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IvT V fl.,’ OK ToCCOA, OrA.
CHAPTER II r.
THE RECITAL.
Mr. Bergan, contrary to Paul's !
expectations, seemed to be unusually i
depressed. Uc seemed indisposed to
-converse and disinclined to lay any |
plans. Something was weighing
lwtyUy upon his mind. Some sad!
event of the past had been enddculy I
revived and was sweeping with clce-
trie rapidity across the keys of his
memory. What that could be which
had so suddenly rendered him so
melancholy, Paul could not imagine,
for within his recollection pot a
thing -had occurred to render his
father unhappy. Paul was nonplussed•
Jlis father’s conduct was inexplicable,
Directly Mr. Bergan crossed his
hands behind him and slowly wended
I is way to the verge of the /Erie,
where he seated himself on a slight
eminence and gazed abstractedly into
the river beneath. Paul decided to
approach and if possible, to ascertain
the cause of this unusual depression.
So drawing near where his father was
sitting he exclaimed ; “What a pecu¬
liar appearance this river and the
cliff beneath, presents. Jt has a
repulsive beauty—a beauty that
repels while it attracts. Let me
approach the brink and look over.”
*‘Be careful,” says Mr. Bergan.
Paul went to the very edge and
almost as quickly returned,., saying ;
“It is unquestionably beautiful and
yet l do cot admire it., intuition
tells me that this is a fatal ipit. I
know not why, yet I feel as though
this spot has been or will be the
£6BWBHd&feR>l&. ’ ‘ T 'VI ' .
“How strange that you should say
s<\ Unintentionally to I aul he had
touched the secret of his
melancholy. “Yet, rny boy, \oi are
right. Twelve years ago 1 was in
New Orleans, had gone there on
business and had been there two
weeks. One morning I took up tin©
New York Times and in the list of
failures, I noticed that of F. W.
Wilton. Wilton, or Frank* as 1
generally called him, had long been
one of my staunchest friends. W e
had been college chums, were class
males, had graduated together, and
then our paths had separated. He had
entered business in C ■, I had be¬
gun in 31-.
Wo saw each other two or three
limes a 3 ear and generally made it
.convenient to go to market together.
He had prospered and from an exten-
sive retail business had gone into a
wholesale and was running it piofita-
bly. Jt was well known that his
business was on a cash basis, and as
he was a man ot known probity,
every one had unlimited confidence
in him, and not 01 m of his numerous
acquaintances but was astonished at
his failure. The T imes stated that he
had quietly sett led up his business
and had gone JYcsfc immediately,
with the remnant of his scattered
wealth seeking to mend his broken
fortunes. 1 thought there was a
mistake, vet, I knew not where it was.
I made up my mind to ascend the
Mississippi, in the almost vain hope
of seeing Wilton, it was one chance
iu a thousand and scarcely that, yet
1 determined to ta*e that one
I had been gone just twenty- three
days, and had been more and more
convinced that 1 was on a ibol’s
errand. 1 had left the Mississippi
ten days before, waudering westward ;
the night of the 23rd found me on the
banks of this river just
where we now sit! I was astir early
next morning and was soon across
the river intending to see the Marie,
which at once seemed to me to be a
singular freak of Nature. I fastened
mv horse below and ascended on the
. left. L On ~ arriving . . at ... the top . T I
saw a
sight never to be forgotten. My
blood seemed to freeze in my veins;
n,y heart uluuostrceW to beat To
uin consternation there was my friend _
U llton. bound hand and toot, he
lay prostrate on the ground. Yale
and emaciated, / scarcely knew him.
About twelve feet to his right lay his
wife, once one of the loveliest women
/ever knew. Her hair was tangled,
her face besmeared with dirt and
blood, and there just above her heart
was that smooth, round aperture,
which I kuew meant death. I now
it H
By Edw SCHAEFER, 'r
y QJj "Y
saw an object which I had failed to
notice before. It was a little girl
about three years old—a beautiful
little creature* She was so frightened
at rny approach that she started in
the opposite direction. Not for a
moment thinking what she might do,
I made no elfort to overtake her, sup-
posing that she would return of her
own accord. But she continued. Her
father suddenly realized her danger
and in a weak voice asked me to save
“little Minnie.” Then the idea
dawned upon me that she might run
over the /Erie. At first I could have
easily overtaken her, now, it was
doubtful. Now commenced such a
race as mortal eyes never saw before.
Little Minnie was in seventy five leet
of the brink. I was about tvu> hundred
and twenty five. I ran more rapidly
than I ever aid before, but Minnie
was slowly but surely approaching
certain death ! Now she was within
fifteen feet of the brink of that fearful
chasm, and too well I knew that I
could never save her now.
I called her name ; she turned her
face to me and in her countenance I
could see written the greatest terror.
I gently advanced toward her but
that very moment she moved baek-
ward — backward toward that preci¬
pice, to fall over which was certain
death
Again I beseech her to stop, to
come ine . voluntarily, without
knowing the consequence, she steps
backward into the outstretched arms
0 f danger *
./Merciful Father, save thy little
one !
I clasp my hands in silent prayer
and give my friend’s only child into
the hands of Him who mimbereth the
hairs upon our heads.
\\ ill he .save her? Two feet further !
A step nearer the brink! Fleeing
from safety! Unconsciously ap¬
proaching death 1 Another step
further from friends and one step
nearer a watery grave! Again I
old my hands in silent agony and
pray that little Minnie may not be
^he cause of her own destruction,
^ 4 no tj ier s t e p backward ! But what
j, er f^her. He sees it all. Who
can measure his agony. His chest
(jii a tes with a hastily drawn breath,
pj s nmsc i es contract and he makes a
desperate effort for freedom. His
tigUtly contracted muscles relax with
the force of an immense steel spring,
but of no avail. Ile^as torn h:s flesh,
broken a blood vessel, in his almost
superhuman efforts to free himself,
//is efforts cease ; he lies quietly upon
the ground, and from liis wfist so
tightly bound with that cruel cord,
springs the life-blood of one whose
dead wife lies beside him, and whose
only child is almost knocking at
death’s door. Little Minnie, what of
her? Alas! She’s on the verge of
destruction. She raises her foot to
take probably her last step on earth.
I turn my head to avoid seeing her
g G j ovvn i n i , 0 that awful pit. On
looking again to the chasm, she’s
gone ! Lost before her father’s eyes !
Chapter IV.
the recital continued.
’Twas useless to attend to the
when the suffering living was
so near. So I returned at once to Mr.
Bergan. I decided at once upon the
cause of his wife's death and his own
bondage. 3 One word tells all, ’ and
that word is—Indians.
His wrists were securely* bound
with ligaments formed of hickory
bark j and bound so tightly that the
circulation ot the blood was partiahy _
prevented. Around those cruel cords
the flesh was adull, blue color, and
his efforts for freedom those merci-
less bands had buried themselves in
his flesh. Hastily I freed him from
these evidences of a demon incarnate;
but to my astonishmeut he did not
rise, but his eyes were listless-I
thought he was dying. The paleness
of unutterable woe was upon his
Devoted to News» Politics- Agriculture and General progress-
TOCCOA, SEPTEMBER 9 1882
countenance, the seal of death upon
ids forehead,
Soon, ah, soon, he Would cross the
border line of eternity ; would enter
the portals of that bourne from which
no traveler returneth. You can not
form even an idea of my feelings.
Ihis man, my childhood biend,
whose wife was wrapped in Death’s
cold embrace, whose only child had
just gone down that precipice
before him, was himself vacillating
between life and death, and I, the
only person near!
lie revived and at intervals gave
me the following particulars:
“Lawrence,'’ said he, faintly, “You
have always been my friend, but you
never help inc now. My wife
and child have passed on and soon I
must follow. Bereft of family and
of fortune, life has no charms for
me. But let me tell you how all this
happened.
Two years ago, I took into my
employ a young man who not only
proved'himself possessed of extraor¬
dinary business qualifications, but
also of some means, lie refused to
invest his money, giving his inexpe¬
rience as a reason.
He gave the best satisfaction.
Good habits, always punctual and
pleasant. Not long since he asked
me to invest £50,000 for him ; which
I did, realizing 15 per cent, on the
investment. 1 foresaw a larger in-
which I knew almost,
would pay, so I collected outstanding
debts amounting to £340,000, and
with the money 1 had in ban/i, was
prepared to invest £500,000 for
myself and £57,500 for Eugene.
Having heard rumors against the
bank, I drew out all funds, and
placed it in a private apartment of
my own vault. 1 was perfectly satis¬
fied and only waited for the proper
moment to arrive when I would
invest. Imagine my surprise, when,
on opening the vault one morning
before Eugene’s arrival, instead of
finding the £500,000, I found simply
a leaf from a small memorandum,
with these words, “You need not
pursue, 'twill be useless”—signed,
Eugene Belmont.
How he opened the vault, or how
he entered that certain private apart¬
ment, I never knew ; but 1 did know
that the money was gone. If he was
shrewd enough to deceive me so
completely, to open the vault, etc.,
I decided that pursuit would be
useless. So I made an assignment,
the world knows not why, you do,
and started for California. Here, we
were attacked by Indians ; my wife,
killed before my eyes, and i, bound
as you found me. Here have I Jain
beside my wife for thirty six hours
without food or water ; Minnie, had
only one piece of bread ; but she too
is on that bright shore where pleas¬
ures all immortal bloom. She would
loot at me and talk just as she did
when we were in our parlor.
L
Lawrence, _ ~ you , have seen battles
have . death, »
seen ^, but J you know
not what is agony. 1 , knew . that I
would soon be dead, and I knew that
Alinnie would survive me. Here she
would be. her father and mother
ead * ml she a ‘»ne m this place of
deso.ation, but now she is waiting for
me and I am not loath to go.”
1Iere hc ceased speaking. His
eyes looked at space; his breath
came in gasps $ his fingers twitched*
The angel of ~ death was at . hand . ,
bear his soul on high. These were
the last words oi my unfortunate
friend :
toe ^ an rogue. ^ l *S en f ^ I dose gunty, words or is Ber- were
so solemn, so death-like, that they
sounded lile a faint voice from the
world beyond. He passed away
without a groan.
I gave his own, ana the body oi his
wife, the best burial possible, and
made my way home. I have never
spoken of it before’
f To he Continue ■/.]
A TALLULAH IDYL.
a Young- couple get lost in the
.MOUNTAINS.
Athens Banner.
One day last week an old gentleman
from Atlanta visited the falls, bring-
ing with him a charming daughter
just budding into womanhood. The ~
young lady soon found among the
guests at the hotel a young gentleman
from Atlanta, who volunteered to act
as her guide (as he knew every loot
of the country) and show the fair
visitor the sights. She thankfully
accepted him as an escort, and ou the
second day of her stay the couple left
the hotel for a ramble. They left
about three o’clock, and at sundown
had net returned. The father began
to grow uneasy, and strolled as far
down as the Grand Chasm to guide
them home. He theu returned to the
hotel, expecting that they had arrived
by another route ; but a sad disap¬
pointment awaited him—nothing had
been heard of the pair. He waited an
hour longer, in great distress, when a
darkness black as ink set in. The
frantic old gentleman then explained
the cause of his distress to the male
visitors, and begged that they assist
him in the search. Several squads
were at once organized, equipped with
torches, and the search began, No
one could tell in which direction the
young couple had strayed, and so
they first visited the falls peering
down all the precipices and into the
pools of waters expecting to find their
mangled remains. The agony of the
father was intense. lie lead the
search, and recklessly exposed his
life. It whs just ten o’clock when
the falls were thoroughly explored^
when some one proposed searching
the mountains on the opposite side of
the river. This was accepted, and a
squad crossed the bridge, dividing up
and going dilferent routes, One
party, who decided to go out among
the mountains, when near the top’cf
one, some distance from the hotel
f
thought they heard a moan of distress
at some distance. Hastening toward
the sbund, they discovered the lost
■couple sitting at the root of a large
tree, and both crying as if their hearts
would break, Hie young man having
pulled off his coat to atibrd the young-
lady a seat. It seems that they bad
rambled among the mountains, and
finally got lost just as night set in.
They rambled around in quest of a
path as long as they could see, and
then fearing that they might stumble
over some precipice in the dark’
decided to remain where they were
until daylight. They were carried
back to the hotel, and was the centre
of attraction. It was quite an inter¬
esting adventure, and created quite a
sensation.
TYPE WRITING.
Any . one who , reads , the papers will ...
notice . the . frequent - „ advertisements , , of
tvoe writers, ’ who , are now ,
, ... „ .. ,. ,
a inost a ' 10 lona 1 .
*
wril ' ei; ’ rua e tu [ nismcss m j>*®
copylnRandbeiKO ; thereis
iacreas in tbe number. These ma
chiues ar8 iu com , n on nse in law
offices, and have become so
that t-Uev will in such places aUeast
becomes * a substitute for ordinary
pensmansaip. „ensmanship The me neatness neatness ana H
legibility of this method prevent
mis t a kes, and hence adds vastly to
their value. This is specially import-
ant in matter which is intended for
th8 printer in which errors so
occur wheil the copy is in writing,
especially as the latter is often
bie. Byron found that the works he
sent iu manuscript from Italy to
London suffered so much from, the
printers inability to decipher bis
writing that he had them printed in
Italy to insure correctness. A few
copies were then struck off and sent
to Hurray, merely as a copy for the
i TERMS-$1 50 A YEAR,
ItU XT A Q
<
London printer. Jl'hat an enormous
saving could liavg been made in such
an instance had the type writer been
m use! Girls who are now using the
type writer find it a better way of
making a living than the needle.
Editors and tulergvmeii are among its
patrons, and insurance companies are
applying it in their immense corrcs-
pondenee.
TIIE GARLAND CASE.
(A 7 . Y. Tribune.)
The Garland murder trial goes on
with the usual amount of surrounding
heat and excitement in audience,
press and people which always aceom-
pany such a case in the Southern
States. The slow awakening of
common sense among our neighbors
has shown them the inexpediency of
the frequent blowing out of each
other’s brains to assert their honor.
but tire faith in ‘The Code’ as an
aristocratic, gentlemanly-feature of
social life, yet remains. Young men
of tlie upper classes now compromise
between the high toned traditions of
their order and their desire to stay
alive by the ridiculous, bloodless,
swaggering encounters such as that
to which the Wise family treat ns
now and then. But young fellows of
the rank of this Garland, when
enraged, follow the example of their
social leaders and have not wit enough
to play hero and coward at once, and
so to save their lives. The poor girl
whose coquetries pro.okcd the duel
lias received her punishment, She
should not hear a word of censure.
vVith one man whom she professed to
love, dead, and the other on trial for
his life, what condemnation from
without could hurt her more?
But young women like her, and the
mothers of such women, would do
well to read carefully the story of
this trial. Here was a girl betrothed
to one man, corresponding and
exchanging locks of hair and photo¬
graphs with another, whose moral
character ehe herself declares she
thought to be atrocious. But letters
and locks of hair go for nothing,’ she
says, in what other civilized country
where wives and sisters are honored
would ‘letters and locks of hair count
for Homing with an innocent maiden?
IFhere else would a decent girl be
left by her mother to make horsed
common and eheao by such gifts to
any stranger with whom she chooses
to flirt? Yet this hint is an index to
the prevailing social custom in a
large class of you ng men an women,
a class who are in intention and act
innocent and respectable. x he
~ ‘
consequences are that ,, . the girl
is‘given . t . her , a fling . . by , . her
parents .
enjoy hersclt , ... while she ,
is young goes
to . her , . husband, . , if not with enureucd . .
reputation at ^ least with ,
sensibilities ....... and , a neart . lue ... the
more
old , , wilted .... plant , whicn , . , ,
has been ,
exposed all day k in uie street ^ tor sale ,
’
.. than the , dewy , flower which , . . lie , fancies ,. .
.
lt -
V. omen, too, , and . especially ,, young
women, know nothing of the affections
and passions of men which they
P ™ v “ kc ’ g‘ e y are children playing
‘“7,..*'°.',' ^ “T *?.* W
oa - b:e ^ thepiesent, ^ ^ e ,“ ul
° °f \
peara f ce Uie £ ret •-
°‘ " y c ! u vv i0
^ &u io a
to hirt wuh tue soldielr '* [ w 11 5
t i lousan q 3 0 f American mothers now
turn - their tt siU irl3
J oose ’n.. u hatched a-d \mv/arned°
a witii m«»h
of ^ hom ' tUey know nuthia /t ,
hear much of the boldness of
. ^ but it is
cen country one of
tli05e ^ vir t ue 3 w bi c h are as disastrous
^ N lC '‘
j| (|
Sometimes it is not judicious to be
too particular in locating local occur,
rences, so we will merely say that
following conversation was heard in
a certain store in Oil City:
A young lady was looking at some
hosiery, and ashed the blushing
clerA.:
‘IIow do you sell these?’ at the
same time holding up before him a
long pair of zcbra-eolored ones.
‘Those are worth $5 a pair,’ he
answered.
‘Oil, my!’ twittered the giddy
creature. ‘They come pretty high,
don’t they?’
‘Y-y yes,’ stammered the bashful
youth; 'th-th-the v come p pre-pret ty
bu-bu-but you’ro tall, yon
know.’
VIVID CONTRASTS OF CONDI¬
TIONS IN THE METROPOLIS.
[New York Letter in Hartford Post,]
Ned Stokes’ bar, it is said, takes in
£200 to £800 per day (or rather nighi)
as it is patronized by a crowd of fast
fellows, who drink nothing but high
priced liquors. A diuner at Delmon
ieo’s or Penard’s can be had at from
£5 to £40 per guest, according to the
bill of fare and wine list. A number
of dinner parties have been given
during the past season in the Fifth
veuii 3 in which $200 were expended
in flowers alone: IIow easy* to pay
such bills when one’s income is
£ 1 , 0.0 pci- day, and this is not a
large figure among our capitalists;
but just look at the other side of
social life. Four women were ar-
raigned in the Police Court for
selling vegetables and matches in
baskets in the streets. One of the
number said she was a widow with
two children, and that this was the
only support. The Magistrate replied
that this was a violation of law, and
he was obliged to find them £10
apiece, and as they were conveyed to
the prison one of them fainted.
Such contrasts may be found daily.
Speaking of incomes, ex-Governor
Morgan’s is estimated at $500,000 a
year. Russell Sage is rated at a
million to a million and a half, while
Jay Gould’s income cannot be less
than a half dozen millions. To come
down to smaller men, R. L. Stuart has
nearly a million a year, while Robert
and Ogden Goelet are each rated at
£250,000 Bennett is rated at £600,-
000. D. O. Mills figures at £300,000,
and the young Vanderbilts, William
K. and Cornelius, are not much below
him. The estate of A. T. Stewart &
Co. lias an income of a’million, which
renders Cornelia 8 tewart the richest
widow in America. The Asters, John,
Jacob and IFilliam, are each estirna-.
ted at a million and a half, while
Wm. II. Vanderbilt probably has five
times that sum, and yet within five
minutes walk from the place where
these men live one can find multitudes
whose life is but a prolonged battle
with famine.
‘HE SOT RIGHT DAfr’
? Detroit Free Press.]
‘Yes, sail. Kura el Bonso Smith
dead—dead as a herrin’, sail. He died
in his cheer, an’ I was de fust puason
who k no wed it.’
Quite a:i old man, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, sab. lie didn't .-.now Huffin’
, ’bout his aige,but J reckon he
war’
party clu3 . to90.
up ^ De ole , , had ,
1 - 7 man
-
got so feeble dat dev had to cut his
meat , mash , Ins , . . taters , fur bin;,
an
Tr He had , , , bean , iookm , . , fur - de
summons
fur , long .. time past, . ..... yit when
a °_. an an
do , gates Heaven r , ben opened
or ‘ an
~
de , music float out it hard .
came in was
to realize , dat _ de , kuroel , had lined de
“
purceshun.
‘And you found him?’
‘Jist me, sail, a:v no one else.
You see, he libed v/id Lis darter, an 1
she gin him de wannest co’ner to sit
in, an’ do best winder to loo k out oD
I pass da*, same winder three or four
times a day, an'de Kernel alius gin
me a nod. TFhen I went by dar
yesterday do o!c man sot in hid place,
rn c (‘ al ’ taCG ’
went , to sha/.e hands vad him. . lie
war an alone. As I walked ml
called out kinder cherry like: ‘Wall,
KurneL how ^ oes do hattlc to da J ? ‘
^ ut ^ e answer.
-‘<k T he"hidTr«S'to
f 0 but
wid a smile on his face an’ died as
softly as de sun goes down.’
‘And he was smiling?*
‘Smilin like a pleased chile, sab.
ff-eam ^^’her? Ie°h’"™‘ war°a
Heaven open perhaps lie lee tie
afraid, but when de angels marched
outi an ’ played soft and low an’ sweet
deir hafbs it brought peace to Ins
when Kurnef de golden gates closed agaig
de war on de fur side . 1