Newspaper Page Text
VOL. XX.—NO. 924.ATLANTA, QA., OCTOBER 14, 1893. PBICE: 82.00 A YEAR.
10VI IS LORD OF ALL.
A LOVE SONG.
not a
For The Sunny South.
ftie n I was a little maid, I dreamed of things
to be;
tU l e other children played, sweet dreams
would come to me.
I dreamed in future days, that as a queen I’d
reign.
ind lovers true would come to sue, and
smile I'd deign.
1 util he came, my king, with CHrls of golden
light,
indall the world did sing his deeds of love and
might,
led at my feet he knelt and asked me for bis
bride—
And oh, the bliss of that first kiss-my heart
was sat it tied.
The world was filled with love, his voice was
music sweet,
The eun shone bright above, sweet flowers
kissed our feet,
ind o’er the world we roved, for gold in store
had he,
led there was naught that gold e’er bought,
my lore gave not to me.
Those days hare flown away, and Tm a child no
more,
lad smile to think, today, of childish dreams
of yore.
Ah, my lot I’d not exchange with any in the
land, ■ «■»■ -
l or my heart Is thrilled; my life is filled, yet
ecarce understand.
uy Love has come to me, but nnltka to my
dream,
His hair is getting gray; ’tis very thin I ween,
He knelt not at my feet, but spoke in manly
ray;
His eyes are blue, his heart is true, I could not
say him nay.
From our cot we win not rove, for he must stay
to plow,
fhlle l cook for my Love, and milk the brindle
cow,
h, love so true and warm, no maid did e’er
befall,
love him more than gold galore, and love is
lord of all.
—Marie A. Henson.
A valuable bog.
He
■uve» Hu Matter Prom
Which Lay Upon Him.
» Snake
( • I • McCloud, a shoe drnmmer, of
ortsmouth, Ohio, returned from
'entucky this evening and related a
trilling story of adventure. For two
he was the guest of Mr. Harry
son of the proprietor of the
s House, at his Kentuoky home,
lear Tygart creek. He took with him
Run and fine thoroughbred Irish
etter ' rank. It was a fortunate sug-
Mion which caused him to take the
°Ei for to that noble animal he owes
ii9 life.
Hneaiternoon McCloud and Biggs
rolled over to the woods near Tygart
ree for a shot at a squirrel. The
was tied up at the house. They
W been in the woods some time,
sn young Biggs had occasion to re-
, rn house for something. Mc-
‘°ud went up the ravine to a shady
°° k ' where he lay
°w long he slept
!in! err ° r ° f k* 9 awakening was be-
description. He awakened with
consciousness of some weight
oa his breast, and before he saw
H was, his nostrils were assailed
a peculiar odor. Glancing down
as on his back), the sight
^ met his eyes well nigh petrified
fun - here ’ coiled on k* 8 breast, was
down to sleep,
he can’t say, but
grown rattlesnake.
■raping
he.
peacefully, and
It was
for some
*hich seemed ages to the horr
fied man, he was almost afraid to
breathe lest he should awaken it.
Presently Biggs returned and his
footsteps awakened the reptile, which
was instantly head and tail erect
awaiting the attack. Biggs at once
saw the horror of the situation, but
was at a loss what to do. He feared
to fire lest he might shoot his com
panion, and he also feared that if he
didn't kill the snake instantly it would
dash its fangs into the prostrate
man.
While both men were thus stupefied
with fear the bushes again parted and
another actor was on the scene. It
was the dog. He at once saw his
master’s peril, and crouching with his
belly almost on the ground, he slowly
crept toward the snake.
The latter watohed every move of
the dog, as if it knew the duel was to
the death. On came the dog, creep
ing slowly as a snail, then, when with
in five feet, with one leap of almost
lightning-like rapidity he was on the
snake.
The bound was so sudden that
the snake had no time to strike,
and before the two men could
realize what had happened the
reptile was torn to shreds. The
two men took the dog to the creek
and thoroughly washed his mouth, and
to their joy, found no scratches.
After the excitement had passed
McCloud sank in a faint, and was just
able to get home. The dog in his eag
erness to follow his master had broken
his fastenings. It can be easily guess
ed that no money oonld buy the dog
now.—St. Louis Republic.
THAT BAD BOY.
It Makes Him Tired to See the Bill
ing and Cooing of a Newly-
Wed Pair.
A carriage rolled down Easton ave
nue from a wedding a few evenings
since. It was the bridal equipage. By
the electric lights the happy pair in
side could be seen by pass era.
The bride had on her long veil, and
the groom with his newly-cropped
hair and supremely happy look, could
not be mistaken. There was, more
over, an old shoe lying on top of the
carriage.
The young folks thought they were
alone.
Hanging to the spring in the rear
was a small boy. The youth had a
clear idea of the situation. About
once a minute he raised himself so
that he could peep through the little
glass at the back.
As the carriage approached the bus
iness part of the city and the lights
became more numerous, the boy
thought it well to jump off. Then he
unbosomed himself.
“Oh, but it woz funny,” he said.
“Dere dey was, dem two, sittin’ dere
holdin’hands an’ sayin’ nothin,’ I
gits on de back of de buggy away out,
not knowin’ dey woz a bVide an’ groom
inside. When I peeks in I laughs an’
says,‘Well, dey’s goin’ to be some
kissin’ in dere.* An’ shore enough,
wen I looked agin we woz in a dark
place in de street, an’ he smacked her
a good on. Den—”
Here the youth laughed an inter
ruption to his story.
“Den,” he continued, “I kinder slap
ped the back of the buggy—say, you
orter seed ’em jump. Den he smiled
an’ said somethin’ I couldn’t hear. I
I reckon he said that it woz all right,
coz they woz married, fer they got up
close agin, an’ she ackshully put her
purty head on his shoulder. Dat
made me laff out loud, which made
her jump agin, an’ it left the whitest
spot on his coat where her head woz,
an’ den in a minute, when we woz in a
dark place in de street, dey kissed one
anoder several times. 1 oonld hear de
smacks clear ontside. Den dey took
holder hands agin an’ jest looked at
each other like blame fools. I got
clear disgusted wid de whole thing,
an’ dat’s why I got off. If dat’s mar-
ryin’, I’m out. I don’t want none
dat truck, see?”—St. Louis Republic,
THE CAVERN QUEEN.
OR
Colonel Charlton’s Heiress.
[COPYRIGHTED.]
BY MARY E. BRYAN.
'HE
THE FAMILY PLATE,
Now Is the Time to Fill Up the Chest
With Good Silver.
is
“All the silver used in my house
the real article; not a bit of plated
ware,” said a Washington household
er. “I have accumulated it piece by
piece in rather a peculiar way. In
fact, the notion is entirely my own
I buy it from the pawnbrokers. From
time to time I go to their shops and
find out what they have in stock in
that line. They know wbat I want
and usually save for me such articles
as I would like. In this manner I get
hold of a good many very handsome
things at less than half the price
should have to pay if I purchased them
first hand.
“Look at this spoon. Such spoons
are not made nowadays. Observe how
deep it is and how generous its size,
Undoubtedly that piece of silverware
originally belonged to a well-to-do
family, such as could afford to indulge
in luxuries of this kind for the table a
generation or more ago. May be it
is an heirloom. But poverty has
brought it to the pawnbroker’s and so
it falls into my possession.
I dare say it cost $5 or $6 originally
I paid only $2 for it, and it is just as
good as ever.
This dish is of a pattern antique and
beautiful, such as is not known to the
manufacturer nowadays. I got it in
the same way for very little more than
its bullion value.
“Now is the time to buy silverware.
It has never been so cheap as at pres
ent. In fact, the* metal has gone so
low in value that it need no longer be
a luxury exclusively possessed by the
rich. Jewelers are selling spoons of
the pure staff for their weight in sil
ver dollars.
“The best method of accumulating
silver that I know of is to make every
anniversary or other holiday an occa
sion for buying a piece of silver. By
following that plan your table and
sideboard will soon be fally famished.
As for my system of purchasing from
the pawnbroker, I must admit that
sentiment is against it. Fortunately,
I am not sentimental myself. But my
wife says that she does not like to con
sider the fact that every piece of sil
verware she has represents somebody’s
misfortune.
“My experience is that pawnbrok
ers are usually very honest. You can
rely on their representations as to the
quality of anything yon bay from
| them.”—Washington Star.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
HAS EVERYTHING TO PLEASE
WOMAN.”
“Carse her,” muttered Norman un
der his breath.
“Ah! woe is me!” I have broken in
upon a tete-a-tete” exclaims the coun
tess.
“Pardon, pardon, Madame I pray
Miss Wharton, I came here with
your aunt. She was looking for you.
I volunteered to help find you, and
“A spirit in my feet
Has led me, who knows how,
To your shadowy retreat!”
“I will go to my aunt at onoe,” Amy
cries, rising quickly with a sense of
escape, and disappearing among the
greenery. Norman grinds his teeth
together.
“You did this for a purpose,” he says
to the dark-robed syren at his side.
She smiles—a slow, sinister, yet vo
luptuous smile.
“Ah!” “she says, extending her per
fect arms with a little alluring ges
ture.” You will have another oppor
tunity. And pray go on; go on with
your love-play. Never mind the
change of audience—that does not
matter to you. It is not long ago
since yon made love like this to me”
“Not like this,” taming scornfully
upon her. “I made no love to yon,
Conntess Delorme. Yon could notin-
spire love. It is only passion a man
could feel for you.”
“You are frank,” she answers.
A spot of color burns in her cheek,
her eyes emit a little angry spark.
Then she laughs.
“So be it,” she says. “Love or pas
sion—where’s the odds between them?
One is a little hotter, and horns a lit
tle more quickly—that is all, On the
whole I prefer passion, so yon may
speak to me m its language—Caro
Mio.”
She threw herself back on the seat.
Her arm, flung above her head, grasps
a apray of the thick-leaved, red-ber
ried vine that is trained along the
wall. Her dinging draperies outline
her lovely limbs, her eyes are lifted to
the man who regards her with reluc
tant interest. There is more than
sensuous appeal in her look. He is
too much a man of the world to be
moved by such an appeal alone. But
there is a subtle power in this wom
an’s eyes, there is subtle attraction in
her attitude.
“Sit by me,” she says. He hesitates;
then obeys. “You warned that young
girl against me. I felt it, tnough I did
not hear yon. Why did you do it?”
“ Because it would not be good for
her to get under your influence; and
yon would try to get her under your
influence, I knew.”
“It is trne. And you think my in-
fluence is bad?”
“Yes; little as I know yon I feel
that the atmosphere about yon is not
good atmosphere. Your ways, your
sentiment, your looks, all tell of a past
| that has left you heartless, skeptical
as to noble motives, feverishly eager
to catch at anything that promises
excitement and diversion. No, my
fair countess, the scent of the dead
roses of faith and truth hangs round
that cracked vase—your heart. It is
too tainting an odor to be breathed by
that pure-hearted girl. I am oandid,
you see.”
“Yes.”
She has grown very white; her eyes
send oat a dangerous gleam from un
der their half-shut lids.
“And you—you expect to marry this
girl?” she asks.
“Yes, I expect to marry her—I will
marry her. I usually accomplish what
I determine to do.”
“And your own heart, your own life
which you will link to hers—are they
free of taint?” she questioned, in slow,
suppressed tones.
He does not answer, and she sud
denly springs up from her indolent
attitude, and her eyes flash upon him
wide open-Aeen as points of steel.
“You,” she says—“you dare not talk
to me like that! You, with your
breast full of black memories, which
you have tried to drown in wine and
gaming and sensual pleasures, and
now by the excitement of triumphing
over a girl’s natural shrinking from
yon and bringing her to marry yon,
to link her pure young life to yeurs—
the lamb lying down by tbe wolfl
You talk of the tainting influence of
her association with me! It—well, it
amuses me!”
She laughs scornfully, and drops
back on the seat, keeping her eyes
fixed on him, and noting how he tries
to master himself after his betraying
start, and the look of amazed terror
that came into his face as he listened
to her. At last he says, calmly:
“We are not very complimentary to
each other to-night.” Then, after a
pause: “So you have been exercising
your imagination in regard to me and
my past?”
She has once more flung her white
arm over her head as she lies back on
the seat. Grasping a handful of the
leaves and red berries, she crashes
them till the juice stains her delicate
fingers like blood, as she answers:
“I have no need to imagine. I in
herit the gift of insight. I told you
once that Lcame from the royal line
of gypsies in Spain.”
“And yon can foresee, I suppose?” *
he asks, mockingly.
“Yes; I can Iook into the fntnre as
well as the past. I can tell yon some
strange things that are in store for
you.”
“Nonsense!”
He laughed, bat the laugh rang
false, and his look was uneasy.
“Tell me what they are,” he asks
suddenly, and holds ont his palm.
She shakes her head.
“I have read your hand long ago.
No, I will not tell you now. Come to
[continued on second page ]