Newspaper Page Text
SATURDAY, MAY 20, 1899.
THE SUNNY SOUTH.
By Streams of
“ under green hedgerows, in the leafy lanes
and by-paths of literature, in the genial summer
time.”—Longfellow.
Edited by ALONZO LEORA RICE, Ray's Crossing, Ind.
THEY TWO.
The Xew Year bells chimed soft and low—
“Ring in the now, ring out the old;”
And a frozen world in its robes of snow
With the still, white stars kept a vigil
cold.
They two met in that strange, pale light
When the Old Year died at the New
Year’s birth.
To whisper each other their last good
night,
And bid farewell forever on earth.
Two hands touched in a mute good-bye,
Two lips quivered, two were firmly
pressed
Against the rushing tide of words so nigh
To speech of a mem’ry that could not
rest.
Blue eyes looked up in anguish numb,
Brown eyes gazed back in silent pain;
Both hearts were breaking, each voice
was dumb,
As they two parted ne’er to meet again.
Hand clasped in hand, they stood alone
With sad, wet eyes and faces white;
Then turned away. Yet the bells chimed
While they
night.
had said
their last good-
—R. G. BEE.
LAND OF OTHER DAYS.
Where the paths led to the stream
Through the shade and through the
gleam,
Where prospecting crawfish stir
Tlie fresh water into plur,
All the lands were owned by me
While 1 roamed so wild and free;
There was ever at my side
The dear presence of a guide,
For I never lost my ways
In the lands of other days.
Where the vines of wild grapes hung,
Where the wildbirds’ songs were sung,
Where the bumblebees did hum,
Where the pheasant rolled its drum;—
The soft mosses made my seat
In this cool and dim retreat—
For all places of this sphere,
None could he one-half so dear.
In my joyful life of plays,
In the lands of other days.
Up the fernridge through the shade
Where the ground bird's nest was made;
In the thickest of the brush
Sang the noisy forest thrush;
The closed portals of the vale
Opened to my tireless trail.
And the circle of the skies
Kept me in my paradise,
Where now fancy yearns and strays
In the lands of other days.
Now I roam afar and wide
With no tender thought nor guide.
But tlie thoughts of hours like these,
Shared in lands of birds and bees,
Shared in lands where hearts are pure
In my heart they stili endure;
Yet in fancy I can see
The dear lands where I was free.
While my fancy lifts the haze
From the lands of oiher days.
—HARVEY PORTER LAYTON.
SAHARA.
Thou art lone and dread, Sahara, and by
some unkind mishap
Nature has not cast her verdure In thy
wide and sterile lap:
Save the sprinkling of oases that thy
desert sands enfold
Like bright'' isles of green surrounded by
a sea of shining gold.
But although thy wilds are springless,
and by no gay frondage blessed.
1, who long for calm and quiet, do not
deem them all unblessed;
For thy very desolation shields thy arid
burning sands
From the turmoils and the troubles that
afflict more favored lands:
And when my impatient spirit struggles
in its hopeless strife
With the galling chains that bind it to the
hard demands of life;
When hope's skies are draped in shadow
and misfortune’s winds blow chill
And endeavor's brave feet falter on am
bition’s rugged hill;
I would flee, oh! drear Sahara, to thy
calm and peaceful arms.
As a vessel seeks a haven from the temp
est's wild alarms. v
I would build my humble dwelling on
thy plains ail lone and bare,
Where the harsh-tonod voice of traffic has
not roused the demon care.
And within thy walls of silence I would
find a sweet surcease
From the pains that poison pleasure and
tin- woes that murder peace.
I •would be as free, Sahara, from the
caves that scourge me now
As the eagle soaring o'er thee, and the
breeze that fans thy brow!
—JAMES GARDNER.
EXPERIENCE.
J cave not known the jyitns In life,
I ike many all around me.
For God from much of troublous strife.
With mercy's chain has bound me;
I know not why nor can T tell
The reason I’ve been favored.
Because 1 know anil know right well
My faith lias often wavered.
Nor can 1 rightly merit claim
’.■'or love lie freely gave me.
Bin give to Him all praise the same
And trust Him still to save me;
1 ne'er can thank the Lord enough
Or doubt that He has known me.
Everlasting Itching
And Burning of the Skin on Face
Cured by CUTfCURA.
For the last three montho I have been troubled
with an evnrlneting Itching and burning of the
■kin on nay face, and did not know what to do
to cure it. I was prevailed upon to try Cnri-
ccra Remedies. The result was eimpiy won
derful. In one meek after using the Cuticuka
Boar and Citticitra Resoi.vent / mat entirely
ri(l of it, and my skin is in a healthy condition.
D. H. VAN GLAHN',731 Stockton at., San Fran. Cal.
rnTICURA RESOLVENT begins with theblood
aart ends with the skin and scalp. That is to say
it purifies the blood arid circulating fluids of
wruoR OF RMS. and thus removes the ravee,
while warm hath* with CUTICURA SOAP, and
genfie anointings with CUTICURA (ointment)
Greatest of emollient skin cures, cleanse tlie skin
Sdscatp of crusts and scales, allay itching burn.
|ng. and inflammation. soothe™ "d
speedily, permanently, and economlcsllycurea
the meet torturing, disfiguring hum°™ of the
ea*ss3S=«a-
RED ROUGH HAND8 m *CuTicc*» 8oAr.
For when it seemed my way was rough
Another has been shown me.
I can but tread along my way
To grace and mercy debtor,
And try to nelp as best I may
To make the world some better;
Besides if I can here each day
Make some one’s burden lighter,
'Twill cause my own to flee away
And make the hours grow brighter.
—A. A. NORTH.
Nashville, Tenn.
TO SIDNEY LANIER.
Sweet singer of the south, to thee,
Let an adoring people bow,
As they, In love, so tenderly
Entwine around thy noble brow
The emblem of a world's renown,
Trophy of love, a poet’s crown.
In many bloody battles fought,
Thou didst thy weary comrades cheer,
With strains of thrilling music caught
From off thy tuneful flute; and near.
At night, tiie wounded’s anguished pains
Didst soothe with thy dlvinest strains.
And when war’s cruel grasp was torn
From sunny southland’s bleeding breast
Thou, then, didst sing midst ruins, horn
Of peaceful hope and welcomed rest.
Of common country's weal, and then
Of flowing marsh and mossy glen.
Thy life is but an emblem fair
Of sweetest harmony of love,
That pain and anguish had made bare—
Sweet inspiration from above.
—JOHN ROBERTS.
ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON AT
SHILOH.
In martial skill surpassed by none,
This hero from a golden strand,
This warrior from the setting sun,
With winning tones and manners bland,
With victory serenely planned,
Rides vanward toward his hour of doom.
And points a Southron's battle-brand
Through Shiloh's glorv-circled gloom.
The blaze of battle scarce begun,
He faces danger’s deadliest stand
With nerves of steel, nor seeks to shun
The hazards of his bravest band.
But leads an onslaught carnage-fanned,
Where flaming tempest-waves consume
The hopes that hurtle and expand
Through Shiloh’s glory-circled gloom.
With wounds disdained, the scarred crest
won,
Beyond the death-slope horror-spanned,
Amid the crimson streams that run
Through serfdom’s blasted leafage-land.
He yields to fate his proud command,
And feels the summons of the tomb—
But O that headlong charge was grand
Through Shiloh’s glory-circled gloom.
L’EX VO I.
As long as valor's deeds are scanned
By those whom Freedom's lamps illume,
Shall he and Fame go hand in hand
Through Shiloh's glory-circled gloom.
—TUCKER WOODSOX TAYLOR.
MOTHER’S PICTURE.
Before me is a picture
An image fair to see,
Which represents my mother,
Just as she used to hilj
When iri life’s cheery springtime,
As in the picture now,
Health’s roses rare wore blooming
In beauty on her brow.
But years have come and vanished
. Since then, and on her brow
Was laicl the hand of stillness.
And she is sleeping now.
Death’s shadow slowly hovered,
And peacefully one day
An angel band descended
And bore her soul away.
I sit in pensive silence
And gaze upon her face,
And in her kind expression
I see a modest grace;
And many tender feelings
Arise within my heart—
1 thank my Lord for giving
To mail the painter’s art!
While looking at her picture,
I wander back in mind
To happy days of childhood
And pleasures left behind,
And as I see in fancy
Tlie things to memory dear
I setftn the intonations
Of mother’s voice to hear.
And in the days before me,
Whatever life impart,
With joy I'll mother’s picture
Stili carry in my heart.
—JOSEPH W. HUMPHRIES..
RONDEAU.
When I am old. then shall my speech
Beside the threshold softly teach
The ones that gather by my side
To catch the argument, the tide
Of broken logic that I preach?
And shall my beard all snowy reach
In drifts along my breast that each
Succeeding year will deeper hide,
When I am old?
Tlie white of cherry, pink of peach.
Make glad the earth; and I beseech
The bluest heavens to abide.
Till I at last shall safely ride
To gain that far off crystal beach,
When 1 am old.
-ALONZO LEORA RICEJ.
I LOVE YOU.
I love you dear—
Blit you.
And while far away would you like to
hear
My heart's one song—
That it sings, and sings, the whole day
long? ?
Always of you.
I love you dear—
But you.
The beautiful sky and the song bird near—
The moon so bright—
The gray young dawn and the sun’s glad
light.
AH sing of you.
I love you dear—
But you.
T!.t t.trj ms : :t„i til*. Bit .
Each smile I wake—
All the good in my life together make
This song of you.
I love you darling so well—
One little song' cannot tell.
On and on my whole life through.
My oeart will always sing of you.
—AXXE SIXGLETON.
Revenge ol Warns Sanaa.
BY HELEN F. HUNTINGTON.
A long silence succeeded Major Ter-
hune’s story—the story of an Indian Raj
poot who, in revenge of a fancied insult,
caused the death of an English officer in
a manner so mysterious as to evade the
far-reaching arm of English law.
“I don’t altogether credit the story as
Cleevcr tells it," the major observed af
ter a pause. “He’s apt to draw on his
Imagination to some extent. 1 was on the
sick list at the time of the tragedy, so I
can’t vouch for the queer tales that got
afloat, it remains a fact, however, that
Mayfield’s body was found one morning
in an upright position, in his accustomed
chair on the piazza and on medical exam
ination not tlie faintest trace of physical
violence could be found on his person.
There wasn’t a sounder, healthier fellow
in the regiment than Mayfield, but the
verdiet was that always reverted to in
eases of mysterious death—heart failure,
and of course nothing to tlie contrary
eonld be be proven, hut suspicion pointed
to Xephnnis Sahad whose enmity for
Mayfield was an open secret.”
"Xephanis Sahad?" Mrs. Uhristophe re
peated with quickened interest.
"Xephanis Rhalil Sahad Rajpoot of
Oudeypnor. A young Hindu of superior
rank and education with an entertaining
knowledge of necromancy and tlie occult
sciences which go by the law of hered
ity in India: lie showed us the explana
tion of many fakes and optical delusions
though I always suspected he knew much
more than he ever told us.for necromancy
did not run in his family. For a Hindu
he was a fine fellow I must admit, cour
teous as a prince, brave as a lion but the
old cradicabie race-superstitions cropped
to the fore under any great pressure of
circumstances: still he was very enter
taining and was pleased to be gracious to
ward our company until Mayfield foolish
ly provoked him to a perfect frenzy of
heathen rage—not the wholesome boist
erous burst of ajiger common to an hon
est Britisher. Jjut the silent, malicious
hatred of a serpent. It was a pity. too.
for lie was a very entertaining fellow and
the Lord knows we have few amuse
ments.”
“Woman in tlie case naturally,” ob
served Colonel Brentwood.
“Yes. there was. though we could never
get at the straight of it. Mayfield show
ed us a picture and a few trinkets such
as Indian women wear but I was inclined
to doubt both for it was not at all prob-
ahle that a high caste Hindu lady would
commit the indcscrction of giving her
picture to a foreigner. However, that
may lie, Mayfield's vanity led him to the
foolish extreme of showing these trophies
in a mixed company where wine had cir
culated pretty freely and rough army
jests ran from lip to lip. 1 never could
understand how it was that Xephanis Sa-
hhd happened to come into the barracks
just then unless some one gave hint the
wink for he was not the man to frequent
such places or over intrude his presence
unasked. He made straight for Mayfield
and looking over his shoulder caught
sight of the picture lying face up among
a little heap of feminine ornaments, lie
turned pale to the lips and caught at the
table for support as he closed one hand
over the picture with a force that bent
its delicate gold frame. “From this hour
1 reckon my debt of hate toward you.”
he said, in a voice that out the maudlin
murmurings like a knife-blade. It so
bered Mayfield instantly: 1 think he fear
ed Sahad's revenge from that time to the
hour of his death.”
“And the lady?” Brentwood asked.
“Of her I know nothing. Judging from
the photograph, if it were hers, she must
have been exceptionally lovely even for a
Hindu which is saying a great deal, for
they arc. as a race, very beautiful. May-
field never spoke of her In our presence
after that night.”
“It was a very singular case,” Mrs.
Ohj'istophe said at length, as no one offer
ed further comment. “India is the moth
er of mysteries, and (lie ways of her peo
ple are unsearchable. T think it proba
ble that the Hindu was skilled in meta
physical science by which he discovered
in Mayfield a vulnerable point of attack,
jind by his superior force of will exagger
ated that weakness to a pitch where one
severe shock would snap the nervous ten
sion and produce death.”
“But my dear Mrs. Uhristophe. an or
dinarily sound mind does not succumb to
such baleful influences,” the Major ob
jected.
“Xot consciously, perhaps, but under
certain conditions, gradually and inevita
bly. The life-force of our physical being
is kecnlv perceptahle to mental oppres
sion. The Hindu doubtless tjsed occult
means, if indeed he had any part in the
tragedy. I have in mind .a ease that
came under nty personal observation
some years ago. during my first visit to
India—now that I think of it alioul the
date of Captain Mayfield s death—which
illustrates, in a measure, the peculiar in
fluence of mind over matter."
“Tell us about it, will you not?” the
Colonel asked.
“\Ye were leaving Otldeypore for cen
tral India when nty English maid desert
ed me for a home-bound family, and. at a
peculiarly opportune moment when 1 felt
mv inability to battle with the Indian
climate and write at the same time, a
very handsome young Hindu woman of
fered me her services as maid and useful
companion. She spoke English and was,
on tiie whole, remarkably well educated,
from which I judged she came of good
family: being ignorant of tlie customs of
her country T thought nothing strange of
her offer blit accepted iter services at her
own very modest terms, asking no ques
tions. She seemed very anxious to leave
the city T thought, and she had not long
to wait, for we soon set out on our south
bound trip. Wo had hoped to reach the
Xerbudda river in four days hut on ac
count of the insufferable heat were forced
to make a halt half way between that
and the Ganges, in a low sanded spot on
the edge of a jungle wood fullofindescrib
able fragrance and color, like a huge
flower show. From where I lay in my
hammock I could sec. through the white
waves of quivering heat, a little settle
ment beyond a stretch of wind waved
pampas grass, the thatched roofs of the
bungalows reflecting the dazzling glare
of the tropical sun. Toward evening
when our coolies were preparing to re
sume the march, a company of merchants
rode out from the village and. after a
preliminary parley with our guides, one of
them requested, in perfect English, an
interview with me.
"To my surprise and annoyance he de
manded, politely enough, the release of
Llorene the Hindu girl, saying that any
stun 1- niighl name as a compensation for
the loss of her service would he at my in
stant disposal, but also intimating that
1 was guilty of a grave offense In con
veying her out of the city. On my as
surance that Llorene was at liberty to
return to her people whenever she felt
so inclined, he thanked me very earnest
ly and asked permission to see her which
I immediately granted; and for some
time lie reasoned with her in his native
tongue apparently to no effect for though
she was visibly moved she remained ob
durate. I watched him curiously, con
scious of the indefinable pleasure one feels
at a revelation of unusual personal beau
ty, for he was of singularly attractive
presence. Ho was of rather slight, supple
build with well poised head and delicate
Aryan face, superb black eyes, the clear
pale brown skin of the tropics. He de
ported himself with the profound gravity
of tiis race; but as the girl continued stub
bornly to oppose him he evidently re
proached hot - for tears trikled down her
cheeks and she turned her face away
from his searching gaze. Finally with
an exclamation of scorn, he filing him
self into his saddle and heading for the
village dashed furiously out of sight
around a curve-'Of the road. Soon after
our party were under way in the opposite
direction.
"I asked no questions, convinced that
Llorene was of an age to know her own
mind, thankful in my heart for her de
cision in my temporary favor. As time
went by she proved herself a treasure in
a thousand ways and T became very
much attached to her. In manner she
was quiet, unassuming and pleasing; she
had the indcscribale, inborn courtesy of
Orientals, their keen intuitiveness with
absolute truthfulness which 1 regret to
say, is not a national trait; but at times
site appeared exceedingly melancholy and
I felt sure some serious trouble preyed
on her mind.
"One evening T asked her to perform
someslight service for me which neces
sitated a walk through the wailed gar
dens and i<» my surprise site appear“d
most reluctant and finally asked to be
allowed to send one of the servants in
stead. ‘1 am afraid,’ she explained with
a. little nervous shiver.
” Afraid,' I echoed. ‘Why it is not yet
dark. Is anything wrong about the
house?’
“ ‘I hope not, but 1 have an ungoverna
ble fear.’
"I was inclined to laugh at her but she
shivered as one with the ague and begged
to have the lamps lighted. To satisfy
her I took a lamp and looked in every cor
ner and crevice of the room and convinced
iter that nothing tangible lurked about,
half scolding her meantime for her fool
ishness.
" 'if you knew my sad story you would
not wonder at my wretchedness,’ she
said, pathetically.
"If 1 could help you,’ I said earnestly,
‘you know I would gladly do so.’
" 'Yes, and I thank you from my heart,
but no power on earth can shield me from
my fate. Because you are so good to me
and perhaps love me a little i will teli
you what evil thing befell me.'
“This was her story. Her father, a man
of local influence and wealth, lived just
outside of Otuleypore in a manner befit
ting his rank as Rajpoot. Contrary to
tic" usages of liis sect lie had given his
c;i -ii a liberal European education
< i rt; he had not changed his religious
obs Trances because he had not felt him
self conscientiously impressed to do so
consequently his household was a strange
fusion of civilization and superstition, i
could not understand how a man of such
liberal views could conform to tiie religi
ous dictum? incumbent on the particular
faction to which he belonged, among oth
er equally absurd and revolting notions
the worship of the cobra as a special vo
tary of Siva. When, as sometimes hap
pens, a snake finds its way into their
houses, it is left unmolested, or. if that
is not possible and no snake charmers
can be obtained to eject It, a young and
innocent child is chosen to coax or drive
it out—they have a saying that nothing
can harm perfect purity—for its worship
pers are forbidden under pain of a horri
ble punishment to destroy it.’
“Foreigners visited L'.orene’s family as
freely as guests come to our English
homes; among others, young officers of
the English regiment, and of course one
particular cavalier. This man. whose
name t will not mention, fell into dis
favor with Llorene's brother for some
unknown reason and because of her
brother's coldness to him Llorene tried
to make amends in a measure; iter fath
er. she said, had the good fortune to he
of some service to this young man—his
gratitude was profound.
"One day he came to say goodbye—he
was suddenly ordered with his regiment
to the Punjab—and after he had taken
formal leave of the family and
passed beyond the garden walls
he found that he had forgotten
something and returned to tlie terrace
where lie found Llorene. alone. He sprang
over the fragrant nursery hedge to her
side and at that instant saw not six feet
distant, the hooded head of a deadly co-
lira which he had aroused from its
torpid mid-day sleep. He must have lost
his head as many a braver man has done
on coming suddenly face to face with
death: lie thrust one trembling hand to
ward his sword and with the other trieu
to push Llorene into safe cover hut slit
seized the weapon front his nerveless hand
and with one sweeping blow severed the
serpent's head from its reared body. A
frightened servant gave a cry of alarm
that brought her people to the scene
where she stood with blood-stained sword,
and the Englishman beside her leaning on
the marble balustrade with the flowering
jasmine at his feet. Without a word of
explanation Llorene's brother directed a
servant to accompany ttv- officer to the
barracks reminding him, however., that
he would repay in full the debt of hate
he owed him.
"'The serpent was burned and its body
thrown into the sacred Ganges. Llor
ene's father tried in every way possible
to atone for his daughter's folly, but the
priests of Silva were inexorable: they
prophesied evil things for her future and
tortured her with premonitions of a hor
rible death, the fear of which overruled
the influence of her liberal education and
revived the old race superstitions. Xot
a month after tlie cobra was killed a na
tive servant was bitten by a venomous
snake and died in a few hours. The
gardens became infested with snakes as
with a plague: twice native charmers
drove them away, but they returned in
greater numbers, seeking vengeance,
Llorene believed, and to rid her family
of attendant evils determined to leave
per home. I asked involuntarily if she
loved the man for whom she risked her
life, and though she made no reply. 1
read my answer in her deep, dark eyes.
•••Was’he worthy?' I asked.
•‘She flushed deeply from throat to
Prow and answered: 'How should 1
know? It is a poor love that gives us
only our deserts.’ Then, with a sad lit
tle smile, added. ‘Yes. 1 loved him. but I
knew it was not for rno or one of my
race to marry a stranger: that would
brinR sorrow to both. 1 am learning to
forget. Von have taught nte that a wo
man may do many things besides loving
and dreaming.’
“1 was very fond of her. 1 tried to di
vert her thoughts from the terrible op
pression of fear that overshadowed her,
but all my reasoning was to no avail; she
was convinced that an awful fate await
ed her. I tried to exact from her a
promise to return with me to England
the following spring, hut she replied that
Siva would not allow her to pass out of
her power. Still, for a time after our
conversation, she appeared happier even
to light-heartedness, until I very unwise
ly questioned her as to her improvement
and brought on a violent relapse of fear.
She became excessively nervous and in
sisted that the enclosure was infested
with snakes: so persistent was she that
I fell under the spell of her influence so
far as to send for a couple of snake
charmers from a neighboring village,with
the result of unearthing one small, harm
less snake from the house wall.
“The days grew unbearably hot, with
the blinding, scorching, sickening heat
peculiar to Southern India. We lost
sight of all other desires in one long una
vailing effort to allay the discomfort of
abnormal temperatures. 1 fell into a low
fever, from which Llorene rescued me by
angelic care and long before the ordinary
time of recovery. But the heat did not
abate; the sun blazed in hot fury from
morning till night and set in a lurid, cop
pery sky, leaving the night air heavy
with smouldering heat waves. One stif
ling night, when I could not lie still on
my bed, I rose and went out on the low-
roofed piazza to my accustomed ham
mock. and Llorene followed with a rush
mat, which she placed on the floor for
herself. The young moon poured her
silver light full upon us and a heavy
odor of unknown flowers from the jungle
wood filled the air oppressively, but in
spite of the heat and perfumes it was
preferable to (he close gioont within.
"Llorene sank to slumber as easily as a
healthy child, without sound or motion,
as she always slept, her arms thrown
above her head in a graceful attitude of
repose. Under the soft, clear light of
the moon her face was very beautiful,
with its perfect features and the long
black lashes shading her round olive
cheek. Finally I grew sleepy watching
her. and settling myself comfortably, fell
into a light troubled slumber. I cannot
say how long I slept, but when T awoke
I was conscious of .an impending danger
and an intolerable sense of fear that
chilled my blood to my very heart. A
black wavering shadow from above
me caught my instant attention,
and raising my eyes without mov
ing my head I saw. depending
from the thatched roof, the head and
body of a huge snake, its polished, scaly
skin shining like black marble as it
swung noiselessly back and forth keeping
a cautious lookout on surrounding ob
jects.
"Strangely, through my indescribable
terror my first thought was of Llorene; I
woultj at that instant have given all I
possessed for the power to shield or warn
her. but even then I realized that our
li\1?s depended on absolute quiet and si
lence. A coldness crept through my body,
succeeded by a strange numbness that
made movement impossible, but my reas
oning faculties were intensified to
an agonizing degree; I wondered
if people in a trance had that
awful sensation of helplessness and
hopelessness while conscious of prepara
tions for their burial. I saw the snake
swing lower and lower until it coiled
around the railing not more than two
feet from my hammock, then with a swift
turn of its head dart suddenly toward me
mu! by a superhuman effort 1 closed my
eyes and waited—not for death, for a fate
infinitely more terrible—I know not what.
Soon I felt the light cold weight of its
body pass slowly over me—so slowly that
its length seemed immeasurable as that
of the fabled sea-serpents-ami am last
1 heard its sinuous movements on the
floor like the sound of a handful of reeds
drawn lightly over a smooth surface.
"After a long while—perhaps hours—my
rigid muscles relaxed and 1 was able to
raise myself to my elbow; all was silont
save for the interminable hum of night
insects. 1 nerved myself to look at
Llorene. and 1 found to my inexpressible
relief that site had not stirred, but was
still peacefully sleeping. I dared not
call for help or stir myself incautiously
for fear of waking her, for if she realized
the danger, there was no imagining what
she would do in her fright. From sheer
nervous exhaustion I fell asleep and
slept till sunrise, when the cheerful bus
tle of newly awakened life aroused me
and a sudden exclamation from the
walled enclosure caught my attention.
“ Burro sop!' I heard a man's voice cry
out excitedly, and 1 knew he had killed
a snake—perhaps the very one of my aw-
GRANDMA
HAD
CONSUMPTION
and I am afraid I have in
herited it. I do not feel
well; I have a cough ; my
lungs are sore; am losing
flesh. What shall I do?
Your doctor says take care of
yourself and take plain cod-liver
oil, but you can’t take it. Only
the strong, healthy person can
take it, and they can’t take it
long. It is so rich it upsets the
6tomach. But you can take
SCOTT'S
EMULSION
It is very palatable and easily
digested. If you will take plenty
of fresh air, and exercise, and
SCOTT’S EMULSION steadily,
there is very little doubt about
your recovery.
There are hypophosphites in it;
they give strength and tone up the
nervous system while the cod-liver
oil feeds and nourishes.
Soc. and $t.oo. all druggists.
SCOTT & BOWNF, Chemists. New York.
fill experience. Marion came to my win
dow just then. "Are you awake?" site
asked, leaning out. ‘They have just kill
ed an enormous cobra. Rhalil says we
have the charmers here again; he’s cer
tain there is a nest somewhere, perhaps
t tinder the eaves. How ill you look; have
I frightened you?’
“ 'No, but you will frighten Llorene.' I
cautioned.
“ ‘Oh. I forgot; how soundly she sleeps.'
"I rose wearily and on passing the
sleeping girl put my hand on her round
naked shoulder. It was cold as marble. I
called her name in agony of fear but she
did not stir. Through her half-open lids
her black eyes gazed straight before her
in a fixed stare of terror."
"Dead?" the Colonel exclaimed in pro
found pity.
"Yes. and there was every indication
that she had been dead for hours."
"The poor girl died of fright? "
“Unquestionably. Her nerves were
wrought to their highest tension by habit
ual fear, and one wrench of the delicate
brain-mechanism totally destroyed her
life-force.”
"What a sad ending of a fair young
life!" Major Terhune exclaimed.
"I have not quite finished. It was my
nainfu! duty to communicate with the
dead girl's family, which brought her
brother to our bungalow within a week.
He bore himself with the unnatural quiet
of a stoic, hut at parting gave me his
hand—a delicate, slender, brown hand-
saying, ‘You were kind to her I know—I
thank you from my heart. A Hindu
never forgets true kindness: therefore r
am vour servant to command always.
My nam> is Xephanis Sahad."
I he same!" the major ei-hoed. in ex
treme surprise. "What a singular coin
cidence!"
"The same. And the .English officer
who so far forgot or abused his host's
kindness as to make poor Llorene a vic
tim of his vanity, was Captain Edward
Mayfield, of her majesty’s service."
“He paid dearly for his folly, too. by
Jove. Poor Mayfield! He was no match
for Xephanis Hahad."
The next time the major told his favor
ite story at the club it was rather longer
and more interesting, and his sympathies
were not so much with Mayfield as with
the beautiful, pure woman who loved him
and lost her life through his foolish
vanity.
Man is so selfish that, no sermon can
he expected to reach him unless it en
courages him to lay up treasure for him
self somewhere.
m
sioo.ee
FOR THE WORD “GIRL.
99
ift We will give $100 in Gold to the person or persons telling
i ns how many times the word “girl” appears in the Bible, either
^ old or new Testament. In each instance yon must tell us just
where yon found the word and cite us to verse and chapter. This
/ft contest should interest every one. since we tell yon to find the
^ word in the Bible. Of course every one reads the Bible and in
^ consequence the search for the word will prove instructive. This
contest will positively close June 15.
|| The Condition for Sending a Guess.
jjlOr. the word "Girl" is that each and every guess must he accompanied hv
/’yiK $1.00 for six months’ subscription to The Sunny South. The guess must be
sent in the identical envelope that brings the money that pays for the sub- ^
® scription: forgetting It. or leaving it out by accident or otherwise, or not
knowing of the guess at the jjme you subscribed, or any other reason, will
en (ille one to send a guess afterward. The guess must come with the |
subscription or not at all. Should a party send more than one guess, he or |
■3 she will be entitled to a share of the fund for each correct guess sent: there
will he no capital prize—everyone will get a first prize. If more than one '
/W\ person tells us where and how many limes the word "Girl” is to be found. I
JSf the money will be equally divided and all stand exactly on the same foot- j
ing. Persons may guess as many times as they send subscriptions. Address ^
| The Sunny South, ;
/ft ATLANTA, GA. '
M <
NOTE: As yon will observe, in order to enter the .
^ above contest it is only necessary for yon to accompany yonr
IT answer with $1.00 acconnt of subscription, either for back
43 dnes, renewal or for a new subscriber.
wS See what we will give you for $2.00! If yon send ns $2.00 we
wb will send yon The Sunny South one year, the Atlanta Weekly '
® Constitution one year and will allow yon a gness in the above '
/ft contest. Will also allow yon a gness in our MISSING WORD '
/ft CONTEST, and will also allow you a gness in onr $5,000 COT- '
/ft TON CONTEST. The gness in each contest mnst come in the 1
/ft same envelope in which yon send the $2.00 subscription to botk \
/ft papers. *
/j!
' NS*