Newspaper Page Text
# ROMANCE:
VOL. VII
J. H. & W. B. SEA1 }
ATiANTA, «A., DE(i£MBEii 3 1881.
Terms in Advance; {2£:
NO. 329.
ChIna.PaintinK<
Fair little maiden with palette and brush,
Heedfully copy fern, blossom and thrush ;
Delicate ware should have dainty designs;
But soft though the tints be and (-cried the lines,
Though genius and skill in each blatter had met,
There's naught but the furnace thecolors can set.
Wise little mother whose painting's on hearts,—
Wares not to be bought in the choicest of marts—
Who mingled the colors with thought and with
love,
And learnest thine art from the Teacher above.
Shrink not, tremble not ialter not so;
Into the furnace your darlings must go.
Deft little maiden, I warn you take care;
Set not your heart on yourde ieate ware ;
As fragile, almost, as the bubbles that dance—
At the mercy of circumstance, accident, chance—
In spite of the care and the pains you may take,
Sooner or later, your china will break.
Wise little mother, fear not, nor despair;
Patiently mingle vour colors so lair;
Tenderness mercy, faith, honor and truth—
Whatever is lovely in age or in youth;
The fruit of your labor is lasting and sure;
Forever and ever your work shall endure.
Mary a. S Crawford.
A REAL MAD-CAP;
—OR—
A Heroine in Spite of Herself.
BT RICHARD PEXFIELD,
CHAPTER I.
WICKED LITTLE SUE.
A pleasant old farm house away down in
South Georgia was the home of the Chestnut
family. There was nothing specially attrac
tive about this house, only, as is the case
with the generality of the better class of
farm houses in the State, it was surrounded
by beautiful evergreen trees and stood on an
eminence amid large, cultivated fields inter
spersed with groves of forest pines—all of
which gave to it a peaceful, home-like ap
pearance pleasantly suggestive of comfort
and rest. This plantation was situated on
the outskirts of a small country town with a
population of not more than 2,000.
Mr. Char las Chestnut was sditor of the on
to MMMMUBhitahlAJBJfce town near
whichTienvwi^wBH^IsiaEs wereIa» iTTau-
vanca of the other students of the high school.
His family was small, merely consisting of
bis wife, too sons—Frank and Will, and little
Kate, the only daughter just turned twelve
years. These were all of his immediate
family, but there were two other inmates
of the household besides.
The first of these was Philip Thorne, a dis
tant relative of Mrs. Chestnut. Two years
before, bis fat her, who was v»ry wealthy,had
confl led him to Mr.Chestnut’s care and gone
abroad. Since then, Philip had lived with
the Chestnuts and attended the High School
in company with Frank and Will. The
three boys were near the same age. Philip
was nineteen, Will a few months older and
Frank just eighteen.
The other inmate of the household re
ferred to above was Mr. Chestnut’s niece.
Some fifteen years before the opening of our
narrative John Chestnut, younger brother of
Charhs, had gone to Now Orleans to mer
chandise. There he had become enamoured
of a beautiful French actress and married
her. This was just what might have been ex
pected of John Chestnut. He had always
b?en a wild, devil may-care sort of fellow,
though in other respects he was all that he
should have been. But when the news reach
ed Charles Chestnut in Georgia he was so
shocked, angered, or to use a more expres
sive word, thunderstruck that he stepped not
a moment for serious thought. Believing
that a terrible disgrace had been brought up
on the family name, he sat down and dashed
eff a hurried letter to his brother, every line
of which breathed hot anger and reproach.
Nothing ever came of it. No answer arrived,
and from that time forth, all intercourse be
tween the brothers cea-ed.
Three years afterward there cam9 a letter
—it was when that malady, yellow fever,
was raging in New Orleans—stating that
John Chestnut and wife had been stricken
down with the fever and died within three
days of each other, leaving all alone in the
w rid their little two year old daughter. This
letter came like a sword-thrust to Charles
Chestnut’s heart. His brother’s folly—if
indeed it may be so called—was forgotten.
He remembered him only as the impulsive
and generous play-fellow of bis boyhood.
It is always thus. The grave blots out
forever the sins of the past. Remorse, a
bitter, mis?rable remorse filled Charles
Chestnut’s soul, and he almost believed him
self in part accountable for his brother’s
‘ k.
week had not more than elapsed after
arrival of the letter ere be had made a
•ney to New Orleans and returned with
orphan child, resolved to bring her up
lis own daughter. The little girl’s real
le proved to be Marie, but they called
Sue, because she, for some time after her
val, was constantly calling for “’Ittle
, probably some pet left behind,
t the opening of our narrative Sue
stnut was a lively, romping girl of
tve—just the age of Kate. She was at
i a combination of the reckless, impul-
nature of her father and the indifferent,
sure-lovtr nature of her French mother,
rm hearted and good-natured to a fault
was si 111 what one would call a. bad—a
r bad child. We might say an uncivil-
little savage in this enlightened nine-
b century; for there was no question
it her being what we call in the bouth a
n-boy.” Nothing that any boy ever did
too much for her. She climbed trees,
ed marbles, rode bare backed, bathed in
creek where the boys did, went fishing,
-ed truant at school and fought the boys,
ate Chestnut would have always been her
quious satellite had she dared, but being
istomed to obey her mother and older
her. she generally refrained through
■. Sue.however, strenuously endeavored
iveigle Kate into her sreapes—though she
more than willing to bear the blame—
often succeeded in excitiDg her to rebel-
again-t parental autlority,
le Chestnut was spoiled—ruined. But
r so? She had not been under good man
neat, that was plain. In the first place
t was too strict with her, while her uncle
on the opposite extreme. Sue hated re-
int. Like a bird she loved to be free.
I Mrs. Chestnut made the greatest mis-
t when she endeavored to make a digni-
lady ont of her while she was yet but a
i On the other hand her husband, bav-
1 tender spot in his heart for Sue, dis-
d to punish her, and whenever he at-
pted to scold it generally ended in a
Philip paced impatiently back and forth
for a few minutes; then leaned against the
wall content to wait, in consequence of his
aving launched forth in a sudden train of
thought. Strangely enough, he began to
think of the bull fight of Spain. He was
wondering vainly whether or not the places
in which these contests are held were con
structed on a model of the ancient gladiatori
al amphitheatres of R >me.
He continued to cling to this isolated idea
until a sudden occurrence caused him to f >r-
get both the bull fights of Spain and the
gladiatorial contests of Rome, and have eyes
and ears for nothing but what was going on
before him. _ ~~~*~ ~— 4^
All at once the door of the primary depart
ment flsw open and that “mean little Dave
Rice,” rushed forth followed in hot haste by
Sue. Down the steps and out over the
campus they ran. It was a closely contested
race. Sometimes Sue would gain on the boy,
then fall back and lose ground. Philip look
ed on, greatly amused.
All at once Dave Rice dodged, as we say,
and darted away in a direction almost at
right angles to the one he had first taken.
Sue, not expecting this, of course ran on for
a short distance in a straight line, and in at
tempting to stop herself too suddenly, she
tripped and fell flat, rolling over several
times before being able to get up.
At the fall of his pursuer the boy brought
himself to a standstill, and stood with arms,
akimbo, regarding ner saucily, and present
ly the deserted campus rang with his loud
screams of malicious merriment. To use a
hackneyed expression, this was adding insult
to iujury, which was too much tor Sue.
Quickly springing to her feet, she set her
teeth firmly and started anew. The boy waa
not to elnde her a second time, for with the
memory of that ignominious fall spurring
her on, she put forth her best energies ana
soon succeeded ia coming abreast of her
competitor.
And now ensued a laughable struggle.
Dave Rice stoutly resisted, but, being the
stronger of the two, Susan soon bad hun on
the ground, and with tightly clenched fist
pummeled his face and head to her heart’s
content. At last becoming satisfied, she
rose, and after bestowing some half dozen
parting kicks walked away in I
WMB, WOUAli AHil* SOk«.
laugh on his part and smiling triumph on
hers.
Erank and Will scolded her unmercifully,
and in return she cordially hated them both.
They had lofty ideas about what a girl
should be, and were constantly endeavoring
to impress on her mind the vast importance
of maidenly modesty and reserve.
It was amusiug sometimes to see how Sue
would tease them. Very often when they
began to lecture her she would appear quite
docile and seem much impressed by what
was being said; but just as they would be
gin to feel sore that they had succeeded in
making her feel like a culprit, she would
spring to her feet with a whoop, rush for the
nearest tree, climb it with the agility of a
monkey, and mock at her persecutors from
its topmost branches.
Sometimes every member of the family
would begin to scold Sue at once. Tnen it
was that Mr. Chestnut would take her part
and defend her against them all. Taking
her upon his lap, he would pet and laugh at
her to such an extent that in the end the girl
would firmly believe she had done no wrong.
Here, then, was the prime canse of the
trouble. Sue had too many masters. It was
that system of loose management that is
ruinous to any child. And it had done its
direful work m this case, for it had made
Sue the reckless, rebellious little being that
she was. Let tnem scold or punish her as they
might for an offence, she would immediately
go and do the like again.
Foilip Thome bad been in the boose two
years, bat Sue and he had never made
friends- The whole family, boys and girls,
attended regularly the same school: but on
the way thither and on returning, Sue,<nstea d
of accompanying Philip and her cousins al
ways took Kate and walked some distance
behind. She made it a point on all occasions
to avoid “mean boys,” as she styled the male
sex generally.
One day Frank and Will came home from
school with a terrible tale to tell. It was
that irrepressible little Sue again. It seemed
that on that day the smaller boys at school
had been enjoying themselves bv perambu
lating the campus on stiles. Now as this
glorious sport was denied the girls, Sue
looked on enviously and with rebellion in
her heart. If all those little boys could ex
ercise on stilts, why not she ? 8uch exercise
was a thousand times nicer, in her opinion,
than the calisthenics taught by Miss Mann in
the school-room.
She watched the boys until she could stand
it no longer; then, breaking from all re
straint, she ran out among them and singling
out a small boy of her acquaintance, earnest- |
ly besought him to allow her to try his stilts
for a short while. But the boy, preferring
to enjoy them himself, refused point blank
and tauntingly laughed at her besides, say
ing that “bein’ as she was a gal she onght to
keep her place and not try to be a tom-boy.”
To is was more than she conld endure, and
with hot anger ragiDg within her she rushed
forward and gave the boy a vigorous push
from behind. Clutching wildly for some
support, the boy fell sprawling upon the
ground, where he rolled over and over yell
ing furiously, more from anger than pain.
HaviDg thus accomplished t he ignominious
defeat of her adversary, Sue proceeded to
gather the spoils. Hurriedly seizing the
stilts, she mounted them and ran away in
triumph.
The small boy’s cries attracted the atten
tion of the teachers, and when he had told
his tale, which wag corroborated by several
eye-witnesses. Sue was punished. Frank and
Will were of course furiously angry when
they reached home. Going to both father
and mother with the tale, they loudly rec
ommended nothing short of corporal punish
ment for Sue.
Mr. Chestnut was in the sitting room writ
ing when the boys came in. He listened
quietly to what they had to say, then telling
them to leave the room, he said to his wife :
“Send Sue here instantly.”
Mrs. Chestnut hastened to obey, forbear
ing in the mean while to administer a rebuke
to the child, thinking wisely that one at a
time was enough.
Sue sneaked slowly into the room. With
her hair down in her eyes and her clothes all
tom, she presented a forlorn spectacle—the
very picture of the mminagaable little hoy
den that she was. Mr. C iestnut watched
her angrily, witlj 11 jok dark as a thundercloud
“Sue!” he thundered, what do you mean
by such conduct? It is shamefu'; what
these boys have been telling me. What! a
girl of twelve knock a hoy down? For shame.
Sue. Look here, child, do you never expect
to be other than the outrageous little savage
that you are non ? Oa fi ! Sue, be a lady.
Bat yon won’t. You will continue to grow
worse and worse until some of these days
you will no doubt don male attire, seize a
guo and other warlike accoutrements,? then
bid us all farewell with an ear-splitting yell
to join a tribe of wild Indians in the Wes*’,”
Sue began to sob. This was something
new. Her nncle had never been so angry
with her before. She was frightened.
‘ Oh. uncle 1” she cried through her tears,
“please don’t be so aDgry with me. It was
nobody but that bad little Dave Rice. He
bad a nice pair of stilts, and 1 begged him to
let me try ’em a little: but be wouldn’t let
me, and laughed at me and called me a gal
and a nasty little tom-boy—he did, uncle—
and said I was rude and I don’t know what
all. And, nncle, I couldn't stand it. I just
—pushed him—over, and ” .
Here Sue broke down entirely and the room
was filled with her disconsolate sobs. Sue
had not told the tale with strict accordance
with irnth; bnt, like all children who stand
in dread of receiving punishment, she had
exaggerated her wrongs.
Mr. Che-itnnt stood quietly regarding her
for several minutes, and then, in spite of
himself, began to smile Try as he m gbt,
he could not remain angry with the child.—
Sue had her eye on him all the time, and at
the first signs of relenting on his part she
cea.-ed sobbing, hang her bean, placed one
finger in the comer of her mouth and shot
hjm such a queer, coy glance, like a ray of
purple sunlignt through an April shower,
that he laughed outright.
“Yon abominable child,” he said with
mock gravity, “how can I scold you? Come
here!” And with that he took her up m bis
lap and soon Sue was happy as a queen.
Presently he began to question ner about
tbe school and her studies.
“Do you like history, Sue?”
“Ob! so much, ancle—better than any
thing.”
“What are you reading now?” *
“Hero-lotus Oh, uncle, we read such a
beautiful tale in it this moratog about a band
of women called Amaz ms. I wish there were
Amazons in these days—I’d join ’em; and
we’d make a raid on those mean boys at
school and beat ’em good—Dave Rice speci
ally. But 1 wouldn’t only have a bow; I’d
have a gun, and pistol, and a sword—and oh,
wouldn’t that be nice?”
Sue clapped ber hands in merry, childish
glee, while ber uncle gave vent to his feelings
in jolly, vociferous, long-continued roars,
which we term a “horse laugh.”
At this instant, without any warning, Mrs.
Chestnut entered at the open door. She had
cuneupin time to hear the latter part of
Sue’s speech, and was of course displeased.
“Sue!” she exclaimed, “come in here this
ins-ant an-1 help Kate dam these stockings.’
Sue's nose went upward and her lips went
down and outward, as she reluctantly dis
mounted from her uncle’s knee and walked
with a baiting gait into the adjoining apart
ment. Taking a seat near Kate, she began
to dam, viciously snapping the thread every
two seconds. Kate felt sure she beard Sue
say a “horrid bad word” several times. She
would not have sworn, but it sounded very
much like “confound itl”
CHAPTER IL
WORSE AND WORSE, BUT NOT WHOLLY TO
A few days later at noon Philip Thome
stood up in the deserted porch of the school
building. All the children had gone to their
dinners, and now instead of the usual din
th<-re was a peaceful quiet. To the farthest
extent of the wide campus stretching out be-
f re him all was still.
Philip Thorne was a tall, fine-looking, fair-
faced youth. Just now as he stood there, his
glance resting casually upon the deserted
campus he presented a striking appearance.
Will had gone to a neighbors to return a
b irrowed book, and Philip was waiting to be
joined by him before starting for home.
Unknown to both boys, 8ue had been kept
in that day on a badly-learned lessen, and
was still in the school room.
upon tag and bar dark
shone with a quivering, beautiful light-^the
happy consciousness of recent victory. With
all her dirt begrimed face and tom clothes,
the child was not a fright, after all.
“Why, Sue, what have you been doing to
that boy?” came the laughing query from
Philip as she ascended the steps.
Expecting a scolding, Sue fired np at once.
“And what is that to you, Mr. Philip
Thorne?” she retorted shortly. “Do you
think we girls were made to be imposed up
on? If you do you are very much mistaken!
Mind your own business!”
As this outburst was merely greeted with
a laugh instead of the frowns she expected,
Sue instantly began to repent her hasty
speech. But she was not going to apologize
to a “mean boy.” No, indeed, not she! But
she would ii/Ceuipt to exonerate ner conduct,
and having hastily come to this conclusion,
she continued:
“It was nobody but that mean little Dave
Rice. He turned over my ink and spilled it
all over my copy-book and scattered my
pens all over the floor, and he wouldn’t pick
’em up—now wasn’t that mean? I just could
n’t stand it, and ran after him—you saw us
—and caught him way down yonder, and
beat him good, too!”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Philip, immeneely
amused.
Just then Will came ont of the neighbor
ing house, beckoned Philip, and turned again
to speak with a young lady who was prun
ing a rose bash in the flower garden through
which he had just passed. Philip ran down
the steps, calling out to Sue as he did so:
“Ab, Sue, I fear you are a bad egg!”
Sue actually blushed for the first time in
her life. What was that he had called her—
a bad egg 1 And what did that mean* Some
thing awf nl, of course. Her first impulse was
to run away and hide herself; her second was
to cry; her third was to revenge the insult.
This last she conclnded to do. What business
had he to call her a bad egg? Humph! She
would soon let him know that she was not
the girl to allow a mean boy to call her
names.
Thus allowing her anger to conquer her
better nature. Sue forgot that Philip was al
most a young man and she a twelve-year-old
miss. She only remembered what he had
called her, and for the time being almost
believed that she hated him even more than
that incorrigible little peat, Dave Rice. It is
useless to add that she longed inexpressibly
to serve him as she had already done that
latter-mentioned young gentleman.
Hesitating, she stood upon the steps, angry
and defiant, looking after Philip’s retreating
fi ;ure with blazing eyes. To revenge herself
upon him in some way. she was determined;
but how? Just then Philip turned about,
caught her eye, smiled and then went on.—
That was the last straw that broke the cam
el’s back. Sue took that look as a taunt.
Without stopping to catch breath, mach lees
to think, she dashed down the steps and ran
impetuously across the campus in the wake
of the youog gentleman. Coming np behind
him unawares she steadied herself, then with
all her strength administered a well-directed
kick!
He turned in amazement. Truly it was
high time this strange affair was looked into.
Both stared.
Sue, hot, wrathful and defiant; Phillip,
simply thunderstruck. It was a queer tab
leau. For full five seconds neither moved
or spoke. But at last Philip understood, and
then, to the farthest end of tbe deserted cam
pus the echoes were awakened by his load,
long, ringing laugh. Without a word to the
rebellious spirit beside him, he turned and
walked away, still laugbiog, laughing, laugh
ing. as if be would never cease.
That laugh frightened Sue. What did he
mean by it? It madehercold and hot and
red by tarns. Why did he not shame her,
and scold her, and scorn at her, as she ex-
E cted him to do, instead of walking away
ughing like chat ? Sue gave it up. She
could uut understand it. All she cared for
now was to put herself oat of sight as quickly
as possible. With a scared look upon her
face, and a lamp in her throat, she started
back toward the school.
“Sue I”
Sue had almost reached the steps, when,
upon hearing her name and looking up, she
(Continued on eighth page )