Newspaper Page Text
VOL. VII
J. H. & W. B. SEALS} PKOPiUKTO^.
ATiANTA, OA. s NOVEMBER 26, 1881.
Terms in Advance: {
Stable,Copy, 5e.
NO. 32S.
PLEA FUR THE GRAY.
[Written at the request of a lady of Mobile
who stated in a letter to the author that adif-
cussion had been inaugurated in that fit\,
among the.military companies, as to the pro
priety of changing the Gray for the Blue, or
some other fancy uniform, etc.
When the Land's Martyr, mid her tears,
Outbreathed his latest breath.
The discord of long, festering years.
Lay also dumb in deHth :
Our souls a new-born Friendship drew
With spells of kindliest sway;
At last, at last, the conquering Blue
“ ufshed Gn
Blent with the vanquished Gray I
n.
Yet, who, thro' this southland of ours,
While faith and >ove are free,
But still must cast memorial flowers
Across the grave of Lee?
And oft their ancient grief renew
O’er “ Stoncwall's ” cherished clay ?
The heart that's pledged to guard the Blue
Must honor still the Gray 1
O, Veterans of Potomac's flood.
Or Vicksburg’s lurid sky—
Old passions may be purged of blood,
Old memories cannot die!
They fill your eyes with fiery dew,
Revive your manhood's May,
And past the bright, victorious Blue,
Bring back the stainless Gray 1
0, Martyrs! «f the desperate fight,
All weak and broken now,
With shattered nerves orbb.sted sight,
Frail arms and lurrowed brow 1 —
What think ye of the patriot view
Flashed on your minds to-day ?
Too old to don the prosperous Blue,
Ye clasp your tattered Gray!
From many a worn and wasted mound,
And dust-encumbered clod,
The voices of dead heroes sound,
Rising 'twixt earth and God!—
*'Our doom was dark, our lives were true.
Ah ! east not quite away—
What time ye hail the favored Blue
Old dreams that crowned the Gray! ”
VI.
Can
Can
Change with l he changeful sea
Beware lest what he rashly do
Should end in shamed dismay.
And all pure champions of the Blue,
Scorn traitors to the Gray !
Paul Hamilton Hayne.
— Mobile Kojister. .«*
ARCHIE BERTON:
—OR THE— V*
TREASURY CLERK
By Harriet E. S. Creasy.
-fi ___•£*■?*-
CHAPTER V.I at
“Our torments also may in length of time
Become our elements.”
Ou the second day of January Tom, the
coachman, took L mise over to Liverton,
w! ere she was to start a school, the arrange
ments all having been made and those of any
age or color invited to attend, nor was ther-
any charge for tuition. This was so unusual
an offer that many grown up boys of differ
ent shales availed themselves of the opp >r-
tunity to learn to read. Sbe also taught
them both by precept and example to have a
care for their souls, Many young people,
too, patronized her; among them was little
Italphie James; his mother having adopted
the latter name at the time of her mock
marriage with Welby. This boy was a fa
vorite with Louise from the first, as he was
far brighter and more attractive than any
other scholar she had, and so she petted him
a great deal, he became quite communica
tive, often telling her about his mother, who
he said, was sick all the time because his
papa would not come to see them. One we* k
be did not come to school at all, so Louise
thought she would call at his mother’s house
and learn the cause of his absence.
Martha was in one of her worst moods at
the time, moaning, crying, and by no means
in her right mind. Sbe made no r sponse to
Louise when she inquired after her health,
but with her face hall smothered in the bed
clothes talked in her old fashion about Wel
by and Archie.
' He has gone to Washington,” she said,
“and there with his gay companions and that
blonde beauty is enjoying himself to the ut
most, while I and our poor boy are left in
solitude. Let her queen it at the Palms, but
oh! if she only knew what little business sbe
would have there if I had only been given
my rights, she wouldn't be quite so happy.
I thought I was his wife, but he decieved
me, and now tells me it was only a sham
marriage.”
This astounding revelation by the period
ically insane woman caused Louise to open her
eyes, and her heart to throb with shame and
compassion. At first she could not believe
the fearful story, but an open letter careless
ly shown her by Ralphie, who said it was
from his papa, convinced her it was true.
Louise dared hardly look at it lest she might
afterwards have to accuse herself of med
dling, but the one glance assured her it was
from Welby, and by the postmark she saw it
was mailed at Washington, December tenth,
little more than a month previous. The truth
of the story once confirmed in her mind, she
scarcely knew where she was. Feeling sure
Archie knew nothing of it, she resolved to
still keep it a secret from her if it were pos
sible It should be her aim while in Liver-
ton to cheer and comfort the poor forsaken
woman all she possibly could, and she would
begin that very night. So when Martha be
came more quiet she asked permission to stay
with her through the night, offering to do
anything for her that day in her power.
“Who are youf Martha asked quite ra
tionally.
“I am the school teacher, Miss Berton, and
came here to learn the reason of your little
boy not coming to school the past few days.”
“I have been sick and wanted him to help
me.”
She was evidently coming to her senses,and
Louise said:
“I see he is rather tired, Mrs. James, and I
to go to work and do anything you
me to. Let me first get you some nour
I a great wrong by harboring such a man. .To
tell the truth, I don’t believe he has any
home, and if he gets into a place where he is
made anything of he will stay just as long as
he can.” —w*
“Why, you would think he were a million
aire by the way he talks.”
“Yes, 1 get very tired of hearing him; he
is the greatest bore I know of.”
A few hours later, being alone with Archie,
Louise enquired when Fitzuoodle was going
to leave.
‘ Oh, he likes it so much here I do not quite
know when be will go; besides I hardly
know how we could spare him now James is
gone. He is really a great help to me in
stelug to matters about the place. You
know our servants are all very reliable, stilt
they want a little overlooking.
“So you think Aichie that James would
like his being here, and will it not cause re
marks to be made ?”
“Why, no, you little prude. If you were
like other young ladies, you would like a
si lendiri voung man like him to escort you
around.”
"Oh, Archie, he is the last young man I
would fancy.” ‘ a
•‘You would piefer seme poor Methodist
preacher ?”
“Yes, by all means, to that brainless cox
comb, Archie.”
The coxcomb now entered the room, hin
dering further remarks pertaining to himself,
and finding Archie so disturbed in manner
that he really felt considerable curiosity to
know the cause. 1 » •*»
“What has she been saying,” he asked of
Archie as soon as Lou'se left the room.
“Oh. just what I might have expected.
She is atraid people will talk because you are
here.”
“Well, perhaps I had better go, Archie,”
said Fitzuoodle, assuming the look of an in
jured party.
“Not yet,” she replied, alarmedly, “you
know we are all invited to dine at Major
Radley’s next Tuesday, then again Thursday
evening at a social party at Mrs. Temple’s.’
T en there is a ball Friday night at Gaston
Hall, but perhaps we had better not go to the
latter, as mamma would not like to .accom
pany us, but s
would be entir
some lone wido
“That’s so, Archie, and ff a man goes off
the half of every year without taking his
wife, he must expect some one else will be
gallant enough to wait upon her to places of
public amusement, especially if she is young
and beautiful—as you are.”
Archie did not check him, having become
so used to his flattery. She only said, “And
i do not think any one will talk about it
either.”
After this, Fi'znoodle said little about
leaving. In fact, he really had no home to go
to, unless an uncle’s, who had become entirely
out of patience with him, and was always
rating him about his indolence, said uncle
living in Virginia. But thither he went
about the last of February. „
CHAPTER VII.
“Ward has no heart they sav, but I deny it
He has a heart, he gets his speeches by it ”
—Rogers.
On Wellby’s return to Washington he was
at first shown the cold shoulder by many of
bis former friends, who regarded him as a
heartless, unprincipled man, unworthy their
notice. As this was no more than he expect
ed and deserved, he did not complain nor did
he court the favor of any one. And being
left more by himself he had an opportunity
to study his speeches, which caused these to
be mere able and impressive than formerly.
As the weeks wore on he began to be looked
upon more leniently, and be was hoping the
prejudice against him would wear away,
when he was reminded, quite suddenly, that
the hopes of the wicked (are of short dura
tion. Late in the afternoon of one of the
February days, when Congress was at its
busiest, he having just returned from the
Senate to his hotel, was accosted by his old
enemy Jack Ruggles, who was more shabby
and drunk than before. Wellby was con
versing with a gentleman friend when the
ugly vision appeared. Both men were stand
ing a little aside f
the verandah.
“I want to see yon alone, Wellby,” was
Jack’s first salute.
COBBLER’S ACCOUNT BOOK-MIS SHOP BOOR.
ishment I am sure you are in need of it.”
Martha said, “Thank yon, you are very
kind,” and told Louise what she would like.
Louise procured it and the insane woman of
a few moments before looked smiling and
comparatively happy. And so Louise sat
looking at her as she ate the toast she had
prepared, and thought, “What a remarkably
pretty woman she is! What beautiful hazel
eyes, lovely hair, clear complexion and deli
cate features. Strange any man could be
heartless enough to decaive her, for she
looks as if she might be as good as she is
fair.”
Then Martha all at once looked at her ad
miring friend and said:
“I suppose you are feeling sorry for me,
Miss. Berton. I hope I have not been so fool
ish as to tell any of my troubles in my inco
herent wanderings. They say I sometimes
do. and I think I have just had such a spell.
Tell me truly if I have not,”
“No matter what yon may have said in my
presence,” said Louise, “it will go no further
rest assured of that. I propose to be your
friend, and think I would like to come and
board with you, and perhaps I can keep yon
in so cheerful a state you will not again be
troubled with those aberrations of mind.”
.“I would be delighted to have you board
with me,” said Martha, “and you can stay
right along now if yon will.”
Louise had been boardmg at Judge Ed
monds since she came to Liverton, and no
charge was made for board, but she could
not do in this way at Mrs. James’: she mu.*t
pay her a fair price. This could be adjusted,
as a couple of wealthy citizens of the place
had several times offered to pay her well for
teaching, she having refused, bnt now she
resolved to accept enough from them to
compensate Mrs. James for her board, and
in time she might accept more as she saw
chances where with a little money she might
do some good.
After sbe had been boarding with Mrs.
James a week, Archie drove over to see her,
accompanied by Fiiznoodle, who bad be *n at
the Palms about ten days. It was Friday
afternoon and Archie came with the expec
tation of taking Louise home with her where
she hoped to keep her till Monday morning.
But Louise told her she could not possibly
leave Liverton before the next morning, as
the mother of one of her scholars was sick,
and she bad promised to stay with her that
night. Archie was vexed and said:
“I do think it a shame if you have got to be
nurse as well as teacher to these low people,
Louise.”
“No one compels me, Archie, I do it of my
own accord.”
“Is it possible, any one can have a liking
for work of that kindi” asked Fitsnoodle
looking first at Louise and then at Archie.
“Do all we can, we fall short of our duty,”
Louise replied,
“And, no doubt still we are apt to shirk the
more disagreable tasks,” he answered, with
an uncommonly wise look.
He and Archie w ere sitting in the old
Welby carriage, which was well known in
Liverton, while Louise stood on the walk in
front of her school house, and while they
were talking a woman passed on the opposite
side of the street leading a little boy.
“Why, that is the same woman and child,”
said Archie excitedly that raised such a com
motion in the church at the time I was mar
ried, and 1 saw her afterwards on the street
when we were on our way to my rooms
where we held our reception. I wonder who
she is,”
“Quite pretty if not compared with others
much prettier,” said Fitzuoodle looking at
Archie.
Lonise glanced at him, and for a moment
lost sight of Martha, in, wondering to what
she could compare him. At Judge Edmonds
they had a poodle dog—but no she would not
wrong the dog by the comparison, which
however, seemed to her very fitting just at
that moment. Then after asking herself if
she could endure to stay in the same house
with him even one day, she decided she could,
as her mamma would be there, and wanted
to see her very much. So she told Archie
she would come oyer on the morning train,
and remain till Monday at the Palms.
“Why couldn’t I take the phaeton and
drive ovaw for your sister, Mrs. W elby,”
asked Fitzuoodle?
“Oh, no, please, please don’t. I will be
over quite early, before you would think of
starting,” replied Louise, before Archie could
answer Fitzuoodle.
This, once decided, the coachman was
ordered to start homeward, and Lonise
hastened to her boarding place, finding
Martha more composed than she expected
after the spectacle she had encountered,
“One month ago,” said Martha, “the sight
of that carriage, and the one who was in it,
would have unsettled my mind for a while,
so I now see clearly what yon have done for
me.”
* Say not so, Martha, but rather you have
called on Him and not in vain, He pities the
affl cted and the weak, and heareth their pe
tition when they call on Him.”
‘ 'Yes, bat no one bat yon has ever led me
into this way of belief, which affords me
such consolation.”
■ God be praised if I have,” said Lonise.
Then after they had eaten their supper and
attended to their evening devotions, Lonise
went to the house of the sick woman admin
istering to her wants, and speaking such
words of comfort as she bad seldom listened
to. The invalid bad always been so poor,
as to hardly afford herself the bare necessar
ies of life, and through her sickness had hard
ly been made comfortable, but now .as she
was about leave this earth, even at the
eleventh hour, she found a hope which was
more to her than all the world could give.
Louise did not go to the Palms as early
in the day as she had intimated to Fitznoodle,
but was there about noon, finding Archie in
the happiest state of mind for sbe had just
received a letter from her husband stating
that he had been very fortunate in his specu
lations on some Pem sylvania lands, a num
ber of oil wells having been opened on them
which would yield h m a vast income, in an
ticipation of this g< od luck he enclosed a
draft for a number of thousand dollars to
her, and a thousand to Mrs. Berton and
Louise respectively. The first thoughts of
Louise were,
“Now if bp hns not sent 3S much to Martha
I shall feel indignant, and she shall have
half of mine.”
On the other hand, Archie said:
“Now we can have just everything we
want, and next summer, (looking at Fitz
noodle) if I do not create a sensation at New
port it will be because I do not know bow.”
“That’s right, Archie,” he had now got so
familiar as to call her Archie, “enjoy life as
yon go along, and not leave yonr money for
folks to quarrel over.”
“That man distresses me greatly,” said
Louise the first time she could get a chance
to speak with her mother. “How much
longer is he going to stay?”
“Oh, 1 don’t know, Louise, but I fear all
winter, 1 do not yet hear the first intimation
of his leaving.”
“And Archie wants him to stay, I sup
pose?”
I fear so, by the interest she appears to
take in him. ’
“Aud her husband does not know that he
is here, mamma?”
“No, my child, and I think it is doing him
) from a number of others on
Wellby not deigning to look at him or to
reply, Jack therefore proceeded:
‘If you don’t fork me over another twenty-
five thousand to keep me from blabbing
about that false marriage of yonrs, I’ll snoot
you dead,” at once producing his revolver.
A policeman was immediately called, but
Jack eluded him by dodging around the cor
ner. After this, what peace was there for
Wellby ? Two or three times afterwards he
was aware he was being followed by the
spectre, and he was apprehensive of being
shot in the back by the fiend who he knew
was only waiting the opportunity to do it.
Still this was nothing compared to the fear of
the mischief the fellow might cause by re
peating his story at the Palms. To prevent
so dreadful a thing Wellby resolved to have
an interview with Jack and again bribe him
to keep the secret. He could not hope be
would keep it a great while, even then; but
there was one thing about it, if Jack had
plenty of money he might soon drink himself
to death, and he woula then trouble nobody.
These were Wellby’s thoughts. So after this
he put himself ont of the way to meet the
ruffian, knowing the part of the city where
enerally kept himselL The fellow was
ly on his way to assassinate Wellby when
he next met him, bnt a friendly beckon of
the latter’s hand, in which he held a large
roll of bills, caused him to desist from ins
purpose.
“1 will give yc
more,” said Wellby, but if
your promise again yon will never get
other penny from me, besides, yonr life si
pay the forfeit”
Ruggles took the oath that the secret should
he kept this time, took his money and was
about to go on his way, when Wellby ai'
him where he had been living since his.]
vions encounter with him.
“Just ont of this city,” said Ruggles, “and
I always intend to live here.”
“And now promise me yon will never go to
the Palms,” said Wellby
Haggles solemnly swore he never would,
and then the two parted, Wellby feeling
he was safe for the present at least. “Bnt
what a heartless wretch,” thought he, “never
enquiring a word about his sister, whom he
so cruelly deserted last summer.”
( He now hastened back to his room at th 0
hotel, there finding a letter from Archie, i n
“I will give yoa a stun of money once
T yon are false to
vill never i
ipre-