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TAB SPUMY SOOTH, ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY HORNING, JULY 30,1887,
TO THE RESCUE.
By JOSEPH S. JEAN.
CHAPTER VL
«Lt v. at bcr feet I watch and dream
Sue will not lift her Tell,
I dimly aee a brow sublime,
And Tea to res grand and pale.
And reel a mighty voice repUea
To all my rapture or my sighs.
Berengeria wan not left very long in the sur
vey of her new apartment. Soon a heavy tread
mlrmp the hall informed her of Videmar’s ap
proach. Aa his first gaze rested on her. he
stood amazed as much at her transformation
from her late rumpled habit to this regal splen
dor, as at her marvellous beauty. And when
unheeding his embarrassment she waved her
hand and said: “I pray you, be seated sir
be stumbled across the room “ d
awkwardly, pressed her fair haiid to his whis
kered lips. Ashe slowly raised his eyes and
rested them on her sad, lovely countenance he
muttered in husky tones, '.'Angel of beauty,
if it grieves you so to be deprived of one blessed
with your affection, think of my crushing sor
row, when loving you to despair, I seemed to
have lost you forever. Oh, hear me when I
swear, I adore, I idolize you—speak in—
“And yet my lord,” answered Berengena,
in tones sounding like a knell, “I never can
love you.”
Videmar’s eyes had gazed on her passionate-
lv imploringly, and on her utterance, he gave
a stifled groan and burjing his face in his
bands, his lrame shook with rage and disap
pointment. The princess was calm as she
laid her dimpled hand upon his burly head and
softly pleaded, “do you blame me Baron-Vide-
mar? merciful Heaven, could I love you now?
He threw his head up. “Can you ever love
me?’' he urged. “I would die, I would suffer
greater tortures than earth has ever known, to
win one -mile of approval from you my life,
my love.” .
“My lord,” continued Berengena, you are
rash spoken. Your impetuous spirit carries
your utterances by storm. Berengeria is to
thee but as a pretty plaything which some new
siren would d splace. Nay hear me, would
you risk your renown by courage in my be
half?”
“Bid me,” roared Videmar, “seek the lion
in his lair and I would throttle him, or singly
dare one hundred armed knights—”
“My lord,” said the princess, “woman dotes
on courage and success. H you should strive
and fail?”
“My head then falls a forfeit,” replied Vide
mar. “Who conquers should declare for you,
for I would only fail in death and a dead body
could have no claim on life.”
“Spoken like a fearless knight,” answered
the princess, “and does such valor esteem the
favor of Berengeria deserving of battle?”
“I would dare, for your sake,” continued
Videmar, “the horrors of a hundred deaths.
Did I not fight for you?” he added, springing
to his feet as his passion overcame his judg
ment. “I scaled the castle walls, I led the at
tack that carried the assault, and all for your
charms."
This allusion to her murdered father roused
the blood of Navarre and she also sprang to
her feet, exclaiming:
“Yes, false cartiff, you did overpower a
brave old man. You did send destruction—
hut no—” she sighed, as she calmed her spirit,
“with the embers of that castle, let the bloody
past sink into oblivion. Baron Videmar," she
continued in accents that were pleading, “you
know the blood within my veins and will not
condemn my spirit. I tell you plainly that I
loathe you now as a fiend of darkness, but
from this stigma you can arise. Do you heed
me, am I worthy of an effort?”
“Angel of mercy! grant me but an effort,”
and the bullying tyrant, overpowered by emo
tion, fell prostrate at the shrine of a fair and
spotless woman.
“Rise, Baron Videmar,” said the princess
mildly, “your posture ill becomes a champion.
Will you battle for me in single and fair com
bat?”
“I will by Heaven,” answered Videmir,
dragging himself nearer her and rising, “and
my—”
“Patience my lord,” rang the silver accents
of the lady. “My sex entitles me to the
speech. Baron Videmar where is the captive
knight?”
Videmar’s brow lowered, but he answered,
“be is in the cRstle.”
“In what portion of the castle?” continued
Berengeria searchingiy.
“I believe they put him in the donjon,” said
Videmar, turning his face to avoid her gaze.
“So thus,” spoke the princess, “the baron
of Chalug observes his professions about treat
ing his guests. For shame my lord! but hear
me. Will you, the cause being myself, engage
in single combat with this Sir Blondel?”
“I will,” thundered Videmar, ‘ and rend
him limb from limb.”
Berengeria trembled slightly as she gazed
upon his mighty form raging with furious pas-
sioD, and thought of the encounter between
him and the young fair haired knight. But,
“for life or death,” she murmured to herself
and then addressed Videmar. “Heaven that
is above us ail, shall be our witness to this cov
enant. You shall battle with the captive
knight. Should you prevail over him in open
and fair combat, the form of Berengeria is, by
her own consent, within your power and
should be.” She paused and locked at the
Baron
“He!” sneered Videmar, as if he scouted the
idea. “Why then my form is in the dust, but
my last order shall be, send Berengeria and
her knight in peace and give them means and
retinue to journey.”
“My lord,” said Berengeria, as she allowed
Videmar to detain for a moment, her hand
which be had taken, “even I, am for a mo
ment, regarding you kindly. My only protec
tion is in your honor and will you confirm my
hopes by your oath?”
“Assuredly,” answers d Videmar, “I will
Rwcar by the hand I strive to win,” and again
he pressed her fingers to bis lips.
“Nay swear not by the hand of fickle wo
man,” said the princess chidingly, and she
took a little crucifix from the niche by her
Bide, “swear by this emblem of ttuth itself.”
Berengeria exerted all her powers to charm.
Her eyes beamed from excitement with un
natural lustre; one instant the color mounted
her cheek, then her complexion changed to
deathly pallor. She lightly pressed the crucifix
tohis ipsas he took his oath. She calmed
her spirit with a struggle until, sinking back
into her cushioned chair, she drew from him
her hand.
“My Princess,” said Videmar, with one of
the few expressions of humanity that had ever
flitted over his face, “do not take from the
heart that loves you the hand that can soften
all my carrS.”
“Alas! poor woman that I am,” she an
swered, “I have not the power to confer my
hand. I do not remove from you my favor,
out merely keep for a time that committed to
my care, until I yield it to him by whom it is
won. But Baron Videmar, the hand that
clasps my own should be as pure as powerful,
and you have sworn that this contest shall be
fair. Is a feeble wearied man a fit antagonist
lor the proudest lacce of all the realm?”
“Great heavens, no!” answered Videmar,
“be shall be weil and sound when he fights me.
I will go now and bid them change his quar
ters, give him sunshine and medicine and fit
him for the fray, and more, I’ll—”
“Alas, poor captive,” she said, “he knows
not of your noble purpose. I must further
fall upon your clemency and ask one crown
ing act. Grant me one more brief inter
view with the knight, Sir Blondel, to learn if
be, also, is willing to battle for the favor of a
helpless woman?”
*‘I will go straight and send him,” answered
Videmar, and he rose to take his leave. “Fare
well, sweet lady, when again we meet—”
“May God smile upon our purpose,” she re
sponded, and suffered the boorish baron to
imprint his final kiss upon her soft white hand.
As the door closed after him, she turned away,
and as her heart beat fast at the thought of
seeing its idol once more, she fell upon her
knees and murmured:
“God be merciful to us, strengthen Sir Blon-
del's hand to strike the blow that shall free us
both, or else, strengthen my spirit, that should
my hero fail, this,” and she drew a dagger
from her girdle, “shall find its way to my
heart, ere that murderer find his way to my
hrewu”
CHAPTER VII.
Oppressed with baanting, hindering cares,
My heart rebels at late,
Sb« stoops to me, and lo! I share
Ber own imperial state.
I glide beyond my prison bars
and walk with ber the path of stars.
Videmar, after leaving the apartment of the
princess, felt confident and hopeful. Even
a'ter inflicting injury, a self-impressed sense
of atonement prompts a sense of assurance,
and if upon the plain, Videmar had turned
■pale and shrank back from the fray, it was be
cause the Angel i f Justice smote him with
Then too, when a single champion
seemed all hut overpowered, he who went
forth to end the combat would risk his reputa
tion, but never win renown, for it is small
prowess to crush an arm already weakened,
but ignomany to fall beneath an exhausted foe.
Besides, when men face an approaching
danger when it is probable the leading candi
date must fall, each prefers that the victim
should be some other than himself. While
the baron’s rough, determined nature was vile
enough to commit any crime in accomplishing
his purpose, he preferred, if possible, to meet
his ends by lawful and easier means. He was
rejoiced, therefore, at the covenant just made,
for he counted on obtaining by her own con
sent, the lady’s band, and be hoped, in conse
quence, her heart, and he was relieved at the
prospect of thus dispatching a dreaded and
preferred rival, for from his bearing and
prowess it was evident that the mysterious
captive was some illustrious personage.
Regarding himself the best lancer in the
province and that all circumstances abetted
his interest, Videmar felt no doubt of the con
flict ending in his favor, and he therefore has
tened and gave orders that the captive knight,
arrayed for that purpose, should be conducted
into the presence of the princess,and, after quit
ting her apartment, be provided with lodgings
where fresh air and exercise would be afforded.
The three days and nights of pain and soli
tary confinement had pressed heavily upon the
sick and wounded captive, whose unyielding
spirit ever struggled between gleams of hope
and shadows of despair.
On the fourth afternoon he lay exhausted
and prostrated, though undauDted, on his pal
let in a sort of fevered delirium, when heavy
footsteps outside roused him from his stupor;
a moment after the door opened and in the
dim ligbt he saw men enter. No word to him
was spoken, only a signal given to follow, and
the knight, thinking this his summons to eter
nity, staggered to his feet, and calmly, almost
gladly, followed them to change his foul damp
dungeon for the dark and unknown hereafter.
But after proceeding some distance in silence,
Sir Blondel was ushered into a rude kind of
chamber, where Videmar, with compressed
lips and folded arms, was slowly pacing the
floor. The baron seemed confused on facing
his captive, and instantly dropping his gaze,
stammered out:
“Brave knight, how has it fared with you?”
Sir Blondel fixed his magnificent eyes upon
his enemy and scanned him from head to foot,
as some mighty animal measures its foe before
it springs to destroy. Then he gave a look of
scorn on those around him as half defiantly,
half sadly, he Bpoke. “Great hearts a mighty
lion sorely wounded by his spoilers was torn
from his jungle, and being bound with chains
was cast into a dungeon. Around him, but
keeping at safe distance, came craven growling
hounds, while more hideous than his pack
strode a great vile cur, who, knowing himself
to be secure, barked and roared against the
lion. But the royal beast pining atthe thought
that he would never see his native haunts
again, heeded not his spoilers enough to mar
vel, that were he free, he would even note the
cur again. Great hearts, what think you,
could have brought this subject to my mind?
“Silence him,” shneked Videmar, as he
threw his hand up to his head, “but no, for
once I will restrain myself,” and with his
tones completely altered, be continued, “your
lady desires your immediate presence, and
here apparel will be given to fit you to ap
proach her. Does this please your grace?”
“Most potent lord,” answered Sir Blondel,
bowing profoundly, “I thought my mouth
would never open to you in any other shape
than curses, but here you force me to turn and
sound my thanks. Why, the cur, it seems, has
some mastiff in his veins.”
Videmar lingered a moment, as if anxious to
communicate something, but after an unintelli
gible stammer he blurted out, “she will ex
plain,” and left the room. Then the attendants
took Sir Blondel in their care. They bathed
and rubbed his stiff and wounded body. A
physician looked to his wounds and adminis
tered medicine, and then they dressed him in
robes after the style of a country nobleman.
Though he was wasted and suffering, he look
ed as he went out from that threshold, grander
and nobler than ever, for on his brow rested
an expression, that proclaimed its immortality,
but his pale face and sunken eyes were a sad
contrast to the dashing ruddy youth, who, but
a few mornings ago had ridden forth so full of
health and hope. Such a thrill of uncertainty
passed over him at thought of meeting the
princess again, that his knees tottered beneath
him, for it seemed as if each interview must be
the last. For a breathing space he leaned
against the wall, but recovering he started
again, and his excitement, though painful was
brief. Ere loDg the opening of a door disclosed
in all her spleddor the emblem of beauty and
misfortune. Before the guard Berengeria re
ceived Sir Blondel formally, but having
seen him seated she turned and addressed
them. “Since our business will require us to
introduce your names, we allow you the privi
lege of withdrawing.”
The attendants bowed and left the room, and
with a look inexpressibly tender, and yet a re
serve in her voice, the princess said, “the
traces of pain and suffering on your brow, my
lord, show that you have drank with me, my
cup of sorrow and anguish the dregs.
The knight on entering the lady’s presence
and beholding her transformation, was seized
with consternation and the deepest pang of
wounded suspense. Havivg left her under
such conditions and avowals of parting, and
finding her there arrayed, and commanding
the retainers of the castle, he could reach but
one conclusion that Berengeria at last was re
conciled to the cause of Videmar. With a
great pain and oppression at his heart, and a
voice for the first time muffled and tremulous
he answered:
“Madam, Heaven has placed within my sex
hearts, whose honor is their constancy, and
who, it seems, must undergo their greatest tor
ture in behalf of fair and fickle woman. Happy
is the hero, who, finding himself discarded, can
like myself, end his sufferings in death.” Ber
engeria with tho greatest effort of her life re
ressed her emotions as she continued, “but
when I see my noble prosector pale from suffer
ing for me, and hear such cruel words charged
to my account, I dispair to announce the mis
sion for which this interview was granted.”
And as she felt that the heart of her great hero
was beating unresponsively to her own, Bet-
engeria’s feelings overcome her and she bowed
her head a drooping figure of despondency.
“Come your highness,” urged Sir Blondel as
he rose and stood before her with a hollow
laugh. “I am still your champion and until
dismissed entreat you to play your part be
comingly. Does your spirit marvel to see a
great man fall? Yet,” he added musingly, “it
is a theme for grieving, the throbbings of a
mighty heart to beat out all alone. But go on,
Do you think that I, who, hourly have expect
ed death, will shrink from aught of mortality
Nay faint heart I will speak for thee. We do
accept,” he bowed with mock homage, “pro
tection of this castle. Blondel is disowned.
So our drama of beauty and glory has ended
and there is for Blondel but odb more part to
play, and that is make his exit”
“Oh, God!” exclaimed Berengeria, falling
back. “I was not prepared for this, Sir Blon
del,” she said, raising her head and speaking
in a distant voice, “I award you all your de
serts. You have godlike sublimity in action,
but no trusting nobility of soul. I will not im
pute falsehood to your statements and if you
have a single instinct to believe one thought
that yon have spoken, then farewell, aye for
ever, though the u.terance drew from me drops
of blood.”
The closing words were scarcely audible,
and she sank back in her despair, like the clos
ing act of some great tragedy, and for the
second time since her return to the castle, her
consciousness forsook her. On seeing the ef
fect his words had produced Blondel was seized
with remorse, and quickly using snch restora
tives as were at hand, he removed her head
from his shoulder where it had rested to the
chair, he addressed her with much fervor.
“I
have no heart to affirm my loyalty, for my late
agony showed how completely I am your own.
It was the darkness of my dungeon that wrung
from me such despairing doubts. But I plead
for myself by my zeal and my wounds for they
stamp my duty and devotion.”
“Yes, my gallant sufferer,” answered the
lady fondly, “your dungeon made you for once
a spirit of darkness even to Berengeria. But
let that dark moment precede the dawning of
my hope. Can you pledge me by your mother,
if she lives, by her memory, if she sleeps, that
you would never have forsaken me except by
my own wish? Assure me quickly and let my
doubts dissolve themselves like ugly dreams.”
“Princess,” answered Sir Blondel as—stand
ing before her—he took both of the fair hands
in his own, “take your knight as he is, a plain
solditr, rough somewhat, but ever ready. For
though I would abandon my life for your
wishes, I would have marched to die, but never
to surrender. No, you can yield me to one ri
val only, and that bridal couch is passionless
and eternal.”
Brave comforter,” said the princess, return
ing the clasp of his hands as if she feared to
lose him, “the solitude of even that dismal
dungeon could not break your devotion to the
cause of Berengeria.”
“Why, princess,” he replied reproachfully,
pity those wretches who have made them
selves our foes, for they shall atone for ail of
this. Let them rack my body. Never until,
they overcome my spirit can they say I am in
bondage. To one holding a taper in the night,
as the darkness grows his light gets brighter;
and so, as my life seemed waning, your face of
beauty and innocence beamed more vividly
and kept me from despair. Now let us attend
your mission. I am eager for action.”
“Hearken, then,” answered Berengeria, “for
the tyrant has jnst left me, and has sworn, with
vour agreement, to engage you in fair and open
CO nbat. Should you prevail, we are;” she
U tshed as her eyes met his and with a charm
ing smile continued, “free, and leave these ac
cursed dungeons But should be prevail, God
keep my noble knight whom I should never see
again; for the penalty of your defeat would be
committal of my form to Videmar, and, before
that, Heaven would receive its weary child,
even though her own hand should ei.d her suf
ferings to send her there.”
“But here,” exclaimed Sir Blondel assnring-
ly as he encircled her with his arm, "is the
hand that will rescue. Rouse, my princess,
from the greatest of earthly trials, a dread of
evils which may prove mere phantoms. The
arm which supports you Has never known de
feat, and now it will strive for the object of its
life.”
On! onl for better or for worse we go to
gether!” echoed Berengeria, “and you must
never leave me. But must it be? Your blood
to flow again in my behalf! Ah, unhappy Na
varre, the ban of fate seems to rest on thee and
all thine adherents. Yet,” she added more
calmly, “if our hour of communion is fitful, its
darkness only served to better show its splen
dor. But, my lord,” and Berengeria’s dainty
hand toyed with the hair on his forehead, “why
is this special sadness on your brow?”
“Because, princess,” responded Sir Blondel,
“when this stormy but proudest chapter of my
life has ended, and you go forth in your charms
to reign again in splendor, it will be but natu
ral that you should then forget the poor knight
who may have died for thee.”
“Do you know,” asked BereDgeria with that
beaming smile which still sometimes animated
her countenance, “that one thought has ever
solaced mv deepest anxieties? I could never
associate your grand image with dissolution.
Do not speak of your death or charge me with
ingratitude. Heaven will bless your effort and
you will announce your name, and Berengeria
will cherish nothing so fondly as its memory.”
“Aye,” answered the knight fervently, “the
past is secure—my image is indelible. Mem
ory will ever uphold my prestige from the jeal
ous suitors around you. A lost but not faded
image will rise before your beautiful eyes, and
you will sadly pause and consider if even in
'that favored throng my spirit has a peer.”
“My lord,” exclaimed the princess as the
color left her cheek and she gave an anxious,
eager gaze, “is Berengeria to thee only a theme
for action? Is our signal for relief a summons
for separation? Shall I never see you again?”
“Still onward and upward I must advance,”
answered the knight, gazing away through the
open window to the purple hills beyond, “and
win mv lady’s approval. And in coming years,
should' you hear my name and glory linked to
gether, think of my good deeds as your owd,
for your influence has been a guiding star for
my manhood ”
“May a higher brightness than mortal, keep
and bless you,” said the lady fervently, “since
you decree, alas! while my heart would turn to
you, that yours must incline so far away.”
“To see you, princess,” added the knight
solemnly, “would be ever to renew that long
ing in my heart which from oar different sta
tions in life, can never, never oh, princess
of Navarre!" and Sir Blondel pressed his lips
against the pleading faci that nestled on his
shoulder, “can I hope that your high and
beautiful young life will sanctify my wasted
and baffled manhood, my life, which, without
you, will be one joyless desert.”
“Blondel, my hero,” responded the princess,
“by all those claims which my weaker sex hold
upon your manhood, I beseech you pause ere
you have me pronounce a vow which must
prove my rise or ruiD. You would die for me,
yes, your devotion is assured, but impetuous
valor is ever ready to breathe its last in the
cause of injured beauty. But this vow would
bind when the passion and fervor of youth are
ended. Would the heart now beating respon
sively to the cause of injured innocence re
spond as loyally, as entirely, when youthful
throes have abated, when beauty has faded
and we sink from all that is active and impul
sive into a slow and steady decline? My lord,
last night I had a dream and
a dream. Methought that I v
a lone rock in mid. ocean. A1
the petrel and the storm,
the hurricane and gale, but
of my stronghold I rested
warning breakers below. S
rock about which my form
came a chill which froze my
and yet more deadiy grew my coldness until I
fell benumbed into the boiling waters. Fiercely
they tossed my form until a mighty wave
threw me against the rock and was dashing
out my wearied life against its cruel edge,
when, with a scream, I waked My lord, that
dream was of you. Should your great manly
heart award me its protection, I could repose
in its fulness and smile at all waves of adver
sity and care. But should your emotions
grow cold, the breast that hitherto had sus
tained, would prove the rock on which my
heart would break. My tongue must utter no
deception. Since your form and spirit crossed
my being, in you have centered all my hopes
and love of life. But think. If from these
walls you ever should go forth without me,
would the sunshine seem as bright, would the
birds carol so blithely, would other faces but
recall the one forever lost? Indeed, would it
be without me, the same old merry, laughing
world?”
As thd full deep tones of the princess uttered
this longest and most tender speech of her life,
the knight had kept his gaze on her hand
which he was holding, but at its close, his
splendid eyes were fixed with a full meaning
in hers.
“It was a beautiful but cruel dream,” he said
laughingly, but tenderly, “because it pictures
me as apart and chilling you, whereas, come
what might, I should have been at your side,
with my heart beating to your heart. For if
your beauty and claims have so engaged a
wayward youth, each year will make me more
capable of appreciating and loving. So bright
est eyes you must beam on me and me alone
forever. Heaven sent me a guardian angel,
and what Heaven has ‘conferred, Heaven only
shall despoil me of, and that alone in the
grave.”
Then responded Berengeria, returning the
pressure of the hand that held her own: "Were
my Blondel’s rank one-fifth equal to his nobil
ity of soul, he should claim the hand of Na
varre; and here, with no witness but the great
eye of Heaven, Berengeria pledges herself as
your betrothed.”
The knight raised the lily fingers to his lips,
as he softly said, “and on the hand of my affi
anced I consecrate the undying love of a life
time.”
“Do you impress your seal of eternity only
upon my hand?” asked the princess, with a
coquettish winning smile.
Sir Blondel blushed, as stooping he imprint
ed a fervent kiss upon her cherry lips, a hasty
kiss, for the door was opened, and a guard
who entered, announced that his mission was
to conduct the kDight to his new apartments.
Without another word Sir Blondel bowed low
to the pr ncess, and having withdrawn, fol
lowed his keepers with a lighter heart than
had beat in his bosom since he entered the
dungeon.
[to be continued ]
MOKEHEAD.
Within Sound of the Sea.
Scenes and Incidents Enjoyed by a
Large Party of North Carolinians.
the(oi/nt^y
Philosopher
[Copyrighted by author. All rights reserved.]
Noth.—By special arrangement with the author of
these articles and the Atlanta Constitution, for which
paper they are written under a special contract, we
publish them in the Sunni South under the copy
right. No other papers are allowed to publish them.
So many have written to me to know where
Baxter’s pamphlet on the millennum can be
had that I must answer publicly and say, I do
not know—nor do I know who sent it to me
nor where it was mailed. An old friend wrote
me to send it to him and I sent it. I do know
that it is no ordinary interpretation of tne
prophecies and that it contains many wonder
ful and startling facts. But a kind lady from
Allegheny has sent me a book of 350 pages
called the Millennial Dawn, Charles T. Rus
sell, and published by the Tower Publishing
company in Pittsburg, Pa., which is far more
comprehensive, and will, I believe, awaken
the thinking world. It is in paper cover, and
worth I suppose, not more than fifty cents,
see that its sale is already over twenty-five
thousand. It is impossible to read this book
without loving the writer and pondering his
wonderful solution of the great mysteries that
have troubledlw all our lives. There is hard
ly a family to be found that has not lost some
loved one who died ontside the church—out
side the plan of salvation and if Calvinism be
true outside of all hope and inside of eter
nal torment and despair. We smother our
feelings and turn away from the horrible pic
ture. We dare not deny the faith of our
fathers, and yet can it be possible that the good
mother and her wandering child are forever
separated—forever and forever.
1 believe it is the rigidity of these teachings
that makes atheists and infidels and skeptics—
makes Christains unhappy and brings their
gray hairs down in sorrow to the grave—a lost
child, a lost soul.
Let us see how many lost souls. The geog
raphers give the world a present population of
fourteen hundred million, of whom only one
hundred and sixteen million are Christians,
Good for North Carolina.
The Durham Cotton Plant says: The reve
nue receipts in this district last month were
§05,000; of this amount §59,000 was paid by
Durham.
Our exchanges from that State exult over
the fact that Morganton, Morehead City, Ash-
ville, Waynesville, Hot Springs, Blowing Rock
Hendersonville, Roan Mountain, Lenoir and
many other places are getting their share of
pleasure, comfort and health seekers.
The aerial fish pond of Messrs. Duke, which
is built on top of their mammoth factory, at
Durham, is now the topic of conversation.
The pond has been there for seme time, and
the fish are becoming numerous and large.
Handsome four pound carp have been caught
there.
Children Starving to Death
On account of their inability to digest food,
will find a most marvellous food and remedy in
Scott’s Emulsion of Pure Cod Liver Oil with
Hypophospbites. Very palatable and easily
digested. Dr. S. W. Cohen, of Waco, Texas,
says: “I have used your Emulsion in Infantile
wasting with good results. It not only restor
es wasted tissues, but gives strength and in
creases the appetite. I am glad to use such a
reliable article.”
It is suggested that the plan of executing
criminals by electricity will give relations a
chance to say that their luckless kinsman was
stru:k by lightning.
that is, who live in Christian countries. Of
these, only sixteen million are adult members
of the church; and of these, about one million
walk not after the flesh, but after the spirit.
That it is a beautiful picture. Only one'mil
lion of truly good, pious Christian people in ah
the world, and thirteen hundred and ninety-
nine millions who are elected to be eternally
damned. Add to these figures one hundred
and forty-two billions who have already lived
and died lg._yiAdMMML and if all these are
od’s plan of salva-
He gets one soul
res thousands,
laches tnat man’s
1 are to rise from
s, and that He is
within a few years,
earth a thousand years, and
will offer His salvation to all people; not only
to the living, but to those who rise from the
dead. His kingdom will be supported by the
saints and by good people everywhere, and the
mother will have another chance to reclaim
her wandering child and bring him unto the
kingdom. This wonderful book makes no
assertions that are not well sustained by the
Scriptures. It is built up stone by stone, and
upon every stone is the text, and it becomes a
pyramid of God’s love, and mercy, and wis
dom. There is nothing in the Bible that the
author denies or doubts, but there are many
texts that he throws a flood of light upon that
seems to uncover its dark and gloomy mean
ing. I see that editors of leading journals,
and many orthodox ministers of different de
nominations, tave indorsed it and have con-
iessed to this new and comforting light that has
dawned upon the interpretation of God’s book.
Then let every man read and ponder and take
comfort for we are all prisoners of hope.
This is an age of advanced thought and more
thinking is done than ever before, men dare
to think now. Light—more light is the watch
word.
Still we have plenty to do besides thinking
about the millennum. That may be a century
off or it may be only a fev years. Baxter says
that a mistake of a hundred years was made
in the number of years that the judges of Israel
ruled and that ail modern chronologists admit
it, and that this is really 1987 instead of 1887,
and that the (1,000 years since the creation of
Adam have nearly passed. Mr. Russell says
that 0,000 years must pass before Christ comes,
and that they have nearly passed. But we
have a good deal to do and need not be selling
out or making white garments for we are not
going to ascend up to heaven even if the mil
ieu num does come. Jesus Christ is going to
descend down here and set up his kingdom,
and we will have to live on and work on under
a government where not a stain will mar the
harmony of society, not a bitter thought nor an
unkind word, not an ache nor a pain, nor any
decay, nor the fear of it. The human form and
feature wdl be perfect in its beauty, and al
though human as it is—now will besurppassing
loveliness. Won’t it he glorious to live at such
a time and never die—no toothache nor back
ache nor lingering rheumatism; nor empty
sleeves nor crutches nor glass eyes nor bald
heads; no quarreling about the State road and
the convicts and prohibition and the pay of the
jurymen. Why, if Mr. Baxter’s count is right,
the general assembly needn’t lease the State
road for more than ten years, for it will be run
under a new regime, and one man will have no
more privileges than another. Every man will
have to do his share of work. It will go mighty
hard with some. I know, but maybe they will
get used to it. Money won’t relieve a man,
neither will his pedigree, but all will have to
work for the common good. Mr. Russell says
that the earth will have abundant room for the
250 billions who have died, and the one and a
half billions who now live, and that they all
can stand erect within the limits of Ireland,
allowing two square feet of space for each. The
earth will then yield her increase, and the
desert will blossom as the rose, and waters
shall break forth in the wilderness and streams
in the desert. With the help and power of such
a king I reckon we can all get along if we de
serve to. But if the time is near at hand our
people had better begin to get used to some
things. The rich and greedy had better begin
to divide out a little along by degrees. The
malicious and quarrelsome had better begin
to cultivate the virtues of love and charity.
The lazy had better rouse up and work a lit
tle. White folks had better quit cheating and
darkies quit stealing, for it will be awful hard
to stop all of a sudden. It will be safest any
how for us all to lifre just like we knew the
millennum was coming very soon, whether it
comes or not. Let us have our lamps trimmed
and burning.
Storm Signals.
As the coming of a great storm is heralded
by the display of cau: ionary signals, so is the
approach of that dread aud fatal disease, Con
sumption of the Lungs, usually announced, in
advance by pimples, blotches, eruptions, ul
cers. glandular swellings, and kindred outward
manifestations of the internal blood poison,
which if not promptly expelled from the system,
attacks the delicate tissues of the iungs, caus
ing them to ulcerate and break down. Dr.
Pierce’s “Golden Medical Discovery” is the
great remedy for this, as for all diseases having
origin in bad blood. It improves the appetite
aud digestion, increases nutrition and builds
up the wasted system.
Editor Sunnt South: Like the applicant
at the French Academy, I lay my rose-leaf
upon the already full cup of Morehead de
scribed; for, like the elastic hotel at that place,
there is always room for one more.
We went, we saw, we were conquered. First,
by the crowd on our arrival in the “wee sms'
hours ayant the twal," when the long train
poured ont its hundreds into the circumscribed
office where each illustrated the first law of
nature, and enforced is with cruel loots and
penetrating elbows. We registered; we re-
| tired to our apartment where we waited with
| commendable patience the appearance of our
baggage, but when we were informed that it
must take its chance of disinterment from un
der three hundred other Saratogas, we meekly
resigned ourselves to the inevitable, and re
tired in cur traveling robes. What one needs
at a time and place like that is adaptability,
the lack of it is indeed the direful spring of
woes unnumbered. We awoke the next morn
ing feeling twice as good as new, and to get a
glimpse of the water whose steady swash,
swash beneath our window had lulled us to
rest and mingled with our dreams. We see,
stretchine away on either side, a broad ex
panse of flickering light and motion—a great
golden ball slowly rising from its depths, ra
diating auroral spikes far into the blue zenith
—a long low desolate line of sand softly oat
lining the distant level of the sea, just beyond
which the ocean roars, struggles and lashes
itself into fury in an ineffectual effort to pass
this barrier. This is Morehead’s safe-guard;
but for it the tragedy of Beaufort might again
be enacted. Little fishing boats here and there
dot the calm waters—a sharpie spreads its
white wings in its eastward flight toward the
ocean. Quiet reigns on the earth, on the
sky, on the sea; all nature is bathed with in
effable light and made sacred with unbroken
silence. The Enthusiastic breaks out with
rapturous declaration that the ocean shall be
embalmed in a poem. “Provided it is after-
terwards buried,” returns the Discontented.
Later on the dictator announces the light
house next on the programme. Accordingly
we make up our party and set sail for that de
sired haven. But however willing be the
spirit, the flesh is not always responsive, and
before we had gotten fully under way many
who had come out in the glow of youth, hope,
fresh sunshine and quiet internal arrange
ments, drooped their heads limp and despair
ing, before the uncompromising “Oh my!”
and rendered up a full and free account of the
bill of fare. Now if you are sagacious, you
will not attempt that trip without ice, lemons
and brandy, for the demon of sea-sickness
waits for all the unwary, who being seized
first are afraid they will die, then afraid they
will not. A fifteen miles run of rocking wave
and riotous breaker, of dashing spray and long
ocean swell, with jnst enough of danger to
exhilerate, to flash the cheek and bright
en the eye, and we land at a discourag
ing distance from the light-house. It
stands solitary in sharp relief against
the quiet sky, cut off from companion
ship with the activities and interests of life,
yet calmly, serenely fulfilling its great trust.
Blazing sky above, treacherous sand beneath
test our powers of endurance and equilibrium
of temper, but the distance is at last accom
plished and we find ourselves at the foot of the
sentinel of the cape taking mental guage of its
height and our ability to ascend. The resi
dence of the keeper is pro tempore turned into
a Hotel des Invalids, and the undismayed go
forward to find the heat increasing in ratio to
ascent and the spiral stairway setting one’s
senses awhirl. At a height of two hundred
feet from the base we find the immense lamp
that throws its friendly warning forty miles
away. The keeper tells us that it consumes
nine gallons of oil per night, and while he goes
on explaining its construction the vision of the
Enthusiastic wanders out over the magnificent
view—the quiet waters of the sound rolling its
volume slumbrously to the beach—the white
passionate surf breaking in wild remonstrant
fury against the banks—the clouds massing up
in piles of foamy cumuli against the clear blue.
The voice of the keeper becomes a low mono
tone as of the distant hum of bees. A gallant
boat sails away over the sunlit sea to the far
off bourne of tropical shores—the spicy odors
fill her sails, soft music charms the languid
air. Now the Isle of the Blessed looms in
view—the land “where it is always afternoon”
—there the gleam of rivers, waviLg of lights
and shadows, the aged pinnacles of snow
“Wha ?”
The Enthusiastic comes down from the third
heaven to find the Discontented tugging vigo
rously at her sleeve and saying with the low
distinct emphasis used to awaken sleepers
“A squall, a s-q-u-a-l-l!”
“En?”
The Discontented points with impatient fin
ger to the air castles of the Enthusiastic which
looming up in dark flying masses portend a
reality of storm. To remain here longer, even
for an Enthusiastic, were simply idiocy, so we
go down with all possible exptdition and make
our way as best we can to the boat, which, as
we toil on with weary feet, seems to our lon°’-
’ug eyes a mirage. Some fishermen have made
great haul, and the fish flounder and flatter
and turn their silvery sides to the sun, which
is intense enough to save the cook farther
troub.e. A devil fish is beached just across
our path; we tarry not, not the wiles brought
to bear upon Ulysees could have enticed us.
Once embarked, running in the teeth of the
wind, the reckless spray dashing over us, our
spirits rise with the occasion aud we give to
the winds with gusto, “Life on the ocean
wave.”
Waiting, the next morning at breakfast, for
the return of our ganymede, who though lost
to sight is still to memory dear, and debating
the propriety of an in memoriam, the Dictator
speaks as one in authority: Exercises for
the day—the Fort, Beaufort, the Colfax, “Pel-
ion on Ossa!” Thus the Discontented.
“Peel your own sauce, eh?” inquires the
Agreeable with a propititory smile, stripping
our sole table ornament of its gilded wrapping
as, the fullness of time being come, our lost
one sets down his waiter with a thud at once
suggestive and reassuring.
“Direct interposition of Providence in your
behalf,” says the Discontented.
We fall to with a will, and aa hour later are
skimming the waves in the direction of the
fort. Unable to land at the dock by reason of
its insecurity, we go ashore at the beach and
plod our way tnrongh yielding sands to the
fort. We find this a pentagonal structure, en
circled by a dry moat, with grass-grown court
and rampart, telliDg a tale of peace. The
walls of the entrance are four feet thick, which
the Enthusiastic measures and begins to talk
of the Bastile, Feudal castles, Amy Robsart
and Marianna. On the rampart we find two
mounted cannon pointing the way that Bum-
side came upon our boys in grey in ’62. The
walls still bear mementoes of that little un
pleasantness, though the brilliant lizard now
slips in and out the disused caissons, and the
grass springs rank and green from the once
blood-stained earth. The commandant lives
here, we are told, entirely alone. How clear
a conscience one must have to bear such close
and lengthened self-communion! Homeward
bound we pulled up alongside the revenue-
cutter Colfax. We are struck by the exquisite
neatness of its keeping, the picturesque appear
ance of the jolly tars, in their white uniform
and star-embroidered collars, the coziness of
the interior, the kindness and urbanity of the
captain; this last feature completely captured
the Agreeable, who insists upon Moore and
had to be taken away Willy-willy.
On Sunday our party—the majority of ns—
decided to go to Beaufort to Divine service,
thus compelling the minority by a sort of
moral violence, to do likewise. The Discon
tented asserted that Sunday as a recreation,
is not to be advocated; but to sacrifice one’s
self for the good of one’s friends, is excellent
discipline, therefore a means of grace. The
Enthusiastic declared that the sea, raising its
mighty voice in an eternal diapason of praise,
is more eloquent and impressive in its teaching
than a thousand human tongues, and no place
so suited to this effect as its broad bosom. The
Agreeable says that recreation in the generic
is perfectly legitimate—an oasis in the seven
days expanse of sand (using a metaphor we
can fully appreciate). Where one should draw
the line between rest and recreation, is a mat
ter of conscience—a case of meats offered to
idols. Thank Heaven! the puritanical days
are passed when a man could not even kiss his
wife on Sunday. The Dictator closes the dis
cussion by inquiring if the remote possibility
of that state can cast a shadow of such length.
Beaufort is a quiet little grass grown town,
nestling close to the shore, making a brave
effort to assert itself by a line of two storied
white houses fronting the water, which gives
pretty effect, vidWed frqm the sOfffid—the pret
tier because of the now tabooed color.
At the neat little church we are soon con
fessing ourselves miserable sinners, with more
promptness than conviction, I fear. The im
pressive words of the white-robed minister are
rendered doubly so by the grey hair and trem
bling form, which speak all too truly that lor
him the angel must indeed soon roll away the
stone of life’s trials.
That we went to the surf goes without the
saying. Every one goes as spectator or par
ticipant A twenty minutes sail across the
sound brings ns to our point of disembarkment,
before which lies an uninviting stretch of sand.
Overcoming this, we receive the reward of well
directed energy in a seat in the pavilion or one
upon the beach. We choose the latter. The
bathers hold a sort of aquatic carnival, and,
not always the mould of form, are certainly the
observed of all observers. Could not the ge
nius of Worth—a worthy effort—be enlisted in
the invention of a bathing suit which will not
so clearly reveal processes and is not so pro
motive of the study of anatomy?
From a sail over the moonlit; sea, where each
wavelet had imprisoned a ray and held it
gleaming and sparkling in successful rivalry of
the lights above; when the Discontented even
had perpetrated poetry and the Enthusiastic
was quite beyond words; when the heart was
filled with the purity and sublimity of nature—
the eternal stars and the tossing sea types of
the immutability and majesty of the Creator—
we enter the ball-room. A descent from na
ture to art need not be precipitous, but it is in
this instance. The air pulsates with the music
of the waltz, couples gyrate in dizzying circles,
wall flowers look on wistfully or despairingly.
This age is nothing if not latitudinous.
One’s opinion of the round dances, or of
dancing at all, must depend upon the stand
point of education—whether one has Degun to
look upon it from a rural home or the Jardin
Mabille. But one need not regard waltzing as
one of the seven deadly sins in order to see the
trend of the present style of execution. Under
certain restrictions it is right and proper; but
upon the general principle that anything that
lessens the sanctity of woman is to be repro
bated, the waltz must fall under the ban.
Upon the courteous invitation of the obliging
and affable Clerk of the Court, Mr. Rumley,
we sail over to Beaufort one bright mornino- to
examine the old records and hunt up antiqui
ties. We are shown the records of grants of
land from George II. to some of the original
settlers. The phraseology is quaint, some
terms now obsolete, and an unnecessa
ry complication of “saids” and “aforesaids.”
Threading the quiet streets, we come to the
cemetery with its time-worn stones and epi
taphs. Here we find the old English custom
ot burying the dead about the churches. En
closed in a moss-grown slab of granite, on
which is cut a vine oi ivy, is a white marble
tablet to the memory of James Wulff, a Cap
tain in the Danish navy, who died in 1819 of
smallpox. Away from home and kindred
love sought him out and sent this stone a me
morial from Denmark. In coming to make
her annual visit, the faithful sistei found her
last resting place in the bosom of the Atlantic
Pausing beside a low mound we are told of a
love unequaled by anything in fact or fiction.
A gentle maiden was betrothed to a lover well
worthy of her affection, but who, for lack of
gold, went to seek his fortune in the then un
settled West. Those were days of slow trans
portation and slower mails, but he trusted to
the tongue of the absent to keep alive the di
vine flame. These letters were intercepted by
a brother, and so they drifted apart. He, wirh
a mau’s easy adjustment in such cases, mar
ried; she, true to the constant nature of her
sex, refused to be off with the old love. Years
pass. One day the post master receives a let
ter of inquiry from the wanderer, stating his
anxiety to know of the well-being and wherea
bouts of his old love. He is now rich and
prosperous, a widower, ready to come and
claim her, if living. This letter is laid before
the lady now poor, old, bed-ridden and dying.
She replies to the sometime lover, now nearing
four score, that she is dying. He will take no
refusal, hastens to her bedside, marries her to
enjoy but three months of wedded bliss.
‘Ah,” sighs the Enthusiastic, “those three
months were worth the whole of each life
this the prelude, then fruition.”
“How about Mrs. Blank?” Thus the Dis
contented.
“The bliss of ignorance,” puts in the Agree
able. ' During the fruition?”
“Can’t say, but during the prelude this: No
woman ever breathed, so light of head or small
of heart, that she does not know if she fills her
husband’s heart and was savage or crushed
by the knowledge.”
Later in the week we set our faces toward
historic New Berne, a beautiful tree-embos
omed town, located at the meeting of the wa-
te: s Tie it and Neuse. We catch a gleam of
water through many green avenues, and among
handsome residences we find here and there a
quaint old house with ;erial balconies or sol
emn dormer windows—they fascinate us, and
the Enthusiastic begins at once to weave a web
of fancy concerning the generations who have
lived and loved and died in them. Among
other handsome buildings the Baptist church,
with its ivy-grown walls, is conspicuous. But
the Episcopal church, surrounded by its dead,
drew us into an interest not to be analyzed.
Passing over the pavement containing an inlaid
cross of white marble, we come to a porch in the
old English style, the memorial of a poor woman
who left her all, a few hundreds to the church
of her love. We go in and find ourselves in a
beautiful room, well arranged in regard to
acoustics into which a dim religious light steals
through handsome memorial windows. The
colonial church stood a little southwest of this,
to which George II presented the communion
service and a bible. These we did not see, as
they are kept under lock and key. A hedge of
euonymus, beautiful in design and kee; ing,
surrounds the grounds. Here are the oldest
graves in the state, dating back one hundred
and fifty years. The Discontented declares
the Enthusiastic to have been a ghoul in a pre
vious state of existence as she drops down in
the grass and bends her energies to decipher
ing the inscri ption with which the elements
had been so iong at war. She has her reward.
“Here lyes buryed the body of Jonah How
ard, soune of John Howard, Esq., a young
man of surprising ingenuity who departed this
life Oct. 10th, 1752, aged 22.
Thy Friends for thee in Tears did burst,
But as thy Youthfull Piety was great
We all submit with thee to follow Christ.”
Another is spoken of as an honest lawyer.
Quite a commentary on the profession. Furth
er on another is commended for his dignified
manners. To the left of the gate we noticed a
stone, the silent sleepers beneath illustrating
the truth that greater love hath no man, than
that he will give his life for a friend. The pa
thetic story runs thus: A young father aud
mother with their first babe are sailing in a
small boat. The laughing child leaps from its
mother’s arms into the water; she instinctively
springs after it, the father follows in a vain en
deavor to gsave them—they are all drowned.
We are indebted for kind attention and infor
mation on many points of New Berne history
to Mr. J. S. Long, to wuom we take this op
portunity of once more returning our acknowl
edgements. The arch over the town cemetery
being concrete, absorbs moisture and returns
it at rare intervals in a drop on the head of
some unwary passer-by. There is a supersti
tion to the effect that he npon whose head it
falls will be next carried in. As we bid fare
well to the beautiful town, the sun shines, the
birds sing, the boats sail over the broad and
smiling river. To these and to all we wish
through life bon voyage.
H. E. Shipley.
The Fireflies' Dsnce.
BY ELEANOR M. GERRY.
Bv the river’s grassy margin,
Silvered In the moonbeam's light,
In the pleasant month < f roses,
Saw I once a wondrous sight.
Flitting o’er the meadow grasses,
O’er the daisies Dim and tall,
Fairy dancers, lightly whirling.
Gathered tor the lliri flies bail.
A'l were robed in gauzy garments
By tbe busy spider sewed ;
Witile for ornament, a dew drop
On each tiny girdle glowed.
G-and the ball-room Nature furnished.
K toted with azure, lit bv stars,
Carpeted with rarest velvet.
Hung with twilight’s purple bars.
Water-lilies, pure and stately,
Swung their perfumed censers near.
And sweet strains oi wondrous music
Fell upon ray listening ear.
Music ot tbe woods and marshes;
Pipe ot frogs so clear and sbrih,
Ripple soft of lapsing waters,
Cbirp of crickets on tbe bill.
Btect In barmony celestial,
Swelled tbe meadow chorus loud,
Faster yet, In rytbmlc measure,
Whirled the giddy, glittering crowd.
As I gazed in speechless wond' r,
Ceased the merry music shrill,
Ceased tbe dancers’ airy motion;
Silence reigned o’er vale and bill.
Bnt a moment, tben the crickets
Re-:ommerced their Joyous song,
ADd till Day flung oat ber banners,
Danced the Art flies all night long.
Only Eight, but a Financier.
An Auburn eighi-year-old, who went to the
grocery, the other day, after a quart of kero
sene oil, when oil was at 18 cents a gallon, rea
soned thus with the grocer: “Mr Greens, how
much would half a gallon be?” “Nine cents,
my son.” “And how much would that be for
one quart, Mr. Greens?” “Five cents, my son.”"
“Yes, but Mr. Greens, if it would be five cents
for one of the quarts of a half-gallon, it would
be four cents for the other quart, wouldn’t it?”
“Well, h-m-m, lemme see; yes, why, yes; ves,
s’pose it would.” “Well, then, Mr. Greens,
d like that other quart for four cents, cos
mother said I could have the change, and I
want a piece of white gum with the cent that’s,
left;” and the financier put down the cash for
oil and gum in the shape of a nickel.
That boy will be inventing a scheme some
day that will discount building and loan asso
ciations, and such like.
The crow is the most rational of bipeds. It
never makes a noise without caws.
Nothing goes so fast as time, they say; and
yet there are plenty of men who find no trouble
in passing it.
Intellectual Tramp—The surplusage in the
National Treasury promises to be a matter of
solicitude. In view of—
Practical Tramp—The surplusage doesn’t
bother me. It’s the shortage. What I’m
bothered about is where to get a nickel for
another drink.
My First Venture.
I can’t remember wbat was said;
’Twas notbingwortb a song or story;
Yet that rude path by wbtcb we sped
Seemed all transformed and in a glory.
To have ber with me there alone—
’Twas love and fear and triumph blended.
At last we reacbed tbe loot-worn stone
Where tbat delicious Journey ended.
She shook ber ringlets from her hood.
And with a “Thank you, Ned,” dissembled -
But yet I know she understood
With wbat a daring wish I trembled.
A cloud passed kindly overhead,
The moon was slowly pet ping through it
Yet bid its face as if it said J ’
“Come, now or never 1 do it! do it!
My tips till tben bad only known
The kiss ot motber and of sister;
But somebow, full upon her own
Sweet, rosy, darling mouth—I kissed her.
Perhaps ’twas boyish love, yet still,
Ob, listless woman, weary lover I
To feel once more tbat fresb, wild thrill
I’d give—but who can live youth o ver ?
MISSOURI.
Mr. J. C. England, of Kearney, has a sun
flower stalk in his garden with 126 flowers on
it. Can any one beat it?
Phil D. Armour is talking of building a §500,-
000 packing house in St. Joseph. He asks the
city to give him twenty acres of land and one-
fifth of the amount of money.
Prof. G. N. Grisham, of Lincoln Institute,
has accepted the principalship of Sumner
School, Kansas City. He is a man of rare and
varied attainments and one among the ablest
men of the West.
If bilious, or suffering from impurity of blood,
or weak lungs, and fear of ccmsumption (scro
fulous disease of the lungs), take Dr. Pierce’s
“Golden Medical Discovery,” and it will cure
you. By druggists.
A young man going into politics should give
his character to the devil and his pocketbook to
his wife. When he repents he may be saved.
Politician—Now you stand by us in this mat
ter, my boy, and we’ll have you in the United
States Senate some day.
My Boy—Oh, no, you won’t. I don’t want
to have my creditors sizing me upfe r a million
aire and worrying the life out of me.
Gentleman—But I am afraid he wouldn’t
make a good watch dog. Man with Pure—
Not a good watch dog! Why, lor bless your
art, it was only last week that this ’ere werrv
animal held a burglar down bv the throat and
beat his brains out with its tail.
A New Hampshire genius advertises for “a
pushing man to do business with a wheelbar
row.”
For Expectant Bridegrooms.
A husband euly tri lnea should be
A model of sagacity,
Should understand especially
Tbe marvelous capacity
The clever perspicacity
Of woman’s wisdom and esprit
Compared with ills opacity -
Sbou d listen silently when sue
Indulges in lrquacty.
And trust unhesita i g v
Her knowledge ana voracity.
If now and then sbe chance to be
Comparatively tacit, be
May venture the audacity
To speak a word respectfully.
If sbe unnoticed pass it, be
Must show no pertinacity,
No masculine pugnacity.
But humbly wait, and patiently.
To swallow with voracity
Whatever crumbs of wisdom sbe
May orop, and to her precep's be
Should cleave with meek tenacl y.
The other day there was found lyin» bv one
side of a ditch a pig. On the other side a man
The pig was sober, the man drunk. The pig
had a ring in his nose, the man had a ring on
his finger. Someone passing exclaimed: “One
is judged from the compaoy he keeps.” The
pig arose and went away.
This story is told of an old man who was
very ill: The doctor tried to comfort him. He
would not be comforted. “You are not going
to die yet.” “Yes, I am; I know it.” “Not a
bit of it. You’ll live to be 80.” “Eighty?”
No, I won’t. I’m sure of it.” “Why?” “Wbv
should the Lord take me at 80 when he can get
TYIA nt.
Cure Great Stacks of Hay.
When the crops are layed by, turn in and
gather and cure greal stacks of hay. Save all
the fodder and pea vines that you can for the
poor cattle to eat during the bleak and barren
winter months.
A CARD.
To all who are buffering from the errors and
Indiscretions of youth, nervous weakness, early
decay, loss of manhood, Ac., I will send a recipe
that will cure you, FREE OF CHARGE. This great
remedy was discovered by a missionary in South
America. Send a self-addressed envelope to the
Rev. Joseph T. I>*2IA>\ Station D, yew York City.
The Lynchburg Virginian says that sc me
“unidet tified” poet gets there with both leet
on the flag question in the following:
Furl tbat banner; needn’t return it •
We don’t w.ni it—smash it, burn it’-
Let ns have peace—confound it— ’
Dorn il!
Tbe Beginning of tbe End.
The beginning of disease is a slight debility
er disorder of some of the vital organs, the
stomach, the liver or the bowels usually.
There are dyspeptic symptoms, the liver is
troublesome, the skin grows tawney and un
healthy looking, there are pains In the right
side or through the right shoulder blade. The
climax is often an utter prostration of the
physical energies, perhaps a fatal issue. But
if the difficulty is met in time with Hostetter’s
Stomach Bitters, which is always effective as
a remedy, and it should be resorted to at an
early stage, there will he no reason to ap
prehend those injurious subsequent effects
upon the system ollen entailed by entirely
cured diseases. Far better is it, also, to em
ploy this safe remedial agent in fever ami
ague(> and other malarial complaints, than
quinine and other potent drugs, which, even
when they do prove effectual for a time, ruin
the stomach aud impair the general health.