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Banks County. '. Journal.
HOMER, GA.„ THURSDAY, OCTOBER, 13 189®,
NEPTUNE'S FEAST.
[Fi Hto quid pothw die—Horuo®,J
Wbafc Hlial! v/e do, my I ydo, nay,
To celebrate this festal day?
Beo, the gun wLwlu to Ins declined
Duste, thou; ’tis time to broach tho wtnot
Our oldest wipe shall quit its i< st,
For Neptuno’a trust demands the beat,
y> ptu.no, the gr*‘oti haired n.vmpiiH among,
Vi’o’il prateo in antiphonal song;
Your lyre shall thomos divide Itotwcua
Latona and the huntress queen.
Then in a ooug we’Jl celebrate
The praiao cf her who Imhpu her state
At Cnidos and the Cyclades,
Which gleam afar across the seas
And oft times chooeeth to repair
To Paphos’ sweet, pellucid air
When through the blue is berno afar
By snow white swans her glittering car.
And, last, to Night \vo will rehearse
A holy, high and solemn verso.
—"Poems From Horace, Catullus and Sappho
and Other Poets,” by Edward George Har
man.
TALE OF A TIARA.
“My dearost Hermione” looked up
from her morning coriespondenc<* Her
air was one of profound abstraction,
and she commenced to sugar my ooffee
with quite nncalled for generosity.
“It is altogether too bad, ” she ex
claimed, as I rescued the cup with the
fifth lump suspended above it. She took
no notice even when the sugar Hopped
into tho marmalade, and her forehead
was puckered into a frown.
"Vi hat is it?” I said, sitting down
and settling my paper afresh.
“Oh, here is a letter from May Vere.
She has just had a present from her fa
ther-iu-law, a diamond tiara, and she
says"—this rather doubtfully—“that it
is quite the best of the whole lot. She
will wear it first at tho duchess’ recep
tion. That makes the sixth tiara in tho
family, doesn’t it?” (Mrs. Mark Vere
is my wife’s cousin).
“I suppose so—if you sny so. ”
I was frankly more interested for the
moment in the money market column
than in May Vere’s latest present.
There followed a longish pause. Her
mione rattled the teaspoons end made
much of the oat. Then her voice came
to me across the table decorations with
just a touch of fretfuiness;
“Jack I”
"trial"
"I should look eo nice in a tiara.
Jack."
1 tossed the paper on to an armchair.
Although we have been married three
years that particular inflection in my
wife's tones never fails to aronsa my
curiosity, and —well, something else.
“If X were only rich enough"— I be
gan recklessly. Yousee, Xknew I wasn’t.
"Oh, Jack, I didn’t mean that. I am
not so mean as to reproach yon. We
have really everything that is necessary.
A tiara can bo done without. 1 couldn't
bear to have anything but a very expen
sive one, and May won’t look anything
but plain in hers, however beautiful it
is. But still—well, what I meant was
that it seems almost a misfortune that
I should look eo nice in one—as having
one is ont of the question. ”
“1 don’t see that, ” I said. "X would
rather have you as you arc."
“May is generally acknowledged as
plainI’— 1 ’ —
“X wasn’t comparing you with ber.
It would be absurd,' ’
"Would it?” smiled Hermione. And
1 am not yet proof against Hormione’s
smiles. Bo in sjrt I suggested some
thing to her which had occurred to me—
jusc as a joke, and nothing more. That
she would act cu it X never dreamed of
for a moment. Yet Hermiono still de
clares all that followed was entirely my
fault, and that but for me sho would
not have to suffer the prolonged igno
miny of being the only girl out of seven
married cousins unable to boast a dia
mond tiara among her possessions.
We bad several engagements the
week of the duchess' reception, but that
was the hist and was very generally
considered the most important. I also
happened to bo very busy just then. X
rather expected a bad quarter of an
hour when X told Hermione how abso
lutely impossible it would bo for me to
do more than just look in at quite a late
hour, but, as is often th® case where
sho is concerned, my anticipations were
not fulfilled.
She smiled at me very sweetly, said
she could find plenty of pooplo to go
with and that I need not worry on her
account, and I fancied I detected signs
of relief in her expression, which may
have been the reason why I made my
way to the reception rather earlier than
I originally intended.
The duchess who wrs giviDg it had
scattered her invitations broadcast, as
is within, the rights of a duchess. The
spacious rooms were extremely crowd
ed. It was some time before I caught
sight of my wife, but not long before I
heard of her, for Mrs. Jack Voyce—
Voyce is my name—appeared to be cre
ating quite an unusual sensation even
for her. “And have you seen pretty Mrs.
Voyce?" “And have you heard her tale
of the tiara?” “What fun sho is, isn’t
she?” seemed the principal topio of con
versation.
More than ono man patted me on the
back and congratulated me anew. I felt
myself, generally speaking, quite as
lucky as they thought me, for I admire
her, too, but I could not help wonder
ing how they would have liked partici
pating in my present anxiety on her be
half.
‘‘Hermiono just doesn’t mind what
she does, ” a candid girl friend bad said
to mo before our marriage, and once or
twice X bave been forced to agree with
her, for if my suspicions were correct
and this tale apparently so widespread
were to reach the ears of my moßt un
necessarily particular uncle, Liord Cur
ran, who I kDew to be present, having
seen him, wha’t would be the unfortu
nate result I failed to imagine.
Lord Curran is best described as one
of the old school. His ideas about wo
men Hermione calls “peculiar to say
the least of it. ” They certainly are not'
of the present day, but date back to the
times when women occupied themselves
with barbarous triumphs in woodwork
and doing as they were told, and es
pecially lu avoiding anything approach
ing to notoriety. .lust as 1 wont over
this afresh in my mind my venerable
uncle approached me with that peculiar
ly beaming smile of his which always
foretells disaster.
“Pretty woman, your wife, Master
John,” said he. “A little lacking in
reticence, eh—oh?” "And just then Her
mione came along, and I had to run the
risk of distorting my features for life
in my efforts to signal to her not to
join us. Fortunately inv uncle’s sight
is net as good as it used to ha But
though I did my best at smoothing
things over—my wife even going to
the unusual length of doing as I desired
and keeping out of the way—it was
very evident that our stiff backed old
Tory relative was seriously annoyed
and that he meant to take bis own time
about coming round, for my suspicions
were correct, and that wife of mine
had been mad enough to include Lord
Curran among tho many to whom she
hud told her tale
“What in the world wero yon frown
ing about like that?” was her greeting
to me. “Really, if you are going to
practice for a contortionist, don’t you
think you might choose a moro suitable
timo and place?”
Then eho laughed at the men about
her. “Here, ” said she, “is a poor fel
low who has not heard my tale of the
tiara. Shall I tell him?”
“I don’t want to hear —I can guess”—
“Come, Voyoe, don’t be sulky,” eaid
my brother-in-law. "Ithas been an im
mense success—the success of what
would otherwise have been a very dull
evening. Upon my word it was a bright
idea. ”
“It was Jack's idea”—
“This is past a joke”—
“Oh, of course,” interrupted Her
mione, “wo shouldn’t have expected
you to have tho nerve to carry it out
Ob, Jack, don’t go—l want to
you”—
Bat I thought of what 1 had to toll
her—by Lord Curran's orders—and I
went. In tho midst of my justifiable ag
gravation I could not help being sorry
for her probable disappointment—my
pretty Hermione; could not help ad
miring her afresh for her happy reck
lessness or prevent myself envying
for that one occasion the fellows who
had enjoyed her tale unrestrained by
personal considerations.
When we were alone at homo again,
those feelings wero still mine. Hermi
one faced me. The electric light lit np
her gleaming neck and arms. Her dress
was white. Her fluffy golden hair was
surmounted by an exceedingly beautiful
diamond tiara.
“Tho horrid old man, ” sno kept re
peating.
“ Why did-you tell him?”
“Teddio bet me a turquoise dagger
that I wouldn’t, so of course I had to. I
didn’t think he would really mind. No
one else did. And, besides, every one
was talking about it. Ho would have
found out. ” She paused and thou con
tinued: “You said, 'Why don’t you
hire one for tho weok?’ ”
“I never meant it.’’
“Youeaid it, though, and put it into
my mind. ”
“So it is my fault that Lord Curran
considers you so foil of resource as to
have no need of tho tiara ho had order
ed for you and will now save for tho
next bride?”
“Of course I shall always say so.
Oh, she does. But”—hero she came
close tome- —“I—St has reminded mo of
something. Do you remember when we
were first engaged promising to buy me
one as soon as ever you could afford it?
I would rather have ono from you than,
oh, a dozen from your crabby old un
cle; and even wait for it, so you need
not make any more fuss, need you?"
What happened then any one may
guess.
“In your heart oi hearts, Jack, dar
ling,” finished Hermione. “you are not
sorry any moro?”
But that is almost too much to say.
My wife’s tiara is stiil to he bought,
and they are not cheap things by any
i means.—Madame.
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Vict r Hugo In Rxita.
I Jive near tho sen :u a house built CO
years ago by an English privateer and
railed Hauteviile House. I, a represent
ative of tho people and an exiled sol
dier of tho French republic, pay droit
do poulage every year to tho queen of
England, sovereign lady of tho Channel
islands, ns Duchess of Normandy and
my feudal suzerain. This is one of the
curious results of exile.
I live a retired life hero with my
wife, my daughter and my two sons,
Charles and Francois. A few exiles
have joined me, and wo make a family
party. Every Tuesday. I givo a dinner
to ! 6 little childreu, chosen from among
the most poverty stricken of the island,
and my family and I wait on them. I
try by this means to give this feudal
country an idea of equality und frater
nity. Every now and.then a friend
crosses the sea and pays mo a visit.
These are our gala days. I have some
dogs, some birds, some flowers. I hope
next year to have a small carriage and
a horse. My pecuniary circumstances,
which had been brought to a very low
ebb by tho coup d’etat, have been somo
whut improved by my book “Les Miser
ables. ’’ I get up eariy, Igo to bed early,
I work all day, I walk by the sea, I
have a sort of natural armchair in a
rock for writing at a beautiiul spot
callod Firmain bay, I dm not smoke, I
eat roast beef like an Englishman and I
drink beer liko a German, which does
not prevent tho Espanu, a clerical news
paper of Madrid, from asserting that
Victor Hugo does not exist and that
the real author of “Les Misevables” is
called satan. —Letters of Victor Hugo.
Growing Old.
Ho—Carrie, you don't seem to care
so much for me as you did when we
wero first married.
She—As for that matter, I don’t
think so much of my hat as I did when
I got it just before Easter.—Boston
Transcript.
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