About The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907 | View Entire Issue (July 16, 1887)
2 THE SUNNY SOUTH, ATLANTA, fTURDAY MORNING, JULY 16, 1887. TO THE RESCUE. BY BO JEAN. CHAPTER I. “The M'rfnanha, ridden tco*er on tbechasu And €ltritk and etric and ttrangt la the place. TheCasile betoken, a date tong gone by. He croi sea the courtyuid with curious eye. ” It was a calm evening in October when the West which had been so lately flushed with glory Irom the setting sun, was growing dull and gray. Across an open glade in an English forest a knight armed capapie was riding- His glittering armor and noble visage asserted ex alted rank, bnt beneath his lifted visor the countenance which generally reflected smiles wore a frown, for the knight had been riding for days in search of distinction, and yet no romance or adventure had favored him. As the light faded slowly away a sense of loneli ness crept over the solitary wanderer, for the soft moustache upon his ruby lip showed man hood just attained, and his attractive face ana figure had endeared him to court and bower »nd this was his first pilgrimage alone. , He passed through the dark thick wood and ascended an open space on a hill and even as he rode, he scanned each nook and recess amid the trees, for it was a time of strife and plunder, and hostile knights and outlaws were ever on the alert for victims. Feudal power and tyranny held sway, and while honor and gallantry were claimed to govern, by the terms of knighthood, the privileges of errantry were made to cover many dark and brutal incidents. Since early morn the knight had been in the saddle, and on reaching the top of the hill, he gazed on all the prospect round for some sign of a human habitation where he could pass the night, for he was hungry and weary and his horse needed rest. The glitter of a light far away, cheered him and urging his tteed, he galloped olT in that direction, in the hope that he might anticipate their evening meal. But on leaching the place from where the light, seemed to shine, he scanned the thick wood which he had entered, in vain, nor was there a sign of a human abode, except on the hill above him where the battlements of a ruined castle, glittered in the floods of moonlight, for the silvery crescent was then rising. “The light must have been there," the knight reasoned to himself, so at last finding tracks m the muddy soil beneath him he followed them to the bank of a black sluggish stream. The heavy overhanging branches concealed the opposite landing place, but plunging into t ie rushes, his horse gained the other side, and there taking a path, he picked his way up the winding hill and across the level sward until he came to a deep moat outside the crumbling castle walls. lie followed round this path, past the ruined abbey with its bell ringing to the breeze, past the, lonely watch-tower where no sentry greeted him; on he rode until a ruined drawbridge enabled him to cross the moat and enter a courtyard, once paved, butnow broken and graesy, and there before him, the light which just before seemed a will-o’-the-wisp, was blazing in an obscure and apparently mod ern portion of the castle. The knight called aloud for attention and a mail dressed like a yeoman appeared at the door and asked his purpose. “1 am a traveler," said the knight, “and seek lodging and food for myself and horse." At first tiie man expressed decided opposi tion to the knight entering, but his maimer was so honest and frank that the householder’s opposition yielded to hesitation, and his hesi tation to consent. “My lord can enter,” he said, “and I will tend your horse.” “1 am wearied,” said the knight as lie alight ed, “and need undisturbed res:. Need J guard against attack by night?” “Not in this lonely place," answered the yeoman and his honest face assured the knight, who entered the room which a fire, which was blazing on the hearth, made comfortable, after his chilly ride. But there, more than ever, a sadness oppressed the wanderer as ho paced the room with thoughtful brow and folded arms. His lonely ride and that deserted apart ment were a contrast to merry stag hunts and palace halls thronged with gay lor is and ladies. But bis revery soon ended, for his host enter ing and seeing him thus abstracted exclaimed: “My lord is weary; shall I lead ycu to rest?" “Not, my good sir,” answered the knight, “until I have broken my fast. Hunger op presses me more than weariness. 1 pray, in stead, that you lead me to your supper room." Asain tLp,Yeoman hesitated^ * u lpl)enij v >' •puhuuiuk knig ’ h ‘ r° a long ‘WffT-ffinnBerSlory wJTiTiw b$ 8 H l iiere as they passed along by the tapers flick- ering light, the wanderer looked with sorrow on the ruined escutcheons of the walls and the frescoed ceiling dropping down, until the host, opening a door admitted him to a long and singular apartment. At one end of this mating room a fire was blazing on the hearth, around which were clustered women, children and oogs. Across the room was a wide table at ■which was seated a figure upon which the knights eyes rested with joyful wonder and surprise, I: was a lady, the elegance of whose manner and dark attire indicated her rank, while her beautiful features, with her lustrous hazel eyes and wavy yellow hair made her seem, some heavenly vision returned to earth to visit the ruins and graves of her ancestors. As the door opened she glanced with a startled look that way and seeing the mailed form enter, her cheeks turned pale and her hand trembled slightly, but composing herself, she regarded the handsome face and martial figure of the knight with a look that he fully returned and for a time each gazed upon the other, her love ly features enhanced in beauty, from their ex- I pression of sorrow and concern. Behind the lady stood an aged squire, who I marking the stranger, trembled from bead to foot and eyed him fearingly, until the knight, thanking heaven for placing him near such tender loveliness, was ushered across the room ! and seated at the table. Then the squire’s I eyes were withdrawn and fixing them upon ! the lady he perceived that she had scarcely fasted her meal and he spake. “Lady, all day J’ ou l ave ridden without taking tood. J pray I \ on to eat, if only to strengthen you for v.-ur joiruey." J i The knight’s heart filled with sadness as that I word journey made him think of the vision of beauty being taken from his enchanted ,r az * I nor could he remove his eyes as the softest voice ilia* ever fell like music on his ear, ut- UTcd sadly, “Ileavin biei-s you good faithful hir Stephen, and spare me that I may recom pense you and those few friends whom now aicno ] live for. And yet, why should I eat fl’us prolong a life whose only recollection is sorrow and whose prospect a weary' flight and tin*ii perhaps, an ignominious captivity°or bined a sense of duty with a craving appetite and accordingly ate all of the food that had been set before him. Having finished his meal he returned to the room which he had been re ceived in and was pacing the floor absorbed in conflicting thoughts, when the old squire en tered. “Sir, my lady is waiting to receive you. “Lead on, good squire, and I will follow,” answered the knight, and he hastened to the interviewer which he had been so aoxiously awaiting. . The crumbling fresco laid in heaps upon the ruined floor, the faded paintings on the walls seemed a mockery to earthly grandeur and a portion of a crucifix hanging to the wall, these and other evidences of wreck, all influenced the two strangers to their melancholy sur roundings. “Alas,” exclaimed the knight, how soon are all earthly names and tabernacles dissolved." “My lord," replied the old man, “in this same ball where we are standing now, I fol lowed, some fifty years ago, the noblest train that ever followed a court. But this sadness of tone suits better to my years than yours. Enjoy, my lord, the strength and glory of your manhood, for where you laugh and dance the merry night away, your children will hereafter stand and weep, and half a century will scarce have passed, ere strangers will tread the ruins of your former splendor and lightly ask the story of your mound." They moved along through the great dark halls and galleries, until the old man, opening a door, announced “my lord," and the knight, entering, found himself in the presence of the beautiful sad vision of his hopes. The room to which be was admitted seemed one adjoin ing a lady’s bower. Through the window the moon was seen riding full and clear and light ing up the rugged boldness of the castle turrets and embrasures. On a lonely watch-tower a solitary bird had withdrawn from his compin- iont in the foliage, and was pouring out his song to night. The walls of the chamber were fringed with dark and smoky drapery, falling in faded rays. Upon the wall the picture of a dead warrior seemed with his glaring eyes to pierce each corner of the room, and the few massive pieces of mahagony furniture contrast ed sadly with the rude chairs and couch, upon the latter of which the lady was seated. But in her presence, palace or hut were one alike to him, and he gazed with reverence as she rose and said: “You will pardon, sir, our place of recep tion, but when we dwell upon the two brave and loyal hearts before us, and," she looked out upon the sky, “the air of freedom we are breathing now, we call on you to join us in thanksgiving. But," as her voice fell, “this is our earthly all. Judge then, sir, of the condi tion of her to whom your chivalry desirest to attach itself." “Madam," answered the knight impulsively, “it was tn your charms and not your condition that 1 pledged myself. The splendor of your presence would light my path to stygian realms. I have taken my vow for your pro tection, nor will I quit your side until all tra ces of sorrow are removed. With your destiny I have linked my glory." “I grieve, sir," said the lady brightening, “that you first saw me, when my woes op pressed me, although they did not break my spirit. I have banished all weakness now, and being myself again, would have you pause, ere you wreck your manhood in a cause already hopeless." Tor an instant as the knight confused the lady’s concern for his welfare into indifference for his attentions, his feelings struggled be tween pride and passion. “So, then," he murmured, “my brief hope is oaly to end in a farewell. And the lady for whom I would have proudly made the grand est effort of my life, regards herself as so un fortunate as to be unworthy of voluntary homage. I am indebted to you, madam, for a new rule of knight errantry, to desert nobility because it is bowed down to misfortune. But I must not thrust myself. I commend you to heaven and speak the farewell of one who would gladly have died to rescue you, but whose service you saw lit to reject.” He was going, but with a quick and agoniz ing cry she checked his exit. “Tray deem me not ungrateful, sir." Then, with Hushed cheek and head erect, sjo contin ued, “were Berengeria now what she was, the flower of her father’s place with that father’s arm about her, she would justly feel that her smile on any suitor would confer distinction, aye, even though that smile should rest on England’s King." Her spirit roused his. “And mark me, madam," he said, “were Bere:* -ia in her fathers palace at the acme itwJ»r jsurroupded by her hundred 1— nha A^uld there never ap- her,” and the old squire having left the room, ho sprang from his bed and knelt to Eii morn ing prayer, in which I fear the lady’s face ap peared quite frequently. After a hasty, but careful toilet, be hurried to the object of his devotioBs and was soon in her presence, whose charms had given such re newed zeal to earth, and a thrill passed over him as he pressed to his lips the dainty mag netic band. As he entered the room the lady smiled upon him, a sad sweetjunile and gently said, “I trust that my lord enjoyed refreshing rest." “A8 good my lady" he heartily answered, “as ever on my mother’s breast. You were the last object of my waking thoughts, and as a guardian angel you hovered round my dreams." This sentiment was graciously accepted, but the fair recipient rejoined solemnly, “God grant, you never have a darkening," then turning to her Squire, “How is the sky good Stephen?" “The sun is not up,yet your highness," an swered the Squire, “but 1 think that it will be a clear, bright day." “Stephen tells me," said the lady addressing the Knight, “that your steed equals bis master in spirit and form." “ilis mettle has often lent spirit to his mas ter," responded the Knight. “He Is a noble animal and I rejoice that my first journey upon him, is in the cause of one so lovely." “My lord," said the Squire, “I would wager to having seen that horse before, and it was in the charge of tourney, when he bore all down before hfm." “Perchance so," laughed the Knight, “I shall not impeach his record," but on the Squire asking, “Have you always been his master," the Knight evaded an answer and the subject changed. The meal was eaten some what. hastily, and as they rose from the table, the Knight excused himself on the plea of be ing bis own hostler. “My lord’s horse," interposed old Stephen, “is ready and waiting." “Ah," exclaimed the Knight, “I see that you merit the name of faithful, and now a few words with our host, and then we Btart upon our way." He found the burgher an honest, good souled man who was made doubly amiable by the re ceiving of some silver in his hand, ar.d who cheerfully gave directions about the route they wished to travel. On casually asking about the castle of Vide- mar, the Knight was startled by the intelli gence, that it was scarcely ten miles away and from the description given, he plainly saw, that, the lady and her Squire from ignorance of the route, had been wandering around the castle, and at evening had stopped not far from their starting point. Ho was glad, however, to learn further, that the castle of the Earl, whose protection they were seeking was scarcely a day’s journey distant, and hoping that the winding route of the fugitives might baffle their pursurers and.that a day’s journey might be made without molestation, he decided not to inform his fair charge of the nearness to the scene, of her late suffering and imprisonment, but to lighten her heart by assuming ail the care himself. It was therefore with a hopeful smile that he rejoined her, and which he was gratified to see had the effect of rousing her spirits. “Oh my lord," she said, as she took his arm in descending the stairway, “with wbat changed feelings do I leave these walls from those which I experienced on entering them, and under heaven I owe it all to you." “If heaven," he answered fervently, “will extend its mercies until I can see you safely lodged in your uncle’s castle, I will feel tb t the greatest prayer of my life is answered. 1 In the courtyard stood ihe horses waiting death I lie knight could no longer listen to her ac cents of sorrow’, uttered in despair. His heart yearned to relieve her of all care, and rising he stood before her and modestly, but fervently exclaimed: “I pray you to pardon me lady hut while honor would not intrude upon sor row, it does not become valor to see beauty in tears. I trust you will not scorn the offer of a stranger, but hear me graciously, when to res cue you from the danger that you dread, I offer you my service and if needs be my life." The lady gazed in admiration at the form kneeling before her and seemed disposed to reply, when her squire bending down, raised his finger in warning and then cast a glance of fear upon the knight. The lady’s voice blend ed «?orn and pity as she addressed the old man: ' Nay, nay, good Stephen if there be not I truth and honor in that face, nevermore will I acok for them on earth. Vet what right have J," she continued musing, “to bring the sorrows of a ruined house on one so young and noble." But her eyes melted into the beseeching gaze of the young knight as he pleaded, “Madam, I t xpressrd myself willing, if needs be, to die in your service. Can you not accept my protec Hon?" 'it shall be as you wish," answered the ladj in gracious accents, “most grate fully we accept the honor of your attention. But you were just seated at your meal. Return my lord, and eat, for attending ns will give you need of food." Then, rising, she added, “for a brief period we must retire to meditate. Until we meet again, may Heav en keep you, is the prayer of an injured lady." She m: de a slight courtesy, which the knight rose to acknowledge, as he questioned : “And shall I not be entrusted with keeping watch near your bower, so as to grant you perfect rest, and, as I hope, to be remembered in your dreams?" “At your lordship’s leisure," responded the lady, “you shall visit our apartments. Eat then, noble Sir, and shortly I will send my Mpi re to bring you to my confidence;" having spofct-n which she bowed low, and with royal grace and dignity left the room, followed by me old man and the eyes of the young knight. 4 Heaven be praised for this mission," ex claimed the knight, “and bless my efforts in i.he cau^e of one so strangely sad and bcauti- iii " 'Then remembering the lady’s charge, ‘ should >ou attend us you must eat,’’ bccom- prcached the flower of that house a truer or moit. loyal heart than that which beats within the I reast of the poor knight who bows before her now." This speech had its effect and subdued for ever the misgivings of the lady. Not to delude his hopes she had revealed her desolate condi tion. He showed his motives to be higher than for policy or power, and that he would watch over her for knighthood’s and devotion’s sake alone. “Brave and noble heart," she responded with tenderness, “Berengeria places her life and honor in your charge and blesses God for such a protector. Your interest will now claim your attention as Stephen relates the cause of this situation which you find me in." She waved her hand to Stephen who advanc ing before the knight said, “Know then, Sir Knight, that the lady in whose presence you stand, is her highness Berengeria, daught er to Sancho the Wise of Navarre." Although the lady had already spoken her name the knight had not caught its signifi I cance, and the deep obeisance which on his | part attended its announcement, could not con- I ceal the emotions that it wakened within him. j The princess perceived it. but the old man j did not, and he proceeded, “But that name is all that now remains to her of her former pos- | sessions. A tyrant and traitor, Videmar by | name, who, with other suitors sought her hand, | 0,1 being rejected, surrounded the castle with I an armed baud and having slain its inmates, he sacsed it to the citadel. To the last tower j her fattier had borne her for defense, followed i only by me. She saw the monster as bursting j through the barriers, he rushed upon the aged i king and stained the castle with its owner’s ' blood, and yet she could not die. The stupor that came over her as she saw her father fall deprived hero'all consciousness, until awaken ing she found herself a prisoner bereft alike of sunshine and of hope. To-night her father’s murderer was to have forced her to t.lie unholy aitar as his wife, and so to-day a slight liberty was grained io her. I saw the dreadful fate impending over my lady. 1 roused the blood of Navarre which the horrors about her seem ed fora time to have congealed. By my strat agem we have escaped thus far, and but a half day’s journey distant stands the castle of her uncle, and can we but reach there, Berengeria is with her own again. But this dleaded ty rant false alike to his honor and his king will pursue us with all the frenzied passion of his nature. To-night we rest within these walls, tomorrow we start again upon our flight." ‘From tomorrow, then,’’ exclaimed the knight, “I date my calendar of glory. Tomor row will be the proudest day of my life.’’ “Tomorrow," echoed the princess, “we start again upon our ride, if God be willing, and to your wisdom and brave heart we entrust the keeping of our person. God grant you peaceful rest my lord, and new, though selfishness is inconsiderate and it would be my pleasure, I must not keep you from that rest which you crkr.lv nppH *1 and tin q Knii. fill’s faithful companion neighed with jf >y at .sight of his m aster, who rejoiced to see, i Stephen led them up, that the horses of bo th lady ai.d S quire were, of good mettle and n ■< iningly fres h for the day’s jour- uey. . Lovers ; of beauty w ill agree that no s’ght is in on b plea sing than a gr ac-lul rider, and the Knight , Ip.vii; ig placed the lady in tiie saddle saw an ictficr charm dlspia yed as sin rfcined in tiie •icing charger and smile d at his offered istance, which caused a biusn to ti cheek, although it was a blush of pride. “Oh 1113’ lord," she exclaimed eagerly, “let us hasten from all that seems confinement,’ and immediately the Knight was by her side and together they galloped out into the chilly morning mist. But by degrees the damp fog was dispelled, and as the sunbeams gladdened the earth with warmth and displayed the land scape the lady’s spirits rose with the rising sun. “How glorious,” she said, in accents*]» e’s - < U by bis signal th ie road in front. A moment mow ue hidden in the thick and tangle This brief alarm served to recall i they were still in great danger, an s_ by* common in stinct urged the: faster speed, nor did the knight ice again to any more such sentii igh all the wind ings of that long t, with its varied foliage and gur s, they saw no other human, as s they reached its outskirts, a bre ly endless plain, covered with he? 1 upon their view. Saying little, thi the knight’s eyes looked even ten the sad beautiful face beside him, turn gazed with a fond and hope him, more faintly now, for her feistomed to hard usage, was sinkiqliis mingled exer tion and anxiety, r spirit was active and undaunted. Jr had they rode upon the clear giltiat the forest laid like a landscape |n, when old Ste phen’s voice seniueir hearts, for he cried: “My lord, we It was a suddp change from the soft accents of hetthat cry of alarm and despair. Sir hand upon her lover’s arm, and yce was c ear as it uttered. “God be with uilel." The knight glaii There were the glittering helmets j pennon of a band of men who appall pursuing them. Tor one moment bank within him, but quickly reflectimust devolve on me," he collected es and answered: “True, your higm are behind us, but what concerns ay not affect us. Still, we had betteiliis plain. Could you ride faster?" Her eyes rested tarching every ex pression of his facsis speech. At its close she merely in« head in token of assent, and then u horse, while the knight, signalling tn, did the same, and together they dad at a full round pace. Again the kneed back. The men behind were rim'd speed, and he did not doubt they pursuit; and he also realized that nimld be overtaken before they crosseoor, which still stretched far aheadLalf mile or so in •advance of the fug old edifice was standing. The kniseeing that they would be overtakenined that this should be the place ing, and accord ingly informing the jthey urged their foaming horses as tb to reach it. No further word was sfl bendieg in their saddles and strairy nerve, they pressed towards thelrefuge. The lady displayed the calmnespair, her eyes ever resting on the l.Lh love and ad miration, until at leaing her hopeless situation, her fortitfred her, and she said, in agonizing tol “Brave knight, %e -heart’s deep thanks from a w re ten an, bit do not rush to ruin. It is t: pursuing; leave me and God keepyoKeart.” “Leave you!" he <fcever, unless you renounce my servicelw is taken until death us do part, jmy privilege of sharing whatever m,-| But remember, if menials are behind rue heart is beat- ins at your side, arm kill defend you." Tor just before th hie lodgment they were striving for. -mey, it appeared, on a sloping hillock! open door, be side wbich a spring Yup amid stones covered with moss, las nothing of the house but the squarf walls, with their falling roof, little will hiu.li door, up to which they rode. Tm sprang from his horse, and lifting ilfroiu hers, con ducted her inside theiand then return ing outside, he led bil? within while he ordered Stephen to dine with his own. 1 his was barely accol and the knight the(oiTntf(Y PHILOSOPHER [Copyrighted by author. All riuhts reserved.] Noth.—By special arrangement with the author of theee articlee and the Atlanta Cmutltutum, for which Dbper they are written under a special contract, publish them in the Sunny South under the ~»« right. No other papers i YOU? 5 allowed to publish them. suers came in their fo nd the lid The Kimball HCUlanta, Ga- The Kimball Ilouseithe present man agement, is decidcdlylst hotel in the South; in fact in all mi in the two Re publics 1 have never filace so perfectly home-like. Mr. Charfman, the pleas ant proprietor, knowsJv to make every one feel at home. Uel it himself that his guests have every a childish gayetv, “is nature and nature's - i on, uncertain aim nappy >ntuai. peaVciL.' :v~ .*^.7; I, A&d its way o of rank and title are born to sorrow "3 the ” ' sparks fly upward? Our rank is but a height which plunges us deeper down, and our title remains as mockery to our fall. That woman doubtless never had a heavy care; do you not envy her?” “No, your highness," answered the Knight for if her limited life shuts out . ares, think how it also fetters opportunities. Compare her little life with our grander sphere wnich though it causes us concern, gives us also scope, to think and act and revel in. The peasant life has its blessings, for bein«* down she fears no fall and is saved from the most dreadful of human emotions, suspei.se. But in my situation I envy no one and covet noth ing. As your protector I could smile at fear or care and I crave no better record of my memory than proving worthy of your confi dence.” The soul of the Knight was one too gentle and noble to have offered to a lady under his protection, such tributes of feeling, had he not seen them graciously received. But the lady couM not disguise that the smile resting upon him was a charmed as well as charming one, and as each poured out their spirits to each other their hearts seemed to beat more and more in unison. And with his accents growing more and yet more tender and with increasing marks of favor from the lady, they rode to- gether in that, calm, clear morning, over rdai* s covered with heath and wild with weeds am' rushes, past deserted houses and washed fields* past smiling orchards where the destroyer had not set his teal, no they rode, forgetful of the stormy world about them, forcetful of their l.i-'ht and their purtu-rs, thinking only of each other on they rode until the open c mntrv was behind, and a grand old forest with ills giant oaks spread its charms around them As they entered an open giade, old S eulien rode up. ' ‘•Lady,” he said, ‘‘here is a spot that is im mortal 10 the history of your family, for here your grandfather fell, just as a great battle was ending in his favor.” “J’eace to his spirit," said the lady solemnly. “My grand-sire tell, but not until victory had perched upon his standard. Alas good Stephen* as you bore his body from the field little did singkfl.^.y would never out into tin. l.i*.. U(J . p . ,-.f dJ[fT 1 * "j " A Famous Dalton Hotel. Lewis House at Dalton is full and over- 5 with guests from all parts of the coun- >eeking the cool and bracing air of the ains. There is no better place to go to a summer vacation; it is quiet, cool, and of everything good to eat. Mr. J. Q. wis is the pleasant proprietor. The recognize the fact that they are at home, juently every one at the Lewis House good time, and are .happy. Mr. S. I). has a new livery stable very near, with st Kentucky horses for driving or rid- A Picnic on Lookout. roii Sunny South: A pleasant, select party spent last Friday afternoon 011 the tain. Stella McConnell was accompanied bj* . A. Harbiu; Miss Ella Lewis and Mr. Trotter; Miss Alice Trammell and Mrs. Reynolds. r in the afternoon Mrs. Sears, a charin- ly from (’hati inooga, ar.d Mrs. Marie t, of Atlanta, joined the party on horse- isirier crowd could not be found. The ladies looked lovely in white. A feast the god-; was spread at early twilight by le of a cool spring, at the foot of the aim 1 cannot begin to tell of the nice they had to eat, all cooked by llie fair of the young ladies present—which fact a new charm to the already elegant feast, r correspondent happened just in time, when invited to a.sd.-it to do away with a iou of the viands, accepted with alacrity in heart, but indifference in his face. If 2 is anything he does love it is a picnic. M. W. The preacher told us the other day that sin was born in a child and it was a life long strug gle to keep it down. That if you planted a tree that it would grow up straight of its own na ture, but a child would grow up crooked and the parents had to brace it up just like wc stake up a tree to keep the wind from blowing it down. We protect the young tree from battle ani storms by planting boards on each side and nailing slats across, and just so the father must stand upright on one side of the child and the mother on the other, and they must lock arms around and keep the little fellow straight. But the difference ir, the tree is inclined to glow straight and the child to grow up crooked. That is so 1 reckon—David said “man is born to sin as the sparks fly upward" and we all know that there is a power of sin in the world, and according to history there always has been^Jjut there is power of good too. Cy rus was not a God-fearing man, but he was a philosopher and he said “I know that I am un der the dominion of two powerful spirits one spirit of good and the other the spirit of evil. They are carrying on a continual warfare in my soul and contending lor its possession." 1’aul said “when I would do good sin is present v\ ith me.” I suppose that is the experience of everybody. I know that is mine, a thousand times have I felt inclined to do things that neither my conscience nor my reason approv ed. Tilings that 1 condemned and aohorred as other people. The spirit of evil was after me. Then again the spirit of love and kind ness and good will would take possession and get the mastery, and so I feel like Cyrus, that the war is going on and 1 must help fight it. I believe that a man can submit to the spirit of evil until he will love its dominion. He will love, hate and discord and triumph in the down fall and misery of other people, and if lie dies in that condition he will keep on in it in the world to come, whether it be hades or slieol or some other mysterious abode. As the tree fal- ]eth there it shall be. 1 do not seel: to fathom the origin of sin or of evil or the devil. It is enough for me to know that I am a sinner, l'he devil is a most insinuating rascal, i saw a boy gelling apples from a tree that overhung the side-walk, and when l asked him it it was right lie said, “Well, sir, they are over the road; they ain’t in anybody’s lot.” The uevil told him to say that. Sometimes a boy will find a knife and keep it, a,though lie knows who lost it. If a man finds a pocketbook with money in it he will hunt for the owner, but if he finds a live or ten dollar bill without the pocketbook he won’t exert himself very much. Somebody might claim it who never lost it, and so its just as well to say nothing about it. It is possible to be dishonest and be generous tqo. I know a man whp will cheat brn nabor to do it. Most everybody has a kind,soft place in his bosom that circumstances will reach. Most everybody has sympathy for distress. One time I saw a desperately wicked man jump into a swollen river to save a poor boy from drowning and he saved him. There were many good people on the bank who dared not take the risk. The other day one of our no account dogs got into the pound under the benign auspices of the new dog law, and the marshal informed me and said I could pay a dollar for a collar and seventy-five cents for his board and lodg ing and take him out. I made no promises and kept silence at home, for I was perfectly willing for this benign canine law to take its course, but my chaps found out that Eido was in the pound and condemned to be shot before breakfast next morning and just such a com motion as was raised I never heard. Children and grandchildren raised the rebel yell and their sympathy for poor Tido made me ashamed of myself and so I had to pay him out and then buy two more collars for two more dogs—and that makes three dollars and seventy-five cents invested in dogs that I will give anybody as much more to steal and carry’ away for good, and no questions asked. We have given Tide away several Limes, but it won’t stick A Fan nin county man hauled him thirty miles one day, and Fido was back home next morning in time tor dinner. He is go d for nothing in the world, except to bark when it thunders, but tiie children love him and he loves them, and wags uis little tail when they come from school. 'Hie great contention in this life is between love and selfishness—the love that strikes in and the love that reaches out. The poet says most truly: “Ail thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs ;2.is mori.d frame, All are hut ministers of F And feed lt:« sacred flime." Every public journal that amounts to any thing is in the habit every year or oftener of bringing out a posthumous poem by Edgar A. Poe. Tid-Bits does not wish to be behind in any such enterprise, and is willing, if called upon, to make affidavit that the subjoined poem is just as genuine a posthumous poem of Edgar A. Poe as is published by any other pa per: In a dark and subterraneous, opaque, pbantasma- I)eep, cavernous, recesses of gloom, there sits a midnieht oracle; No fiend In hell can strike a knell, or weave a spt ll, AS bisdroaPnams. his ghoulish name, his demon name— . . I. Toldyerso! O! dread, demoniac, malign and Khadamanthine Inth r , a pfutonlan robes of night tby single phrase From the’abyss, vhere demons hl?s no phrase lilte Llki'tny’bi'icK name! Tirtarean name, tby name of flaint [ Toldyerso! Iu sulphurous catacombs of gloom, In vapors allt- fullncss or bloating »' t< stm( , h in the morn- noss,” or emptiness or Bi or bad tasto in iniT tongue g.'; 1 Win.-ss, frequent mouth, tai«SSJ55E*it. •• floating specks headaches, blurred ej«‘K ‘T rogtrat ion or ex- before the temper, hot flushes, haustion. irrl , , ' V 1 l t L 1 ily sensations, share alternating with cmu^ ere ^ th erc, cold biting, transient Pn |,18 ll|s wtt kefulncss, or feet, drowsiness after mean* , p c , )I1Bta nt, SM^ie'or of lmpeud- lD ff ■you'baveall, or “ST of these symptoms, yo a erioan inaladii-a - that most common of Am [ llH Mj<;mteJ Bilious Dyspe[«ia, or Torpn, n . T||n more with Dyspepsia, or Iimlg sti becomet the- complicated her anTdiveisity of syrup* greater the nuint* r un jt , laB reached, toms. No 1ncdleal Discovery Dr. Pierce’s®“',, r d in g to diree- will subdue if taken <)f t ,* 10 . If not tion of tbe l.unirs.Kkm Oise Rheumatism, .Heart Disease* friiinrv Disease, or other grave K liable to set in and, sooner m are quite able ^HSr-*aaa5sajte cleanses th< s> ver cause arising. atreilglbe-.ing.amna.ilmg^r", an app* digestion both Ih sl Hi is WOI celebrity Fever, !> l>r. I* leansing , 1, r rrHtoratlVe \ , and’nutrition, thereby '.mi mivnirth. In malarial aisira . , I,.,fill medicine has gained gr»-a „ curing Fever and mh Ague, and kindred dit* a** b * n . ltcc’h Holden Medical Di. - gorlcjl, epter round—this Rbada- his ghostly mantnine oracle; No demon tone, no ghoulish groan, was ever kno- to hold you so As this ditad uame, shame— PiuLouic name, his name of I. Toldyerso! Ethel—“Don’t you like Mr. Fitz-James?” Mabel—“No, I don’t. I despise him.” Ethel—“Why?” Mabel—“Well, he was calling on me last night, and I under look to show him how well I could whistle.” Ethel—“Well, what of that?” Mabel—“A great deal of that. I just puck ered up my lips as sweet and pretty as 1 could, and then—” Ethel—“Well, what then?” Mabel—“He just let me go on and whistle.’ Ethel—“How mean!” The Captive Brook. A brook from the mountaii s sped, And wandered on Us merry way; It war dered where Its fancy led, The livelong night, the livelong day. It sauu of d« i's wii-re bird-song* 11 jw, r sang of hum's where lilies aro .v, It sung in tone thai lovers know, Ail day, all day. The sunbeams on its ripp’es lry A id laughter thr >ugh its cadence oroae, A« ’l as It dauced at-ay. away. Unnumbered harmonies awoke. I loitered .’»/ the Oxooping 11 'w^-r, it- sang the I »\r-dr«am of the bower, Taesong was new from hour to hour. All day, d;«y. CURES ALL HUMORS, from a common Blotch, or Eruption, to th •d by this .rating ly heal 1 has it : “Whit. and Knla stamps t< “ FOR THE BLOOD 5S THE X- tFE \’ Tlu.rmisiilv cleanse it !«/using nr ‘ * >, eeee " 'll Medical Discovery, ami (liir.pdi.m, a fair skin, buoyant spit its, \i u strength and bodily health will be established. CONSUMPTION, A Bargain in Corner Lots you think you would ever attend the last, 0 f'’fiat moat men desire, but to keep from fill- his house, a fleeing fugitive. And yet ” she a k liiv e in a cemetery lot ere hal? your ■ - ! s ar sordy need. The charmed spell would have held the knight until the morning sun dawned upon his unconsciousness of fleeting time. But there being no excuse for remaining, ha arose and expressing some hasty courtesies, as to her en joying refreshing rest, he ouce more knelt and kissed the lily lingers. Old Stephen held the light to guide him through tiie long dark hall and he left the beau tiful daughter of royalty and misfortune and returned to his room to marvel over his glori ous future. Worn out and wearied, at last he fell asleep, and then again that sad and lovely face haunted him iu dreams. CHAPTER II. To-night we sleep on downy beds, Tomorrow, God knows where, ’Twill be in palace walls, or else In death, but free from care. The knight had retired with such fixed in tentions about being the first awake next morn ing, that it was with feelings of surprise and chagrin that he heard a knocking at his door, and rousing,he saw old Stephen at his bedside. At first, all the events of last night seemed a dream too beauteous for reality and he was wondering why the old man’s visage stayed so perfect, when the clear voice restored him to consciousness. ‘‘Rise my lord, and quickly geid yourself. My lady already awaits you at the table and delay might prove fatal.” With an expression of regret for his drowsi- ness the knight replied, “I will soon attend added in brighter accents, ‘ if his spirit hovers' 8 are Rllmberat '’ ? kee l’ a supply of round us now, he must be comforted by seeing' I>ioroa ’ K ‘'Golden Medical Discovery” by me under such a protector.” I. When the first symptoms of consumption “Madam,” said the knight, with impressive ?0ar lo8e no time ln P ut,in ? yourself under earnestness, “to the higher powers it is "iven' lreatme ut of this invaluable medicine.• it to look deeper into the heart than is allowed' 08 whon notllil1 ” elsa w‘*l. Possessing, as to mortal vision. I hold that your ancestor loes .’ tRn . timcs the virluo of tllu . bcst c,, d looks with more favor on your pure heart now er oil - 11 is OIll r the eh ® a P est ? ul far ‘be than if it throbbed haughtily over the grasp of■ asantef ‘ t 10 It panties and enriches a mighty sceptre. I am sensible that no higher 1 blood ’ strengthens the system, cures, honor could have been conferred upon me lhan 7tclie!i I 11,n P le3 > eruptions and other humors, your confidence when relying upon the ad-’' druggists, dresses of a stranger, you placed your fair per- " * T son in my charge. And can J hand you inA five-year old boy recently commenced al- safety to your uncle, I can then feel sufflcientiyiiding Suuday-scbo d, and became deeply in- deservmg of my name and rank to announcerested in the teachings be received. After theta. And should ever iiope ” te or two lessons bad been given him lie ex- “My lord,” abruptly broke in the privilegedessed a strong wish for a “sling-shot.” Ilis old man, “what is your name and rank?” aid mother was astonished at the request, “Why, docs not. this show the emptiness olid asked the young hopeful why he wanted them” laughed tiie knight, “since at presentich a thing. Ilis leply was prompt, and to neither name or rank avail me anything? Andie point. “At Sunday school,” said he, then I desire not to be esteemed for rank, tuti.bey told a story of a little toy that killed a to have you like me for myself. But if yooig giant with a sliug-shot, and I want one.” must know me by name, pray call me BIondeL ° If my fathers were great. 1 would not go tc „ , . .. their tombs for glory, i would cast aside Horsford s Acid Pho. phatc. honors that merely fall to me by the chance o: Beware of Imitations, a birth, and unknown, would seek the clorv o ..... . . , „ merit. Then if I succeeded, my name^shoulc Imltatlp ’ 13 and i “ ol ‘ , ' t00fe ' t8 , a u? T be sounded with my fathers: but if 1 failed j," jared ; Be sure that the wold llorsford s its lone winding-sheet it should sink into ob s 0n the wraT>er/ None are genuine without it. livion, for never would I be known as a iner. inheritor. If sunbeams of glory ever res', i on my head, they should not be mere rell c tions from emblazoned marble. And now your highness, I turn to you and ask you t know mein reality and by m ,• bearing as man. For if ever m.v poor petition can be I.-.i at your shrine, it will be the pleading of a sc! reliant heart, though surely with such a sire to lure me, no ambition could be too high.” This candid statement, aided by its fervei.ci was gratefully acknowledged by a tender ei pression from the beaming hazel eyes, but tt lady’s reply was suddenly interrupted, for rushing sound in the forest caused her to If her hand upon the knight, who couching b spear, faced in that direction. But their fea were soon dispelled. A troop of yeomen we 1 returning from a huBting excursion and toi! no other notice of the party than torespeil fully salute the martial form of the knight, A miller came one mo ' Ma Wner ihe brooklet to hi3 mill, e labor wer.rs the hours awav, i its harsh sound is never still. And round and round to fill his store The water turns the mill wheel o’er, Hut, ali! the brooklet sings no more, A!! day, all day. Said a sharp attorney to a rambling witness: “Now you must give explicit and exact an swers. You said you drove a milk wagon, | did you not?" “No, sir, I didn’t." “Don’t you drive a milk wagon?" “No, sir.” “Aha! What do you do, sir?" “I drive a boss, sir.” wrote SLakspeare?" Cincinnati Man—“I don’t know as I ever gave that deep thought; but just see what it has done for the city ot Cincinnati." She has grace, And a face That attention attracts, And she socially plays the first role; And no one would be 8obappy as she lf she could ouly hide that big mole! ii. He bas wealth, He bas health, And can have, at command. Anything that his fancy may please; And no one would be So happy as he— If bis pants didn’t bag at the knee! We are all- Short and tall, Youugand olC, rich and poor— Yes, we’re all of us in the same skiff; How happy we’d be ’Tls easy to see— Were it not for ibat miserable “If.” “Do make yourselves at home, ladies,” said Mrs. Smith to her visitors. ‘ I am at. home myself, and sincerely wish you all wire." Wife—“Will you take me to the opera to night, dear?" Husband—“Yes, go and undress.” He dear? The Beginning of the End. The beginning of disease is a slight debility or disorder of somo of the vital organs, Ui« stomach, the liver or the bowels usually. There are dyspeptic symptoms, the liver is troublesome, the skin grows tawney and un healthy looking, there arc pains in the right side or through the right shoulder blade. Tha climax is often ail utterprostration of the liiivqical ['niM'iric.-i perhaps a fatal issue. I>ut jf the difficulty i.inet iu time with Hostetteria Stomuch Hitters, which is ahvaj selTectiieia a remedy, and it should lie resorted to at an early Btaffe. there will he no reason to ap prehend those injurious euUrefy upon the system often entailed l.v ei tirUy t ired diseases. Fur better isi it, also, to em ploy this safe remedial , t v ,, .;,,i\, r ii,. m ..rue and other malarial complaints, ln.in lue ctumaeh and impair the general liealtu And another says: “Love rules the camp, the court, the grove, A: cl met- b*dowaud saints abovt*, Tor love is heaven and heaven :s love.” Love is i he cardinal doctrine and teaching of Jesus Christ—the best man that ever lived. Love to God and love to man. “Little children, love one another." “I know that I am called from death unto life, because I love the breth ren.” Leigh Hunt never conceived anything so tenderly sweet as Abou Ben Adhern, who was admitted to heaven solely because of his love for his fellow-men. Stern’s choicest mor sel was the story of Uncle Toby, who swore that the poor soldier who had fainted at his gate should not die. The lovers of Jonathan and David, and Damon and l’y thi as are still the brightest jewels in the crown of man’s humanity. The best motto for any banner is “peace on earth and good will to man." The devil don’t like that banner and don’t tight un der it. I believe iu the existence of a personal devil or satan or an evil spirit who has myriads of subjects and wants as many more as he can get. I believe that good will triumph over evil and that victory is near at hand. The battle is going on now*. There is a general upheaving in ab Christendom. The church is more aggies- sive than it ever was before. There is more light, more thought, more work in all religious denominations. Love and charity are increas ing, especially is this so in these United States, the nation ihat is to lead all nations. Andrew Carnegie is a wonderful man. Ilis steel works now employ as many men as Krupp’s and turn out more, products and are established on the co-operative system. Carnegie says the United States are now rich enough to buy out Great Britain and Ireland and pay their liatioral dept and then have money enough left to buy Den mark and Norway and Switzerland and Greece and that we are getting richer at the rate of one r.ud a half billions every year, and yet we have only sixty millions of people while Eng land has 1110 millions in India alone and sixty millions at home and millions more scattered around. He says that there are only 400 thous and square miles of coal in the world, and three-lmirths of all these are iu the United States. It is amazing to read his statistics. Great and terrible wars are impending on the other side, but this nation is to hold the fort of Christianity and progress, and prepare the way for the millenium. So mote it be. I would like to live to see that millenium. I would’like to see the time when there were no courthouses, nor jails, nor chaingangs, nor dog-pounds, nor locks on doors, no police, nor sheriffs, no soldiers, except sol diers of th9 cross. Maybe I will. “And may I see your father to-morrow, Y e-s. 1 suppose it’s too late to see him to-night.” Marriage is generally looked upon as a mai den effort. No woman was ever yet married unless she made an effort. S “*k not to s'lun the rose’s thorn, N -r th'»»k ’twill come by luck, Sunday School Teacher—“Now, children, we must bear in mind that between our last week’s lesson and this quite a period of time is represented as having elapsed. During this time a very important event has taken place. Yes, Annie (noticing a little girl at the end of the class smiling knowingly), you may tell us what it is." Annie—“We’ve all got our winter hats." “There has been an awful bustle here this afternoon," said Spicer to Mrs. S., who had just returned to the hotel from an afternoon ride. “I know’ it," remarked the lady viciously. “It made me look like a camel, and 1 have sent it back to the clumsy woman who made it. Now what are you grinning at, Seth?” But Spicer bustled out of the room without vouchsafing an explanation. Jack (backward in his grammar)—“1’apa, what sort of speech is woman?" * l’apa (fresh from a verbal engagement with mamma, in which, of course, he has been badly worsted)—“She isn’t any part of speech at all, Jack; she is the whole of it.” SOLID FACTSI “Seven Springs” Iron-alum Mass, will give vou an appetite, strenalien you up, cure Dyspepsia. Dta- rhoea and all Headaches, purity the blood, act on tne Kidneys, relieves Catarrh and wards on Ma larln. Price BOcts and $1.00 per bottle. DIcKGVn PAIXLF.SK KYK U'atkk cures Inflamed eves at once. No Cnre-Ko P»y. Ask for It. Sold bv all druggists or sent by mall postpaid. Price 25cts Dlchey +■ Anderson, Manufacturers, Bristol Tenn. 5«H)m ENGLAND AND FRANCE. In addition to our borne practice, legal bnslnea. of every description undertaken ln the above conn tries. Including recovery of debts and claims bank rnptcv, common law, cbancery, probate and admtr 1 Stratton, divorce, shipping, conveyancing, compa ny law and sales and purchases of real and nerao nal property. To effectuate the above purpose wt La I e « r ? ie 1connections with responstbl. and efficient lawyers In London and Parts. BKOY1.ES a JOHNSTON, Attorneys-at-Law No. 8 8. Broad Street Atlanta.’oa. > l l! ! Jl OfllK* I-llliite- ! tin* pi11>1 if. 1>I*. i’i’Tt litiiT if his *M.’«>NSU3 »n(*<l that name as iriiif which, from i .a «.f tonic, or Htnn; i‘l-cicansiiur, anti-bi t.,n.l, . ill roust- Liver, Blood, and Lungs. ‘ Sol i I.v'li'niffirists, ut #1.00, or Bottkf r ' 's'nil ton rents in stamps for Dr. Pierce's ijook on Consumption. Achlrc^, Wcrld’s Dispensary Medical Assertion, GC3 Mu ill St., LSIFUALO, N. Y BEAST! Mexican Mustang Liniment CtTR.ES Sciatica, Scratches, I Contracted Lumbago, Sprains, | Muscles,. Rheumatism, Strains, Eruptions, Burnst Stitches, ! Hoof Ail, 8calds, Stiff Joints, Screw Stings, Backache, Worms, Bites. Galls, Swinney, Bruises, Sores, Saddle Galls* Eunions, Spavin Piles. Corns, Cracks. THJS GOOD OLD STAND-BY accomplishes for everybody exactly what is claimed* for it. One of the reasons for the great popularity of tho Mustang Liniment la found in its uuivcnnt applicability* Everybody needs such a medicine. The I.u The liuiiNd The Canale an needs it in eas 9 needs it for gem ;eds it for his tean needs it always Is it In case of em ralfii ul his stock yard. Tho fri ll <> i> id saf clianc »r tho Boji id ashore, needs it—i' eds It—It v f accident, ly use. his bes; The Sfock-growcr needs ft—It will save him thousands of dollars and a world of trouble. The Railroad man n< long as his life is a round of accidents and dangers. The Backwoodsman needs!. lug like it as an antidote for the dangers to life* limb and comfort which surround the pioneer. Tiie Merchant needs it about liis store among his eruplo: these conic Iv.ee p a ’ees. Accidents will happen, and * 1 the Mustang Liniment is wanted at or Bottle iu the House* ’Tis the besi Ivccp a ISottle in the Factory. Its immediate ? pain and loss of wages. **•6 V 587 of accident s Bottle Al wanted. GISKET Iff JEWELRY FREE! CHOPPING ^^ORDER TRADE. L ■ a m h SomSnel IF 116 E ^II«ll PrOfitablf «»»* di-fivrred breiSht Howe thiiL pi™-.swum... II .* S 01VSTW nre bt, 4 ii. 1 kkriMI* * STa SVkl *08. rn.VKs, loi Lni.w *ateri»i«. fiiti ris. TIOSS. J.SiitJiTiSv^^TIOSKRV, WUllllMi IJIVITX- Ma cUon and prempt attention rtaranteed. Mon„y Wri — COODS SHIVERED FREE* MAIL
