Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

£*■ 5 i *iL mQjP i -D D»CGfi I Lit* a Tn 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