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V
THE SUNNY SOUTH,
“Mary Moreland.”
A Historic Story of Georgia Before the
Advent of Railroads.
By COL. HERBERT FIELDER.
CHATTER IV.
At tliis period politics figured but little as a
staple of conversation in social life. Stump
speaking did not then, as in later times, furnish
to aspirants a paved road to official station.
The people of the South had been comparatively
a unit in matters of National Government, and
held similar opinions as to political rights. True
to the principles and sentiments of the Ameri
can Revolution, and with a sparse population
and limited means, they had followed its for
tunes to its successful issue. They had adored
and honored Washington, and adhered to him
while in public administration—sympathizing,
however, with the stricter views of Thomas Jef
ferson, who favored the larger reservation of
(lowers to the States and people, and the impo
sition of restrictions on Federal power. In the
early divisions of the Union, springing out of
these matters, the South was comparatively a
unitin opposition to the Hamilton school, and
went cordially with Jefferson in the. doctrines of
the Kentucky and Virginia resolutions, and
Madison’s report defending them, and which
placed him in power at the commencement of
this century. The South adhered to him through
his official career, and to Madison through his
civil and military administration during the late
British war, and were cordial in support of Mon
roe, whose eight years were closed. Some of
the local contests between party leaders—such
as Troup and Clark—liad been hitter. Governor
Troup, with all the energy of impassioned heart
and vigorous mind, was pressing the demand of
Georgia on the Federal Government to carry
out the stipulations of the transfer of her terri
tory, then erected with the States of Alabama
and Mississippi. long delayed for the extin
guishment of the Indian title—the Creeks and
Cherokees—to the lands within her borders, and
for the definite senttlemcnt of her boundary.
The matters had assumed a serious aspect as
between the State and Federal Government,
growing out of alleged wilful disregard of the
States’ claims, and of bad faith on the part of
Federal agents in relation to treaties with the
Indians, which caused an extra session of t lie
Legislature, and the assassination of Gen. Win.
McIntosh, one of their chiefs, by his own peo
ple, for having signed the treaty ceding tiieir
lands. Itautidatcd the agitation of issues be
tween the old Whig and Democratic parties as
to which was the true and best Republican
party; and, also, the agitation of African slavery
as a'n element in the organized parties of the
Union, which had not extended beyond the pur
pose to restrict its extension, and that agitation
fiad been quieted by the Missouri compromise,
leaving the country quiet. The storm-cloud of
sectional strife had not gathered. Its thunders
had not been heard, and the people had no in
telligent forebodings of civil war and carnage,
or the terror and power of the vengeance and
destruction which their descendiuits have seen
and felt. They looked to the Federal Union as
tiie city of refuge from foreign oppression, and
had not come to dread it as the agent of their
humiliation. They clung to the Federal Consti
tution as the sheet anchor of public safety.
The State was represented in the United States
Senate by Thomas W. Cobb and John Elliot; in
the House by John Forsyth, Richard Henry
Wilde, Alfred Cutlibert. George Cary, Edward
F. Tatuall, and Joel Abbott. There was peace,
order and fraternity, except on State ana local
issues.
A vast portion of the now settled area of the
State was unoccupied; but the ingress of people
and the increase of those already there, were
extending the settlements and developing a
great State. The capitol, first at Savannah,
then at Augusta, later at Louisville, had been
established at Milledgeville, at a time when the
land belonged to the State, and the site was
chosen because it was at the dividing line be
tween the level and the undulating and hilly
belts, and as was then supposed, the head of
navigation on the Oconee river, and there a
prosperous inland town sprung tip. The old
capitol, now the site of a prosperous branch of
the State University, then, as compared with
the architecture of the period, a grand ami im
posing building li:jyl been erected; and the an
nual sessions of the I.-o-Ulginre drew thither the
leading inert, for St. Louis olv carried their
fault" is good for one city is £v>v'ul Jnter-
e* cities. Here is. the great highway —
---- -e natioiKiLiinr * din that highway the
north .-v - , '- ‘''in 7.1m fertile
streams of Soutii^ MW ,Tt Northeast Geor
gia. and over that fertile and variegated region,
still rich and fruitful at the hand of nature, that
stretches out east of the Oemulgee.
It is a historical characteristic of Georgia that
the names of her counties and towns, are honors
(laid to men, who, at the period challenged the
admiration of her people in principle or by heroic
action—Chatham, Burke. Richmond. Camden,
McIntosh. Bryan, Effingham, Wayne, Ware,
Scriveti, Montgomery, DeKalb. Coffee, Telfair,
Appling, Putnam, Lawrence, Morgan. Newton,
Oglethorpe, Walton, Greeu. Wilkes, Taliaferro,
and Elbert. Like those of later origin, are the
Indications of the estimate placed by the Legis
lature upon the wortli of representative men.
John Randolph bad been an idol in the South;
Georgia had named a county in order to honor
him, at a period when he was a Republican, and
In rapport with Jefferson. But when they had
differed, the sentiment of the State was reflected
in tiie act, changing the name of Randolph
comity to that of Jasper. The same spirit is
illustrated at a later period—Gen. Louis Cass
bad been honored by the name of one of the
finest counties of the newly organized Cherokee
purchase—a section of the State now subdivided
into many rich and flourishing counties. Gen.
Cass, like Stephen A. Douglass, idolized by the
South, had lived to cast the power of ids inind
and political influence with the North, and
against us in the impending crisis of the war be
tween the States. The General Assembly of
Georgia, in resentment to him, and in their
ardent desire to honor one of the first of the
noble and gallant men who had fallen in tiie
conflict, changed the name of the county from
Cass to Bartow. In the ease of Randolph, sub
sequent events developing that the State had
probably misjudged the great Virginian, the
honor was restored by conferring liis name upon
one of the central counties or Southwestern
Georgia, at a later period.
All who have had the opportunity of observa
tion knew of the intensity and durability of
school friendship when formed far from home,
especially of kindred spirits, though strangers
iu affinity, based on continual intimacy and con
fidence.
In tiie iuterior of England, not far from tiie
old manufacturing city of Sheffield, iu Yorkshire,
in au old castle, near which was the long im
prisonment of Mary Queen of Seotts, there was
an old aristocratic family by the name of Ash
ton. At this period there was only one son,heir
apparent to tiie princely family fortune—James
Ashton. Great care had been bestowed on his
childhood ;precocu>ns as it was in meutal|growtli
and development. He iiad inherited tiie spirit
and pride of his ancestors, and what was some
what rare in that period, an intellectuality that
instead of descending in volume and power, was
far in excess of that of Ills father’s. Save high
spirit and pride, lie had but little in common
witli ttie youths of his age—no qualities that
hound him closely and warmly to them, and con
sequently not much association witli them.
The old city of Sheffield was famous for fine
schools and education, and when of sufficient
age to he placed there, be did not seek to gain
popularity with fellow students, was not greet
ed with the cordiality others received when cir
cumstances threw lam in company witli those of
Ills age and rank.
To say that lie was a student from childhood
does not well express it. lie was a liold and
original thinker, and subordinated books, pe
riodicals ami journals to Ills own use to gatiier
tiie fund of knowledge, of facts and truths, that
made his mind a living magazine and store
home of learning. He had become familiar
witli tiie ancient and modern classics, tiie writ
ten history of tile world in all countries, the
philosophy then current, and the full scope of
poesy and fiction before leaving the schools of
nis own city to take his course at Ediuburgh.
He had produced many literary essays and po
etic compositions which had not been printed,
and wliUdi differing from men who iiad attained
celebrity, lie iiad no desire to see in print, but
reserved them for the corrections of a riper and
maturer judgment at a later period of life. He
had seen Byron, Scott, Wadsworth and other
literary celebrities of Europe, and caught the
inspiration of personal magnetism, and Teamed
the secret spring of fame from genius and cul
ture.
At Edinburgh, as in England, he desired, and
had butjew friends, because there were but few
congenial spirits there, and fewer still his equal
in intellectual power and teaming.
Accidental circumstances had thrown him in
to the society of Felix Rogers, and congeniality
of taste and spirit led to a friendship from him
to Rogers, and consequently to his American
friendand companion Wm. Burch.
After leaving the school Ashton and Rogers
n.id travelled together over the continent, and
tor some time there was an occasional corres-
pondence between them across the Atlantic,
’ was discontinued when Ashton
i and *! ut ,nto execution, his plans for
travelling incog, in quest of knowledge of men
SSianf'IS*’ an ®‘ he Physlcai world, ft order to
SfrpfnL * . e . I . ne i s ? f immortality by his
He had visited the principal parts of
w 9 ^V. a ? d South America, reserving
North America for the final scene of his explo
rations, always carrying his manuscripts with
him, and ever and anon revising and correcting
them when stopping to rest from the labor and
fatigue of travel.
While lie hud tiie most exalted conceptions of
woman in her general mission and sphere, and
tiie most tender type of filial affection, his heart
had never been moved or seriously touched by
personal esntact, and he was not aware of his
susceptibility and tiie power of female charms
in their highest state of perfection over his own
heart.
Some two years after the St. John’s excursion
which we have sketched, in consequence of
pending disputes between European powers of
the right of domain in Central and South Amer
ica. explorations under official auspices of tiie
interior of South America were often made. Tiie
great Amazon river was comparatively
known, at least the vast country it drained and
watered, was an unknown quantity to European
courts. There was at Rio Janeiro fitting out, an
expedition up tiie Amazon which would be sev
eral weeks in duration, and it attracted tiie at
tention of travellers and adventurers.
James Ashton who had been traveling among
the mountains on muleback,was then sojourning
in the great South American seaport,resting and
writing and waiting for further adventures,
and tie eagerly seized upon the opportunity to
join the exploring party that was soon to sail
around to the mouth of tiie great, hut then mys
terious river. Intelligent foreigners of other
nationalities were also in the party, and among
them the French Count Morenzi. who iiad
spent much of the intervening period in exten
sive travels in Europe, and Africa and Soutli
America, and tiad like James Ashton not only
acquired a rich store of knowledge of foreign
lands and people, hut had also a fondness for
narrating when he was thrown with people ca
llable of appreciating and enjoyingthe treasures
of knowledge lie dispensed.
There was hut lit tie sympathy between En
glishmen and Frenchmen at that period. And
between Morenzi and Ashton there were many
points of dissimilarity. Y'et they were alike in
tiie desire of knowledge, and the love of adven
ture. Both spoke well the English and French,
hut neither was well versed in the mixed and
broken Spanish, as then in use by most of the
south American people. It was therefore most
natural that after the slow process of dispensing
with formalities in becoming acquainted that an
intelligent English-speaking Frenchman and
French-speaking Englishman, both of whom had
travelled and seen much of the world, should
gradually lie drawn to each other upon a long
excursion like tiie one tip the Amazon. Ashton
lifted the veil of Ins incognito and Morenzi was
free to disclose the honorable rank he held as a
Frenclt nobleman. Their narratives of adven
ture and travel became a source of intense de
light. Ashton with his inimitable gift of descrip
tion portrayed the Holy Land, and the Ganges,
and Egypt, and up the Nile. Morenzi with a
less volume of learning, hut scarcely less power
of conception and description, entertained Ash
ton with tiis travels in Central Europe and in
tiie West Indies, and his recent observations in
Central America, and finally glided into his
reminiscences of the coast of Georglaand Flori
da, tin- scenery and people. The Indian massa
cre of liis companions was painted in living col
ors. with liis own marvelous escape. With a
saddened tone he related the meeting with the
Georgians on the 8t. Johns, the approach to the
young ladies who were alone fishing, tiie inde
scribable beauty of Mary Moreland, whose im
age bad been a floating vision with him thence
to the present, his meeting and the fall of Wal
ter Taylor, and the bitterness of remorse that
had given him unrest and made him a wanderer.
In the course of tliis narrative occurred tiie
names of William Burch and Felix Rogers,
which produced in the breast of Ashton a burn
ing desire to see tiie land so charmingly de
scribed, and to greet in their own country the
friends he so loved on the other side the Atlan
tic. And determined that after a brief sojourn
in the West Indies he would seek tiie gratifica
tion of liis ardent desire for tliis newly conceived
adventure.
As was tiie custom with agr icultulists of tiie
interior. Felix Rogers had gone to Savannah to
sell the annual crops that Mad been, through tiie
gathering season, hauled and stored, and to pur
chase plantation supplies, and pass a few days
of social reunion witli the many ardent friends
lie had in that old city of refinement, culture,
talents and wealth, by whom he and many others
from tiie country were always most cordially
greeted. Such men as John McPherson Bcrieu,
William Law. Levi S. I>eLyon, James M. Wayne,
Joseph W. Jackson. Matthew II. McAllister,
William H. Bulloch. Richard R. Cuyler, Solomon
Cohcu. T. IT. P. Charlton, Richard W. Haber
sham, and many others in the learned profes
sions and in the business enterprises—some al
ready prominent and others rapidly rising to
distinction.
He had strolled alone dowu the river to see
'»".pp-i,ig, wv.-iJ-Nte* 111* 17the
watching a tug boat that was aiding one or the
light grade of sail vessels up the channel to the
city, a grave, dignified, but somewhat young
foreigner, in traveling suit, whom be regarded
as an Englishman and a probable stranger in
the eitv. Walking near him for the purpose of
extending a friendly salutation, the stranger oil
serving liis approach and polite bow, was about
to return it, when his eye met that of Felix
Rogers. He sprang forward and seized him by
the hand, and was saluted in return by the pas
sionate exclamation:
“James Ashton, my old friend!”
Ashton replied:
“Felix Rogers, in reality!”
We leave them to their full measure of gratifi
cation, and their respective resume of tiie events
of tiie intervening years.
During their stay in Savannah Ashton, through
Rogers, met many of the gifted and accom
plished men of the period.
A visit to the conutry, and a long sojourn witli
Rogers and Burch and tliuir friends was agreed
on.
It happened that while there an event occurred
that gave tiie young Englishman the opportunity
to witness the deep devotion of tiie American
people to the cause of liberty, and to see the
distinguished General LaFayette, who, in the
midst of the immense crowd, was met on the
Bluff and welcomed as tiie guest of tiie State by
Governor Troup.
In those days one of tiie methods of travel by
a single person was the sulky—a single seat
mounted above the axle of a two wheel turnout
with shafts for the horse, the rider being bal
anced by the shafts and partaking somewhat of
tiie motions of the horse. It was an easy and
speedy method. There was a more commodious
carriage on the same principle, to accommodate
two persons, witli a folding top to shelter the
passengers, called a gig. This happened to be
the method of travel on tliis trip by Felix Rogers,
and furnished a convenient method of carrying
liis friend and his small trunk to the country. It
was drawn by one horse, but in the level low
lands, except where there was deep sand, the
load was comparatively insignificant, and the
horse could make fifty miles a day without much
fatigue.
Tue preparations for departure led to explana
tions as to tiie inode of travel, tiie probable ac
complishment of the journey without difficulty,
ami remarks upon the old reliable gig horse,
Selim.
As they passed the market Selim shied as an
evidence of liis dislike to the odor and appear
ance of fresh meat. A little further on, passing
a tanyard, a load of hides was thrown out from
wagon. Selim sprang suddenly, nearly col
liding tiie gig with a passing wagon,
Ashton—“I am afraid that Selim will wreck
us. It seems to me that, country horse as he is,
he is putting on city airs tliis morning.”
Rogers—“Tiie generous kindness of these peo
ple. shown to me, lias been extended to niin.
He lias been resting and feels liis oats. When
he gets out into the country—liis native heath
and proper sphere, and after tiie travel of a few
miles shall wear off the wire edge, you will see
liis true character manifested, and have occasion
to appreciate ids real worth as a roadster. You
see lie is very large. Tiie American horse, like
our men, often grows larger than your European
stock. He is strong in proportion to liis size,
and having been in almost constant use for the
last ten years lias profited much by his expe
rience, not in shirking duty, but iu performing it
with ease and not overdoing himself. He has no
relish, like American rebels generally possess,
for all unnecessary coercive measures, and never
has been known to preserve tiis equanimity of
temper when his driver applies the whip; out
lie never runs away, never lies down in harness,
never balks or stalls, and never kicks except
under tiie circumstances I have indicated; and
I have yet to know of an instance of liis failure
to make tiie time allowed between any given
points when he was relied on. He is a horse of
perennial health as well as appetite; knows
none of the inconveniences of indigestion that
we read about in the books. He is, moreover a
blooded horse, that is, if you were to cut his hide
with a knife, tiie lilood would run out of the
same color as that of all your racing stock across
the water. Nevertheless, if Selim was carried
upon your track over at Sheffield, there is no
method by whicli you could persuade or coerce
him to make a vigorous effort for the prize. His
mind does not incline him to such contests; but
if you had him to a gig from Sheffield to Derby,
2 ou would then have, as you will have to-day,
tie opportunity to witness his strength, steadi
ness and power of endurance; and I assure you,
my friend, if the gig don’t give out, and no insu
perable obstruction shall intervene, we will
make the trip safely. If Selim wrecks us, It will
be the first cargo he was ever known to wreck.
Our fathers threw the tea overboard, and we
had a big quarrel over it; but Selim has not been
posted on those matters, and does not even
know he has an Englishman aboard.
After traveling many miles over the level pine
lands, they began to come in sight of small
mounds, six to eight Inches high, of white sand,
in some places sparse, In others more thickly
scattered over the pine woods, in which there
is no undergrowth. Ashton inquired what it all
meant, never before having seen anything of the
kind.
“This is the work of a small animal called the
salamander, whose secretive capacity has al
ways been to me a mystery. I am a native of
tliis section, have been accustomed to these
hills from childhood, and, although I often in boy
hood sought tiie opportunity, have never to this
day seen one of them. We have another animal
that burrows in tiie ground, called tiie gopher.
He is a solitary fellow, shaped and witli si
and legs like a water turtle. He goes seveffpl
feet under the surface in a sloping hole ai
comes out to feed on grass and other vegetation,
and, when he burrows in the farm, is <Li-
structive to growing crops. He is regarded fts
harmless; still it is often dangerous to tackle
him in liis own quarters, for the reason that the
most dangerous and fearful of our reptiles, the
rattlesnake, often takes up his quarters and
lives in peace anil harmony with the gopher.”
"Is there much danger from snakes in your
woods?” asked Ashton.
“None whatever from the most of such as you
may see in your rambles. Whether the Bible
theory of the'fall of man lie literal or allegorical,
it is true that there is no amity between men
and snakes, and they are far more afraid of us
than we can tie of them. They are ever prompt
to make a hasty retreat and seek for hiding
places, and hut few of the many varieties have
the poisonous fang. Tiie moccasin found in and
about the waters, and a variety of the same
name on highland, and perhaps some others be
side the rattlesnake, inflict deadly wounds with
their fangs when they strike, but none of them
mahe aggressive assaults. It is when surprised,
or too closely approached, that there is any dan
ger from them. There is a small, red-brown
snake, with white rings around him, that lias a
sting in the end of ins tail that is deadly in its
effects, hut lie is a clumsy, slow-moving fellow.
But the rattlesnake differs from them all, so far
as I know anything of snakes in this country,
lie lias never been known to aggress or to tiring
on a deadly conflict, or to retreat from one when
made on him until after he has inflicted his dead
ly wound. He coils, sounds the signal of defense
bv the rattles on llie end of his tail and awaits
tiie advance of his foe, except when he is s.a!
denly encroached upon. He neither fears or fal
ters in t lie presence of his foe. In this he is like
the game cock; lint there Is one point of charac
ter in which the cock differs from till the lower
species. It is iu the deference paid by him lo
tiie female in eating. The gallant bird stands
back and waits for tiie lien to be served, and. so
far as T know, is the only animal below tiie grade
of civilized man that does.”
“What about mosquitoes?” again asked Ash
ton.
“Like chills and fevers.in summer and fall,
and near tiie ponds and lakes and swamps and
streams, they are a trouble, but give us but little
annoyance out in the open pine woods.”
“How about game?”
“Plentiful of tiie kind we have—deer, wild
turkeys, ducks. We have several varieties of
the hare and squirrel; and it will never do for
yon to leave Georgia without having enjoyed the
luxury of a fox chase on horseback in the day
time, and a ’possum hunt at night, in company
witli some of our negroes, who love and enjoy
the sport.”
“What of the relations between the slaves and
white people?”
The best you can conceive of.”
Your views on slavery have undergone no
change since we used to discuss it at school?”
“Not a whit; and I am glad you will have the
opportunity to witness plantation life for your
self. If we iiad no slaves 1 would not favor inly
ing Africans and importing in order to enslave
them; but we have them; they are hero. I can
see no method, even if it were desirable, to get
rid of them. But the common sentiment of our
people is liku my own ou that subject. We do
not desire to he rid of the institution. Negroes
are valuable as property; aud while most of the
common laboring negroes are igt o ant and
morally worthless, there are many of them that
are the most trusty and the most trusted of any
menials of this or any other age of the world, so
far as I know. As a race, they are improved by
tiieir change from their native land and its free
dom to this of slavery, as the institution Is regu
lated by law and the common humanity of slave
owners. They are better protected, better gov
erned, hotter cared for in sickness, childhood
and old age than any dependent poor iu any
country at this age of the world.”
“What about cruelty, of which we have read
so much in England?”
“It occurs, hut is comparatively rare—Is, in
deed, tiie exception to the general usage—and
the owners of slaves who are inhuniati ;ihd
cruel to them, and known to be so, never fail
to lose caste with other slave-owners. The
practice is condemned both by law and public
opinion.”
Uncle Caesar, tue wagoner of Mr. Rogers, had
arrived at Savannah while he was there with a
load of produce; cotton, syrup, hides, tallow,
etc.; iiad been loaded with the purchases-,;-, Ids si
with liis.six mulc«**nm and li.yy?: .«-*--.»#*• ! oos V
ing. In thd atrnrrtooii they passed him, extern; “No
ing the friendly greetings of tiie occasion. After
driving a few miles, Jogging on carelessly, as
they rose the asceut from a green-skirted branch
tiie wheel struck suddenly against a stum]) a
little aside from the beaten track.
On examination they found that a flaw in the
iron lire, that had apparently been long held by
a frail part of the liar, iiad broken, aud they
found themselves wholly without tiie means to
repair it, to proceed or retreat, or to take care
of themselves.
The matters were of grave Import at first.
But Mr. Ashton soon suggested that they could
wait until Uncle Caisar should come up, and that
the gig could lie hauled on tiie wagon and they
could obtain a saddle for Selim and could in that
way travel and camp with Uncle Csesar, and
thus get home without any trouble, except a
little privation of comfort, and delay.
The suggestion wa# approved, and they loi
tered around to await tiie coming of the wagon.
When Uncle Caesar came up au hour later the
situation was revealed to him, and the plans
night; but agreed with Mr. Rogers that it was
not at till promising to attempt to cross the creek
and pass tiie swamp in tiie night, and in tiie
rain, as dark as it would lie. ana yielded to tiie
apparent necessity of their stopping. He tied
his horse out into the open lot, and provided for
Selim iu the stable, and conducted the visitors
into liis cosy little abode, where there was an in
dustrious and neat country wife and two or
three small children, their cooking utensils, a
Mazing fire, in the midst of lier preparations for
their meal, and only one lied. Some additions
were lia*tiiy made for their bunefit, and soon
they were seated around liis frugal board, with a
good appetite. The wind Iiad shifted and the
impending clouds dispersed; and tiie evening
passed with conversations liy the countryman
that were intensely interesting to Ashton.
As the time for retiring approached, the wife
began to put clean sheets on the lied for tiie
strangers, and to spread a pallet on tiie floor for
herself, husband and tlie children. And Ashton
and Rogers retired to rest, deeply impressed
witli country hospitality, and slept soundly.
They were disappointed, after a good breakfast
the next morning, nearly ready when they
awoke, and after Selim had been harnessed to
the gig, to find they could not persuade the gen
erous man to accept any compensation. And
late in tiie afternoon they safely arrived at the
home of Felix Rogers. 111 due time UncleCiesar
arrived safely. Tiie beautiful and sparkling
poems of ids boyhood and voting manhood, that
had been read together at Edinburgh, the riper
and maturer emulations of liis genius, after leav
ing school, and liis writings while a traveler, the
papers that had made tiie circuit of Europe.
Asia. Africa and South America, were in the old
traveling trunk witli liis sparse wardrobe, all
safelv landed on the North American shore; and
all with him in tiie home of liis early literary
friend. Its ease and freedom, comforts, profuse
supplies of all that could tempt the appetite or
contribute in any way to his physical pleasure,
t lie overwhelming attention of negro servants,
the outfit for riding, hunting and fishing, which
1 lie changes produced on his early taste, by
travel, had prepared him to appreciate and en
joy; the library of books, containing the publi
cations of the past, and of the period—till com
bined to make it a haven of rest to the travel-
ridden Englishman. His presence and genial
conversation made his visit a joy to Felix
Rogers. His father, a man of superior native
faculties and a generous, noble spirit; Ills
mother, a woman of grave manners hut over
flowing benevolence; his junior brother of rural
taste and agricultural habits; and ids two beau
tiful and lovely sisters. Ella and Julia, aged
twelve and fourteen years, and to liis friends iu
ttie community, chief among whom was W111.
Burch. The homes of Rogers and of Burch be
came the homes to Asliton.
The country people vied with eacli other in
tiieir efforts to bestow kindness upon the distin
guished visitor of their neighbor and friend, and
to render liis sojourn in tiie community a happy
one.
Ashton soon came to realize that while Rogers
possessed mental and moral faculties and cul
ture that endeared him to lovers of learning, lie
also had an overflowing heart of kindness that
called to him the admiration and sympathy and
tiie unselfish friendship of people around him,
who were illiterate and wholly incapable of ap
preciating the qualities that had formed and
riveted their friendship; that as a result of liis
true nobility, there was not a man or woman in
all tiie land who was not ready to put in requisi
tion any means in tiieir power to contribute to
his pleasure, simply because lie was the visiting
friend of Felix Rogers.
Invitations were showered on him from every
direction, to visits and dine, hunt and fish, social
gatherings—such as were customary in that pe
riod. were appointed in order to pay Dim honor.
And for tiie first time, perhaps, in liis studious
and laborious life did lie feel the current of true
human sympathy in liis heart and soul, and a
disposition to 'wean liis affections from tiie
rigid ordeal of thought and to enter into the
heart amusements and pleasures of the people.
TO BE CONTINUED.
CLEO.
BY BUSY BEE.
they iiad agreed on.
Uncle Ciesar laughed heartily at them.
“Mars Felix, you talk 'bout haulin' dis gig
home in tiie wagon an’ rldin’ Selim, an’ campin’
out wid me. Dat’s all foolishness. I11 de fust
place, I ain't got 110 bed clothes fit fur vou to
sleep ou, an' sicti perwisions as you an’ de gem-
mau would like; an’ no way to cook aiiyt’ing fit,
if I iiad it.”
“Well, Uncle Caesar,” interrupted Rogers,
"how do you propose to get us out of tliis di
lemma?”
“Mars Felix, I can mend dis wheel in less dan
alia’f hour, an' you an’ de geinman can go home
an’ back to Savannah in dis gig widout any
blacksmith to touch it.”
"How on earth?” asked Rogers.
“Hickory witlis is as good, if not better den
iron, an you jes wait till I comes back an’ I
show you how quick I kin fix it.”
He disappeared into the thicket and soon
turned with t
tiie hickory twigs to mend tiie
broken wheel, Iiad tiie wfieel off, and soon so
snugly and securely wrapped that it promised to
last until they could reach home. Selim was
again hitched to the gig, and Rogers, in order to
lighten the load, transferred Ashton's trunk to
tiie wagon; and we were ready to drive, in tiie
hope of reaching tiie hospitable home of Milam
Reed, where he iiad anticipated a comfortable
lodging.
“Mars Felix,” said Ciesar, “Selim has been
standin’ up doin’ nuthiir in Savannah; an’ if you
let him out, an’ ken git cross dat muddy creek
an’ on de good road agiu 'fore dark, you ken git
dar by a hour in de night.”
When they were on the road again Ashton said
to Rogers;
“Do you have no apprehension for the safety
of tiie wagon and team and goods, from depre
dations by robbers and thieves on Uncle Caesar,
on tiie road or in his camp at night?”
“None whatever. Tiie cases are very rare in
tliis country where such depredations have been
committed. Tiie people are a hardy, brave and
industrious race, and all have the means of easy
life without such methods.”
“Many of tire common negroes on the planta
tions do not hesitate to steal for present gratifi-
cation any little commodity they desire, but it
is usually from tiieir owners; and flogging when
caught at theft is tiie only resort, by the owner
and not under legal sentence.
“But, sir, we have many servants we can im-
plicitely trust. Uncle Caesar, like some others
on our place, is one of that class. He is among
tiie early reminiscences of my childhood and
boyhood as a friend. He loved me as if I were
his own child. I have no thought that he lias
received a blow of correction since I was born,
and he has lived many years without a cross
word from my father or me. He is a brave old
man, a stranger to fear, except that of a failure
of duty and the displeasure ot those it is liis
duty to serve. And there is no bound to tiie
depth of devotion of his loyal spirit. I have
never Iiad a secret I would not entrust to him.
I would trust him with my pocket-book with my
last dollar in it, and feel as secure as if It were
iu your keepiug. It were a trust which he would
only surrender with his life.
“You need give yourself no uneasiness about
your trunk ana the valuables it contains. In due
time they will be safely delivered. The chief
matter of anxle.y now is for our own safety and
the chances of crossing that miserable creek be
fore dark. I am Inclined to think Uncle Caesar
not far wrong as to the time it will require.”
They drove briskly; but as night approached
there was a dense cloud arising, portending a
storm and a dark night in which to drive, much
less to cross the swamp that lined the much
dreaded creek. They reached the house of a
hospitable tret poor countryman, as the darken
ing shadows of night were accelerated by the
rising rain cloud, where the Englishman bad a
fair opportunity to witness the noble and gener
ous spirit that was Inherent In the people without
regard to rank or fortune, at tnat time, and
which has in great measure been transmitted to
their descendants.
The countryman had a little open cow-pen,
and a small horse-lot, with a corn-crib and shed
as a stable for his horse; a house with one room,
and a small cabin in the rear for a smoke-house
and place to store his provisions. He explained
the situation, and expressed his regrets that it
was not in his power to take care of them for the
Two people are walking up and down a grav
eled walk. Tiie man is speaking in a low but
passionate voice. Tiie woman walks silently by
his side with drooped head and hands hauging
x down before her. At last she raises her
.... more* I beg. 1 ’ ’ii.te’UK.tJ'i'W.arry must he a
second Julius Ciesar, minus his vices. I was not
made for the simple queendom of a wife. I was
born to sway tiie hearts of ambitious men, and a
life witli a dreamy poet or dilietante artist would
slifle me. No; I shall become the companion of
a man of overtopping intellect aud mighty ambi
tion, hut a man wlio must gain his ends by hon
orable means, or I die—Cleopatra St. Hilary,”
aud this haughty woman withdraw# her hand
from tiie hot clasp of her lover, and her regal
figure soon disappears within the moonlighted
shrubbery of Moulton Hill.
The man whom she leaves clenches ills hand
fiercely, digs his heel in tiie ground and mut
ters:
“Ah, proud Cleopatra! I shall yet live to see
that haughty spirit brought to the dust, and
those same red lips begging for compassion from
me. Cruel, stony-hearted woman fiend! A ver
itable Egyptian Cleopatra, curse your cold, pas
sionless nature that has immolated so many
men's hearts on the altar of your vanity.”
He turns savagely and goes dowu the graveled
walk, out into tiie open road, never once looking
back.
Cleopatra St. Hilary quietly ends her moon
light stroll by entering the house through one of
the open drawing-room windows, and turning
there looks out into the night.
The room behind her is deserted save by her
brother and his wife, the former of whom yawns
over a paper, aud the latter industriously cro
cheting.
Several flirting couples sit on the long veran
dah in various nooks, and two or three still strav
in the slirubberied walks, bathed in the mystic
white mantle chaste Dtan throws about them.
"Cleo!”
“Well!”
That magnetic presence is soon felt by a cer
tain gentleman who rapidly strides up to tiie
statuesque figure lightly leaning against the
broad carved window, framed about by filmy
lace curtains.
She lifts her eyes.
They are deep mysterious eyes, violet by dav
and Mack by night, fringed by long, thick, black
lashes.
“Where’s Leon?” tiie man demanded abrupt
ly as lie searches her face, creamy white with a
pale pink in the cheeks, aud lips as red as a
cleft pomegranate.
Her white lids fall and tiie dense lashes pen
cil a delicate shadow on the polished cheeks.
“He went away some time ago,” she answers
simply.
“Why?”
She sliurgs her white shoulders, which gleam
like ivory through their veil of black lace, aud
replies pettishly:
“O, how should I know why or where the tire
some creature went?”
"Is he tiresome to you, Cleo?”
She raises her eyes again and stares coolly
iDto the brown ones so near tier.
“I do not repeat an assertion if once heard-by
my listener.”
He makes an impatient gesture.
“Cleo, there never was a more provoking
creature than you.”
She laughs tauntingly, and languidly puts up
a white hand to replace his bontounie of Mar
shal Neil rosebud, and two friugy fragments of
geranium leaves, which is about to fall from his
coat lapel.
He catches tiie hand and crushes It passion
ately in one of liis firm white ones.
She bears the pain a moment, then nonchalantly
asks, “Do you know that your hand is a trifle
larger and stronger than mine, and that I wear
several rings?” A slow smile parts her perfect
lips, and tiie dark eyes, swimming in au electric
light, gaze Into his.
He flings her hand away, and abruptly leaves
her.
A low laugh, mockingly, follows him, and fills
him witli madness.
“ What is more cruel than a heartless, beauti
ful coquette!” and her cousin—twice removed-
goes out into the flower-scented and fountain-
cooled air to soothe liis agitated soul by smoking
innumerable cigars, savagely tramping up and
down the walks. Cleoptra watches him amused
ly a moment, then turns into the room.
She kneels 011 an ottoman at her sister’s side,
aud says:
“What an indefatigable worker!”
“It would be welllf I could say the same of
you! Cleo, how long are you going to trifle with
men’s hearts as you do?” and Clara drops her
work, and taking the kneeling girl’s face in her
hands, looks steadfastly into the violet orbs,
which widen in well-simulated wonder.
“I do not trifle.”
“What is it, then? You surely cannot love all
the poor fellows you allow to singe themselves
at your fire!”
Cleo pulls out her watch.
“Clara, may I go to bed? It Is eleven o’clock,
and I am tired.”
“Of what? Yes. you may go to bed, for I al
ways feel relieved when I know your room door
is closed on you for the nigbt, and Celeste is
brushing your hair,” passing her hand over the
bronze-gold waves drawn back from a brow as
fair and Innocent-looking as a child’s. Cleo
kisses Clara, then rises, with a little sigh, and
going over to Leonard's ohair, softly touches
ner lips to his pale brow.
“Good night,” she says.
“Good night,” he echoes, absently, not looking
up. The soft swish of a woman’s trailing gar
ments is heard, a faint perfume stirs tiie warm
air, and Cleo is gone.
Clara’s brow clears.
“What a dangerously sweet woman she is!”
Mrs. St. Hilary's other summer guests soon
retire, and the house is wrapped in silence.
Cleo is tiie first one down the next morning,
and as she stands on tiie verandah, training a
rose vine about the slender, painted iron pillar,
site looks as fresh and lovely as the pale pink
roses in her hair and at her belt. She is elad in
a trailing white wrapper, faced with pale blue.
Slie makes a pretty picture, and—she knows it.
She is never careless of her attitudes, and is
never ungraceful. She lias never yet
seen a woman as exquisitely beautiful as
herself, and so we cannot say she is vain,
but only sufficiently conscious of her rare charms
to be always self-possessed and calmly collected
She was never known to be angry in iier life.
A step comes near.
It Is cousin Jack.
She smiles serenely and sheds tiie radiance of
lovely eyes upon him.
“Did you sleep well last night?” she ques
tions as she plucks two rosebuds from the vine
and proceeds to pin them iu liis coat.
“Wily?”
“Nothing, only you looked very restless and
sleepless when I last saw you.”
“Cleo, don’t try to quarrel.”
“I quarrel!” in the most aggrieved tones.
“Cousin Jack, I thought you knew that I never
did that in mv tile. Leonard and I were always
the most devoted of brothers and sisters, and I
ilid try to lie kind to you, but you have always
presented your roughest side to me.”
“Cleo, you know I love you better than any
one living, and I shall never love any else. We
are not sufficiently near kindred to make mar
riage between us out of the question—”
“I'm sure breakfast must be quite cold now.
Let us go in and see, for I confess I do not love
cold chocolate, even if it is a hot summer morn
ing.” and she leads the way to tiie breakfast
room, humming a light song, while lie sullenly
strides on behind.
As Ids hand touches the knob of tiie door, tiers
falls lightly on it, and slie looks smilingly in liis
' Tlien they enter the room and find two or
three more gathered there, lazily planning tire
dav’s campaign.
Captain Duncan advances to meet Cleo and
eagerlv prefers a request:
Miss Cleo, will you row on the river tliis morn
ing with me?”
Slie lifts tier heavy-lidded eyes slowly, and
Jack interposes quickly before she can reply.
"No; certainly not, unless site wishes to be
come ill.”
Cleo's lips part and site answers the Captain
serenely:
"I will go with a great deal of pleasure, for I
wish to procure some [dies for my toilet to-night.
1 am going to personate Night.”
"I did not know it was a fancy dress ball,”
Jack says sneeringly.
"Neither is It, but one can be poetical once in
a way, can one not?” and Cleo seats herself at
the table and toys daintily with iter brea-fast.
Jaek’s lace is black as a thunder cloud, hers as
clear and smiling as a June sky.
Nevertheless the row is taken and Cleo re
turns with armsful of fragrant water lilies.
Clara tells her Cousin Jack lias gone to Austra
lia.
“80 soon?” she murmurs.
“Why did he go?” demands Clara.
“I do not know. He said nothing about it this
morning to me. Poor feather-headed Jack!”
and slie falls to tying her lilies into little knots,
which are to garland her for fresh conquests that
night.
“Incorrigible!” sighs Clara.
Usually Cleo’s summer toilets are white, but
to-uiglit her perfect shoulders gleam through
tiieir black tissue, and water lilies loop up tiie
folds of her dress here and there, while one
shines, star-like, in the lustrous wav s of her
bronze-gold hair.
Slie is divine, and more than one heart falls
captive to her charms that night. Captain Dun
can hovers near her with gloomy brows, //is
fate was most effectually decided that morning
when they gathered tliose lovely lilies now
gleaming on tiie Incomparable Cleo’s dress.
Tiie summer takes unto Itself wings and fleets
away as Autumn, with her inany-hued. gorgeous
dress, tramples closely upon her fleeing rival s
trail. Tiie St. Hilarys are back in their luxurious
city home, aud tiie mansion on the Hudson looks
desolate, for tiie merry laughter of numerous
guests is no longer heard in its halls, and the
lawns are forsaken.
Before Christmas, Leonard contracts an obsti
nate cough. Nevertheless, he drives himself,
and at last Clara wakes to the fact that tier hus
band Is no longer li«.e himself. Site takes him
. to task one dav.
t—i’I-.tf what it is?”
“My wife!” he says, tenderly, as he draws her
to liis side. “Yes. Clara, misfortune lias come
upon us. I can uo longer conceal that we are
veritable beggars. I have lost all; beside, Cleo's
fortune lias been swallowed up with mine. I am
ready to die from shame that I have proven so
poor a guardian that the two I love most ou
earth are, through me, forced into the lowest
depths of poverty.”
“But you are not to blame," soothes tiie wo
man's voice.
“No, 1 have acted for the best through it all;
but yesterday Jackson, my partner, absconded
with all that was left to us. 1 might have weath
ered the storm if it had not been for this last
stroke. Poor Cleo!”
“Why poor?" asks a serene voice behind them
Both start, but the former, in a few words, ex
plains.
Cleo kneels by her brother's chair and puts one
arm about his neck, the other about Clara, and
looks steadfastly into their troubled faces.
“Now you shall see what kind of a woman I
am;” with which saying she kisses them both,
and, rising, goes out of the room.
In a few days tiie broken merchant, bis wife
and sister are ensconced in a small three-roomed
cottage. Clara develops a talent for cooking.
Leonard becomes a book-keeper and Cleo ac
cepts a situation in a fashionable fancy goods
store. Not till she has done so does slie tell her
brother and ids wife. Both are shocked. Leon
ard argues aud pleads against it. Cleo sips her
tea calmy, hut says only:
“I cannot be a drone." So slie has her way at
last.
As spring advances, Leonard fails pereeptiblv
lip with her white teeth, and becomes deadly
pale.
“You are so good.” she murmurs.
He makes ids purchase and moves away.
As he goes out an alert figure passes him going
in. He raises his hat but the figure does not no
tice. but strides on to the ribbon counter he has
but left.
Cleo St. Hilary is replacing a box, when a voice,
Iiitter and sneernig, speaks near.
“So, my proud beauty, you are humbled to the
dust. A little more than a year ago I prophesied
tliis. It does my heart good, Cleo St. Hilary, to
see you tints in menial serviee. Would you not
be glad now if you were my wife?”
He bends over tiie counter and liis pale face is
near hers. Slip recovers her self-possession.
“Mr. Leon Bertrand! Yes—can 1 show you
anvtliing in our line today?” pulling down a box.
Tiie same serene Cleo! Tiie artist draws back
amazed, looks at her a moment, then turns away.
A little mocking laugh follows him. He pushes
liis hat down over liis eyes and goes blindly out,
rage and love .struggling in his heart.
Slie is not subdued by adversity. He sees that
in a moment, and curses himself for an idiot.
But when Cleo gets home that night slie tosses
lier bonnet and shawl wearily off, and sits down
and crosses lier tired feet and hangs her aching
head. Clara, without speaking, brings her some
tea and toast. Cleo eats it absently, then lean#
back in lier chair and closes her eyes.
Slie feels dejected.
A ring at tiie door. Clara answered it. Cleo,
as in a dream, hears exclamations, but she doe#
not even open lier weary eyes when steps ap
proach lier.
“It is only Clara,” she thinks, bui starts vio
lently as a voice says:
“Cleo!”
“Cousin Jack!” and for once in tiieir lives she
shows real joy at seeing him.
They sit down and talk.
Before many days lie asks her again the ques
tion lie has so often asked lier.
“I cannot he your wife, Jack,” she tells him
gentlv but firmly.
“Why?”
“I—I do not love you that way.” she falters,
for indeed slie has become bumbled during tiie
past bitter year.
He sighs heavily, but never again refers to liis
subject. Years after he marries, but bis wife is
not Cleo.
One morning as she is hurrying to her post, a
detaining hand is laid on her arm. Slie glances
up.
It is Leon Bertrand. His eyes burn, liis lips
are dry, and two red spots gleam on either
cheek.
“Cleo. I cannot live without vou. Be iny wife,
I implore, f can give you wealth and honors. I
am ambitious—I will one day be famous. I am
going mad for love of you. Yell me, will you. or
will you not marry me?” and his breatli seems
to dime in pants.
She turns her eyes up to him. They are filled
with an ineffable pity.
"Mr. Bertrand, I cannot marry you. I shall
never marry.”
“Is there anv one between us? Do you love
any one else?’’
“There is no one,” she tells him. “No one at
all,” and then she frees her baud from ids and
walks rapidly off, for slie feels that she has not
told him the entire truth. As site had spoken, a
kingly figure, with wide cool grey eyes, chestnut
curls cut short, and kindly beaming face, comes
before her. He is her heart's king; but O, bow
foolishly mad she is to dream that he would
stoop to wed a poor shop-girl. Her tiead droop#
at the thought, a sad longing creeps into her
heart, and she goes about her duties listlessly.
A few days later than tliis, Leonard St. Hilary
dies.
Clara and Cleo keep on in the tiny cottage, for
it has come to seem li e home. Clara now takes
a few scholars in music, rents a piano for the
purpose, and at odd times colors photographs.
"I shall live and die a shop-girl, Cleo tells her
pathetically.
Clara smiles slowly. She clearly sees the end.
As Cleo sits at the close of a winter dav. lean
ing back, with closed eyes and crossed wrists
and feet, as is her want when very tired, slie
hears sleigh-bells. But it is nothing, for slie lias
been listening to them all day. Now memory
carries iter back two years, when slie was always
the star of some brilliant assemblage, and sleigh
rides were common and matter of course affairs.
She does not notice that tiie sound of tiie Jing
ling bells lias ceased, and does not notice Clara
as slie leaves the room.
A little hush, and then the murmur of voices.
The hot blood leaps tingling to tier finger-tips.
Slie sits up with wildly palpitating heart.
He enters—lier king.
"Miss Cleo, wrap up warmly, for I wish you to
try my new horses and sleigli. Will you?”
‘ hut not
ring "^W^Pfc.two-
Jitmg n S«re/
e Iw'HUjWialr.
s lier gloves and
Cleo loot's no'
cter,
“Well, Sis, any commands tliis morning?'
And Dr. Hugh Carroll enters liis widowed sis
ter’s room, with whom he boards, equipped for
liis round of morning visits.
Mrs. Hunt looks up with a mischievous smile.
“For what?”
“For anything. Can I do any shopping for
you?" tie asks as lie abstractedly pulls off and
011 ids driving gloves.
“It seems to me. dear Hugh, that you have de
veloped a remarkable fancy for shopping lately.
Y'ou are not wont to be so attentive to my little
wants.”
He laughs freely. There is 110 embarrassment
in bis manner.
“I Iiad thought you always claimed 1 was a
model brother. However that may be, I am off,
but as I pass immediately by your favorite em
porium of fashion, tiie thought occurred to me
that I might possibly do you a service.”
“You can. Here is some ribbon I wish
matched. Get me a block of it.”
He pockets the scrap of lilac ribbon, closes
the door with a gay an revoir, and goes down
tiie stairway two at a time.
Mrs. Hunt looks after him fondly.
“Bless tiie boy. He grows dearer and more
affectionate every day. Tiie girl that marries
him is to be envied, and I verily believe lie is in
love now. It will be the first tune, if lie is, and
will go hard with him if lie is unsuccessful.”
Slie goes on, placidly manufacturing mats,
never once suspecting that iter handsome broth
er is in love, and that, too, witli a shop girl.
Hugh Carrol is a king amongst men. He and
his sister were tiie only children of a retired
banker. Tiie daughter married and was wid
owed in less than two years after lier auspicious
wedding day. Her father died; slie had no
children; so when her brother graduated with
high honors, she proposed lie should make liis
home with her. He agreed. He was master of
boundless wealth, and could have been a society
lion, hut tiie life did not suit one of liis earnest
philanthropic nature. He became the physician
of tiie poor. He accepted uo pay for his ser
vices, and gave liis time unstintedly to his
patients, and lavished money and care freely
It is late in tiie summer. He finishes his
round of visits this morning by stopping before
a tiny, three-roomed cottage. A pale-faced ladv
opens the door softly before he has time to
knock.
“Good morning, Mrs. St. Hilary. How is he?”
Clara shakes lier head slowly.
“No better? Well, here is some wine, a few
grapes and oranges for him should he become
prlrsty. I will see him.” He pishes by thl
lady, who turns away her head to hide her
swimming eyes and trembling underlie
r i? - ’ Ci l r £V 1the nea ‘ room on his right
Leonard 8t. Hilary, plainly dying of eonsumnl
tion, is propped up In the snowy bed hTsm£
e “fE»brtgKen as the physician drawsnlar
Doctor, the end is near. My poor wife
^ W? 0 ’■ tur , ns to con d
tears that slowly glide down his sunken
jimis\tiv e : V** 1 *
kisses the sweeT u lips.
muff to her, saying brightly:
“Go, mv love, it will do you good, for. d
she is working herself to death.”
He takes lier hand and leads her out to the
handsome sleigh. A smile is on bis lips, but lie
says uo word as they drive away—only looks ai
her.
When they bad gone a mile, he turns to her
and says:
"Dearest. I love you better than the whole
world. Will you be mine?” And lie presses tiie
fur-bundled figure closely to bis side and looks
into her eyes.
Her breath comes in little gasps. Finally she
recovers.
“Dr. Carrol, do you know what you are doing?
Do you know that you, the wealthy and famous
physician—the best parti in tiie city—are asking
a poor shop-girl to be your wife?”
"1 know I am asking tire bravest, noblest and
lovliest woman iu tiie world, to marry me—all
unworthy as I am.”
Slie stretches out two hands, turns radiant
eyes upon him, and says:
“Take me!”
He does literally, for he folds her in his arm#
and kisses her repeatedly; after which he re
places lier vail and they go home.
"What will you sister say?”
“Just what I do,” but which can’t be possible,
for be says a great deal that Mrs. Hunt could
uot, in Justice to lier love of truth, endorse.
So they are wed.
And Clara?
<>. time healed her heart and she, too, wedded
a rieli old bachelor site met at Cleo’s house, for
it was no longer Mrs. Hunt’s house, but Cleo’s,
and Mrs. Hunt was placid and content at the
state of affairs in lier brother’s house, where
slie remained a permanent guest and made her
self useful as a grandmother.
While Verdi was putting the finishing touche#
upon “II Trovatore,” be was visited in liis study
by :i privileged friend, who was otic of tiie ablest
living musicians aud critics. The latter was
permitted to glance over the score and trv the
“Anvil Chorus” on the pianoforte. “What do
you think of that?” asked tiie master. “Trash!”
said ttie connoisseur. Verdi rubbed his hands
together and chuckled. “Now look at tliis and
tliis. and this,” he said. “Rubbish!” The com
poser rose and embraced his friend witli a burst
of joy. “What do you mean by such strange
conduct?” asked the critical one. “Mv dear
friend,” responded the master, “I have been
composing a ‘popular’ opera; in it I resolved to
please everybody except the great judges and
classicists like you. Had I pleased you I
should have pleased no one else; what you say
assures me of success. I11 three months ’ll Triv
vatore’ will be sung, and roared, and whistled,
and barrel-organed all over Italy.” Aud so it
sister!
ceal two
cheeks.
The doctor pressed his hand
0.S; SKMES
grapes and a peeled orange ; in a plate " Ch ° f
The doctor absents hiraseif. P
but vouchsafes him no word till he tells her ’
and lwfa J plt® f Th^ r sWSM“%r
During a heavy rain-storm, some days a°o a
portly provincial took refuge in one of the lead
ing hotels. Before entering the bar-room he
carefully stowed away his streaming umbrella
to dry in tiie corner of the entrance hall, having
first pinned to tiie silk half a sheet of note p;£
per bearing the following inscription: "Hands
?, • ^brellii belongs to a man who is in
the habit of striking a three hundred pound
blow without any effort to speak of. He will be
back In a quarter of an hour.” When tire au
thor of this warning, invigorated by a “square
drink, sought tiis property, after some fifteen
minutes ansence.the umbrella was gone Ou
i .wi f iT <,und :, . 10 ^ e . ver ’ ,a y his monition, to which
™,? e * , V ld< J e 4. these wor ds. in the manner of a
P®f t ? cr lpt : ’The umbrella above referred to
5^iK een . t; i ken a man whose ordinary rate of
wn!!i « n $ 8 ,ni * es an hour. To pursue him
would be useless; to wait his return, absurd.”
Senator Conger was in the Grand Pacific
Hotel, enjoying a chat with a friend. “Can I
see you a moment. Senator?” asked a strange
U*'. 1 ' 1 " man. “Certainly,” said the Senator,
rising. The young man led him away across the
targe room, and seemed to have something very
important to impart to him, and to him alone.
y.® ar djw** , c *°sc in the corner the young man
spoke right in the Senator’s ear. “I guess you
don t know me. I’m the editor of the burg
Anterpri*,. 1 want you to tell me Just the sltua-
tion here. The Senator looked a little puzzled
at first, then said: “Come with me.” And, lead-
mg the way, he walked through the reading-
room, down the office steps, up the ladies’ par
lor stairs, through the long entresol to the
dining-room and, drawing him close Into the
corner behind a bat-rack said: “I don't know
anything about it.”
From the Corporal.
From the Marine Barracks, Pensacola, Florida,
Corporal Ben. Barger writes of the benefits of
Brown s Iron Bitters In that re irlarlous region,
ne says: “I have used several bottles, and must
counter. A girl, lovely asJuno'“wlth^inK’f iH at I 8 ? y 1 am K reat| y benefltted by using It. Several
and bronze-gold waves of hair waits mi* m y comrades use Brown's Iron Bitters, and
you may rest assured they all think it is the
greatest thing on earth.” This kind ot testi
mony comes from all quarters concerning
Brown’s Iron Bitters—the best tonic.