About The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 26, 1887)
2 THE SUNNY SOUTH, ATLANTA, GA., SATU tDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 26.1887. i COL. JUDSON OF ALABAMA; Southerner’s Experience in Hew York City. by f. bean. [Copyrighted by the Author.] CHAPTER V. Miss Tillie, owing to the shock ,f the pravi- oua evening, and to overtaxing her brain-pow er in the composition of her sonnet, was un able to rise next morning in time to help mother get breakfast, although she was on time to eat it. Tht Colonel had gone out. told you I knew from the beginning what that advertisement means; and this is just what I’ve been expecting all along. What could I do? The house was empty.” ‘‘Yes, and I suppose he thinks we under stood it, so we can’t say anything," cried Miss Tillie in a rage. "The contemptible scoun drel: I wouldn’t care if he hadn’t gallivanted around me at such a rate ever since he first of blamed stuff about the negroes, as if he wanted me to marry him rifeht off and go down South to live; and then taking my hand and ’ • me about After breakfast, Miss Tillie followed her gtepped {oot into this house and sat there last mother upstairs to the Colonel’s room and sat . even j n g ( ft whole livelong hour after Dickel down in oie of the easy chairs; and with her ] j e ^ courting me with all his might, trying to long arms folded in elegant leisure, she looked make me believe in Jeff Davis and a wuole lot on talking in tones of subdued sorrow about that inopportune snore, while her mother, in a contrite, humble way, went about doing up the work. . _ • , , I squeezing it so hard and tellin; "I was a hoping all the evening after Dickel ■ ^ aking a short cut t0 his neart!” left," crooned Miss Tillie, mournfully, that “Well, you see he’s a man. I told you so; you’d wake up and go off to bed; but I hated | and thig u New York City I ain’t surprised to tell you to for fear of the Colonel s thinking a bjt It>g what j' ve been expecting and look- I wanted to be leftalone with him. But 1 wisn ing fQr {rom day day Sow. if I was you,” now I had!” , continued the prudent mother softly, watchiDg “I oon’t think you’d better grieve about I - r ' ’— J *■ that no more,” returned Mrs. Gipps, striving to appear sympathetic, as she beat up the v. . *^7, “If hA lnvp.H voil—” Colonel’s pillows. “If he loves you- “Well, he does love me!” cried Miss Tillie ‘ h ^ P dou’t have no doubt of it, T llie,” replied her mother with the unusual exhibition of mater affection, which she had made ever since . „ r ra nerous daughter entered into that en gagement about the mortgage. “I think, my- ' he loves vdu. 1 was only going to say if he does, he’ll propose; and I bet he’ll do it be- « rather dolorously returned Miss Tillie looking into the mirror. “He am t very Sung himself; and I think his front teeth are false 8 I’m going to go and dress right away. It’S so warm, 1 wouldn’t wonder but what ^BuUh'f CoToneV’did not return till about half-past five; and then he sought Mrs. Gipps, and not her lovely daughter “Oh, Lord! he’s go n to ask me for Tillie. thought VIrs. Gipps to herself. 111 faint, I know 1 will!” and she went in: o the parlor all oT a tremble and “ready to drop,” as she afterwards told her daugh er * , ,. “S^Gipps,” began the Colonel, shaking hands with her, for it was the first time they had met that day, “I want to ask a great favor. itsToiningl” inwardly screamed *k“_ w ftb your latch-key for this evening' 1 will return it without fail.” Mrs. Gipps, by this time ready to faint, sank breathlessly back upon the sofa, and stared at the Colonel, unable, for a moment, to casp a word in rt spouse. “I_I—declare ! Why, where is my key? she cried at last. For nearly a month she had succeeded in defeating his desires for a key. But what device would avail her now? “I—I believe TiUie’s got the key, Colonel, she stammered, although perfectly aware that it was at that very moment at the bottom of her own pocket—she having just been out for a supply of dried herrings and pickles for din ner. Hastening to her daughter, the Gipps family consulted together over the situation. What could it wean and what shoald they do ? Miss Gipps was consumed with anxiety and Mrs. Gipps was devoured with curiosity. They advanced all manner of theories, each rejecting the other’s with scorn and derision, but both agreeing that it was quite impossible to evade the request; and meanwhile they must do what they could to discover the Colo nel’s motives oy a strict watch on the front do6r. l “Give me the key!” cried Miss Tillie; “it belongs to me to carry it down. Perhaps it’s only an excuse to see me, after all.” i Miss Tillie carried down the key, and her Another stood it the hi ad of the stairs, out of at, listing to the conversation. ■“ ’ - ‘“ne as I’ve had to find this key !” sojopu young lady, gaily. “You ' me f#r keeping you waitiug so long, lou’re going to the theatre? Hope ^pleas!»nt time.” the latest. " The Colonel’s indiscretion, in thus design it ing the hour of his return, afforded the Gipps party at the front window the apportunitv of ’beholding his arrival without undergoing the d fatigue of a protracted vigil, j Miss Tillie, diligent and faithful in all things relating to the Colonel, was at the window first. Mrs. Gipps was, however, on time—the importunities of her own pent -up curiosity ad mitting of no failure. But the Colonel did not arrive till nearly half past seven, and it was already beginning to grow dark. The blinds in the parlor were closed; and the Gipps family, seated behind the half open slats, beheld the apparition of a hackney coach which rolled up before the house and stopped. The curtains of the coach were drawn, and no one was immediately visible; but presently the door opened and the two ladies in the par lor bdheld, with beating hearts, the fine, up right figure of the Colonel stepping out; then, to the dismay of the watchers behind the blinds, he handed out a tall, beautifully pro portioned lady in a dark traveling suit. As she stepped from the carriage, an ex tremely small foot in a very elegant shoe, rested for a moment on the carriage step; a very small hand in a glove of perfect fit, was placed on the Colonel’s arm; and all her move ments were full of grace, suppleness and dig nity; moreover, her traveling suit was cut in the latest fashion and fitted her symmetrical form without a fault; but her features were in visible, owing to a light gauze veil which at that hour wholly concealed her face from view and prevented the wret ;lied Gipps family from-making the slightest conjecture concern ing her age, beauty, or complexion. Miss Gipos grew pale and nearly lost her breath, while Mrs. Gipps was filled with a compound emotion composed of anguish and joy—anguish at the prospect of losing an opu lent son-in-law, and joy at discovering his se crets. The Colonel dismissed the carriage, drew the lady’s hand through his arm and ascended the steps, admi'.ted himself with the borrowed latch-key and passed up stairs; a id the next moment his footsteps were audible in the room overhead. “Well! I do say!” burst at last from Miss Tillie’s pallid lips. “If that isn’t the most bare-faced, impudent piece of business I ever heard tell of! Bringing a creature like that here! and he only last night on the point of proposing tome! Did I ecer see such a fickle manl Oh! I declare I can’t stand it! My heart will burst!” “Tillie! Tillie!” cried the mother in alarm, “do calm yourself! Do, for pity’s sake!” “What can he mean?” went on Miss Tillie. “Oh! I shall go raving crazy! I declare I can’t stand it! That woman ought to be or dered out of the house!” “Don’t go to making a fuss yet, for heav en’s sake!” pleaded the mother, looking very pale about the mouth as she gazed into the face of her indignant offspring. “It may be his sister for all. You always stuck to it she was, if she’s the ‘dear Cornelia’ one, mebbe he’ll be down by’n by and ask for an other room; so don’t go to being too hasty.” “Well, if he does that.” moaned the ago nized daughter, “then it’s all right. But I dt n’t believe it, or why wouldn’t he as lives we’d ’a’ let him in?” attention to this when vou see him next time. Just let it alone. It can’t be undone by look ing g umpy; and it might drive him away al together.” “I ain’t agoing to say an’thing," returned Miss Tillie, dejectedly. She was thinking, with anguish unbearable, of that .-ady’s foot and hand, and of her graceful appearance; and presently she resumed in spiteful tones: “He must have queer taste, that’s all I’ve got to say.” “Well, he’s a Southerner,” pleaded Mrs. Gipps. ued. “And to think how he acted to me last night. Settin’ as close as ever he could get and trying to turn me into a Southerner, and tell ing me man and wife ought to agree in everj T - thing and have one mind between them!” “But he pays prompt and reg’ler, and he pays in advance,” again pleaded Mrs. Gipps. “I blame her, that’s who I blame,” cried Miss Tillie, fiercely. “She ought to be ashamed | o’ herself!” “I have an idea,” interposed Mrs. Gipps, thoughtfully and with her machiavellian designs again. “I have an idea that that woman is a Jewess! She was dressed real Jew-like.” “Well,” cried Miss Tillie, seizing desperately at this straw of comfort, “come to think of it, I thought so too; but it was her hair made me think so. It was curly. I could see it at the back of her neck.” “Well, then, she’s a Jewess, ’ responded the mother in tones of satisfaction and peace. “You needn’t care for her. She can’t stand in your way long; and if she does, there’s plenty of fish in the sea as good as any ever was caught. You better go to bed nowand try to get some sleep." , ... “Don’t talk to me about sleep!” cried Miss Tillie, wildly. “I won’t sleep a wink to-night, I know I won’t!” and she continued pouring forth her lamentations at a great rate. “You’ll look fine in the. morning if you set there all night, takin’ on that way,” moaned the sleepy mother from her pillow, desiring, above all things, to have the gas put out. ‘ ‘ Take my advice and go to bed and to-morrer eve ning we’ll get him into the parlor again, and after awhile I’ll go off and leave you two alone, and I bet he’ll propose in short order. That Jewess ain’t a-goin’ to bender a man like him from marryin’ a girl like you.” “Well, I’m going to hope for the best, murmured Miss Tillie; and greatly soothed, though by no means happy, she acted upon her mother’s advice and retired to bed. [to be contixced.] AMERICAN GROWN FIGS. Turkey’s Famous Fruit Transferrei to Ignited States Soil—Success THE MARAUDERS. BY BO JEAN. of the Enterprise. I W. VvStar.] noth* aks of Asiatic cholera, I creating a hack of oooi> “But they are terrible— Those men of blood, whose sinews strive for plunder, And whose months light up a cave of gloom.” In an upper room of one of those old-timed taverns, which are fast giving way before the steam car, three men (in the autumn of 1863) were engaged in earnest and secret consulta tion. The eldest of these men, Beal, was large and powerful of limb; but his brutal face, with its bull neck, sank low npon his chest, and bis voice sounded like a succession of low growls. The second man, Dodd, was tall and gaunt; bis face, which had been marred by the kick of a horse, had lost an eye; and his shrill, piping voice was in contrast to his huge, un gainly person. The third party, DeBracy, was a youth, as shown by his handsome, ruddy face and shapely, rounded limbs. But if you closely scanned his features you could read an expe rience of excitement and danger in the serious determination which shot from ihe piercing glances of his lustrous gray eyes, The m in were seated around a pine table on which was a juz of com whiskey, known in that section as “mountain dew;” and while Beal and Dodd gulped down large draughts of the fiery fluid DeBracy was enabled, by their stupefied condition, to merely sip, and then, unobserved, dash the contents of his cup under the table. “Waal, gintlemen,” said Beal, leering at his companions, “the riffle must be made agin now and morning; the game’s been deviled already and is fixing to scoot.” “Ail I want,” said Dcdd, with an evil gleam in his single peeper, “is to git hold of the gal— you’ens is welcome to the truck.” It was well for DeBracy that the broad rim of his sombrero hid his feeling, of scorn and hate for his companions; but he raised his eyes aid said: “Look here, partners, this is too quick. Your men are scattered. You have no place to store your plunder, and that fellow Verne is game. Let’s wait a week, fix a store house, collect our men and then walk over the settle ment.” “No!” blurted Dodd, with a malicious wink of his eye t) Beal, “I tell you I git the gal to night, and no trouble about the plunder. Then agin, some of the gang has allowed to stand by Verne; so his house must be took before they can come betwixt. We’ve got nineteen men already and I stand for to-night.” And Dodd finished his resolution by a strong pull of whiskey. “Yes,” added Beal, “it’s fixed for ti-night, and we calculate on Colonel DeBracy.” DeBracy arose, and while his rough and older companions watched him closely he strode to the window and stood gazing out. For an instant an impulse to draw his pistol and end the horrible tragedy which was form ing fired his mind; but, reflecting that this at best would only postpone and probably inten sify the attack, he turned and said: “Well, partners, I’m for you to-night. When and where shall I meet you?” “At the chapel,” answered Beal, “an hour after sundown.” “Well, gentlemen,” responded DeBracy, “and now as we have decided, and I have much to look to, I must go." “We’ll go, too,” said Dodd; and so, having drained the jug, he and Beal rose and followed DeBracy down the creaking stairs of the tav ern. On the ground floor they opened the door of a room to rouse their gang—some five or seven hard featured men, who were seated around a table over some greasy cards and an ample supply of mountain dew. At the call from Beal, who poked his head in the door, the game broke up; and the men, after taking their last swallow and pocketing the r cards, sauntered out, and all in their coarse but hearty way greeted DeBracy. “Well, Colonel, we got n ce game but some nasty fighting to-night.” And again, “Colo nel, we couut on your putting us through without losing a man,” and so on, until each one had given vent to some salutation accom panied by hearty shakings of the hand. The young Colonel, who was dressed neatly bui plainly, received their s ilutes with courtesy; and then, as they entered the stable yard and mounted their horses and mules, DeBracy mounted his spirited steed and galloped off at the head of the trot p between Beal and Dodd. For some instance he listened apkeir rough talk as they; jogged-slong the li 4l5nlA ~* 'at length—having gan»ed the hi rocky ascent at . nvel—the troop halil^.- .«> DeBracy ex pressed the necessity of going to the village, by degrees their loyal feel in. rs were known and their circle of friends less ?ned, while the Verne’s were too proud to itoop to retain them. Among the mansions scatte -ed through the neighborhood was the summer resort of one of the oldest Southern families, ai id which amily, both there and in their winter tomes, had betn near neighbors and firm friend i of the Vernes. The DeBracys had long hel l rank and for- tune, but the osual habits wl ich attend lux ury had crept in, and prodiga ity through gen erations had so reduced tbs colossal estate that the last descendent John) had bequeathed to his only son, who bore his father’s name, little more than his blessing, - 4s the heritage was heavily encumbered. Young John, how ever, brought to the martial spirit and elegant bearing of the DeBracys, the solid energy and application of his mother, and by judicious sales and enterprise he bad so advantageously disposed of a part of his estates that he had secured the remainder as his own, and with a moderate income he was at the outbreak of the war exercising his finejj endowed mind in the legal profession. From childhood John DeBracy had shown an attachment for Leo Verne, who in turn conferred her favors on the fascinating youth, and Jared Verne, who never thought of Leo’s leaving his roof, re garded them as children, and as he, too, was drawn to the boy’s magnetic spirit, he en couraged their intercourse. The first note of war fired the hot blood of DeBracy, especially as his education largely attained at West Point, fitted him for military service, and ac cordingly one of the first comianies of volun teers felt honored in going to the front tinder his command. The youthful DeBracy, who soon attained the rank of coltnel, led several gallant charges, but at length on mounting a breastwork, he received a severe wound in the shoulder, which, though excitement bore him through the battle, was at its close prouounced mortal, unless long rest and careful nursing were secured. The roll call at the close of action showed several higher officers missing, and while De Bracy, both by rank and choice of comrades, was called to promotion, he declared that he would not keep the comuiardung officers from the honors while he wasjuAllwb^'iu the rear, anc so, with hisusuzF gallantry he took his furlough on the rxaik of colonel. Arrived at home his first inquiry was for the object of his youthful affection, and sorrow on uearing of her absence, was succeeded by joy that Leo Verne had gone to Clarkesville, where he too had a home, and consequeifc- an excuse for appearing. The war had rel iisd that stage of feeling and action that made any express ion of loyalty dangerous, and Northern men who had remained South without taking active part in secession wire suspiciously and close ly watched. The prelude J«?ar rendered by blue cockades, bell ringifigsEtd bonfires was over, the serious-minded aoJOrs were already appalled at their fatal drama of fury, but this important class who would have tempered passion with reason, were Lome by the reck less and violent into the maelstrom of tire and blood. Upon slight sttspi^a^mauy conserva tive and hitherto influentiamtizens were ar raigned and often subjecteiHo violence, and while the truly noble andBtriotic seceders were nearly all at camps iJJosts of danger, many rabid rabbles had skMed to the rear and joining bluster to cowrouce, were wreak ing their zeal upon the property aid lives of citizens, while they often cided themselves and affected to be, vigilance confcjttees. On announcing himself awlie Verne man sion, DeBracy met with smi a welcome as an attractive and admiring gisst would receive from hospitable hosts, wh-se isolation amid forests, and made so by tb passions of men, caused such a winning y: itor to seem like a ministering angel. Both tate and tact, how ever, continued DeBracy’- resolution to so journ at the abode of his abestors, and accord ingly the halli adorned wih trophies of the chase, armorial bearings &'J shelves of musty books were once more ope.ed to light and life. But each to-morrow foud him with the Vernes, and if DeBracy bd been charmed with the lovely child, he wn perfectly eniranc- e 1 by the dashing beauty, who to city style and grace had added county vigor and bloom; and if Leo had smiled non the handsome youth she now bowed cptive to this noble specimen of manhood; anabefore Jared Verne regarded DeBra :y as mre than a cordial friend, the young people ad pledg'd their *»«*»■»-i‘uutU death us dp pet.” active soon learned the stat^^^R^MflflH&csville, especially |to- " it might prove the a conti tion of the grounds some distance from the house. The young man sallied forth, tra versed the awn adorned bv statues and vine- clad urns, and alter a short ramble was re joiced to see the sylph like figure of Leo, standing by her father who was assisting workmen in the closing opei ations of making a basin and arch, for a newly discovered spring. “Why truant,” exclaimed Leo as she point ed to the crystal waters, which were already gurgling into their receptacle; “we waited half a day to consult your taste; but even without you, isn’t it beautiful?” Verne sainted DeBracy and then being sat isfied with an inspection of the work, dismiss ed his laboreie, before he joined his daughter and guest. “You see, Mr. DeBracy,” he said, “as Leo and I are deprived of human society, we must seek companionship in the trees and rocks, and so thoroughly does she know each one, that I sometimes fancy 1 see them bowing their heads as if to acknowledge her ap proach.” “My dear sir,” said DeBracy, “I must break in like a panther on your sylvan scenes; but first have you a messenger whom you can im- plieitly trust?” “Unhesitatingly,” answered Mr. Verne, and drawing a silver whistle, its sound soon brought several dogs to his side, among them a stag hound, to whom his owner said something, and the animal bounded away towards the house. “Do you know,” said DeBracy, as they seated themselves on a rustic bench, “as I gazed on the still, silent scenery of my ride I thought of the old hymn : “Where every prospect pleases And only man is vilo.” “Col. DeBracy,” spake Verne, “by antici pating your mission I may save you a painful task. I have long understood that an attack was meditated against my house; its announce ment will aot startle me now.” It is threatened to-night, sir,” said De Bracy with emetion, “but will be made only over my dead body.” “John DeBracy,” said Mr. Verne, much af fected, as he grasped the young min’s hand, “you are a noble man, and I give you such proof of my confidence, as I would extend to no other being on earth. 1 place my only child in your charge. Take her to some place of refugs until these calamities are overpast, aDd vou can briDg her back to me in safety.’ 1 “Mr. Verne," ans vered DeBracy, “you are a man of peace, 1 of war. Here 1 take my stand to overawe the villians, or if need be, to fight them to the death. Go with your child— and yet,” he added solemnly, “I know not where you could seek refuge, except in the forest, and even there every pass is guarded against you.” “Yes, DeBracy,” rejointd Verne, “I am like that mariner who must stick to his ship, so again I ask—” “I'shaT never leave my father!” exclaimed Leo, as she passionately embraced her parent. “Then,” spoke DeBracy, stepping forward, “the time has come for me to affirm that I love and am loved by your daughter, and as I hope to make her mine, I live or die to-night in her father’s cause.” Leo extended her dainty hand to her lover, which he fervently pressed to his lips, while Mr. Verne said: “Col. DeBracy this is no time to make the future, which I leave in the hands of God. May He bless you, sir, as He reveals through you one point, that come what may, it must befall us under in> roof; and now here,” as a colored man came up, “is my messenger whom you can implicitly trust.” DeBracy greeted the boy Mark, whom he knew and then tearing a leaf from his pocket book, he wrote a hasty note to the lieutenant of a garrison, which he knew was then sta tioned about ten miles below the village of Clarkesville, aad partly requested, partly com manded him to bring as quickly as possible his force, which DeBracy thought coniisted of about twenty men, to Mr. Verne’s house. He then turned to the boy again, and after de scribing the man and place he was sending him to, added, “carry this as quickly as you can, ride my horse, but go through the woods, as every path may be guarded. Should you be st pped, destroy this note;” and then De Bracy told him how to escape any pursuers, and what he should tell the lieutenant, Verne then spoke a few words of encouragement and the boy uttering his usual “yes sir," bowed, withdrew, saddled his horse and was soon on his errand through the woods. “And now,” asked DeBracy as taking VorJf’g .m opposite the one wlipfh encircled broad central stairway below, “here.is where we will make our stand, that should they force ns, you on that side, I on this, wul fire upon them as they reach the landing, the trouble.” he continued seriously, “will be about loading fast enough to repel them.” ‘‘Father,” exclaimed Leo, stepping forth, “but for me, you both could avoid the occa sion; and I will not shrink from my duty, though I pray lhat all of our hands may be kept from blood. But if the worst comes, I caa load and hand your guns. “Bravo,” said DeBracy, “Leo will be our captain of ordnance. And now, he added, after the decision that the heads of the double stairways in the second hall should be the bat tle grounds, “where are your dogs? "Outside,” answered Verne, shall I call them in?” . ,, “I will go,” said he starting, I would not lose that puppy Tike for all the world.” “Hold my fair captain of ordnance! cried DeBracy, “our lives are of far more impor- tance than the dogs, and their barking would betray our positions; and besides they are our pickets and skirmish lines. So having dark ened the lower hall, and placed those reflect ing lamps, so as to screen us and light the landing and stairway below, our fort is com pleted, and will take our position in ^the cu pola as sentinlas on the watch tower. Accordingly the final arrangements were made and Jared Verne leading the way, as cended the cupola of his mansion the last time forever. [to be continued.] POISON In The Ashes. What the Mt. Lebanon Shak ers Found-Incident in the History of a Quiet Community. Cricket Songs. What’s the song the crickets ring— Sommer, autumn, winter, spring? When I take my little broom And go misting through .he room, ‘ Sweep! sweep! sweep! sweep!” WheD I go to bed at ulgbt, Then I hear them out of sight— “Sleep! sleep! sleep! sleep!” When I waken, every day. It It’s sunny, then they sav: “Peep! peep! peep! peep!” Bat they (eel as bad as I When It rains, for then they cry: “Weep! weep! weep! weep!” His First and Last Experience in the Valentine Business. [Cabriolet in the Springfield (O.) Republic.] — . ."^Vessel! u ” causing that . wk jj e jjis companions w< re making for One of donee lh tHU T healthy fruit to be extensively planted on | their rendezvous up the stream. DeBrajy Un- American soil. The semi-tropical belt of this j gered in his stand while each of the rude gan, country, which has proved to be suitable to the cultivation of many other fruits, is found to be favorably adapted to the propagation of the fig. Especially is this true with regard to Mississippi and New Orleans, but still more so with that section of country in southern Cali fornia which is now styled the modern Garden of Eden, and where figs are being cultivated with great success. The fig is a fruit which can be eaten fresh from the tree, or dried after it has ripened. Already the fresh fig has been sent to this city done up in heavy syrup and carried like other fruits. A process has also been put into practice for crystallizing the green or fresh fig, so as r.o make them one of the delicious Christmas fruits for the table, so favorably kno wn under the name of bonbons. The process of crystallizing fruits has been brought to such perfection in this country as to almost drive entirely out of the market the French goods. Now that the fig has been cul tivated and treated by this process, a much more delicious bonbon will be produced than can be found even in France. Now that it has been clearly proven that the fig can be as well produced in the United States as in Asia Minor, great attention is being given to its cul tivation. This has proved to be profitable to the planter and has in many instances caused the American fruit to be more appreciated than the product of Turkey. The true fig of commerce in all countries has been the white Smyrna variety, which is now being profitably produced in southern Cali fornia. In many features the Ameri can reproduction has been proven to be superior to the Turkish, on account of its thin ner skin and finer seeds. Already this variety has commanded a higher price in many of the markets of this century on account of the above-mentioned advantages over the import ed fig. A well known California planter, now in this city, gave the following description to a reporter for the Mail and Express of the way he prepares his fruit for the market when in tended to be sold in the dried state: “In curing and packing I gather my figs— for I have trees twelve years old, which have increased in the quantity and quality of the crop as they grow older—just as I would other fruit, that is when fully ripe. I leave all the stem on the fig, and am careful to so.l the skin as little as possible. When gathered I place the figs on trays similar to those used in curing raisins. Having fumigated them foran hour I place the trays in the sunshine at an angle of forty five degrees facing the sun. They are thus left for six or eight days, when, if the weather has been favorable, they will be ready for the sweat box. In foggy weather this drying may take ten days or two weeks. When in the sweat box they are left until I am ready to pack them for market, when I use two and a half, five or twenty-five pound boxes, as may suit the commercial center to which they are to be dispatched. The new Pacific or brown Smyrna will dry in less time than any fig of which I have knowledge. I see a bright future for those who cultivate figs, as a fig orchard will.in a shorter time pay better thau any other fruit. This has been my own experience. To get good fruit requires care in cultivation, as in anything else. If the sufficient heat to insure sweetness in the tig, there is no reason that I can see why fig cul ture will not become one of the most profita ble industries of the United States. “Well, now; don’t horror trouble,” returned | proper soil be selected, care taken to have the mother with machiaveliin persuasiveness, enough of moisture by irrigation or otherwise Miss Gipps and her mother passed a pain- ] while" the fruit is growing, good and perfect fully animated evening listening for the first | drainage at all times, and the gradual drying sounds of the Colonel’s footsteps on the stairs; 1 of the soil while the fruit is ripening, with but except an occasional movement in the room over their heads, and sometimes a faint sound of lo v-toned conversation (when they devoted particular attention to the matter from a close vicinity in the upper hall or the bath-room) they heard nothing further from the Colonel and his companion that night; and Miss Tillie and her mother, about half past eleven o’clock, finding the Colonel’s gas was out, retired to their room. Miss Tillie, pale, wretched, iudignant, threw herself into an arm-chair too disspirited to go to bed: and her mother sank demurely into another near by. “It’s the most scandalous thing I ever heard of!” cried the daughter. “What an old rep robate he is!” “Well, TiUie, this is New York City,” re turned the mother, offering up the same con solation which she had already tendered be- iore more than twenty times since seven p. m. that evening “What else can you expect! I How To Save Money, Wherever you live, you should write to HaUett & Co., Portland, Maine,ani learn about work that you can do while living at your own home at a profit of at least from $5 to $25 and upwards daily. Some have made over $50 in a day. All is new. Either sex. All ages. Hallett&Co., will start you. Capital rot needed. AU particulars free. Send along your address at once atd all of the above wiil be proved to you. Nothing Uke it ever known to working men. having passed him by with a parting salute, he silently watched them defile up the river path chanting their wild songs and giving vent to coarse jests; and then, as with a glance of scorn he saw the last retainer disappear, he gathered up his reins and descended the hill to ford the river. The Soque river rists in the Blue Ridge mountains and winds its course through the most fertile plains and primeval forests of North-east Georgia. But the Soque attains its most picturesque charms when sparkling through Habersham county. It gurgles amid the tresses of meadows which stretch in grassy plains or waving fields until they swell into ridges of forest hills. While Indiao tribes were still scattered through these forests abounding in game and valleys, yielding bountiful harvests, a number of prominent families, such as the Er wins, Phillips, McMillans and others, establish ed permanent homes there, while numbers of Montagues and Capulets from southern Geor gia and Carolina, attracted by the climate and gorgeous scenery of Clarkesville, established villas amid its hills and vales, and being joined by their friends, in course of lime was estab lished a rustic but elegant society. Among the gentlemen who thus located, none stood higher in wealth and esteem than Jared Verne, who had been born and bred in New England, but who having traveled South to close up some business interests, had met and married a Southern beauty. Mr. Verne had added to Northern enterprise a Southern ease of man ner, and his success and influence were measured by his leagues of cotton and rice fields, the control of one or more banking in stitutions, and the extensive exporting house which bore his name. But the beautiful and loving wife, ju it as Mr. Verne was rising above the struggles which she had shared with him in younger days, died, leaving him an only child, Leona or as his name was endeared, Leo. Mr. Verne, after rallying from his crush ing loss, devoted himself to his business inter ests and to his daughter, who in her second summer’s vacation, had returned from her Northern seminary when the terrible and blockading storm of war burst upon the South Mr. Verne’s comprehensive mind foretold the remit of a struggle between the producing po wer of the world and a section peculiar for its dependence, and whose secession, if suc cessful, would have led to a series of secedings or spoliating appropriations by greedy foreign powers. His judgment dictated a closing of all business and the transfer of his family and treasures to his native State, but the wishes of his only child and large Southern interests which could not be converted into money, in pressive ^J< ir i n S bore hilu^Bium pet>i ^ i were glad to have I such detachments of militia^ as hovered round |.hat district,acquir ed tactics at his hands, and even the guerillas, or bush whackers is they were called, reported and begged him to control their rendezvous and raids. Dashing here and there upon his swift horse, coming and going when least ex pected, DeB: acy who was now almost healed of his wound, swayed a magnetic, if not a su perstitious control, and this he eagerly grasped witli only one desire and purpose, serving Leo Verne. The reverses of war were closing thicker and blacker over the South, more than once the plunder and burning of homes once friendly to DeBracy had been reported to him, until at the point where this narrative opened, he was apprised of a contemplated at tack upon Leo's home and even the sacrilege of the young lady herself, threatened and con cocted. DeBracy, after fording the river, gal loped past domains, which had once been the abiding places of such people as the Clinches of Georgia and the Alstons of South Carolina, but those hospitable mansions which had been closed at the close of a season and left just as they would have been left for an aftemoon’s drive, proved, during the war which had sud denly burst forth, rich mines of plunder for marauders, and some of these homes had been rifled, while some were mouldering heaps of ashes. After traversing a path which at one point gained an eminence overlooking an ex tensive valley landscape, aad then again sank into a winding defile, above which rose huge boulders of earth and stone, DeBracy at length reined up before the extensive Verne Park, whose high fence prevented the deer from making their escape. DeBracy urged his horse at a faster pace than usual up the winding gravel drive, on whose surrounding beauties he never tired of gazing. White and cypress pines waved their branches of silvery green over little dells of fantastic ferns and mosses. Stately chesnuts, oaks and poplars arched their lofty foliage over glades where deer were browsing and myriad colored laurels, ivies, azalias and spirrheas stretched away in ban nered ridges of pink, scarlet and blue, while the arbutus and other flowered vines made a tufted floor of red, white and green. But an other turn of the drive, and first, the crown ing cupola, then the lofty columns, and lastly, the broad steps of the Verne mansion were in view. DeBracy stepped from his horse which trotted round to his accustomed place in the stable, while his master ascended the stairs, and, unannounced, entered through the open door into the spacious hall. It was a favorite spot with the family, and two chairs close to gether with pamphlets, flowers and boohs scat tered round, showed that father and daughter had lately quitted the scene. DeBracy looked down the hall which extended through the duced him to remain, and with a heavy heart 1 house, and in the middle of which a broad Snow storms in Dakota and orange flowers i n Florida! Verily, this is a great country. he wound up his extensive affairs and placed their proceeds into the most available shapes. The State of his adoption recognized his talents and hastened to confer its offices of honor and profit at his feet, but having determined never to war against his native State, Mr. Verne, with a htavy heart, folded his tent and re paired to the seclusion of his Clarkesville villa, where in the peaceful past he had spent so many happy seasons. Leo, whose liberal ed ucation and accomplishments afforded her re sources of enjoyment, looked with pleasure to ward this romantic change of life, and while her sympithetic nature fully responded to partings, many of which she knew from the troublesome times, must be final, it was, not withstanding, with a merry heart that she waved her last farewell and rolled out of the excited city already threatened with blockade. Arriving at their mountain home, Miss Verne found ample recreation in adorning the spa cious grounds which soon became more en deared by the work of her own hands, and over which waved white and cypress pines, and blossomed wild laureis and liliies and aza lias. Mr. Verne’s active nature absorbed itself in the management of his farm, which, with his journals and correspondence occupied aU the time he did not devote to reading, conversing and riding with his daughter, for Leo was a superb equestrienne. Numbers of the old families were still scattered round Clarkesville, some having made its neighborhood their per manent home, and others still having refugeed under the reverses of war; but these families were scattered widely apart, the Verne man sion being some mUes above the viUage and overlooking the valley of the Soque river. At first, on their return, Jared Verno and his lovely daughter held tlieir old-timed sway, but flight of stairs rose to a landing in the rear, which landing stretched the width of the hall’ and then turning, rose again in a double stair way to the second hall, which was similar to the lower one except that the stairway to the third story was narrower and on one side. On one side of the lower stairway landing stood a statue of the great Calhoun. Opposite this grand thinker were the calm features of Clay, whose compressed lips had uttered the omni bus bill, while taller than the other statues, in the centre of the landing, and in full view from below, towered the form of Webster, and, as DeBracy reflected on his mission he recalled the memorable words of America’s greatest son : “When my eyes for the last time, De hold the sun in heaven, may I no; see him shining on the broken and dishonored frag ments of a once glorious Union, on States dis severed, discordant belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched it mav be, in fra ternal blood.” But it was the sentiment of the fiery New Yorker, William L. Marcv, “To the victor be long the spoils,” which pervaded the approach ing occasion, and DeBracy in the hail below, turned to the right into the extensive library, which was the regular sitting-room, for since their close before the war, the luxurious par- lor3 had never been re-opened. - The ample book shelves which were ornamented like cas tle battlements and turrets, were cro wded with volumes which chronicled the passing of time from Herodotus down to “the Professor at the breakfast table,” while the embrasures were ornamented with relics of the chase, specimens from nature and selections from art, which a man’s taste and a girl’s fancy had collected. DeBracy was still wandering alone when a servant passing through, announced that Mr. Verne and his daughter had repaired to a por- “Tlieif,” continued DeB: are forced to stand a siege, w have you that we can rely on to assist in our defense?” “I must again say none,” replied Verne, “for, though some would wish to, they might be intimidated into opening a di or or showing some entrance to the enemy. The only plucky one, I had to reprove yesterday, and he might turn against me in revenge. The best plan is to send each one off some distance from the place.” “You are right,” said DeBracy. “Accord ing to Join ini, one enemy in flank is worse than hundreds in front. Send each one, un known to the others far off and quickly, the night comes on.” Mr. Verne released his arm from his daugh ters waist, and hurried on, and as soon as he disappeared, DeBracy encircled Leo with his arm as he laughingly said: “My love you know a substitute is a feature of war,” then he added seriously: “Leo my only concern is about you, for be assured I stand between your father and danger. As for me,” he add ed, as she gazed at him fondly, “aU the fair ones require from man is homage, and to-night you shall have such proof of my devotion as may end in death.” “Oh, do not speak of your death,” sighed Leo. “I shall pray that God will spare us all to each other and trust me, Leo Will live for him who was willing to die for her father.” “Leo,” said DeBracy as he halted and gazed full and fondly into her melting violet eyes, “I must consecrate that pledge on your pret ty lips, and then don me with your ribbon, that I may stand forth like a true soldier in the colors of my lidy.” Leo shrank back with a little startled “oh,” and a crimson blush upon her ruddy cheeks, while her lover embraced her and imprinted his first kiss upon her rosy mouth. Then like an artless child, she u abound the fillit from her hair and twined it in his jacket, while De Bracy clasped the blushing girl so that her silky hair floated on his strong arm, while her heart fluttered on his breast. This programme just ended in time, for Mr. Verne stepped out on the colonnade which they were approaching and in an instant Leo became propriety and DeBracy a grenadier. “Col. DeBracy,” said Verne solemnly, “I have often greeted you to festivity, and now I welcome you as my truest friend, although my reception may prove a banquet of blood.” “Let us trust not so,” answered DeBracy, assumingly, as he strode the piazza, “we are armed with right, but let us close every way of entrance.” And accordingly the three made a thorough round of the house and sprang every bolt and bar. “And now,” said DeBracy, “let us collect our weapons, and then go aloft for observa tion.” “We will first make a higher appeal than to arms,-” said Mr. Verne fervently, and conduct ing his daughter and guest into a secluded apartment, he knelt with them and prayed that God would extend his protection during the dreadful time that was coming upon them, or avert it as his wUl miglt be,” and they arose feeling that having dwelt in the secret place of the most high, they would abide under the shadow of the almighty. “I ain hungry,” said Leo, in an appetizing tone, “and before we exert ourselves any farther, I want something to eat.” “I second that motion my fair Hebe,” spake the ever gsllant Colonel, and accordingly Verne led the young couple down to the basement into the banquet room, where in the past so many sumptuous collations hai been served. That night there was no gleam of silver or outlay of service, but even the dark forebod ings could not repress the smiles of beauty and the laugh of wit, and it was with such a relish as only youth and health can give, that they feasted on the dainty viands until Mr. Verne proceeded up stairs to collect means of delense. “Leo,” said the daring DeBracy as the young couple prepared to follow, it s aiterribly long time since you kissed me, Leo,” he added in funeral tones as his Venus rebelled, “think my love, you may never have this privilege again,” “Oh, you tyrant,” exclaimed Leo coquet- tishly, as she yielded with Eve, like subjec tion. “This is a fine stack of anns,‘ ’ said DeBracy, in the second story hall, as he handled the guns with an air that disdained Cupid and knew no God but Mars, “and here,” he added as he stood at the head of the stairway which commanded the range of the landing and When I was fourteen years old I was wildly stuck on a little girl who lived across from where we were accumulating a rent account. I determined to send her a valentine. I got a lovely one, with a beautiful vine clambering over it and a cluster of violets in the centre. A sweet little cherub, attired in an intelligent look and a maxillary dimple, was peering out from between the violtts with oue little fat leg trailing along behind him in the airy fashion that Cupid affects. But the verse on [t made me tired. It was something to the effect that when the starlight was kissing the moonlight and the evening zephyrs wire exhaling a bou quet of vesper odors, then I loved her—oh! I loved her! I knew that my girl was a practi cal sort of a person, who always split the fam ily kindling and had to draw the family rain water by hangii g head downward in the cis tern and dragging an old brass kettle along the bottom with a sound like au escaped Wagne rian overture. I knew that if I wanted to make any impression on her I musn’t spri the front 1 Iput me on j fie up some, __ . _^^^^^^lition, an; ited them over^^^^HHHB Joliinoi This was my pofetrjf: "’f Obi maid, my/little speckled maid, Tals Is a wtirld of trouble; But when I see you, am I glad? Well, I should gently babble. You are tbe apple of my eye, As I have oft declared; And I’m th6 apple, too, of yours— Why, then, can’t we be pa(i)red? Forgive me for my erlme llke rhyme; Aud should we ever part, Dost know, fair maid, wbat resteth next My madly palpitating heart? I didn’t see anything of my girl for four days, and I had concluded she had fallen into the cistern and broken her pledge. But on the fifth day she came sneaking across the street, shoved something under the front door, rang the bell, and then skinned back again as tight as she could go. On the way she stepped on her left ankl: with her right foot and brushed away a mud puddle in the road, but I laid it to excitement. My heart beat wildly as I heard my big brother go to the door; aud presently he returned with an envelope in his hand and a broad grin bordering the hair on his head. My brother had the broadest grin I ever stood beside and examined. He handed me an en velope. It was dog-eared and finger-marked. I tore it open. Inside was a half sheet of pa per with the following written on it in red ink: Y ’U talk as tbnugb you were a ebump Or look me !or a fl r:; I yuess toe thiug iliat's nix; your beart Must oeyour unae: shirt. I let this girl alone after this, and turned my affections elsewhere. The Mount Lebanon (New York) Shakers are a quiet community, secluded from the fret and worry of the outside world. They are w ldely known, how ever, for their strict honor and probity In business. The Shakers believe that nature has a remedy for every disease. A few have been found—the rest are as yet unknown. Many were discovered by accident. Others to come to light as tbe result of patient experiment and research. Nervous Dyspepsia Is a comparatively net? disease, growing out of the conditions of modern life. It is a j olnt e Section of the digestive organs and of the nervous system. These two were for merly treated as separate ailments, and it was left for tbe clear-sighted Shakers to prove that tbe basis of this terrible and often fatal complication lies chiefly in the disordered and depraved func tions of digestion and nutrition. They reasoned thos:—“Ifwe can lndooe the stomach to do its work, and stimulate the excretive organs to drive out of tbe body the poisonous waste matters which remain after the life-giving elements of the food have been absorbed, we shall have conquered Nervous Dyspepsia and Nervous Exhaustion, And they were right. Knowing the Infallible power of Shaker Extract (Seigel’s Syrup) in less complicated though similar disease, they resolved to test It fully in this. To leave no ground for deubt they pre scribed the remedy in hundreds of cases which had been pronounced Incurable—with pe.fect success in every distance where their direct* ns as to living and diet were scrupulously foUored. Nervous Dyspepsia and Exhaustion Is a pgCUUarly Amer ican disease. Tp a greater or les-^^^k. half the poopk^^^^^ train ir*?8 mntry m the >g fHSfcflflqfl. testing disease. Its 1 iptoms are these: Flflquent or «ont! :he; a dull pain at the base of the brain;] breath; nauseous einotations; the rising of soar and pungent fluids to the throat; a sense of op pression and faintness at the pit of the stomach; flatulence; wakefulness and loss of sleep; disgust with food even when weak from the need of it; sticky or slimy matter on tbe teeth or in the month, especially on rlsiDg in tbe morning; furred and coated tongue; dull eyes; cold hands and I eel; constipation; dry or rough skin; inability to fix the mind on any labor calling for continuous atten tion; and oppressive and sad forebodings acd fears. Old Maids. BY ELEANOR C. DONNELLY. A friend once asked our poet Tho’ wooed for ages past, “Why do those maids, the Muses, O.a maids remain at last?” His empty purse displaying. The man ol sonnets said: “Because the night who woos them Has ne’er tbe means to wea!” Don’t judge a man’s wit By tne clothes that he wears; Don’t j adge a man’s grit By the way that he swears. AU this terrible group Shaker Extract (Seigei’s 8yrup) removes by Its positive, powerinl, direct yer. painless and gentle action upon tho functions of digestion and assimilation. Those elements of the food that build up and strengthen tho system are sent npon their mission, whUe all waste matters (the ashes of life’s Ore) which unremoved, poison and kill, are expeUed from the body through the bowels, kidneys and skin. The weak and pros trated nerves are quieted, toned and fed by the purifled blood. As the result, health, with Its enjoyments, blessings and power, returns to tbe sufferer who had, perhaps, abandoned ail hope of ever seeing another weU day. Send Your Name on a Postal Card for a Free Sample Copy of Journalism in Montgomery. [From the Montgomery, Ga., Monitor.] We will take, on subscription to the Monitor, com, meal, chickens, country butter, eggs, beef, pork, bacon, lard, potatoes, turnips, or almost any kind of country produce that can be utilized in housekeeping. Or, we would take the money, rather than be considered cap- ' tllo m adin g Western Agricultural Journal, and tious about it. what we are offering subscribers In our Dreamers. Sometimes a little cblld, with raptured cry, Will start up (rom Its pillow, half asleep, Thinking, cbud-llke, that It can descry The bright illusions ol a slumber deep, Aad, hading ’twas a dream, begin to weep. And yet ’tis not so childish as it seems, For men and women are but dreamers toe— Nursing illusions which, on nearer view, They learn with sorrow are but lading dreams Wanted to Kiss the Place Where the Lining Shows. [Old City Derrick.] Her father has a small, round bald spot on the top of his head, and kissing him at bed time his Uttle girl remarked: “Stoop down, papsy dear, I waut to kiss the place where the lining shows. Getting Old. [George EUot.] As year succeeds to year, tbe more Imperfect life’s fruition seems; Our dreams, as baseless as of yore, Are not the same enchanting dreams. The girls 1 love now note me slow— How dull the boys who once seem’d wtttyl Perhaps I’m getting old—I know I’m still romantic—more’s the pltty! ANNUAL SEED DISTRIBUTION- Or send 50 cts In stamps tor tbe paper one year and we will send you by mall nine packets of seeds all new and tested varieties, several of which are“!iui! bie novelties especially adapted to the southern climate. The seeds alone are well worth one dollar to anyone who h*«a fa-m or e vrden Address HUI.BERT PUBLISHING CO 5S8 12: 46 E.uiiie Blocs, Louis, irfo. solidTactsi a ;s assaws rboee and all Head/ches, purtfythsbtomft.?™ tne Kidneys, relieves Catarrh and wards elf mI PAIl^^fKVS d Wa 00 r£?L borUe- »*CKKYs at once. No Cure-No Pr y. 'lek font^Sold^v all druggists or sent by mall oostpild.^ PrYef^sE? Manui^tnrefsV brS: le 589-4-1 BEES AND HONEY. Interesting Illustrated price list of ... sort overvtbmg needed in pr.fl-ahl.w’^n*™ EKEE Nothing patented. P J.M.'jeTkins^’ 088-2 ’ IVetumpta, Ala. WHO’S THE PATRIOT? A Story of the Southern Confederacy Hands melj bound, with original , KW.ptcT/n" £?SF ^Zu**ov‘e"aS T d e M^ weap ‘ “What is promised to the righteous?” asked j a mild and amiable Sunday school teacher of 1 - - - , _ - — .—- , a small child at the fai end of her class. bf^ksmies, or cm “Km bv^SdSSs Qa ” and oUler Eternal bliss,” quickly responded the j Price $l.60,_poe-) MRs V Mc^nf wiLLIAMS _ (588 4-?° X86 ’’ LoUl3TlUe ’Ky. child. “Quite right, my dear child,” said the mild and amiable. “And now tell me what is promised to the wicked?” “Eternal blister,” was the prompt reply. Circular FREE. J. S. GRIFFIN.Syaasg
