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THE SUNNY SOUTH
3
The
. A BROKEN LINK;
OR,
Strange Man of Carreg-Oennin.
BY EMMA KIRKLAND,
Author of “Strathmore Diamond*” and “A Fair Eurasian.’
CHAPTER XXVI.
“Doctor 1”
"I am at your service, sir.”
“Will you oblige me by going to the castle
with the officers? I 1 am not well to-day.
How are they on the hill?”
“Well, I’m afraid we will be obliged to take
my cousin away from them. I see no change in
him except an occasional recognition of his
wife. He seemed to know her at first. Louise
is Improving as rapidly as I can desire and is
the happiest girl in the wide world, though her
brother has no recognition of her at any time.
He looks at her as be does a beautiful flower or
anything else strikingly lovely. He needs treat
ment that he cannot have there, but I dread
naming it to them—they are so happy in the
possession of him.”
“I will do it, my boy.”
“Thank you, thank you. Of course I will go
to the castle, if you will call at the cottage a
day, and take Dr. Millen until the other advice
arrives. Millen has strong hopes and so do I,
but I fear there will have to be a counter-shock
before he recovers. I see them coming; I’ll be
off and will return as soon as possible.’’
• ••••• •• •
“I am safe,” said the lord of8t. Donats, laying
aside his morning paper. “Nobody can with
stand those facts. Ha! ha! put on a bold face
and have your will. Gold, what will it not do?
Magic word!”
It had not the magic power to make him
happy as be walked to and fro in his lordly
halls. The day was cold, raw, damp; he could
not follow the hounds over the htlls, and there
were no gay companions to while away the
dreary hours. He listened often for the rustle
of silken garments and the tread of light feet,
but they never came. A song floated through
the halls. It was Clefa’s voice, not hers. Sne
would not come, he knew. She never came to
him now of her own accord, and he never dared
to send for her save when some guest was in the
house. He longed to be at peace with her
this morning, perhaps because be needed her,
lor he was selfish, and in the old days she was
bright, cheery, winsome—a sweet companion for
a rainy day or any other day, in fact. He was
feeling sad when assuredly most secure. Per
haps It was the dreary day. The spirits of most
people are affected by the weather. They spring
up with sunshine and down with shadow.
“My lord, three gentlemen to see you.”
He walks in to see Dr. Came and two officials
await his coming. He thinks it some trick of
his Inveterate enemy, upon whom he glares with
fiendish hate. Now he hears the rustle of silken
garments and the swift tread of light feet be
hind him. He turns round to see his lady enter-
ing, her face and manner betraying alarm.
“What does this mean?” he haughtily de
mands.
“What did you mean when you pushed the
heir into the blow-hole?” asked the doctor, and
the officials exhibited a pair of handcuffs. He
drew something from a pocket, put it in his
mouth and swallowed, before they could think
of his intention. A quick change in his face, and
he fell at his wife’s feet.
“Poison!” exclaimed the doctor, turning the
dead man's face to the light. He saw that the
wife was horrified, not grieved, as be led her
away. She did not ask to touch the stiffening
form, shed no tears, exhibited no sign of sorrow,
but shrank away and shuddered.
“She has been expecting this,” said one of the
officials to the other, “but not so soon. She
knew when we came in the door that we meant
to handcuff. She was scared but not one bit
surprised.”
“Don’t like her,” said the other; “she’s too
cold-hearted.”
“Why, bow could a woman love a man like
that?”
“I have seen them follow to the scaffold and
cry over a man with the rope round his neck.”
“Yes, but your beautiful delicate lady don’t do
that. She’s handsome. Hope she’ll do better
next time.”
• • •••#•••
“Madam, I am sent to inform you that Lady
Carne and her sister earnestly request you to
remain in the castle. Here are letters from
both, but I am commissioned to say everything
to induce you to stay.”
It was Dr. Carne who spoke, and he seemed
to take pleasure In delivering the messages.
“Oh! sir, I could not bear to see the new lord
in his present condition! They are kind, very
kind, and I thank ”
“You will not see him, madam,” he hastened
to say. “They have confided him to me until he
recovers. We have taken him to London where
we have the ablest advice in the world, and no
one despairs of his recovery. When he recovers
it will grieve him sorely to learn that you would
not remain in your home.”
“It was never rightfully mine,” she said,
sadly.
‘ You are a Stradllng, and it is understood by
both branches of the family that ”
“That anyone who needs a home, anyone of
the family, can find one at St. Donats. I have
no other one to go to, and I will stay if you
think they all preier it.”
“You have only to read those letters to be con
vinced. The new lord is a most generous and
unselfish gentleman; I have this from my friend,
Friedentbal madam, are you not feeling ill?
Excuse me, but you really looked quite ill?”
“It is nothing/’ she said, smiling faintly.
“Mr. Priedenthal has told me a great deal of
the past life of our cousin, and we have reason
to be proud of him. Even now in bis state of
mental aberation I can see the glimmerings of a
fine Intellect and a noble soul. He will be
deeply grieved if yon do not stay at the castle.
They will come in six or eight weeks, probably
sooner, and are anticipating the pleasure of
making it less lonely for you.”
CHAPTER XXVII.
Bruce McDonald left the castle for a route
which none but a sure-footed Highlander would
have chosen. He felt that he must leave his
loved ones without a farewell. Go to Carmar
then he must. AU his means were there except
what had been left in the castle. Striking
across country, avoiding every public road or
path, he aimed to reach the city by a very circu
itous route. He reached the city in the night,
as was his intention. Where would be a safe
place to wait until he could see the friend upon
whom he knew he could rely? The old church
yard suggested itself. Thither he repaired and
lay down among the ancient tombs to rest. Here
the living crowded the dead; there were law
yers’ offices opening into it, and white paths
worn across in various directions by the busy
minions of the law. He knew the locality wefi
and chose a resting place apart from there,
where he felt perfectly secure from discovery.
Who would ramble about the burial-ground
after nine at night? No one, he felt sure. A
busy clerk might pass from office to office, but he
would follow a well-worn path. He would lie
down in the shadow of some shrubs and sleep.
He bad slept but little during the last ten days,
and the repose was sweet. Exhausted nature
demanded a requisite for the tax that had been
made upon it. He slept and dreamed of a help
less old man in de9p distress, of a hungry luna
tic shut up in a tower, of a sweet girl in a hol
low, of a rash deed on the summit of a cliff, of
wanderings in a strange new country. When
he waked the sun was shining, and the odor of a
fine cigar revealed the proximity of some one,
whom he presently heard walking leisurely to
wards the spot where he lay. The shrubbery
could not conceal him in daylight. He cursed
himself for a sluggard, and arose boldly from
his recumbent posture. He could do nothing
else. Pulling bis hat over his eyes, he stalked
away with as little show of hurrv as possible.
“Face about!” said the intruder. He stalked
a little faster.
“Halt! I say!” He moved faster still.
"Stop, McDonald!” There was no mistaking
his hurry. It is to be regretted that a man can
sometimes be frightened at the sound of his own
name. Bruce was no coward, but he spurned
the sacred ground a9 if it were the floor of per
dition and he was offered a chance of escape.
“Say, Bruce, stop! You didn’t kill Arrington;
/ am he! Face about, man!” cried the intruder,
at the highest pitch of his voice.
“It is true, by the Eternal.” In his Joy he ig
nored the past, walked back to Arrington and
offered his hand.
“I do not deserve this,” said that gentleman;
ll you knew kll f McDonald, you’d try that over
again. Sit down I have a great deal to say to
S ou. Let me feel the grasp of your hand again
efore I begin. When i am done you may kill
me and I’ll thank you.” 3
•••••••».
Back to the ruined castle on the cliffs he has
tens, careful to take the shortest route The
burden is lifted, and his broad shoulders can
easily carry their only load-a budget of K SSd
news. How he wished the girl he met in the
hollow could be at the castle! He could bear to
tell her now why he had never asked her to he
his wife. He would ask her at their next meet
ing; she would blush and smile and say -Yez
rur, of courze.” Sweet Clefa! so pretty so
tient, so true! They would live in the old home
on the hill, and the old man would be happier.
All this he thought over as he hurried along,
regardless of the bird’s song, the fresh green
beauty of the hedges, or the sweet breath of
flowers in the air. The world was glad, but
Bruce was gladder than the world. The Inward
j >y exceeded tnose without in such decree that
they could not be felt or seen. When they were
in speaking distance, Bruce raised his voice and
shouted:
“Will Arrington is alive! I saw him at Car
marthen! Talked with him!”
“Aye! my lad, I wa’ cornin’ doun lha hill ta
tell ye. It be a Joyfu’ time for tha auld mon.
They ha’ been here ta tak’ him awa’, an’ they
tole tha auld mon aboun it. I was fearfu’ ye
wad be gaue across the sea, afore they cauld
find ye.”
“I would have been had I not been obliged to
dodge the law, as I thought. I feel like a differ
ent man, sir. If I were to talk a year I couldn’t
tell you how relieved I feel. I went a long way
around to get to the city, and stole into it at
night like a thief. I suppose they told you of
Mary. It has been a general resurrection. I
have something more to tell. How glad I am
that we risked so much to save the heir. I saw
him, sir, and he knew me. They were making
ready to leave and he wanted to stay with me.
Nobody could persuade him but his wife. I tell
you, sir, there is something very strange about
a good woman’s love. It overreaches other
things and won’t be forgotten.”
"Aye! it hae a great power over evil. I dlnna
ken when I see it fall. Wa’na tha lassie bon-
nie?”
“Yes, and so glad she Is halt mad herself,
though be does not know her and shrinks shyly
away when she comes about him. It’s too bad,
but they expect to have him all right in a few
months. She is as pretty as Mary, don’t you
think?”
“Na, na, but she comes next. The lady is
bonnie, too; she is gratefu’, wanted tha auld
mon ta gae hame wi them an’ be ane o’ them;
but tha lassie pu’ her arms aboun me neck and
kissed tha rough auld mon wi tha same look in
her e’e that Mary had. It wa’ she that tole me
o’ Mary, an’ it maks me auld heart right glee-
some ta think that I may see her before ye put
ml auld banes under tha grun. Ahl it warmed
when tha soft arms clasplt roun’ me neck wi tha
gentle way o’ my ane lamb.”
“I do not wonder,” said Bruce with a smile.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A click of the latch, a step on the graveled
path. Mary started and unsettled the vase of
flowers, Spencer’s gift, over which she was bend
ing with the wish that she could so steep her
senses in their sweets as to forget the pain at
her heart. The vase fell with a crash, shivering
into a thousand pieces. She knew the step,
though she bad not heard it for years. It was
not Spencer’s; ah, not The sound of his foot
fall bad no power over her heart save to make it
stand still with dread. He was coming to-night
to torture her with reproaches because she could
not love him. But this was not his step. Why
did It hesitate upon the threshold? Why did it
come at all? Perhaps it did not. Could it have
been a fancy growing out of concentrated
thought? No, it sounds in the hall, and there Is
a knock at the door. She starts in haste to
open it, crushing the flowers under her feet, but
remembers the past and assumes a coldness she
does not feel. Opening the door, she is not sur
prised to see Will Arrington. He holds out his
hands, but she seems not to see them. He walks
in, for he sees that he will not be bidden to como
in.
“I see, madam, that I am not welcome, and I
respect you for It. I really expected you to slam
the door in my face. Why did you not?” ex
tending a hand.
“I hardly know. Because it is not my nature
to be rude, I suppose,” not seeming to see the
hand.
“May I see our child?” still standing, as she
had not requested him to be seated, though she
had sunk to a seat that stood conveniently near
the door.
“Why our child? You have said It was not
yours.” > ,
“1 know it is mine now. I saw the picture you
sent Mr. Friedenthal. Her face proves her pa
rentage; but the liar who defamed you to me
has confessed your Innocence and his own de
pravity. May I see her?”
“She is in the next room asleep. Go and see
her if you wish.”
He observed that suffering had refined and en
nobled her beauty. The freshness of youth had
gone, but there had come something in its place
of far greater valne to this man of faultless taste
and cultured intellect. He could see into the
pretty room, and, from Its arrangement, guessed
that she occupied it herself. He looked care
fully for some sign of a gentleman’s presence
therein, but he could not discern even one; no
slippers, no papers, no large easy chair—nothing
to denote a gentleman’s recent or expected pres
ence. Had he seen a dressing gown laid over a
chair, a pair of larger slippers than she could
wear, a pile of papers (newsy, not literary), he
would not have crossed the threshold. He
wished to do her no more harm. It she was
married to Spencer he would go away, revealing
nothing. Having entered the room, he could
see into two others which Joined it. Neither of
these were used by a gentleman. One was a
dining room and the other was fitted with furni
ture made to suit the wants of a little girl. He
could see a child’s library and things of cost and
beauty. AU this had been done for his child,
upon whose sweet, sleeping face his tears were
falUng. His heart was sore, and there was some
thing soothing in this nearness to his child; a
new experience, one he had never even imag
ined feeling, for he had resolutely put the child
out of his heart. He hated to go back to the un
approachable woman in the other room. Here
there was the tie of blood, a something that be
might love by right of that tie.
“Are you perfectly satisfied?” she asked as he
came back to her presence.
“Not fully, taking the word in its broadest
meaning; but I am satisfied as to the child’s pa
rentage. I felt a yearning to see her is why I
asked you, but I had no idea of tire sweet ten
derness the sight of her would create. Perhaps
it is because there is nothing else left to me but
the child. It is a tie of nature which cannot be
severed by trick of circumstance. If I had not
known that she is my child I should not have
come here to-night, madam. It was not curios
ity that led me here.”
“You came to see her, merely to see her, and
because you wished to see her ?”
“No, I will be honest with you. There has
been enough darkness between us. Had I told
you the wherefore of my doubts, the mischievous
cunning which misrepresented facts and dis
torted appearances would have been detected
by a woman’s naturally quick discernment; and
had it been, my warm love for you could not
have been changed to bitter, resentful mistrust.
All this trouble could have been saved by a lit
tle candor and common sense on my part. We
are strangely inconsistent at times. I was too
honorable to disclose the disinterested, kindly
confidences of a friend, but not honorable enough
to go to my wife first when appearances were
against her. Seemingly unconscious of his dis
closures, a friend defamed you by a thousand
misconstructions of little things that I should
never have observed but for him. Some of these
you said, others were actions. It would take
months to enumerate and explain them. Enough
that they were misconstructions, and I now be
lieve them to be. I came to-night to acknowl
edge my errors and Implore your forgiveness
should I find you unmarried to—another. I be
lieve I do.”
A slight inclination of her golden bead beto
kened assent.
myself. I startled you once as he confessed his
love in very eloquent fashion He said I was a
bird, and he would declare bis love if the whole
world listened. 1 felt the stiongest inclination
to test the truth of his assertion by revealing
myself; but curiosity as to the full extent of his
treachery Induced me to keep qaiet. I stood
there and beard every word he said to you. The
window was up as it is now. The wooing was
as well done as his other baseness. I followed
him to bis hotel and saw him burn the manu
script you gave to Louise. It must have been
the same—a roll of about fifteen sheets closely
written. Was he in the house when you gave it
to her?”
“Yes, I gave it to her in his presence, and
asked her to let It be her first reading after her
arrival In the South.”
“He read it carefully, then burned it with
great satisfaction. He marked out several pas
sages before burning it, evidently marking
something out of his mind simultaneously.
When he laid it on the Are with a smile of satis
faction I was satisfied, too, In another way. I
knew that it was what you wrote to Louise.
Have you a doubt of it?”
“No,” she replied, with a sigh. A suggestion
to a child will often unravel a knotty problem,
and that of her life lay open, so simple, so plain!
Why did she not see It all before? Why conld
she not understand why her husband became
cold, cheerless, distrustful, untrue? Would he
offer bis bands again? Had be come merely
for forgiveness, or to see the child? Had he
come at the request of Louise? She longed to
know, but forbore to question him. Perhaps he
would tell.
He said that night that ‘he had gone to Eu
rope to marry that girl,’ meaning me, of course.
‘Well, I did have a nope of winning her through
gratitude, but when she sent for me that she
might thank me, I learned the vast difference
between gratitude and love. She was genuinely
grateful, but her heart now belongs to a better
man than I. I know it does not matter now if I
am honest with you, or I would not speak to you
thus.” A red current surged to her cheeks and
then back on her heart. His eyes did not lose
the effect of bis words. Neither did her ear lose
the tremor in his voice.
Sit down, you must be tired standing,” she
said, in a most Indifferent tone. “Can yon not
tell me something of my friends? It has been
some time since I heard from them.” She spoke
as to a stranger or mere acquaintance, and he
replied in the same indifferent tone, but was
careful to speak at length of her grandfather
and Bruce, her cousin. The conversation, or
relation, rather, revived old tender memories
and the woman was softened ere she was aware.
He concluded by saying, “I wrested you from
all these pleasant associations, and I would be
pleased to restore you to them if it would make
you any happier,” regarding her attentively.
“I fear I do not understand you.”
“There is but one way in which it can be done,
of course you will not go back there as you
are?”
“As 1 am?” her beautiful eyes dilating again.
They had a trick of expanding to take in one’t
meaning as an eye is widened in the dark to
gather in rays of light. It was very becoming,
like every other habit of her features, her
hands, her figure. There was nothing detract
ing in her person or manner. In youth there
had been a too free ebullition of spirits, born of
her free, happy, unrestrained life among the
hills. It was gone now and left nothing to be
desired to complete her loveliness. He hardly
knew bow to reply to her question as she wish
ed. Why would she not understand him?
“Would you go back there,” he stammered,
“without your husband?”
“Yes, I can, as my friends are there. They
will not let my old friends believe any harm of
me. Besides, it is in my power to prove my
marriage legal.”
“I know it, because I went and investigated
the matter. Your cousin went with me. U I
had wronged there, I did It unintentionally, and
I hoped to set matters right by coming back to
America and winning your consent to be my
wife again.”
“I have been your wife all along,” defiantly.
“Spencer persuaded you that time had separ
ated us?”
“Not for a moment. I tried to believe it, be
cause I felt that ought, but I could not. I see
no inducement for my going back with you when
I can go without you.”
“For our child’s sake,” he said very gently.
“As you are, you are a wife in name only. 1
wish you to assume the state, the condition of
wife, for her sake. Of course there can be no
other reason why you should.”
“Mr. Arrington, after hearing all I said to Mr.
Spencer that night, and then hurrying off to Eu
rope to ask Louise Came to be your wife should
circumstances prove favorable, I cannot com-
prenend how you can muster the audacity to
make the request of me even for her sake!”
Her voice rose and quivered despite a deter
mined effort to restrain It.
“For my sake then, Mary. I need you, and I
believe that we may be happier than we are
now if not so happy as we were before the ser-
M1THS AND FOLKLORE.
pent entered our" Eden. The girl has passed t were still alive, and would yet return and
. s he mves'anolner. That is Jusr WPMU holy cross. Charlemange and Charles
“I have wronged you deeply—so deeply that I
would not have thought of asking your forgive
ness had it not been tor Louise Came. She for
gave me, and then I thought surely Mary will
forgive me when I tell her who labored to tra
duce her in my sight.”
“Who?” rising to her feet while her eyes di
lated to their widest extent.
“Spencer!”
“How do you know?” clasping her bands and
smiling as one does who meets a stranger, or
anybody who believes or thinks as he has long
been inclined to.
“Wneu he saw that I had entirely lost faith in
you he spoke openly against you to me, and did
all in his power to unite me to Louise. He even
said that our marriage was illegal—that he knew
all along what you were; and he managed it so
that I could escape from the tnralldom when it
became necessary. We were married in Scot
land, you know.”
“I have not forgotten it; bat I have known all
along that I am legally your wife. Dio he come
to you and confess his villainy ? ’
"No! I came to Now York to take passage for
Wales. 1 uad discovered that Carne was lost,
snil 1 thought I might make some restitution
for the mischief I bad done them by going over
and helping to look for him. I knew that Spen
cer was somewhere here, and hunted him up
from the purest motives of friendship. A mu
tual friend directed me here, and curiosity
prompted me to come in and discover why he
came here. I stood there and beard no good of
out of my life. She loves anolner. That is Jus'
as it should be. If she did not, she would not
love me again; I wronged her intentionally.
There is no tie between us, but there are two
between you and I, Mary, three if you will ac
cept my need of you as one. I feel myself drift
ing from the right in inclination, while strug
gling to get back to it by force of principle. If
I can have a wife, a home, a child—you know
they make men better as a rule?”
“Yes, but the exceptions are numerous. How
ever, as it affects our child’s interest in life to a
very large degree, I will of course—consider—”
“Consider it an estaullshed fact,” smiling and
extending a hand, into which she laid one of
hers, despising herself because it trembled and
grew warm so quickly in his strong clasp. “Let
us endeavor to re-create our Eden and allow no
serpent to enter into its sacred precincts,” he
said, pressing his lips to the hand.
“There cannot be an Eden without one,” she
replied.
Astir in the vines at the widow, alight, sharp,
hurrying tread outside, an opening of the gate
that led into the churchyard.
Spencer! oh, I am afraid for you!” she cried,
quickly passing her free arm over his head with
an eager effort at protection that smote him to
the heart. She had needed his protection for
years!
• • •
A gentle breeze, loaded with sweet scents
from the garden of the cottage and the floral
adornments of the quiet hillocks, floated over
the old churchyard, waving the rank growth of
grass over the forgotten dead and rustling the
leaves until they awoke from their moonlit slum
bers and whispered to each other. Of whom
did they whisper? A man. Why was the man
so pale? Perhaps it was the moonlight, which
silvered them and even seemed to whiten the
air. It is the same man who goes through the
cbrucbyard to the cottage every few nights.
Why does he stop by the grave marked “Re
becca Stradlihg?” Had he ever done her any
harm that he should seem so wretched? Why
does he strike himself on the breast with his
hands? Is he mad? Where is the fair woman,
who sometimes walks from the cottage gate as
far as that tomb with him? Why does she not
come to-night with her offering? The dew will
fall on a faded chaplet, yet there are plenty
sweet flowers in the garden. The breeze whisks
off. The leaves hush. The air is heavy and
still. A quiet reigns, befitting the sacred en
closure. The fair woman comes now, and she
is not alone. A dark, strong man is beside her,
but she seems more afraid than when she comes
alone. She stoops to lay a fresh chaplet on the
tomb. Why does she start and cling to the man
in mute terror? What did she see on the other
side of the tomb? A man with a knife in his
heart, from which the warm blood is dripping.
Whose hand, whose hand did the deed ? His
own is clasped round the knife with the inexor
able grip of death. The men who come to take
him away, force it from the stiff white fingers,
and say it is a pity for one so young to die by
his own band. They bury him in the old church
yard and mark the place well. A mother is to
come and take it away to rest In a sunnier clime.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A BUNCH OF MAY BLOSSOMS.
[DEDICATED TO MISS MINNIE QUINN.]
Fade not sweet flowers, like the light
That dies like some glorious eve in May;
But brighter grow, and still|more bright,
Like morning, bringing in the day;
Breathe fragrance while the breezes play
About you with their gentle sigh9,
And fill them, ere they pass away,
With odors sweet of Paradise.
May no rude hand tear, one by one,
Your lovelv petals all apart.
And when that cruel work is done,
Pierce you with fierce envenomed dart,
Until your gentle, tender heart
Pours its sweet soul upon the air,
To leave, when it to heaven shall start,
A pure, though dying fragrance there.
But bloom, sweet blossom*, through the years,
And seasons as they come and go,
Sprinkled with all the dewy tears
That from May’s eyes are wont to flow;
And waft to all the winds that blow
From West or East, or North or South,
Such a sweet as lovers ought to know
When kisses breathe from mouth to mouth.
And you, sweet girl, whose gentle hand
Gathered these fragrant flowers of May,
May no rude storms, but breezes bland,
Blow round you ever on your way!
May the pure light of endless day,
That God’s smile gives, be yours, fair child,
Such as He gives His angels—yea,
Such as He gives His undented!
Newberry, 8. C. John A. Chatman.
It is curious and interesting to trace our mod
ern fairy tales, nursery rhymes, legends and tra
ditions back to their primal origin in the myths
and folk lore of a remote and prehistoric Deriod.
The aspect of nature, in all its changes and
“infinite variety,” was the distinguishing sym
bol of worship and belief of the Aryan race.
Through all their wandering and scattered na
tions the same characteristics were always
found, in many and different variations, but still
proving conclusively the one common, Aryan or
igin of them all. The highest and earliest ob
ject of adoration was directed to the sky, in
Indus under name of Dyus; in Greece Zsus was
supreme divinity, while Jupiter belonged to the
Romans, and Yio and Tyr to Germany and the
Norseland.
Scandinavia and the Norseland finally directed
their worship from the sky to the great wind
god, all-father Odin.
The myths of Odin are the oldest carried down
through many generations. From the earliest
period the sun acted on men’s minds in their
hopes of futurity. In the ancient Aryan prac
tice of cremation, on the funeral pyre, the as-
eending smoke represented the escaping soul
borne away by the wind god into the sun. Odin
collected the souls of heroes on battle-fields and
carried them to Yalbaela, accompanied by the
Valkyrins. Amazonian bourls, half human,
half god-like, who rode through the air in form
of swans, (originally the clouds) and called in
Eddas “Odin’s swan maidens.” This myth lived
on in the tables of the Phantom Army of the
Alps and Jura, and of Hern, the wild hunter of
the Hartz mountains, then it becomes the wan
dering Jew or the Pied Piper of Hameln; the
latter supposed to originate in a fatal epidemic
occurring to the children, which the Sahonie
and German prehistoric tribes spoke of these
deaths mythically, as departure of the mice (i.
e. the souls) to the water, or dark concealed
place, led by the piping wind god.
Around Baldur, fairest of the sons of Odip,
are gathered many beautiful imageries. He
was the bright aspect of the sun’s rays in
NoBeland, rising in light and beauty, through
their long day season. The springtime of Joy
and mirth and fruitfulness; but as he sinks into
the gloom and darkness of winter or death all
earth weeps and mourns until, with the re
turn of spring and light, the world re
joices again with renewed hope, and “every
thing makes music and is glad when Baldur the
Beautiful comes back.” His death on the burn
ing pyre floating away, is typical of the glorious
setting sun.
The labors of the sun from dawn to eve, are
repeated in the traditions of Herakles and Thor.
Tbor, the champion of men and the destroyer
of the Jotums (the giants) is the original of the
thrilling story of our childhood—'“Jack, the Gi
ant Killer!”
Even the tale of Troydimie is ruthlessly ob
scured into only a sun myth! the ten years
seige was only the ten hours struggle of the sun
against the inevitable enemy, the darkness of
night—or the daily seige of the East by the so
lar powers, that every evening are robbed of
their brightest treasures in the West. In Ms
original form the seige of Troy is the theme of
hymns of the “Veda,” and it appears in other
forms in the folk lore of Scandinavian and Ger
man races. The stories of the “Volsung” and
the “Nlbelungen” are the same, as the story .of
“Helen and Paris,” of the Trojan War.
It is not the same shock to the realism of tra
dition to trace our love stories back to the sun.
“Cupid and Psyche,” “Beauty and the Beast,”
have originated from the lovely conceits of the
pursuits of dawn, by the god of day—united are
they in the early morning, but separated later
when the sun reveals his power and mighty
splendor.
The story of Cindertlla’s glass slipper has
foundation probably in the Russian ana German
allegories of death and heaven—which were al
ways spoken of as glass mountains ascended by
knights.
Stories of the Sleep Thom are traced from
the thorn bush, which was the symbol of fnner-
als and death. Thus the “Sleeping Beauty”
has a primeral origin in the Norse myths of
Sigurd the Volsung and Brynbeld. Brynheld
plucked by Odin with the sleep ttorne, is typ
ical of the dead earth, awakened by the kiss of
the sun or summer, or by Sigurd. In our ver
sion, Sigurd, (the Prince) breaks through the
sleep thorn or thorn hedge, and awakes with a
kits for the Beauty. Another analogy from tjie
Volsung, Sigurd discovering the way of under
standing the talk and voices of fowls and birds,
may be compared to a similar 3emetic tale in
the Arabian Knights Entertainments, of “The
Farmer, the Ass and the Ox.”
traditions multiply around the legends of long
sl$ep and absences. From Olga the Dane,,in
hi* vaulted chamber, waiting for the summons
every seven years to come forth and redeem his
laud; to our own Arthur and bis Knights of the
Round Table, of whom tradition long instated
2VgricuItuvaI Item?.
COAL TAB FOB HEN BOOSTS.
Coal tar is one of the best disinfectants. If it
will not destroy hen lice it will at least prevent
their appearance if used plentifully on and
around the roosts. The boxes for nests should
be lined with tarred paper. The odor from this
will fill the feathers of hens and repel vermin.
VARIETIES OF POTATOES.
Potatoes being grown from sets, not seeds,
cannot mix in the hill. When an unexpected
variety appears it is by accidental intermixing
of some other kind amoDg the sets or by bud va
riation. There are occasional sports in pota
toes, and from these some valuable varieties
have been originated.
SUPERPHOSPHATES FOR VEGETABLES.
English farmers first learned the beneficial
effects of phosphate on turnips. It is equally
good for cabbage, either in the seed bed or alter
transplanting. For cabbage it has a specific ef
fect in preventing the disease called club root,
which is apt to prevail where cabbages are
grown more than one year on the same land.
WORKING BULLS.
In some parts of Europe bulls are worked the
same as oxen are with us. It rightly handled
and made always to obey, they can be kept for
service eight or ten years without danger, and a
yoke of bulls will do more work than oxen of
equal weight. Our best bulls become cross after
they are two or three years old and are turned
off to the butcher.
CABBAGE SEED.
Do not plant the stumps of cabbage to grow
seed from. You may thereby get cabbage seed
that costs nothing; but, like most other things
got without expense, it will be worth even less
than it costs. With a crop requiring so much
labor as cabbage, poor seed is a costly damage.
The best seedsmen are particular to select the
choicest heads and leave them on the roots
when growing seed.
FEEDING VALUABLE COWS.
Cows which give most and richest milk need
most careful feeding, as excessive stimulation
of milk glands causes garget, and often milk
fever. Many a valuable Jersey cow has been
destroyed by trying to force an unnatural butter
S leld. We believe in good feeding of all cows,
ut where the tendency is largely to butter pro
duction a good deal of discretion must be used
in not giving too much.
HOLSTEIN CALVES.
Holsteins are not a diminutive breed, and their
calves, when they have a fair chance, are always
particularly fine, because of the large amount of
milk the dam gives. But if only the male is full
blood, a grade Shorthorn calf from a native cow
will be worth more for the butcher than a half
blood of any other breed. The difference in
value is still greater if the calf is to be kept till
one, two or three years old.
CAKED BAG IN COWS.
At this season cows in full flow of milk will
need careful looking after lest their bags become
caked and hard. Rubbing with lard will relieve
the soreness and will almost immediately be
followed by an increase of milk, as nothing dries
off a cow faster than a sore and feverish condi
tion of the bag. In some cases so much milk
may be given as to require milking three times
a day, morning, noon and night.
TILLAGE IS MANURE.
On rich soil thorough cultivation will for a
time take the place of extra manuring. It
makes all fertility available, and therefore ex
hausts the soil more rapidly. We have imple
ments now at least one hundred per cent, bet
ter for cultivating the soli than those in use
twenty, thirty or forty years ago. This, per
haps, is one reason why ft is harder to maintain
fertility now than then. We get larger crops by
thorough tillage, and this uses up plant food
taster.
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repeated daily, with two or three doeee of CCTI-
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Rmgworm. Psoriasis, Lichen, Pruritus. Scall
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V. oide their time in mountain fastnesses. The
Jonnders of the Swiss Confederation sleep on In
a cave near the Lake of the Four Cantons,
Leigfried and Arioristers, heroes of the Nlbe
hnngenleid, still sleep in a mountainous region,
while Frederick Barbarossa, in hlsEPbterranlan
cave, awaits until the “rocks eeaseiWing on the
mountain tops,” when he will return and redeem
his Fatherland. Again this legend Is reproduced
in the Knicketbocker tale of the Catskill. The
ravens of Barbarossa and tbe erows of R p Van
Winkle, have descended through many ages,
from the ravens Huginn and Munlnn, attendants
of Odin tbe Norse god.
It is probable, that from tbe tale of “True
Thomas (who), lay on Huntlie Bank,” of EtcU-
doune, that Irving’s story originated.
Through all these myths of pagan gods and
heroes, descending to the superstitions of the
early Christian ages, or the unsettled and
gloomy beliefs of the Middle Ages—may shine
forth faintly tbe spiritual hope and faith of the
Christian sleep in deatb, and awaking to a gen
eral resurrection 1
The Poet-Priest.
"Up from the South there went a voioe of song,
* * Until at last in ectasvit clave
The cold frost air of learning in the North.”
Father Abram J. Ryan, the oelebrated
poet-priest, whose illustrious genius hasem
bellished the history of our "Lost Cause,”
with divinest strains of ohivalrio poesy, has
passed away. The great good man, who by
his passionate lyrios, exoited the admiration
of this oountry and Europe, is dead. His
harp-noteB have died away around the poor
soldier’s lonely grave, the poet sonl has
passed the pearly portals of Paradise, the
angels of deatb have hashed the mighty
moans of mortal agony—
‘Veil Southland, veil thy face and bow thy head,
The noblest heart in all tby realm is dead!”
Father Ryan was born in Virginia in 1840.
He was eduoated for the Oatnolio priest
hood. During the oivil war he served i~
sacerdotal capacity, in the Confederate
army. A younger brother of the poet was
killed in a battle of Virginia, wbioh he im
mortalized in a beautiful poem of pathos.
After the war, he resided for a while at
Nashville, Tenn. When the yellow fever
pestilence raged in Chattanooga, be exposed
limself with the bravery of a hero in behalf
of the wretohed sufferers. During this time
he wrote “De Profundis,” a fine poem, mas
terly delineating the awful misery of the
horrible plague and a tender plea for God’s
redeeming mercy. He lived for awhile at
Biloxi, Miss., where he became a personal
friend of the ex-President of the Confeder
ate States. At the time of his death he re
sided in Louisville, Ky.
Father Ryan’s poems are sinoere bursts
of bitter sorrow, wild wails of a heart-felt
woe, and if not so elaborately oracular as
Emerson, so abstractly grotesque as Poe, so
rhetorically dignified as Longfellow, or so
hysterically exuberant as Whittier, the gen-
nine piety, the poetioal tenderness, the musi-
oal sentiment, and original beanty glow as a
lone star, nnsui passed in the literary firma
ment of Amerioa. He never tuned his lyre,
or oourted the mnse, ex ept to urge the sa-
ored claims of humanity, or to ohant the
dirges of fallen valor. There is no need to
raise a shaft of pallid marble, to tower in
the oemetery’s green gloom, or a bronze
statue, to stand in the pnblio thoroughfares,
or to inscribe long high-flown lines of
rhyme, or eologistioal essay to his memory,
for it will long be cherished in the hear^ of
all true, noble men, and tho sweet Bimny
South, will ever refleot the love and venera
tion whioh she feels for her poet-priest.
“His life was gentle aiid the elements so
mixed in him, that Nature might stand np
and say to all the world, this was a man /”
Ah! may the bleat spirit of this wftite-
souled humanitarian, priest and poet, West
in peace, aye in the mnsio-swept, flower-
wreathed realms of heavenly bliss, may he
attune a golden lyre, and harp the holy
deathless praise of Jesns through the count
less cycles of eternity!
James E. Wrat.
Emory College.
MANURING BEARING APPLE USES.;
As soon as apple trees are in blossom, or even
before those can be distinguished which prom
ise to bear fruit, it will pay to manure such
trees heavily, giving a good top-dressing ten to
twenty feet on each side, and add two or three
quarts of potash salts to each tree. There will
be rains enough after this to dissolve much of
the manure and carry it down to the roots.
This heavy manuring will not supercede the
need of thinning the fruit, though it will enable
the trees to perfect a larger crop.
sports in potatoes.
The variety of potatoes that originate as sports
are usually more productive than other varie
ties. In fact, where this is not the case, the
sport is thrown aside as worthless and is not
propagated farther. But they lack the vigor
and vitality of sorts originated from seed. They
soon run out, and in baa seasons are more dis
posed to rot. But when so good potatoes as the
Late Rose and Late Beauty of Hebron originate
from sports, these eccentricities of nature are
well worth watching and studying.
ABORTION IN COWS.I
Wherever cows are kept in large herds losses
from abortion are common. II one cow aborts,
as is very possible amoDg many, the trouble
seems to become an epidemic and goes through
the herd. Among those farmers remote from
dairies who keep only one or two cows abortion
is not much more common than it used to be.
Thus in farming, more than in any other busi
ness, there are drawbacks which prevent doing
anything on a very large scale, though this,
wherever possible, would doubtless save much
needless labor.
DEMAND FOR CANNED TOMATOES.
English people have developed a decided lik
ing for tomatoes, and as their climate is too cold
for this vegetable the demand mnst be supplied
in its canned state. Probably the over-produc
tion of canned tomatoes a few years since made
the basis for a more extended use of them, and
thus a better demand in future. Gardeners and
farmers who grow tomatoes will recover part of
their losses again when canned tomatoes could
hardly be given away. It is sometimes a good
tning in the end for prices of any product to go
very low, and this increases the use of it by those
who could not afford it before.
applying plaster.
The rule in using gypsum should be, a little at
a time and often. It Is best applied on the leaves
and before a rain; but In midsummer or after It
will increase the size of ears of corn when a sec
ond application is made, as compared with that
ODly plastered early in the season. Its extraor
dinary effect on vegetation under some circum
stances suggests the idea that it has often some
power to decompose air and make its nitrogen
available as plant food. If this theory is cor
rect one can well afford to apply gypsum fre
quently in the hope of occasionally hitting the
right time and condition for receiving the most
benefit.
INDIAN wheat.
Not much is said at present abont the increase
in Indian wheat production. It is suspected
(hat low prices have prevented much increase
in that country, and very possibly there may be
no increase wnatever in the surplus for export.
The growers of wheat in India are small farmers
with very old fashioned ideas abont farming.
They are extremely careless about cleaning the
grain, and it is said that some even add dirt to
it to increase the weight. To suppose that
wheat thus grown will supply the English de
mand is to run counter to all experience and his
tory. Tbe bulk of Indian grown wheat will ul
timately be used at home. Where, poor as it is,
will it be an improvement on the former popular
fare.
EPITKIUOMA!
OR SKIN CANCER.
For seven years I suffered with a cancer on my
face. All the simple remedies were applied to
alleviate the pain, bat the place continued to
grow, finally extending into my nose, from
which came a yellow discharge very offensive in
character. It was also inflamed, and annoyed
me a great deal. Abont eight months ago I was
in Atlanta, at the house of a friend, who so
strongly recommended the use of Swift’f Speci
fic that I determined to make an effort to pro
cure it. In this I was success!nl, and began its
use. The influence of the medicine at first was
to somewhat aggravate the sore; bat soon the in
flammation was allayed, and I began to improve
after the first few bottles. My general health hae
greatly improved. I am stronger, and am able
to do any kind of work. The cancer on my face
began to decrease and the nicer to heal, until
there is not a vestige of it left—only a little soar
marks the place where it had been. I am ready
to answer any questions rela'ive to this core.
Mbs. Joioie A. McDonald.
Atlanta. Ga., August 11 1885.
I have had a cancer on my face for some years,
extending from one oheek bone across the noee
to the other. It has givm me a great deal of
pain, at times burning and itching to each an
extent that it was almost unbearable. I com
menced using Swift’s Specific in May, 1885, and
I hare need eight bottles. It has given the
greatest relief by removing the inflammation
and restoring my general health. W. Barnes.
Knoxville, Iowa, Sept. 8,1885.
For many years I wee a sufferer with cancer of
the nose, and having been cnuvl by the use of
S. 8. 8., I feel constrained by a sense of dnty to
suffering humanity to make this statement of
my case.' With the fourteenth bottle the cancer
began to heal rapidly and soon disappeared, and
for several months there has been no appear
ance of a sore of any kind on my noee or face,
neither is my nose at all tender to the tonoh. I
have taken about two dozen bottles S. 8. 8., and
am soundly cured, and I know that 8. 8. 8. ef
fected the care after every known remedy was
tried and had failed, Robebt Sued ley.
Fort Gaines, Ga., May 1,1885.
I had heard of the wonderful cores of Swift’s
Specific, and resolved to try it. I commenced
taking it in April, 1884. My general health was
much improved, yet the cancer which was in my
breast continued to grow slowly but sorely. The
bunch grew and became quite heavy. I felt that
I must eitaer have it cue or die. But it com
menced discharging quantities of almost black,
thick blood. It continued healing around the
edges until February, when it was entirely heal
ed up and well. Betsy Wood.
Cocheeett, Plymouth Co., Mass., July IS, 1885,
Swift’s Specific is entirely vegetable, and
seems to care cancers by forcing out the impu
rities from tbe blood.
Treatise on Blood and skin Diseases mailed free.
'i he Swift Specific Co., Drawer 2, Atlanta,
Ga. N. Y., 157 W. 23d St,
The Poor Little Ones.
We often see children with red eruptions on
face and hands, rough, scaly skin, and often
sores on the head. These things indicate a de
praved condition of the blood. In the growing
period, children have need of pure blood by
which to build up strong and healthy bodies. If
Dr. Pierce’s “Golden Medical Discovery” Is
given, tne blood is purged of its bad elements,
and tne child’s development will be healthy, and
as it should be. Scrofulous affections, rickets,
lever-sores, hip-joint disease or other grave
maladies and suffering are sure to result from
neglect and lack of proper attention to such
cases.
If all the trees which shade the avenues and
streets of Washington were stretched out in two
rows they would form “an unbroken vista to
Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, and nearly
half way to Boston.”
Horsford’s Acid Phosphate
Produce* Sweet and natural Sleep.
Dr. C. R. Dake, Belleville, I1L, says: “I have
found it, and ic alone, to produce sweet and nat
ural sleep in cases of wakefullness caused by
over-work of the brain, which often occurs with
active professional and business men.”
Among the exports from New York City last
week were 853 live cattle, 6,460 quarters of beef
and fifty-five live sheep.
Mild, soothing, and healing is Dr. Sage’s Ca
tarrh Remedy.
Outside of the polar regions nearly 1,000,000
square miles of toe earth’s surface is yet almost
entirely unknown geographically.
Minneapolis floor mills are now turning out
20.000 barrels of flour daily.
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552-tf, Atlanta, Ga
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