-so has
seen him kiss her openly, etc.
i^But this is at an end now. She is deserted.
The kind old men say of ncr: "Wu»t n pit>
that such a fine lass should come to such an
end!’’ But the women sniff ar.dsay: “A
vain, conceited hussy; she has brought it all
on herself.”
CHAPTER I1L
The days pass. The week bef >re the event
ful 27th of August is entered upon. There
begin to be marked peculiarities about the
clouds and the direction of the winds, and
the weather propbe s look serious. It goes
abroad that the Signal Service at Washing
ton bas reported a hurricane near St Thom
as, W. 1.—that furious Island of storms,
earthquakes and tidal waves. That the gale
is sweeping forward in a northeasterly direc
tion; but no one is alarmed. “It » ill not
strike us,” is the general comment. But still
the weather prophets shake their heads.
Thursday night comes, and with it a brisk
wind; throughout Friday it is blustering and
threatening. Friday night there is a perfect
gale; and now the people look grave, for
they understand that the full force of the re
ported hurricane is forthwith impending.
Saturday morning a heavy rain sets in,
and the gale increases every minute. A
heavy sea is running on the ocean front.
Where the fine white beach has lately been,a
From across the broad Atlantic
Comes a wild and thrilling cry;
From the lips ot many thousands,
Who trom their land must fly;
Who, despite a bounteous harvest
And a year's incessant toll,
Must relinquish all they worked for
To the owners of the soil.
THE PIOUS T4I HER PLEA 118 WITH 1118 W AYW ARD 80.Y