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VOL. VII
J. H. & W. B. S"ES} PROPRIETOR?.
ATLANTA, GA., NOVEMlitirt 19. 1881.
Terms in Advance: {
•>»»«■ T»«»r09 .PO.
0flBffle,Copjr, 5e.
NO. 327
Now, God forbid a fourth should be!
Rise, traveller, haste away;
Nor sit beneath the blighted tree,
4'h ■< '■*
Away, delay not, do not speak!
The sh dows upward creep.
And slowly round the shattered peak
The circling vultures sweep.
M. A. S C.
ARCHIE BERTON:
— OR THE —
TREASURY CLERK
By Harriet E. S. Cressy,
CHAPTER IV,
'Bweet marriage bells ring forth your merrits;
peals,
But give one stroke
For the heart that’s broke.”
The marriage service was about concluded
and every spectator within the church savt
one, admiring the beauty and grace of t be
bride, looking more lovely, if possible, that,
ever in her white satiD, point lace and orniu;<
flowers, when they were startled by a mo-:
piercing sh. iek given by a womau in one < f
the rear seats. Of course, she was imuiedi
ately removed from the church, a little boy
following at her side, who kept calling for his
papa.
"Who is your papal’’ asked the sexton.
The child pointed to the bridegroom, wh*
was then uttering the “yes” that would bind
him for life to the lovely looking creatur,
whose hand he was holding so tremblingly
that it seemed he must drop it, while bis face
was as ghastly as that of a corpse. Feopl
naturally wondered at the emotion shown by
the strong, generally courageous man; no
•ne, unless it was the sexton, attributing it
to the right cause. After gently leading the
woman and little boy into the street, he re
turned to the church, and was so struck wii b
the change in the Senator’s countenance, he
at once said to himself:
“The little boy was right; that man is his
father.”
After the bridal party left the church and
were on their way to the hotel where the re
ception was to be held, Archie, looking from
the carriage window, exclaimed:
“Oh, there is the very woman who made
such a rumpus in the church. She has a lit
tle boy by the hand and a handkerchief to
her eyes. I suppose she is a widow and our
marriage service painfully reminded her of
her own, still it was a very improper place
to make snch a display of her feelings, don’t
you think so, dear James 1”
“Shockingly absurd,” he replied, casting
about for a new topic, and not once looking
toward the unfortunate woman whose cause
for grief he too well knew.
At six that evening they took the train
for New York, and when well aboard and
seated and with arm clasped lovingly about
the slender waist of his bride he told her he
had given up his idea of going to Europe.
Archie, who had set her whole heart upon go-
ing, Welby haviDg promised her to that ef
fect. was greatly angered, and she at once
retorted:
“Why did you deceive me by telling me
we wonld go? I think it is a shame 1 must
be so disappointed,” and tears came into her
eyes, and she looked greatly agitated.
This was the first outburst of temper she
had displayed in bis presenc and it made him
very uncomfortable lor a few moments, but
he drew her gently toward him, and said:
“Dear Archie, when I promised yon, I
folly intended to go, but I have since decid
ed it will be better for me to go home and
look to my affairs there, after making a tour
to Niagara; and then if you wish to run down
to Parkdale to see your mamma and sisters. 1
will not object, so we reach the Palms about
the middle of September.”
“1 told you I did not care to go to Park-
dale dear,till the holidays,” she replied quite
E leasantly, feeling already ashamed of her
ttle fit of temper.
“Very well, then we will get home all the
sooner.”
“And I doubt not I will like it as well as
to have gone to Europe, hut you know I had
thought so much about going it seemed hard '
at first to give it up.”
“1*0 YOU BARE SAY THAT^OE BY WIPE?”
“I do not wonder as all, my love, at that,
it was really very cruel in me to break it »o
suddenly to you. I should first have asked
you if you reallv cared t» go,ard g.ven some
little bints that perhaps it would be better to
go some other direction, so I will not blame
you. Archie, for being a little impatient
with me.”
So it w as all made up between the newly
wedded lovers; still Welby was made aware
for the first tun- tha r t iera was a little lurk
ing devil conceded b->neath that fair -urface
that might dar' forth at him whenever he
crossed her wishes During all their court
ship he had nor,only in fading to meet his ap
pointmerit with her the previous evening,dis
appointed her by the non-fulfillment of a
single promise; evervthing had gone in a
way to suit her, so far as he, backed up bv
money and love, oould bring it about. But
now instead of being only a quarter, he was
only a half a quarter of a millionaire, and
the rein to his money steed mud he held a 1
little tighter. Tuis was why he did not go to
Europe. H-> was fully as much in favor of
taking the trip as his bride, and quite in dis
favor of going to Texas at that time, as he
was fearful unfavorable rumors might come
to the ears of Archie, bat be felt he must risk
it on account of the few thousands it would
cost him. And orce home he meant to go to
Liverton and remind Martha of the promise
to keep the secret he had paid her so hand
somely to do He was quite sure he could do
this, his influence over her had always been
so great.- Nor would he fail to upbraid her
for her imprudence in coming to the church
in the way she did Since she was so very
unwise as to do that, he feared she would re
veal the whole cause of her gr'e" to some of
nis Washington friends. His mind was so
burdened with these thoughts, he could not
appear the least bit cheerful or like himself.
Archie, bearing the change as long as she
could, remarked:
“I have offended you, James*”
“Not in the least, my dearest, “he answer
ed, “pray what can make you think so? Per-
uaps I have not been very sociable the past
few minutes, I have been thinking you may
rather go to some other place than Nia
gara.”
They were now nearing New York, and it
seemed natural his thoughts should run in
this channel.
“I would much sooner go to Newport. Two
years ago this summer, papa and I were there
a month and I had the nicest time I ever had
anywhere.”
“Then to Newport we will go, Archie, af
terspending two or three days in New York.”
And thither they went, Archie writing her
mother from that place as follows:
Dear Mamma: Instead of going to Europe
we have come to Newport to spend a few
flays, and are then going directly home to
the Palms. If you had been at Edgewood we
would have paid you a little visit; James
was for coming as it was, but I knew it wonld
not be pleasant for any of ns in that iittle
farm house. After you get ap to Edgewood
for the winter again we will come. Mr.
FYznoodle the gentleman with whom I had
such a delightful flirtation when I was here
b-fore, is here now, and I danced with him
last night at the hop; and to day w'oiie James
w is off to New York to see if some extra
trunks of. mine that we telegraphed for, had
I arrived, Mr. Fitz and I went out sailing to
gether. The day was so lovely it seemed a
' pity to stay in the house. And he has got
1 such a splendid new boat I am afraid I will
want to be going out in it every day, and I
do no' believe James will go at all, for he
says Fitznoodle is a popinjay, and I thought
was a little inclined to be jealous last night.
1 rather like the fellow, he is so flush with his
f'omplirnents; you know I always liked to be
flattered. But I know you would fell me not
io flirt with him and make my husband jea
lous, so I’ll fry not fo dear mam-na. Please
excuse me fiom writing a long letter to-night;
l expect my dear Jamie back on the 9 o’clock
boat, and it is now a quarter of nine. Write
me and direct to this place Abchib
After Welby returned with the huge trunks
containing her summer finery, she went to
work pulling out dress after dress to store
away in the wardrobe, feeling she was the
happiest woman in existence for she conld
now come oat in a new toilet every day and
she wonld look so charming every heart
wonld be captured, and the admiring Fitz
noodle wonld have eyee for no one but her.
She noticed her husband looked depressed,
although he seemed to exert himself to appear
cheerful, and pleased with her. But as she
looked at him she conld but think the hus
band and the lover were not in the least alike.
Then it occurred to her mind, perhaps all men
were just like him, ready to worship the
ground trodden by their sweethearts, until
bound to them for life, and then settle down
into a kind of indifference and abstraction,
that was painful for, at least a young wife to
bear.
Bat could Archie have known all, she wonld
not have marvelled at her husband’s bearing.
From a Washington paper dated August 17th
wrapped around a parcel which was dropped
in one of the trunks be had sent for, he had
found an article which well might discom
fit him.
“A woman,” it read, “claiming to be the
wife of Senator Welby, who was married to
a beautiful young lady yesterday afternoon,
in her great distress of mind, has this morn
ing lost a check for $100,000 not signed, that
tbe Senator gave her cue evening previous to
his late marriage, if she would promise to
make no farther claim upon him and allow
the matter to be hushed up; at the same time
assuring her the marriage was a false one,
although she had heretofore supposed it legal,
showing her at once that the little boy mat
j she led into tbe presence of his papa, was an
illegitimate child, it seems this disclosure
unsettled the woman’s mind, and following
the happy pair to the church where they
were wedded outwardly under such auspic-
cious circumstances, she created a little scene
which to tbe bridegroom, at least must have
been slightly unpleasant. The brother of the
woman who came on with her from Texas
to help her in the matter, having left for
parts unknown, it is thought may have rob
bed her of the check, although she mswt»im.
she did not lose it till after he took his depar
ture. His portion for keeping the secret was
$25,000 and as that has not been found by
any one, he is quite likely to be in possession
of it himself. The woman he has left behind,
is in a sadly demented condition, seeming in
capable to look after the little boy who is a
bright, playful little fellow. At present, both
he and his mother are objects of charity.
ill by sneered, for to tell the truth that’
young man, he thought, was the most self-
conceited coxcomb hr ever saw and he con
sidered it an affliction to be in his company,
but be caid nothing lest Archie might take
offence. Now that the little plan about Mar
tha was matured in his mind, he resolved to
cast aside all care and resume his old lover
like ways, which he hoped to carry out while
at Newport at least.
Tne next morning he wrote the letter con
taining the check to his Washington friend,
while Archie was making her extraordinary
toilet; and when he went down with her on
his arm to breakfast, he was satisfied a more
beautiful woman never lived. Her lovely
pink and white complexion, set off with large
blue, dreamy eyee, with their long silken
friDges, the luscious lips with their pretty
pout, and the coronet of blonde hair which
adorned the well poised head, made a p c .ure
tbat was gratifying to a common observer to
behold. But those who carefully studied
character might not have been entirely satis
fied with it, as Newly had observed at the
outset of this story.
Fitznoodle, however, who never looked-
beyond tbe surface of things, saw nothing
lacking in the make-up of that exquisitely
beautiful face. Her deportment, too, he
thought truly elegant. But as much as he
admired her and longed to be in her compa
ny, he hardly got aright of her the two days
succeeding Weilby’s return from New York,
as the latter hired a yacht on which he and
bis wife spent most of that time. But the
third day he went on a fishing excursion with
some gentlemen, leaving Archie at the hotel,
and Fitznoodle took it upon himself to enter
tain her the best he knew how. So they play
ed chess and croquet, and flirted till her hus
band’s return in tile evening. And when
they parted tbe next morning, Fitznoodle
promised to visit her in Texas at some future
time.
CHAPTER V. *
“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exit and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
—Bxw Jonson.
“ Whatl sick, Martha?” exclaimed Welby
on entering her neat, well-furnished cottage
the day after her arrival at the Palms.
Martha was lying on the sofa and looking
very ill, but as the sound of his voice she
brightened np a little, opened wide her hand
some hazel eyes, and replied;
“Oh, James, you have come again haven’t
you?—although I said you never would; and
when little Ralphie kept talking about his
papa, I told him he would never see you
again, for you had gone and married a beau
tiful girl and no longer cared for him or his
mamma. Was I right?”
“No, Martha; I told you I would see you
both whenever my business brought me over
to Liverton. ”
"Yet it is not right for you to come here.
What if she were to hear of it?”
He was now holding Rilphie,and the child’s
arms were around his neck.
“What if she should*” repeated Wellby
holding the little form still closer to his breast.
“I have been thinking of that myself, and
to prevent it. I propose to move yon and
Ralph at a greater distance from her. I
know of a nice town about a hundred miles
from here in Arkansas where I often go, and
could see you as often as if you were here.”
Martha interrupted him by % scream quite
similar to the one that shocked m™ In t* 1 **
church at the time of his marriage, after
which she said in a very excited tone.
“Wonld you kill me? must 1 first be robbed
of my husband and then driven from the
home where I have always lived since I sup
posed we were married, for that blonde hair
ed girl?”
*1 only suggested it,” said Wellby, yon are
not obliged logo, but if you stay here she
may hear of my coming to see you and then
there will be a scene, and she will perhaps
prevent me from coming,”
“Well, I can’t think much about it now,”
said Martha, looking wild and sobbing aloud.
“I have got nothing to live on anywhere, I
lost the check yon gave me.”
How loDg are we to have unprincipled men
of this Senator’s stamp to aid in making the
laws of our country * ’
After reading this, Welby for a few mo
ments was so overcome with emotion he conld
form no idea how it was best for him to act
in the case. But after awhile, he decided to
write to a certain gentleman in Washington
whom he knew he could rely upon to carry
out his plan, which was to send said gentle
man a hundred dollar check, requesting him
to take the woman and child under his pro
tection, get them aboard the cars and ac
company them to Liverton Texas, whither’
be would soon go himself, and make it.his
business to see they were made comfortable.
This would make his stay at the sea shore
much shorter than he had intended or inti
mated to Ai'chie that it would be, and he
dreaded to tell her of his decision. But when
he saw her emptying the contents of her
trunks into the wardrobe, he buoyed up his
courage to say, “Archie, my love, I would
not take out all my dresses, we may not re
main here as long as we at first thought.”
“Has anything new come up to make you
change your mind?” she asked a little pertly.
Wellby was generally a truthful man, and
only for that one regretted piece of deceit
he bad practiced on the unsuspecting Martha,
most of the deeds of his life might have borne
inspection as well as those of men pretending
more goodness than he. But in this instance
he could see no particular harm in the use of
a white lie, manufactured for the occasion,
which would serve his purpose far better
than any mere excuse he could think of; he
said:
“Yes, Archie, I saw one of my friends in
New York, to-day, who told me of matters
at home as far as he had been able to obereve,
were needing my immediate attention, mv
overseer having in my long absence, become
a little slack.”
> Archie looked greatly disappointed, and
declared that nothing had gone just right
since they started. Then she laid the dresses
back in the trunk and pouted just a little.
“We will venture to stay a few days long
er.” said her husband, “and during that time
we will endeavor to enjoy ourselves to the
utmost.”
More faintly falls the lengthening ray,
The shadows upward creep;
Arise, O, stranger, haste away,
And leave the glen so deep.
Behind the shoulder of the hill
A mountain tarn there lies,
Unfathomed, dreary, dark and chill,
A nd blue as Bessie's eyes.
The Gray Oliosl,
The raven flaps her boding wing,
And whets her cruel beak;
The vuliures wheel, a ghastly riDg,
Around the splintered peak.
It is not night, it is not day,
But always just between,
■When elide the grisly phantom grey
From yonder dark ravine.
O, blue were Bessie's laughing eyes.
And bright was Bessie’s hair;
And not a charm that maidens prize
That Bessie did not share.
But foul the ghost, and ghastly grey,
That rises from the wave,
Where Bessie sought, a willing prey.
Her unlamented grave.
Its pathway none unscathed hath crossed.
No being that hath breath ;
For once to see wero reason lost,
And twice to see were death.
The first who fel t the fatal dart,
Who saw the phantom grey,
Was he who won sweet Bessie’s heart,
Won but to cast away.
The next, the step dame, grim and gaunt,
Who mocked and did not spare;
Who stung her soul with scoff and taunt,
And drove her to despair.
The third the hag whose busy tongue
The venomed slander spread ;
The only funeral-knell that rung
O’er hapless Bessie's head.