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THE SUNNY SOUTH, ATLANTA, GA.. SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 6, 1887.
TO THE RESCUE
By JOSEPH S. BBAJJ.
CHAPTER VIII.
“Hope, like a glimmering taper’s light,
Adorns and cheers the way;
And still, as deeper grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.”
Sir Blondel was surprised at the new lodging
into which he was conducted. A large gather
ing hall it appeared, which, thongh strongly re
sembling a prison on account of its bolts and
bars, yet wore an air of comfort with its easy
furniture and large, open windows through
which the pleasant breeze and sunshine were
admitted. The poor knight, in his delirium of
happiness, turned and thanked his captors as
though they had done him some service; and
when they had departed he sat down to delib
erate and prepare for the conflict, until, at
tracted by the waning light, he strayed to the
window and gazed on the distant landscape,
for the great thickness of the window walls
prevented his looking below.
While be stood thus wrapt in thought a voice,
soft, but clear, rose in the full melody of song
and pierced at once the dungeon and heart of
the captive.
» “Blondel,” he murmured to himself. “Blon
del, my brother of song. There is but one voice
in England that can sound and float such
notes.”
And then, as the minstrel’s song fell more
clearly on the captive’s ear, it awakened a
flood of memory when the smile of beauty and
the laugh of wit had hushed spell-bound by the
fascination of that singer.
As soon a3 the minstrel Blondel paused the
captive Blondel took up the song, and, Hinging
his full, r ch notes from out the prison walls
sent a thrill of joy into the heart of the min
strel, who thus at last learned the long-sought
• abode of his patron, and who struck up an an-
m them of triumph in which the captive caught
^ the sounds of his deliverance.
The minstrel’s notes grew fainter and fainter
until they died in the distance; but they left
within the captive’s breast an echo of hope,
tiv” u«b- and with the piety of a Christian knjfat he
knelt down, and, having thanked God for
blessing him with the favor of Berengeria, he
pleaded with Heaven to bless his fond antici
pations, crown his efforts with success and ef-
* feet their deliverance. Then, rising again, he
reflected : “1 must collect strength to strike
for Heaven and my lady.” And with this res
olution he dropped upon his couch and into the
land of memories.
“Blessed,” he reflected in himself, “with the
love of this fairest, gentlest creature of earth,
and all for my own merits. She does not sus
pect ray position She loves me for myself,
and I will live and die for her.”
And with this reeolve he fell asleep, and did
not wake until the sun had risen high in the
heavens and sent a flood of light into the room.
Ho ate his morning meal, after which an offi
cer of the castle entered and informed him that
he would be permitted to take air and exercise,
provided he would pledge himself to refrain
from any effort to escape until after his com
bat with Videmar.
Sir Blondel having agreed to this condition
and crossed himself, the officer unlocked a
heavy outer door and showed Sir Blondel into
a garden, where he found pleasant walks and
bowers, and from which—as soon as he was
alone—he scanned each crevice of the castle
hoping to catch a glimpse of his lady’s face;
but his scrutiny was in vain, for, saving the
frowning ramparts and mossy stones, he saw
nothing except the eyes of two sentinels who
glared at him from their stations, and who,
notwithstanding his pledge, had been placed
there to watch his every action. Each day the
physician came to treat his wound, which
healed rapidly, and a few days of active exer
cise restored the strength to his limbs and the
rnddy glow to his cheek.
Meanwhile, as the knight was scanning each
aperture of the castle to see the princess, Ber
engeria was holding her last reception with the
grizzly tyrant of the province.
“It can ntver be, your Highness,” he affirm
ed sullenly, “and you lower your cause in ask
ing it.”
“Baron,” she replied with her ineffable
grace, accompanied by withering disdain, “I
thought my cause could go no lower after de
scending on you as its adversary.”
“And your Highness,” he glutted between
his teeth, “I warn you to beware, or your
haughty head will bow so low by having me
for its adversary that it will never rise again.”
He accompanied his threat with a gesture
which left no doubt as to his signifying her
head being lowered on the block.
For an instant her heart was dismayed, not
from fear—for her breast had become callous
to all emotions of terror—but because she had
resolved to cast behind her the spirit of defi
ance and adopt the policy of conciliation; and
here, in the first test, her temper had over
borne her tact. But, quickly regaining her
equanimity, she extenuated in her sweetest ac
cents:
“Alas, my lord. I am a weak woman, un
able to cope, even in words, with a warrior of
your skill, who should prove my protector in
stead of oppressor.”
This appeal softened and captivated the bar
on, just as any one who never loved but once
will be conquered by his ideal’s entwining the
thoughts of their hearts as beating only one for
each other and shutting the cold world outside.
“Yes, sweet lady,” he answered as he bent
over her with the old hungry look in his eyes,
“but your gentle weakness has ail my strength
to rest upon. You are lonely. A thousand
bold hearts beat loyally to your charms; and
the boldest of all those hearts would break
without your favor.”
“Oh! my lord,” pleaded Berengeria, "where
Heaven has strewn some of its attributes in
such profusion, let it not prove that others
have been withholden. Where its benificence
has given such power and splendor, let there
not be poverty of justice and mercy. Or if the
feelings of good will which were instilled at
your mother’s knee into your innocent boy
hood have been supplanted by pride and pas
sion, let me restore the germ of humanity in
your breast; and then—though this moment
were my last on earth—-I should feel that my
mission had not altogether been in vain.”
The soul of the fierce tyrant was greatly
moved and humbled by this piteous and gra
cious appeal to his honor.
“Lady, by the memory of my mother,” he
answered, “I aver that your gentle hand,
clasped in mine, could bring me and all my fol-
loweiwback from the realms of darkness. Oh!
let it be that the evil days of my life have
ended, and here raise me to some purpose,
some better future, and sanctify that purpose
by one kiss from your pretty lips.”
“Baron Videmar,” answered Berengeria,
shrinking back, but as much as possible con
cealing her aversion, “we are standing on a
precipice, and you, the stronger companion, are
urging me to a leap which would destroy us
both. The vestal virgin who scattered the sa
cred fire were not so criminal as the maiden
who, bound by no ties, dispenses her charms
for mere vanity or passion. My person is the
object of contest between two claimants. Re
spect the right of your rival as you would have
that rival respect the right of Baron Videmar.”
“Then,” responded Videmar, “there is but
one way for me to march into your favor, and
that is over the dead body of this Blondel.”
“Pray do not,” remonstrated Berengeria,
“charge the powers of life and death upon a
woman’s favorl For shame, my lord! Say,
instead, there is but one way for you to regain
your honor, your peace of mind, and that is by
redeeming your pledge, in as far as you can, by
doing honorable battle with your captive.”
“And when Blondel is gone,” urged Vide
mar, “there is nothing between you and my
self ”
“Baron Videmar,” replied Berengeria, “you
are like the mariner who, in his hour of peril,
turns and asks assurance from the poor bird,
who is their sport and buffet. You have
pledged to Princess Berengeria honorable com
bat and award, and she has pledged her form
to your success, and God will award the is
sue. And now, my lord, without a claim
on your consideration but that interest which
our ties entitle me to express, I urge, I
implore that as the warrior gets his body
in fittest condition for the fray, so you,
as a true knight, should purify your soul
to fit it for shriving should Heaven decree your
fall. And I plead with you—let me exert one
ennobling influence over your soul, by restor
ing it to a brief communion with that God to
whom it has for so long been a stranger.”
This petition of Berengeria, which was full
of sincerity and emotion, was accompanied by
that inclination of the head which royalty
adopts to manifest its pleasure that an inter
view shall end. Videmar accordingly rose
and, with a solemnity which became his grim
visage, stood for a moment silently and inflex
ibly as a statue, and in this position let us
throw over him the mantel of charity. For
over this corrupt nature has swept the unre
strained passions of a lifetime, but under the
tenderness and magic of beauty his better self
responded to some traits of boyish innocence
which the princess had recalled. Then, after
an instant, Videmar, with bowed head and
subdued manner, went out from the presence
of the princess forever, and ordered that the
arrangements for the combat be completed.
CHAPTER IX.
' Oi like the thief of fire from Heaven
Wilt thou withstand the shock? , 2 - -
A*"l >hare wl:h hlni-^Hie nhlorgi#en—
. His vuiture and bis rock.”
‘ And one morning when the bright sunlight
was streaming through the open windows, and
gladdening all the earth, the attendants roused
the captive early and dressed him with unusual
care, for that day, they told him, would cele
brate his combat with Videmar for the prin
cess. They clothed Sir Blondel in fine linen,
they brought his armor glittering and with the
blood stains washed away. He breakfasted
lightly, he had a merry heart, for he had been
long at his orisons and felt hopeful of the com
bat ending m his triumph. Bat the excitement
and suspense, with the chilly morning air,
weighed upon his frame. He paced the floor
to resist the cold, but as the minutes dragged
slowly by, he became so nervous and impa
tient that his strength seemed wasting away.
Bat at last a mighty bell tolled solemnly and
at intervals, and the summons came for the
champion to make ready. Sir Blondel was
clad in his armor, and, closely guarded, was
conducted by a winding defile, under heavy
walls, to an immense bolted gate, and then,
having placed him on his noble war horse and
handed him his trusty lance, the darling of
fortune was once more going forth to, on his
side, honorable, but on terms, the most une
qual combat.
Meanwhile, since early dawn the castle had
been aglow and astir with excitement. The
lists in the courtyard, long unused to a scene
of such order and decorum, had been thrown
open, and inmates of the castle and retainers
of the neighborhood, had been surging in to
secure the best positions for witnessing the
combat. The courtyard was not lacking in
splendor, for the marauders of the castle in
their frequent sieges of plunder, had brought
away not only gold and silver, but rich gar
ments and tapestry, and treasures of ait and
refinement, and courtezans, who, attracted by
the power and display, returned with the cap-
tors to spend a life of licentious abandonment.
And so the courtyard presented a mixed and
S^.y scene# with its rich decorations, its
flags of different colors and its galleries r.sing
tier above tier. And from the sea of eager
eyes stared brutal countenances, fierce from
accustomed scenes of cruelty, shameless faces
hardened by the play of passion, pale faces
saddened with regret, and pretty ruddy faces
not yet so stamped by crime hut that a change
of life might yet give them back the image of
tbeir maker. And high above all others, in
the station assigned to royalty, and with a
vacant seat by her side, sat the princess sur
rounded by officers and women of the castle,
while her eyes ever changed from supplicating
glances to heaven, to the far end of the lists
where her knight was to appear.
A single herald stood at Sir Blondel’s sta
tion, while Videmar, clad in splendid armor,
stood at the opposite end grimly biting his
lip. He was surrounded by fifteen mailed at
tendants, while marshals rode up and down
the lists.
At a given signal from Videmar his herald
advanced into the midst of the arena, baring
his head and cried out aloud that Videmar,
Baron of Chelug, here in the presence of God
and man, claimed the person of Berengeria, of
Navarre, and was ready to do battle with any
or all who should oppose his claim. The her
ald retired and in the awful interval of inaction
that ensued, the soul of Berengeria sank within
her and she murmured: “Great God has he
been murdered in his cell’”
Bat at that moment another herald rode
forth, and, as if cowed by his mission, mutter
ed so indistinct a reply that, although the prin
cess exerted her hearing, she could not hear
his words. The second herald withdrew, and
at this instant of breathless anxiety, the heavy
door flew open and the knight, glittering in the
sunshine like a stream of fire, dashed into the
plain, until, reaching its centre, he halted his
gallant steed, and, as if unconscious of all else,
gazed long and fervently on the princess.
There is no heart that can be wholly dead to
honor if its finer chords are touched. As that
single knight rode forth fearing and yet fear
lessly into the presence of those sixteen ty
rants who grimly stood awaiting him, with no
one on his side but the most wronged and
beautiful of ladies and the great God, ip the
dense mass of people that railed and h'ssed
against him, there was many an eye moist
with tears, and many a heart that silentlytent
up its prayer in his behalf. But every mokin,
every look was watched, sympathy for The
oppressed must beat in its own bosom, and
thus it was that silently, so silently that many
could hear the beatings of their own hearts,
he rode according to custom aiound the lis:s
and having taken his stand at the lower end,
awaited coming action.
The signal was waived, and' on the instant
both champions urged their horses under way.
Videmar’s horse plunged wildly, seemed to
concern his rider in his management, and
dashed more than half way over the plain be
fore he encountered his adversary.
Sir Blondel, joy ed to feel his trusty charger
sway to the least pressure of the rein, and
started firmly, ever increasing his speed, while
his whole effort was expended in poising his
body and couching his lance. At a few paces
from his enemy he seemed to whirl right into
him, while hjs lance, which was aimed at Vi
demar’s head, struck heavily and then gave
way. As Sir Blondel’s horse recoiled and his
own person felt a heavy shock, he, for the in
stant considered himself wounded. The cloud
of dust hid the result, but clearing away,
showed Videmar and his horse stretched upon
the ground. For some time they lay stunned
and motionless, until Videmar, recovering,
struggled to his feet, and, drawing his sword,
staggered toward the knight, who, unsheathing
his own blade, awaited his antagonist. But
before Videmar could reach the kuight, Sir
Blondel was seized by soldiers from behind,
while Videmar, who continued to advance,
was likewise caught as he frantically cried:
“She will scorn me, loose me! I will kill
him!”
‘.‘Not here, my lord," replied his officer,
“this is a field of honor.”
“Honor,” groaned Videmar, wringing his
hands, “speak not of honor, she loathes me,”
and then as a paroxysm overcame him, he
struggled to free himself as be shrieked, “loose
me, they both shall die!”
“So they shall, my lord, if you command it,”
answered his officer, “but not on the field.”
Videmar said no more, for the removal of
his helmet disclosed a fearful wound and he
sank insensibly into the arms of his retainers
who bore him away.
On being seized, Sir Blondel turned and de
manded his lady and their freedom. He op
posed their oppression, and he looked where
le had last seen the princess Berengeria, he
now gazed only on her vacant seat. He threw
off and struck down several of his assailants,
but to no purpose, for others overpowering
him dragged him off and finally plunged him,
wretched and bleeding into his former dismal
cell.
The princess likewise had been seized and
borne into her apartment where without a word
of explanation, she was bereft of hope and al
most of reason. In vain did she plead with
her oppressors, no answer was returned, and
as the door closed upon her, the only sound to
her heartrending appeals, was their own dis
mal refrain: “Oh, God! send either Blondel to
relieve my sufferings or death to end them.”
Despair, the despair of a great and breaking
heart seized upon her, she paced the floor call
ing on the knight, calling on her father, calling
on her God. But by degrees her throes of an
guish abated, and while it seemed as if no
smile of hope could ever light up those lovely
features again, the spirit of her father rallied
her and admonished her to prepare as a mighty
princess for her last great chance. She sank
upon her couch, her large eyes closed and her
lips murmured, “noblest and grandest image
of your maker a brief farewell; if your proud
spirit has flown, my own shall soon join you,
or should I first be summoned, my soul shall
linger to keep watch as your better angel, un
til oar communion is eternal. And my own
mortal form farewell. Oh, imperial brow on
which the care and coronet of a kingdom would
have rested, thou shalt sleep in the dost ere
time has farrowed thee with a scar. Oh, gold
en hair that would have sparkled with a dia
dem, thine own blood is all that will ever
adorn thee now. Brief years of joy—long days
of woe release me to join that father whose
memory thrills me with fervor, even on the
brink of death.”
She knelt and raised her soft pleading eyes
to heaven.
“Father of the fatherless and God of the for
saken, I cast my burden on thee. Oh, sustain
he and I in this one garden of Gethomane.
Prompt me, oh Heavenly Father when to strike
the blow that the act shall be one of justice
and not suicide.”
Rising she drew the gleaming dagger from
her girdle. “Last and coldest of my friends
be true when I shall need thee and drink
warmth from out my breast. We shall grow
closer, aye much closer ere we are parted. Be
true and I shall bless thee. He gave me life
and thou shalt give me liberty.”
It was with this resolution taken, and her
faith awaiting an answer to her prayer, that
she heard approaching footsteps and calming
herself she awaited their entrance.
The heavy bolt was withdrawn, the door
opened and a friar entered.
_ “Daughter,” he said, “I bring tidings from
his lordship,” and then hesitated as'if £s task
were one of pain, bnt'after a moments embar
rassment he continued, “are you resigned to
the will of heaven?”
“Insult not heaven, sir,” she answered by
representing your master as its representative.
“But you have something to communicate—
state your mission and leave me to my soli-
tnde.”
“My mission, lady,” answered the friar,
to take your last confessions and offer up your
latest prayers, for it is decided,” his voice falt
ered, “that you die tomorrow morning, and
the charges preferred against you will then be
read in your heariog.”
The princess did not start or sigh, only
pallor as of death suffused her face as she
thought of this last public ignominy and she
murmured, “ah me, will they never weary of
my sufferings? But,” she added, raising her
voice, “I have borne so mnch, I hope God will
enable me to endure all.” And then in a tone
of the deepest concern she addressed the priest,
“and pray tell me, sir, what of the captive
knight?”
As she thought of Sir Blondel living on, and
perhaps happily without her, the womanly in
stinct overpowered the princeas, and she burst
into tears from very self pity?
“He, daughter,” echoed the friar, “dies at
the same hour with you, and I am also ordered
to conduct you to his presence, where you can
remain until the hour for deatn.”
“And will you, sir,” asked the princess,
“render to an unfortunate woman, your last
and most acceptable service by taking me now
to him?”
The priest bowed assent, and was advancing
to offer his arm when Berengeria rising haught
ily waved him off.
“Advance, sir,’ she said, “and your captive
will follow you.”
The priest backed out, and as Berengeria
hastened to follow hita she did not notice that
the doorway was low and so struck her head
against it. As she rested against it for a space,
the priest turned and c figging to supprt her,
ask d, “daughter are you hurt?”
“Ah no!" ?Ue quickly replied, with her beau
tiful and te*“ful eyes full of sad meaning,
“nothing car* _jurt me now!”
She signifQd to the priest to proceed, and as
she crossed Mie threshold after him, two mel
ancholy guams standing outside, followed her,
and seeing h’ow they guarded her a lady, the
princess could not suppress a little smile of
disdain. On through the lonely halls and
down the narrow stairways the princess went
with her keepers until they stopped before a
heavy door. The friar fitted a key, then turn
ed and addressed the princess, “shall I enter
and confess you both?”
“Sirs,” she answered, “to your master or
his retinue I have nothing to confess. Left
alone with my knight, I trust to make our peace
with God.”
Be it so tben he answered, break to him the
news that he must die, for as yet he knows
it not. No one shall disturb you until morn
ing and should you like to rest, the one door
from your room will conduct you to a small
apartment.
CHAPTER X.
“Tben pilgrim torn, thy cares forego,
All earth-bom cares are wrong,
Man want) bnt little here below,
Nor wants that little long.”
The friar having ended his mission and ad
mitted the Princess Berengeria, closed the door
and departed.
Until now, Berengeria had not realized her
situation. In the presence of a wounded knight
she was alone, her mission being to inform
him of his suddenly approaching aad violent
death.
As she looked upon the martial, though
prostrate from before her, and feit herself un
der the spell of that strange nature whose
spirit knew no fear, her heart yielded to his
power and she stretched her arms toward him
who was so soon to be the bridegroom of daath.
But perceiving that he was not aware of her
presence, as his face was turned away towards
the open window, she collected her strength
and walked up to his couch
Sir Blondel with scornful indifference, never
turned at the opening of his door to observe
the guards who came to mock or question him,
and he moved not now, until hearing gentle
footsteps he looked that way, and seeing the
princess he joyfully exclaimed, “Great God! is
it my darling or an angel?”
“Alas!” she murmured to herself, “it is the
angel of death,” and then raising her eyes, “oh
God, pity us we are so young to die,” but as
she caught the fond loving expression of the
knight, she rushed to his embrace, and her
head found calmness and repose where alone it
could find rest, upon his noble breast. And as
she thought of so soon quitting him and
the world, she wept as a child cries
for its broken toy, while Sir Blondel could
only gaze upon her tenderly and stroke her
silky golden hair.
But the moments passed and with them her
weakness. Raising her head, her hand re
mained in his, while seating herself on the
couch beside him she said, “after hours of
thought and dreams about you, I come my
lord to inquire for your health.”
“Ah, my being of beauty and bliss,” he an
swered, “promise not to leave me again and I
shall nevermore suffer or sigh.”
“I shall not leave you,” she answered as-
suringly; then as he pressed her hand to his
lips, she continued: “Blondel, we have made
together one brief and painful journey, and to
morrow we must rally and go forth once
again.”
As she saw the light of joy kindle in his eyes,
her voice trembled. “This journey also will
be short and trying, but we go a mighty dis
tance all the way from earth to heaven.”
For an instant the knight did not compre
hend her meaning, but as its fatality burst
upon him, he sprang up and exclaimed:
“What does he dare?”
Gently laying her hand upon his arm, Ber
engeria whispered, “My lord, our few remain
ing hours must fit us to approach the King of
kings, and not be spent reviling an earthly
monster.”
“It is true,” answered the knight solemnly,
and he sank back on the couch. “You must
teach me to fight the hardest of all battles, in
ruling my own spirit. Ah, could I have fallen
as a hero, could I have perished as a martyr,
and had my last look rest on your freedom!
But to die all in vain, and see my idol struck
down' by traitors ” He bowed his head
and his whole frame shook with emotion.
That which quenched his spirit quickened
hers, and her voice was clear and ringing as
she said:
‘Do me the justice to know, my lord, that
without you the fairest spot on earth would
be exilement and captivity; and how now does
the spirit of my hero, that strove so valiantly
in the sunshine, fall back in the evening shad
ows on the woman whose fate he deplores?”
“Are you not everything on earth to me?”
answered the knight. “And where else should
I seek for comfort?”
“Believe me,” answered Berengeria, “that
though in dungeon walls, it is the happiest mo
ment of my life when you pronounce me the
all of your affection, and place your confidence
in my heart which, having you for its lord,
beats more proudly this moment than any vain
breast upon a golden throne. But think not
oaly my love but my pride is abiding on your
action. As you acquit yourself, Berengeria
and her cause are honored or disgraced.
Rouse, my lord, shake off this drowsy stupor,
and defying ail that is mortal, die, depriving
your enemies of a single look of pain!”
“Blest angel of my better nature,” he an
swered as he imprinted a kiss on her brow,
“you have redeemed me, and I shall prove
worthy of my princess. But tell me, will my
past life insure a reunion in heaven with yon?
When I rushed into the excitement of battle,
there was no time for thought, and had I fal
len, God would have looked in mercy upon the
impetuous warrior. But this solitude and con
templation, will the great Priest of heaven,
accept the sacrifice of confusion?”
“Remember,” answered Berengeria, assur-
ingly, “that you are going to one who seeth
not as man seeth, who has home your weak
ness and already made expiation for it and for
us all; so rest, oh, Blondel 1 Blondel! rest in
peace upon our great Father Christ.”
Sir Blondel bowed fervently at her side.
“Princess Berengeria,” he reverently asked,
“will you kneel with me and pray for your
knight?”
The captive princess and the captive knight
kneeled together, and the sad pleading voice of
the princess uttered this prayer, that God
would lead his suffering, wayward children,
through the dark valley of the shadow.
“Defend, oh, Lord,” she exclaimed, “this,
the child of thy Son. Extend thy mercy to
the extent of this dreadful hour, and give thine
angels special charge to keep him until we are
called into our everlasting home.”
They rose from that prayer awed in the
presence of the King of kings, yet hopeful of
his mercy through the Christ, for during its
utterance, every wrong was forgiven—every
hate subdued. Earthly hopes had vanished,
but heavenly peace was instilled, and the final
victory, the victory in which all must plead
with heaven to make death lose its sting, was
won. Sir Blondel did not speak of the prayer,
but his grateful look expressed his thanks, and
a pause of reflection ensued until he said:
“I deplore the weakness I was guilty of, hut
it was not craven fear, but the crushing of
eternal hopes connected with you.”
“Do not our spirits ascend together?” asked
Berengeria, “and the love I bear you will sur
vive all earthly pangs, and with you enter
heaven.”
“Ah,” he murmured, “the entrance to that
dark, mysterious world, where they neither
marry nor are given in marriage—shall we
know each other there? Oh, grant my last and
greatest request. Sanctify the duration of our
young lives. No priest is here to bless our
union, bnt God is ear witness. Our vows are
taken, let ns offer them to God and enter
heaven as man and wife.”
The knight clasped the hand of the princess
and again they knelt alone in that death cham
ber, and in clear and solemn tones he uttered
his vow of fealty, and then her voice sounded
eternal love and devotion to him, and when it
hushed, he uttered a fervent prayer that God
wonld bless the union and receive their souls
together. They arose, and as he kissed her
brow, he said:
“My angel bride has taught her husband
resignation and made him an heir of heaven.”
“Could you not rest?” asked the princess as
she looked on his pale haggard face; "you are
weary and wounded?”
“I am weary,” answered Sir Blondel, “hut
I cannot rest. My head! my head!” and he
pressed his hands to his burning brow, woun
ded in the morning’s struggle as they were
dragging him from the field of tourney.
“I will pay mjrlast duty to my poor
wounded knight," said the princess gently, and
filling a little basin with water, she took his
head upon her breast, while her soft hand
bathed his throbbing temples. Beneath this
soothing the restless mind found repose, and
at length Sir Blondel slept as peacefully as in
his childhood. The princess then removed his
head to the pillow; and stooping down to im
press her last kiss upon his brow, she sof Jy
sung:
“Soft be tby last sleep, when cold eartb is tby
pillow,
And earth’s sons are mourning and sad o’er tby
loss;
God’s mercy bas snatched tbee from life’s stormy
j* billow,
With thy youthful bean spotless like His of the
cross.”
Then ever turnS|' to gaze hack on the mar
tial form which now composed her all of ex-
’stence, she retired into the anteroom and
sought rest upon the rnshen couch. At length
Berengerir, too, was calmly sleeping, and only
the final pang awaited the lovers. That sleep
of oblivion was a gracious dispensation from
heaven, for surely, sufficient unto the day had
been the evil thereof, and the morning would
dawu upon trial and sorrow.
[to be continued.]
By Mrs. J. A. Barbrey, nee Mrs. Nora L.
Hussey.
To the Southeastward of a certain Georgia
village there stretches a succession of hills
known to all the country round as the ‘‘Pine
Mountains.” Through the “mountains” the
Flint river pours its torrent of muddy water
between the banks of a narrow gorge, which
for the wildness and grandeur of its scenery
cannot be surpassed.
Just a few hundred yards from this gorge,
across the river on the Pike county side,that the
traveler going eastward will find a little three-
room log house, which he will observe with un
usual care for from the front gate to the door
there are unmistakable signs of a woman's
presence. The clayey front walk is—or was
when the events herein to be related occurred
—covered with white sand which shone blind
ingly in the sunsnine; the flower-beds were
glowing with their wealth of late summer-
flowers; a clambering rose vine spread its per
fume and beauty over the “shed-room” front
ing the road; and the old, half-fallen well was
a honey-suckle arb£r, under the shade of which
the bucket and gourd become picturesque and
inviting objects.
To one who has never made a horse-back
trip through this region it may seem unneces
sary elaboration to dwell on such small things;
but when one has been in the saddle day after
day for more that a week; when one’s only
resting-places haverbeen dilapidated and slov-
ernly huts in which he feels himself to he hard
ly a degree more comfortable than his horse, it
is a rare treat to halt before a house where a
womens retiniitfg jj^jftencfc defelares itself even
before the latch of the front gate lifted.
Before going further it may be well to intro
duce myself as I was at that time:
George Morris, of the United States Internal
Revenue Service, if you please; standing six
feet two in my boct3, perfect as to health and
strength, in a chronic state of depletion as to
finances, without kindred so far as known ex
cept one old bachelor uncle who exhibi ed his
interest in me by 1 t ing me severely alone,
and hence, without any very strong love for
anything or anybody except my gun, my
horse, and my very dear friend, Tom Hughes,
who, with me had left one party on the Meri
wether side of the river while we ventured
into Pike to see how the land lay in a certain
suspected region.
Tom and I had fared hardly on this trip, you
may he sure; Revenue men not being welcome
visitors in the mountains. We were in charge
of a posse sent down to seize and capture cer
tain “moonshiners” from whom resistance was
expected.
Leaving our men on the other side, Tom and
I decided to do a little detective work for our
selves before making the raid. And this is
how we came to halt before the flower embow
ered log-cabin where the summer sunshine
without and the woman’s sunshine within gave
to the rude little house a glory all its own.
The click of the gate latch and the sound of
our footsteps on the sandy walk brought the
inmates to the door.
Unpromising looking enough they were too.
One old sallow-faced, slatternly creature with
the inevitable tooth-brush between her snuff-
stained lips, and three tow headed children
peeping at us from mysterious hiding places
behind her narrow Skirts.
Walk in, strangers,” in high-pitched ‘crack
er’tones, “walk in and take cheers. Jimmie
run draw a fresh pail er water fur the gem’-
men.”
This to the largest of the three, whose timid
ity appeared to be vanishing.
“Why, Mrs. Riggins, have you forgotten
me?” Tom asked, eutending his hand with the
air of an old friend.
Tom always had a dash and a frank impu
dence that were sources of unceasing delight
and amusement to me. Being confident that
Mrs. Riggins” was to him quite as much an
unknown quantity as to me I looked at him in
silent astonishment, determined that if I could
not aid him in his little game I would not spoil
it by any ill-tin e 1 interruptions.
“You surely have not forgotten, Tom
Hughes,” he said. “At any rate, I have a lasting
recollection of your fine pleaches. And where
is Miss Pinkie?’’ he asked, going on hurriedly
in a way which effectually shut off all questions
concerning himself. “I hopie she has not for
gotten me, and the picnic at Dripping Rock
last spring. Is she married yet?”
“Wa-al, I declar’l” the old woman cried, re
moving her toothbrush to make an emphatic
ejectment of snuff. “Us old folks ain’t got no
ricerlection at all. I’ve done fergot yer, clean
as a shave, hut Pink’ll know yer, sho’, ef yer
wuz one er them town boys at Drippin’ Rock
thet day. No, Pink ain’t married. ’Pears like
Baraesvilie’s done spiled her fur these moun
tain boys. Ther don’t none uf era seem to
suit her eye sence she’s come back fum
school tbar. These here is all Betsy’s chillun.
Is yer ever seed my Betsy?”
“I’ve forgotten who Miss Betsy married.
Was it a Clemmons?”
‘To be sho’. Jim Clemmons; one er them
Clemmonses over in Rad-hone, yer know.
Jim’s es likely a feller es ever yer saw, now
he’s let liquor alone. They’re all of ’em off
with a load er preaches ter-day. And Bets, she
went er long kase she wanted to git some
check-homespun and narred cloth fur the chil-
lun’s Sunday clothes.”
Gone to Bamesville?” Tom asked care
lessly, giving me a quick wink.
“Where’s Miss Pinkie?” he continued be
fore she had time to do more than nod an
affirmative answer."
Gone down to the river ter git some er
them yaller blossoms she calls ‘golden rod.’
In my day we called ’em rag-weed, en never
keerd nothin’ fur ’em one way nor tother; hut
the way that gal dresses np the house with her
golden-rod en sumach is a sight ter see. It
all comes er book-larnin’, I ’spose. ’Pears ter
me it’s ei pity ter send er gal ter school en
have her come back all upsot agin’ the way
she war raised; hut Riggins wus allers a plum
fool about that gal. Drunk er sober he’d
allers spile her to death. Thar she comes
now.”
A moment afterward the girl entered the
room, her sun-bonnet swinging from her arm,
her face glowing with a color heightened by
exercise and the embarrassment of meeting
strangers, her brown hair falling in curls and
wavy masses over her shoulders, and her
brown eyes, tilled with a bewildering expres
sion, half fright, half fun, shining like stars
upon us.
“This is Mr. Hughes, Pink,” her mother
said. “He’s been er tellin’ me ’bout Drippin’
Rock en the picnic thar. En this here;” here
she hesitated. “ ’Pears like I ain’t heam your
name yit,” she said, turning to me.
“Morris,” I said hurriedly, “George Mor
ris.”
And there I stood, a great six-feet mass of
confusion before the bright-eyed country girl
whom I felt to be secretly laughing at me.
This feeling of confusion and insecurity in
her presence did not vanish for some time, al
though she and Tom kept up a lively clatter
over a great half-bushel basket of peaches, to
which the hospitable old mother invited us.
She was a quick-witted, dainty little lady,
shining like a gem out of the roughest setting
that ever a diamond had.
Here in this Pike county farm house I found
myself confronted by a problem in human life.
By what methods of training, or by what hid
den force of heredity was the daughter of Mrs.
Riggins made into a’girl like this? What sort
of a beginning had she? Was she a dainty
little lady, wrapped in an old torn qoilt and
rocked in a broken cradle? Did she coquetie
with the chickens, and make eyes at the big-
turkey-gobbler, when she rolled and tumbled
about the yard in her “home-spun coal?”
Did she ever really wear a “home-spun
coat?”
It was hardly to he believed, seeing her now
in her pink lawn from under the full skirt of
which her feet, “like little mice, peeped in
and out.” Was there a revolutionary grand
mother of forgotten memory, who had given to
her the shapely fingers, the pretty little pink
ears, and the straight, clean-cut nostril, dilat
ing now and then like a genuine thorough
bred? By what faeak of nature was old Mrs.
Riggins made to become the mother of a girl
like this?
These and a hundred other questions vexed
me while I gave monosyllabic answers to the
old woman’s monologue, meanwhile furtively
watching Tom’s progress in what appeared to
me to be a most delicious flirtation.
But the Mountain Pink, though merry and
talkative, proved to be proof against Tom’s
adroit detective ways. No information what
ever was to he gained from that quarter, seeing
which he tactfully drew me into the conversa
tion. Then finally—throwing the whole bur
den of the talk upon me—he drew nearer the
loquacious old woman and was soon engaged
in a most animated interchange of neighbor
hood gossip.
Later in the day, just before supper time,
Tom got a word with me.
“Shall we go on or stay to-night?” he said.
“I’ve pumped the old lady dry, and I think we
can get along with what I know.”
“Did you ever really know that girl before?”
The question was somewhat irrelevant, I
suppose; but I guess Tom caught the drift of it.
“God bless you, no! I’ve been hearing these
mountain boys talk for a week—have been
pumping them to death, you know. And what
is a man’s information worth if he doesn’t use
it? Say, shall we go on?”
“I guess not. We will not gain anything by
going.”
“Just as you say,” whistling carelessly.
“There doesn’t seem to be much lack of game
here for any of us.”
The first flash of resentment I ever felt to
wards him flamed into my face when his mis
chievous eyes met mine.
Tom was a society man, and used to women.
I was a confirmed old bachelor with a head full
of quixotic ideas. That was just the difference
between us.
Before I could reply to him the girl’s clear
voice, calling up the cows, awoke the echoes
along the river bank. She had made the call
into a kind of tune, and the melody rang its
soft minor across the fields, far up the hill
sides, down the gorge, out into the evening air,
heavenward to meet the moon just rising above
the purple pine-tops Eastward.
It had been years since I last saw an old-
fashioned, unimproved, country milking pen.
Pink was leaning against the fence, as I ap
proached her, letting the calf bring down the
first milk. Her dress was drawn up, showing
her well-turned ankles; and her sleeves, rolled
to the shoulders, left bare the roundest, whitest
arms that ever clasped a lover’s neck.
“Do your cows object to visitors?” I called
out before I reached her.
She turned a startled face towards me.
“Oh! no, not at all. You frightened me,
though, with a pretty little emphasis. “Do
you often make such unexpected raids.”
I did not like the word. There had already
begun to arise in me a strange hatred of my
work in connection with her.
“Unexpected raids are not always so harm
less, are they?” I blurted out incautiously,
stung by her choice of words.
The question was not cold before I knew my
mistake. A swift pallor spread itself over her
face, succeeded immediately by a heightened
color. Beyond that she gave no sign of any
aroused suspicions, but turned to her milking
with her accustomed merriment.
We were a long time milking those two
cows. The calves had to be held off, and I
seemed to be awkward help, for whenever I
would reach for the calf-rope my hands would
close upon Pink’s fingers, ai.d somehow or
other the calf would go free. Then the whole
business wonld have to be gone over again, of
course. The result was that it was dusk be
fore I carried the milk pails into the farm
house, and by that time I had arrived at the
settled conviction that the internal revenue ser
vice was indeed, as Tom had so often declared
it, “a confounded swindle.”
After supper I managed to get the girl all to
myself under that clambering rose-vine, where
the stars gave me just light enough to see the
soft, dimpled cheeks and the brown hair lying
in waves upon the snowy neck where the blue
veins coursed warmly.
If I were to tell you what we said you would
not think it much. She was a shy country
girl ignorant of the world’s ways, impressible,
credulous. She had caught a glimpse of the
world during that one year of college fife; and
in this, as in other respects, a little knowledge
is a dangerous thing. She was ready to listen
to any man who might come to her out of the
great world and charm her away by tales of
his successes there.
I knew her weakness and I was selfish
enough to play upon it for my own purposes,
for the sweetness and innocence and gentleness
of the girl had won me wholly.
There are times in a man’s life when rash
ness seems to be the soundest judgment. So it
was now with me. I had passed by some of
the most brilliant women of my day to find
my “pearl of price” in this little Mountain
Pink.
So I told her of the great world lying be
yond the mountains; of lands to be visited, of
books to be read, of sights to be seen; and,
most of all of the tenderness and loving care
which should be hers if she would follow me
into the glorious distance.
Then later, I heard her bare feet pattering
over the floor of the adjoining room, and I
knew that she would soon be wrapped in that
sound, healthy sleep in which her pare maid
en’s fancy would repeat to her all the lover’s-
talk to which she had listened with such un
worldly credulity.
About midnight, while Tcm was sleep'Dg
soundly and I, on the verge of desperation
from sleeplessness, had lighted a fresh cigar
and had thrown open the little board-covered
window prepared to “make a night of it,” I
heard a low whistle which seemed to come
from the pine thicket just across the road.
After a moment’s pause there came another
whistle longer and clearer; again a pause, and
then, the third time I heard the same clear,
long whistle coming from the same direction.
A moment afterwards the house-door was
opened softly and light footsteps crept stealth
ily out into the yard, just under my window,
across the flower-beds where I could see her
plainly, to the honey-suckle covered well.
Here she stopped. Then a man came across
the road and joined her.
“By gosh, I’ve got ’em!”
I sprang half out of bed, trembling from the
shock of Tom’s whisper.
“Now just watch me,” saying which he
slipped into his clothes, and crept noiselessly
as a cat through the window, along the shadow
of the house cast aslant the yard by the late
moonlight, past the trees, close—close, until
he stood hardly three feet from the man to
whom Pink was talking with hurried, emphatic
gestures.
The moon now rode into a hank of mnrky
clouds, the east wind began to moan among
the pines, and that indescribable chilliness
which marks the hours after midnight was
increased by the rapidly approaching August
rains.
In the thickening darkness I could see noth
ing; but after awhile I heard the stealthy steps
re-enter the house.
That the man was Pink’s father I did not
doubt; and that he had come, according to an
established custom, to satisfy himself that all
was safe, I also feit sure.
The relief given me by Pink’s return was so
great that I fell into a sleep from which I was
awakened just before day by Tom who slipped
through the window and laid down by my side.
“I’ve got the thing dead. To-morrow night
we’ll make sweep-stakes.of the whole business.
It’s a fine lot I tell you. •- ‘Jim and Bets air a
fine lot, ter be sho’.” *
I was forced to-'lmile at his' abmical mifikiory
of the “old lstfy” In spite of fuy secret con
demnation of his acts.
He lay awake making his plans, after the
fuQ- loving, frolicsome fashion peculiar to him,
and I listened, thinking the while of the loss
about to fall upon this family through ns; and,
most of all, of the pain and mortification which
were to be endured by the proud-spirited,
high-mettled young creature whose future was
already so dear to me.
“Now you can take your choice,” he said
magnanimously. “You can either stay here
and see that no further communication passes
between the gang, or you can go across and
bring the men over to-night. Of course you
know about that ferry business. The flat stays
on that side as much as on this ”
It is hardly worth while to write my choice.
The day dawned cool, with a slight rain fall
ing. Immediately after breakfast I took my
departure, ostensibly leaving Tom to follow
when he should have recovered from a slight
fever which he successfully feigned.
“Do you go straight to Atlanta?” Pink
asked, standing by my side as I prepared to
mount.
“Not directly. I’ll probably be in Atlanta
Thursday. Why?”
“Because I’d feel happier to know you were
not anywhere around here.”
She spoke with a direct incisiveness which
revealed to me the whole tenor of her thoughts.
Even In this moment of trial it was a satis
faction to me to know that the child who had
so strangely bewitched me was a sensible,
quick witted young woman.
“You will doubtless meet my brother on the
road. Will you take him a message from me?”
Tears were in her eyes and a troubled look
was on the sweet face uplifted to mine.
“I’ll do anything in God’s world for you,” I
said hastily.
“Tell him the hogs are out, and I think he
had better bring them in with him, when he
comes.”
“But how am I to know your brother?” I
asked, testing every device of her ingenuity.
“Just ask every man you meet if he is Jim
Clemmons,” she said, smiling brightly through
her tears.
My conscience hurt me as I galloped down
the road. Here was I, George Morris, in the
anomalous position of a man in the Revenue
carrying the alarm to a “moonshiner;” and all
because of a young woman of whose existence
I had been ignorant lorty-eight hours before!
And vet—I was said to be a stem, law-enforc
ing officer; and had carried to Atlanta as many
“moonshiners” as any other two men in the
service.
TheD, as my thoughts flew on, faster than
my horse’s feet, I began to regret the rashness
of my promise, and to remember my oath of
office, and, finally, I wound up with the strong
hope that I might not meet my sweetheart’s
brother-in-law. To this end I urged my horse
to his swiftest speed, and it was with no small
degree of satisfaction that I drew up before
the cross-roads store where our men were,
having encountered not one soul on the road.
The day dragged on wearily enough. • No
glint of sunshine broke through the clouds
during the afternoon, and the sunset was
marked only by a narrow lurid rift just above
the horizon. The gloominess of the day was
in keeping with my thoughts. I knew there
would be trouble on the mountain side that
night, and, for Pink’s sake, I shuddered to
think what part I might have to take in the af
fray.
[ concluded next week.]
the(oiTntf^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 Sunny South under the copy
right. No other papers are allowed to publish them.
Two of the boys are mining down below Cave
Spring, and I ran down to see them and camp
out and rough it awhile. I didn’t know them
at first, for they looked like red muiattoes and
had worked off their sleeves, but in due time
they went to Snake pond and cleaned up and I
recognized them as chips of the old block. There
is something honest in hard work—something
that provokes your respect, and it cheers up
and comforts a man if he is getting good pay
for it. It did me good to see those dirty boys
shoveling back the dusty ore from the middle
of the cars to the ends and breathing the red
oxide and sweating under a sun that was nearly
100 in the shade. The prospect of a good re
ward kept them cheerful and they had many a
joke and many a yarn to tell. They are now
getting out near two thousand tons a month
and shipping it to Chattanooga, and other
points, and it pays. They have built a narrow
guage railroad a mile long to the mines and
have train cars that hold two tons each and it
is big fun, even to a patriarch, to ride down for
they run by gravity and make the trip in four
minutes. A mule pulls them back, but they
will have a baby locomotive soon. This iron
business is a mighty big thing. Here are forty
men at work—all white men—some from the
mountains and some from Alabama, and some
are farmers from the naborhood, who have laid
by their crops and are now making their dollar
a day and boarding at home. Some put in
their ox teams and make more. These hardy
men make no fuss about the weather. They
have no thermometer and read no papers about
sun-stroke, but just work on and exchange their
homespun wit. A great big whiskered tar-heei
saw me circulating around with the “boss” and
was heard to say “who is that old gray coon
gwine around with hisombrell and store close?”
“Why he’s the daddy of the boss,” said an
other. “I lowd he wer the daddy of sumthin’
around here,” said the tar-heei, “from the way
he totes hisself.” An ox team was close by
and he said to the driver, “Jim, I say Jim,
than a fly a suckin of your off steer. He’s a
gettin’ blood now and you can catch him and
pull his eyes out—they are right onder his
wings.” The drivers of these ox teams some
times get together and play a regular tune
with their whips and they sound very like the
rattle of musketry in battle.
The oldest inhabitant was perusing the prem
ises and looking at the ancient marks on the
naboring trees. Father Bigelow they say was
here before the Indians were and picked oat
his lots before they were surveyed and what
he don’t own is a mistake. He got all the tim
ber lands, but as iron was worth nothing then
he let it alone and now sees his mistake. I knew
him forty years ago and conscientiously, I can
say, I see no change in form or feature. He
was old and wrinkled then and is just the same
now and can walk round more forty acre lots
in a day than any man in the country. A man
told me confidentially that Father Bigelow hid
himself in the ark unbeknown to Noah, and
when she landed on Ararat, he slipped out the
first man and stuck a stake down and claimed
the mountain by right of discovery, and made
Noah pay him wharfage. Many of these forty
men have families dependent on their labor, and
I was thinking how much a single furnace is
worth to a community. Here are fifty dollars
a day expended in the sdpport of not less thaD
one hundred people, including the women and
children, and yet all their labor does not fur
nish half enough ore for a single furnace. A
furnace of 100 tons uses 200 tons of ore each
day. Then there is the limestone and coal and
sand and all the labor at the fnrnace, and so it
is a safe estimate that one Aim ace gives food
and clothing ttr at least five hundred people.
These people exchange their wages with the
merchants and so a large community are pro
fited. A ton of iron that costs fifteen dollars
to make it, pays fourteen dollars for labor, 10(>
tons a day expends fourteen hundred dollars a
day for labor. That is over forty thousand dol
lars a month or half a million a year. There is
no business in the world that pays so much for
labor In proportion to the prime cost of the
material. A merchant flour mill is a good
thing in a community, but it does not pay ten
per cent of its products of labor—merchandise
does not pay ten. Law and medicine pay noth
ing. While they are absolutely essential in a
community, yet a single wagon or carriage fac
tory will da more to sustain a community than
a score of lawyers and doctors. An iron fur
nace at Cartersville would give new life to the
town, and there is no reason why this business
should not prosper as well here as at Anniston
or Cedartown. We want a man of nerve like
Mr. Noble or Mr. West. Where can we find
him? I never stopped work in these hot days.
I had a fence to build and a front gate to renew
and lots of dirt to dig and remove, and I got
wet every day—wringing wet—and not front
rain either, and one day a doctor came by and
smiled and went off and said that I was work
ing for a sunstroke or a spell of fever, but I
wasent. I feel all the better for work when the
work adds value or comfort or beauty to the
homestead. I had rather work on a hot day
than play cards or baseball or read a sensational
novel. It is fortunate for me that I love work,
for I'll always have a plenty of it to do as long
as Mrs, Arp lives and her children are nearly
as bad. Right now they are waiting for me to
make some octagon steps to put their flowers
on, and if there is any more troublesome j ob I
don’t know it. It takes mathematics and
science and lots of work to make these hexa
gons and octagons. They saw one some where
and so I’ve got to fix it. I ordered a single
door from the parlor to the new dining room,
and while I was gone they juggled with the
carpenter and made him put large double doors
with some whinuadeddles all around and a fine
mortised lock with gilded knobs, aad of course
I surrendered. The carpenter found out the
very first day who was running this domestic
machinery and he acted according. Not long
after these double doors were finished there
was a small, long box come from New York by
express. If quilting frames had not been abol
ished I would have thought they were in the
box, and so when it was sent up with the
charges all prepaid I was told that it was a
“portiere”—and had cost me nothing bit was
a present from one of the boys. I stood off at
a respectful distance and watched them open it
tor I had never seen a portiere and had some
dignified curiosity. It proved to be some con
traptions for that double door, and after they
haa it all fixed up and suspended to the long
rod with silver hooks and parted in the middle
with silver chains, it did look mighty pretty.
They said it was made of shekneel or some|such
material and was all the style now. 1 notice that
when we have company to dine or take tea and
the company is on the piazza, they are taken
through the portiere every time, though it is
nearer through the hall. When the big doors
are open and the portiere drawn gracefully
aside they say it presents a beautiful vista to
lock clear through to dining room window.
They alluded to the vista several times, but I
have been unable to find it. An old dilapidat
ed kitchen that we don’t use is in sight from
that window, and that is all the vista J; see.
Women have an eye for the beautiful, uad I
reverence their taste, but s imetimes it takes
me a week to discover the esthetic, and fail in
to raptures over it. I tell my wife that it will
not do for us to have anything very fine until
the grand children are all grown, for this must
be a free and easy house for them to have a
good time and do*as they please. “The glory
of an old man is his children’s children,” Solo
mon saith, and it is our pleasure to have them
come and be happy. Our fried chicken and
ginger cake is a heap better than they get at
home, and our home is a bomb proof against
whipping, though I have to make a show of
getting awful mad sometimes. I bought a cot-
tun rope yesterday to halter the milk cow and
laid it down in the back ball, and when I came
back again the little chaps had untwisted it and
had a rope apiece to play “hoss” with. One of
them got a little hurt and cried longer than
was suitable to the occasion, and I got tired of
it and said: “I will give you a nickel to hush.”
He looked at me tearfully and said: “Grandpa,
won’t you give me a dime?”
I frolicked with the boys at the mines for two
days and eat their humble grub, wh ; h was
biscuit made with flour and a
and half, and coffee without milk aud scram
bled eggs. Eggs have to be scrambled now
yju know. We had a nail keg aud a box to sit
on, and the hoys gave up their old hard, dirty
bed to me and slept on some corn sacks, hut
they are happy, and so its all right. I rode
down on the tram carso fast it made my head
swim, and rode up so slow it would have made
me sleepy if there hadn't been some dynamite
and two kegs of powder on the floor. I had
rather have walked, but was ashamed to be so
cowardly. I saw the powder aud the dyna
mite all put in a thirteen foot hole, and then
we went off to a respectful distance and saw
the upheaving; and just as we started to the
scene a big, long black snake with a yellow
head took after us, audit took ns ail to kill
him, for he was game to the last. I have heard
of such things, but I never saw a black snake
show fight aud attack folks before. It is a
snaky country around Snake pond, and I have
a mortal dread of snakes. So I took the morn
ing train and departed those coasts, having had
a good rest and jolly time with the miners.
London, July 28.—Two pleasure yachts,
both well laden with people, were caps zed in
a squall off Yarmouth to-day. Ten persons
were drowned.
Turkish troops had a two-hours’ fight with
brigands to-day near Katerina. Ten brigands
and two Turks were killed.
Advices from Sicily say that fugitives from
Catania are spreading cholera throughout the
island. Business is at a standstill everywhere,
several communes have been cordoned and
placed under quarantine restrictions.
A party of German officers from Metz visi
ted Nancy, in mufti, during a national fete last
week aud have not been beard from since. It
is presumed that they were arrested while
watching a review of troops or for having be
come embroiled in a quarrel. Their disap
pearance has caused some excitement in the
Metz garrison.
The engineer of the first locomotive that
ever left St. Louis for the West, and the en
gineer of the first steamboat that ever arrived
at St. Louis, was William J. Haynes, of St.
Louis, who is just closing a century of life. He
was on the staff of Gen. Jackson at the battle
of New Orleans.
Delicate diseases of either sex, however in
duced, radically cured. Address, with lOcts.,
in stamps for book. World’s Dispensary Medi
cal Association, Buffalo, N. Y.
Deter Barlow, who fought in the American
revolution under General Washington, died
recently in Demarara, West Indies, aged one
hundred and thirty years.
Terence Y. Powderly says that if he should
leave bis present office at the head of the
Knights of Labor, he would devote himself to
literary work. The two great subjects of edu
cation and temperance would receive his entire
attention.
Judge Hilton’s park at Saratoga comprises
1000 acres. It is said to be the handsomest
private park in the country.
E. E. O’Brien of Thomaston is said to be the
largest ship owner in the United States, his
fleet including ten fine ships, several of them
worth over §100,000 apiece.
Physicians Hare Fonnd Oar
That a contaminating and foreign element in
the blood, developed by indigestion, is the
cause of rheumatism. This settles upon the
sensitive BUb-cutaneons covering of the mus
cles and ligaments of the joints, causing con
stant and shifting pain, and aggregating as a
calcareous, chalky deposit which produces
stiffness and distortion of thejoints. No fact
which experience has demonstrated in regard
to Hostetteris Stomach Bitters has stronger
evidence to support than this, namely, that
this medicine of comprthenaive uses checks
the formidable and atrocious disease, nor is
it less positively established that it is prefer
able to the poisons often used to arrest it,
since the medicine contains only salutary in
gredients. It is also a signal remedy for
malarial fevers, constipation, dyspepsia,
kidney and bladder ailments, debility and
other disorders. See that you get the genuine.