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DORA,
THE ADjPTlD D DGHTER-
By J. VV H„ of Tocgoa, Ga.
Chaste XV'.
“fate’s not unkind, whatever
MEN MAY SAY.”
The water seemed bent on taking
our young fr iend's life. But there is a
Suorome Being above who guides
with wiser hand than man’s.”
destiny of His creatures. And
Hein- deed ed that Fate’s time
not vet come. Paul cast his vacant
eyes to the south cud Of the cavern
and there he saw what he least ex-
P ‘el. A lg t in a man’s hand,
was no phantom ; the
• O'l n.* was pUinl . defined !
n Miu-d Paul to swim to him.
which Paul whs not loath to do.
I lie companionship of a ghost was
better Mian no company at all in this
moment. hen Paul drew near the
le Ige upon which stood this unex¬
pected personage, and a hand of flesh
and blood was extended to his assist¬
ance, he was satisfied that there was
a human being with him. But his
senses were so confused that he could
not think. This was so astounding
that for many minutes he was in a
mental torpor.
But a hand was placed upon him
and a human voice said “come.”
Paul followed and that was all. He
realized not that he was moving until
he again stood upon dry rocks, until
be heard the rumbling of the water
far below, and until the idea dawned
upon his bewildered mind that he
was saved! Bis companion made
him a comfortable pallet and Paul
soon was fast asleep. 11c needed it,
poor fellow, after having gone through
such an unusual strain. IFhcn he
awoke his companion asked him how
he felt.
‘•Much better, I can assure you.
Five minutes longer in that awful
place would have finished me. But
how came I here? ’
His companion explained that
there was a passage, leading from the
cavern below into tins chamber, wl.ic i
con id not be seen from where Paul
was. tie had heard Paul’s shout
and of course wished to render any
assistance possible.
“7 can never thank you properly
for having saved my life. ’ But Paul
had not yet comprehended all this
and ended up his expressions of
gratitude, by saying, “how is this
anyhow ; / don’t exactly understand
it.”
IIis companion saw that he was
going to be inquisitive so he replied;
“How 7 came her* 1 , or how long I
have been here, is of no consequence
to you. You are safe, know that.
And as to how you came in this
particular chamber, that is easy
enough. There is a passage leading
from where I found you, to this very
chamber and you simply walked up
tha* passage.”
“You will certainly tell me the
name of m;> rescuer.”
“ ertuinly ; Tom Turner.’
‘ Jml mine is Paul Bergan ; and 7
hope that 7 may some time have an
oj'| ortunitx of showing how deeply
..r<vieb»l i a. i i.
. x, r - no _ ra ; u le to me, for 7
.»> u a 1 . on;-1rouole.”
e vo.t have au thing
e . <>u lievcr .-aw
i n » i “oefore i How J
^i>: you iino Iron <ie I will tell you
some o;.ier tunc. Nut now.”
This was mysterious. How could
this unknown person have been in
strumental in bringing trouble upon
Paul?
om Turner directed Paul to re-
main where he was- Baying this,
Torn parsed away
Po be candid, t verily believe Paul
pin hed himself, to ascertain if possi
tie, whether or not he was Paul or
somebody else. How it was that
Tom Turner had brought this trouble
was past his comprehension.
Toni remained awaj\ it seemed an
c ternity to Paul, about three hours,
When he returned he informed Paul
that the water was falling much faster
than it had risen and that they could
pass out of the cavern in twenty four
hours
Paul slept much ; ate heartily. The
time passed off pleasantly enough,
‘ r~ OCCOA NEWS
?
By Edw SCHA 1 FER- ■[
VOL. I.
A^ain lorn lurner went away and
remained several hours W lifen he
returnedhe reported that the water
. was sufficiently low for them to pass
j <)U ^ the cavern ; that he had just
j been out; that it was night, and that
they had better leave at once. They
could have now and the river would
carry them far :i«ay ere the morning’s
sll it
Paul felt well and was extremely
anxious about his father, and knew
that his father must be about him
Now that he was going on land
again he thought of his rifle the first
time, and oh ! how sadly he missed it.
They passed quickly down thenar
row passage and stood upon the spot
where Tom Turner had drawn Paul
out of the water.
Tom stepped into the water, fol¬
lowed by Paul; both swam to the
proper place and diving simultane¬
ously, both arose upon the bosom of
the Miaco. Ihe moon was shining
brightly ; they soon stood once more
on earth. Now, for home ! Beware
the rod man’s near !
Chapter XVI.
MORE MYSTERY.
Tom darted to one side; unloosed
a boat, a rubber boat! Pulling up
to Paul he said : “had I not better
get your rifle and revolver?”
‘ Ritte and revolver!” ejaculated
Paul. Darting away up the ravine,
do vn which Paul had came three
days before, he was gone.
Paul waited impatiently for twenty
minutes or more. Torn returned,
and to Paul’s astonishment, had his
Remington and his revolver !
• Tlieiv’s n divinity which shapes our ends,
rough hew them as we will.”
"Ask no explanation,’’ said Tom; “I
will explain all when we are safely
out of this wretched country ”
As anxious as Paul was to have
tiiis mystery cleared up, he knew that
it would be useless to insist on an
explanation. Just as their little boat
started down the river, Paul observed
a canoe rapidly approaching. He
gathered his rifle and waited. Tom
motioned him to be still. The canoe
was soon along side.
“Amituwahto,” said Tom Turner.
‘ Amituwahto!” echoed Paul Bcrgan.
Mysterious Tom Turner.
Amituwahto signified his intention
of accompanying them as far as the flat
boat landing. Tom now plied the
oars lustily. Paul relieved him in an
hour, and by doing so they rowed all
night. The /ndian easily keeping
pace with them. Day dawned and
they pulled up under a clump of
willows, to “lie over the day” and
travel again at night.
Paul now got Ills first good look
at Tom urncr, and Tom Turner was
» louder, blue eyed boy of about
ig iteen years; delicate, soft white
hands, and long hair reaching to his
shoulders! Mysterious om Turner!
Our friends refreshed themselves
with sleep (some one oil the watch ah
the tune). , .... When night .... suroud ,
again
od ... the earth in • darkness, , , he . boat . ,
and Amituwahto’s canoo again start-
ed down the river. Nothing hap-
pened to our friends during the
night. When day again dawned
Paul insisted uj>on going on. He
thought the danger was past, and
he was in a feverish anxiety to hear
from his father. Tom consented. Tiie
Indian only gruuted and looked du-
bious.
No they floated silently down the
river—into the very arms of dan-
ger. Tom and Paul knew it not; the
Indian was not certain. As the day
advanced Amituwahto looked more
and more uneasy and at four in the
evening, three Indians were seen
standing on the bank several hundred
yards ahead. As our friends drew
near the Indians disappeared and no
more was seen of them.
At five, onr friends became aware
of the fact that they were at the
Devoted to News> Politics. Agriculture aud General progress-
TOCCOA, GA., OCTOBER 1882.
mouth of a canon, that is. where the
bank on either side or both sides is
very high and meets or nearly meets
ahove so as to render it very dark
upon the river, and where the water
rushes with frightful rapidity. This
was a small one, however, not more
than sixty yards through, and the
water not so terrribly swift. Our
friends started on their passage, but
A<nituwahto signified his desire for
them to stay in the canon and let
him proceed to the exit. He did so,
creeping along the bank and holding
to any projection convenient. He
returned, and contrived to make Tom
and Paul understand that the river
divided itself on leaving the canon
{ this he knew before) and that the
Indians were there with several canoes
ready to attack them as soon as they
should come out!
Chapter XVII.
A CLEVER DECEPTION.
Unfortunately for our friends they
were again entrapped. The savages,
waiting at the exit to attack, were
only too anxious to destroy onr hero
and his companions! The natural
ingenuity of Amituwahto came to the
rescue and devised a plan for their
deliverance. Taking his own canoe
he at once threw a quantity of sand
into it. Tnis sand he made into the
shape of a man prostrate upon the
bottom of the canoe. Then be signi¬
fied to Paul to throw his jacket upon
this sand-man, which Paul did with¬
out hesitation. The Indian then threw
a quantity of weeds and moss, which
grew upon the wall of the rock and
in the crevices, into his Canoe. He
then motioned to Paul and Tom to
bring their rubber-boat after his ca¬
noe. When both the boat and the
canoe had arrived at the lower end of
the canon, Amituwahto turned his
own canoe loose. The swift current
shot it far down the river in a twin¬
kling. The canoe had taken the right
fork of the stream, and the Indians in
wait, dec ived by the false man, the
upper portion of whose body they
could see, and supposing that the
others were hidden beneath the weeds
and moss, started in hot pursuit. As
many as could go in their canoes,
pursuing by water, the remainder, on
the river’s bank all yelling a3 though
they were sure of their prey.
The very moment, Amituwahto’s
canoe was out of sight our three
friends stepped into their rubber boat
which they guided into the left chan¬
nel of the river, thereby completely
evading their savage foes.
Tom Turner, especially, breathed
more easily when the Indians had
been so successfully duped. But in
the distance could yet be heard their
shrieks Our friends never knew
whether or not they captured the
canoe and if so probably never could
have f irmed an idea of their bitter
di appointment at finding themselves
so easily evaded.
VV hen morning . again . approached, . .
they • were many miles away* from the
scene of their - : last , great , danger, :
and .
and at 3 P- M. to their intense de-
light, they came in bight of the flat
boat landing. Here they remained
until the next morning, when Hmitu-
wahto^.arte l on his dangerous home-
ward journey ; Paul and Tom taking
the stage few V., the nearest railroad
station. After several days’ travel-
ing. once again Paul was where he
could let his parents know of bis
whereabouts. His first thing to do,
was to mail to his father a letter in
which he said that he was in W.,
that he was very much fatigued, and
that he would be home in a very few
days. He then engaged lodging for
himself and Tom in the Newton
House, a comfortable little hotel in
W. They were given 9upper early,
and at once retired to their
Paul.had made these arrangements
without Tom’s knowledge; and now
Tom seemed disinclined to stay, at
the Newton House. Paul almost
carried him to their assigned apart-
ment. Paul proposed retiring imme-
diately ; to this Tom objected, saying
that he had some writing which must
be done at once. Paul was soon in
bed, while Tom was busily writing,
Torn folded the page upon which he
had been writing and cautiously
approached the bed* He saw that
Paul was in a deep slumber. Placing
the note widely he had addressed to
Paul Bcrgan, Esq upon the mantel,
,
Tom passed out the door, which he
quietly closed after him. Paul
slumbered.
[To be Continued.]
SOME OF DICKENS’ PECU¬
LIARITIES.
The following is from an interview
(published by the Louisville Courier-
Journal) with a gentleman who was
once the amanuensis of Dickens, the
novelist :
‘You were an amanuensis of Charles
Dickens, were you not?’
‘Yes ; 7 did shorthand work for Mr.
Dickens for eighteen months. I did
not take dictations for any of his
novels—only his fugitive pieces. He
dictated to me most of his articles in
All the Year Round. lie was a very
clever gentleman to those under him.
He Always treated me very well,
indeed. Most people seem to think
Dickens was a ready writer. This is
no m ians, the case, lie used to
come into his office in Catherine street
about eight o’clock in the morning,
and begin dictating, lie would walk
up and down the fl >or several times
after dictating a sentence or a para¬
graph, and ask me # to read it. I
would do so, and i.e would, in nine
cases out of tcu, ord r me to strike
out certain words an 1 insert others.
He was generally tired out by elesen
o’clock, and went down to his club in
the Strand. A very singular thing
was that he never dictated the closing
paragraphs of his stories. Lie always
finished them himself. 7 used to
look in the papers for them, and found
that lie had changed it very greatly
from what he had dictated to me.
Dickens had a very old habit of
combing his hair, Jlle would c mib it
a hundred time3 in a day. He seemed
never to tire of it. The first thing he
did on coming into the office was to
comb his hair. 1 have seen him dic¬
tate a sentenc j or two, and then
begin combing. When lie got through
be dictated another sentence. He
was very careful about his writings
He wanted every sentence to be as
perfect as possible before leaving it to
go to press. Dickens was a queer
fellow regarding the company he
sought. 7 have known him, while J
was employed by him, to go down to
the Seven Dials—about the worst
place 1 in London - and eat and sleep
there. He roastc.l his herring where
tie res. in, an s ep wi 1 it
poorest. F He loved low societv. He
never seemed , so happy , \ as when .
seated . coffee rr house with
in a poor a
crowd , of the , lower classes , talktng , ,. .
around him. He never missed a word
that was said, and was the most
attentive observer that 7 ever saw.
Nothing escaped him. The most
minute mannerisms were noted and-
stored away. W hen I was working
for hirn he was at the zenith of his
fame, just before his death, and even
then he loved these careless, rollick-
ing rounds among the poor better
than a high-toned dinner.'
‘Was he as great a drinker as he has
the reputation of being’
‘7 never saw him drunk myself, i
have seen him several times exhila-
rated, however. He drank only the
best of wine, but he drank very freel}’.
Sherry was his especial favorite, and
he never refused a glass of fine old
sherry. He was an insatiable cigarette
smoker, and, when dictating to me,
always had a cigarette in his mouth.
He was a very spruce man. too.
i TERMS-$1 50 A YEAR.
NO 13.
brushed his coat frequently, and
changed his collars several times in a
day. He was every bit as humorous
in bis speech as in his writings,
When l.e was in a particularly fine
humor, he could keep you laughing
by the hour with his witty talk. lie
was not one of those men who are
above those they employ. He chatted
as freely with me as with any mem¬
ber of his club in the Btrand. Dickens
was undoubtedly the best after dinner
speaker in England. I heard him at
JPhitehall once—the occasion being
the anniversary of the opening of the
British Museum. There was an enor¬
mous crowd—hardly standing room —
and he kept them in one continued roar.
He was a fine actor, and this, added to
his wit, made him irresistibly funny.’
A CHANGE OF MIND.
‘There is a certain man in this town
whom I’m going to lick until he won’t
he out of bed for six months after,
and I want to know what it will cost
me?
,So said a man who entered a Grist-
wold street law office t/esterday, and
it was plain to be seen that his dan¬
der was way up.
‘Let’s see, mused the lawyer. ‘I’ll
defend-you for $10. 7f you lick him
in a first-class manner your fine will
be about $25. Then there will be a
few dollars costs, say enough to make
the whole tiling foot up $40. I think
I can safely promise you that it won’t
cost you over that.”
‘Forty dollars ! ‘Forty dollars for
licking a man ! ‘Why, I can’t go
that!’
Well, pull his nose then. The last
case I had of that sort the fine was
only $ 5. That will reduce the gross
sum to thirty.’
‘I want to tear that man all to
pieces, but 7 can’t afford to pay like
that for the fun. IIow much would
it cost to spit on him?’
•Well, that's an assault, you know,
but the fine might not be over ten
dollars. 1 guess $25 would sec you
through.’
‘Lands ! how 7 do want to crush
that man ! Supi o ;c I Knock his I a
off’?’
‘ IFell, about $20 would cover that.*
*7 can hardly hold myself, but $2o
is pretty steep. ‘Can t I call him a
liar?’
‘Oh. yes I think $15 would cover
that.'
‘Well, I 11 sec about it. I m either
going to call him a liar or tell e*ery-
l>o ly that he is not a gentleman, or
else give him an awful pounding. I 11
see you again.’
‘My fee is $5,’ observed the lawyer.
‘ v\ bat for?’
‘For my advice.’
The pulverizer glared at him for
half a minute ; and then laid down a
•V,’ and started slowly out with the
remark *
. rn , goillg straigllt that maa and
t ° |,j s 1 p an ;,,„ and tell him I'm the
biggest & fcol „ , in Detroit! v Thank
•
heaven that f you didn’t , get ® but , one
claw oil me.'-Detroit n Free Press.
_ m »-m ____
‘Say,’exclaimed a tall man per-
fumed with au de hayseed from his
] dS t night’s lodgings, coming briskly
into the hotel and accosting the land,
lord, how are .you fixed for keeping
a circus?
The languid air of the landlord
changed perceptibly, and he skipped
behind his desk with alacrity,
‘All right,’ he said, ‘how many will
there be in party ?’
‘About sixty all told, I guess.
that the dinner bell?’
‘Yes,’replied the landlord.
Hll right. I’ll talk about the matter
in fifteen minutes,’and he went into
the dining room with a hop, skip and
a jump. lie soon returned, wiping
his month.
‘ A ell, what about the circus?
inquired the landlord.
‘O, yes, I was going to tell you
it. I’ra going over to Chicago
next week, and will recommend your
house to Forepaugh. If he stops
with you, just mention my name and—
The landlord barely missed him
with a stone water pitcher, but the
beat was used to just such long range
skirmishing.
>•<
THE STEAM ENGINE DOOMED.
GAS AND 1 LECTRIU1TY TO MAKE COM¬
MON CAUSE AGAINST THE USEFUL
MONSTER.
Whatever else may survive in the
future, Dr Siemens is certain that the
steam engine is doomed. Its fate is
first to be confined to the driving of
large dynamo machines, which will
distribute force at preseut supplied by
a myriad of small and wasteful steam
engines, and then to be superseded
altogether by the gas engine. Gas
and electricity may be mutually
hostile, but they are to unite their
forces in order to extirpate the steam
engine. The unpardonable sin of the
steam engine is that of waste. Even
the best of them consume two pounds
of coal per horse power per hour;
whereas, says Dr. Siemens, when the
gas-producer has taken the place of
the complex and dangerous steam
boiler, it will not take one pound of
coal to develop one horse power for
one hour. But before gas banishes
steam it will supersede coal as the
agent for the development of steam.
A pound of gas gives forth exactly
twice the heat of a pound of coal, and
even this may be improved upon.
To burn raw' coal is to squander our
inheritance. Dr. Siemens gave some
startling figures to prove that the by¬
products of the coal annually used
in gas making are worth three mil¬
lions sterling more than the coal used
in producing them without allowing
anything for the value of the gas.
Beside the products already utilized
120,030 tons of sulphur are now
wasted every year, which may yet be
converted into a source of income.
By abolishing the use of raw coal Dr.
Siemens maintains that science, r as
with some magician’s wand, will
banish the black pall of smoke which
hangs over our great cities, and
restore them pure air, bright sun¬
shine and blue skies.’ Nor shall we
even have to suffer compensation from
the multiplication of enormous
gasometers. The coal will be con¬
verted into gas at the bottom of the
mine—a prospect not altogether to be
contemplated without alarm by the
workers in fiery seams—and the gas
carried by pipes wherever it is want¬
ed. Electricity will also be made
largely serviceable for the distribu¬
tion of power. Even after allowing
fifty per cent, for loss in transmission,
the gain is still enormous, The
electric light will chiefly be confined
to lighting public place**. The gas¬
light will hqld its own as ‘the poor
man’s friend,’ and gas heating will
become universal. Thus in the near
future l)r. Siemens unfolds before our
eyes a world in which there will be no
smoke and no steam, and where coal
will only be visible in the immediate
vicinity of the pit. Electricity will
light our streets, gas will cook our
dinners, and driving power will be
laid on by wire wherever it is wanted.
There will be no pollution of rivers^
for every waste product will be util—
ize 1, and the sulphurous fumes which
have converted whole counties into
scenes of dark desolation will be
employed *, in making the wilderness
^ to blossom as the A . rose, and . in . restor-
ing ® fertility „ to , our exhausted . „ , soil. In T
'
short. Science 0 . at , . last , will ... , begin . . to
banish all the manifold abominations
... , } . .. c f fac¬
,', defaced^the "beauty G m aim
t re3 i ias of our
j j j t ia no , before time —From
the Pall Mall Gazette.
A canary belonging to a lady in
Dubuque, on being given its liberty in
a room one day, flew to the mantel,
whereon was a mirror. Thinking he
had found a mate, he went to the
cage and brought a seed to offer to
the stranger. Getting no satisfact-
ory reply, he poured forth his sweet
notes, pausing now and then to watch
t j ie e tfe c t. finallv lie went back to
his perch and, with his head hanging,
remained silent the rest of the day.
A hackman recently went into the
surf at Long Branch, and encountered
a huge shark. Their eyes met for an
instant, when the shark* blushed and
swam out.—Puck.