Newspaper Page Text
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Athens Danner, Slut. 1833.
ATHENS, GA., TUESDAY MORNING, APRIL 5,1892.
ONE DOLLAR A YEAR.
SCATTER SEEDS OF KINDNESS.
If «e knew the baby tlnRcra
Pressed anuinst the window pane.
Would l>e eohl and stiff tomorrow—
Never trouble us again—
Would the bright eyes of our darling
Catch the frown upon our brow?
Would the priuls of rosy lingers
Vex us then as they do now?
Ah! those little, lee cold Angers,
How they pointour memories bach
To the hasty words anil action
Mrewu along our backward track!
llow those little hands remind os.
As in snowy grace the^lle.
Not to scatter thorns—but roses—
Kor our reaping by and by.
-Old Song.
PUNCH'S EXAMPLE.
I staring at him hard ip fact. He, on the
ot ^erhand, was leaning forward with
I tScMradLUHttie^saisilst - egression. He
I seemed quite unconscious of her sera-
JACK’S SWEETHEART.
“Aunt, yon must listen to me!” The
proud head is thrown back and the blue
eyes tire flashing like sapphires in the
SmivnJ thffl^ PinS ° ne f(X>timpa ‘ ^ “l will not marry Mr. Chester-1
^ ■ - despise him! You know well that if he
After a minute 1 was surprised to Bee !
her lean forward and touch him gently
on the knee.
He took no notice beyond shuffling
about a little and uttering a slight
growL The woman who held her put
out an arm and drew back the child’s
hand reprovingly The child paid no , ^ make it impossible for me to leave
heed to this, but. continued to stare.
had no money yon would never admit
'him to your house! Oh, aunt, 1 never
even dreamed you were so mercenary!”
“1 am not—for myself. It is for yon,
child—it is of your future that I am
thinking. I must die some time, and you
know the conditions of my husband’s
Then in another two minutes she again
bent forward and tapped the old gentle
man’s knee. This time she fetched a
louder growl from him and an irascible
glare. Not in the least daunted, she
took hold of his malacca and shook it to
and fro in her small hand.
“1 wish to heavens, madam, you’d
keep your child to yourself!”
“For shame, Annie!” whispered the
poor woman, cowed by his look.
But again Annie paid no heed. Indeed
she pushed the malacca toward the old
The first class smoking carriage was
the emptiest in the whole train,, and
oven this was hot to suffocation, because
my only companion denied me more
than inch of open window. His chest,
lie explained curtly, was “susceptible.”
As we crawled westward through the
glaring country, tho sun’si rays beat on
the carriage roof till 1 seemed to bo
crushed under an anvil, counting tho !
strokes. 1 had dropped my book and j
was staring listlessly out of the window’, j gentleman,, paying:
At tlie other end of the coinpartpient j " r,n ’
my fellow passenger had pulled down j
all the blinds and hidden his face bo- j
hind The Western Morning New’s. Ho ;
was a red faced, choleric little man of I
about sixty, with a salient stomach, u 1
prodigious nose, to which he carried j
snuff about once in two minutes, and a J
marked deformity of the shoulders. For
comfort, and also perhaps to hide this
hump, ho rested his back in the angle
by the window. He wore a black al-
tiease, sir, will ’ee warm Mister Bar-
rabel wi’ this?” .
He moved uneasily and looked harshly
at her withont answering. “For shame,
Annie!" the woman murmured a second
time; but 1 saw her lean back and a tear
started and rolled down her cheek.
“If yon please, sir,” repeated Annie,
“will ’ee warm Mister Barrabelwi’ this?”
The old gentleman stared at her. In
his eyes yon could read the question,
“What in the devil’s name does the child
after enjoying all the pleasures which
wealth can give? Ah, childflt is a hard,
bitter opponent to battle with when one
is so yonng and lovely as yon are!”
“I have a profession, aunt. 1 shall
not starve. And even if I had no way
of earning my bread I would not marry
a man whom 1 detest for his money.”
“Perhaps yon and Jack Dunraven i
have resolved to try poverty together,
suggests Mrs. Thornton.
“Nothing in all Trenton, that ! know
of—hut—would you like me to stay with
yon?”
“How good yon are!” she says. “But
do yon think I would allow yon to go
withont your supper in order that you
may protect me from unseen peril?”
She laughs merrily. “No, Lenn, I am
as safe as it—as if—well, nothing can
happen to me, at all events. So go with
a clear conscience.”
And this time he goes and does not
look back.
She shivers a little as she remembers
what he has said about the bridge.
What a sudden chill of terror his words
had struck to her heart..
“The bridge will not hold 802!” she
says to herself. “It is a through passen
ger and will not stop unless 1 signal it.
I mnst find out. It is not due for half an
hour yet. 1 shall have time.”
She throws along, dark cloak over
her shoulders and takes down a red light
from the wall. With another glance at
the clock she rushes out in the stormy
black night. Down the track she speeds,
the lantern dancing through the dark
ness like a will-o’-the-wisp. The bridge
is about a quarter of a mile from the
•■There is the faintest suspicion of a j
sneer on the handsome month, but she } “f* 1,1 T* ”"***. ( T
is too well bred to allow it to become i
fLnyihingmore than a suggestion.
“Poverty with the man 1 love would j
be happiness compared with a blighted !
life. Aunt, do yon believe in mercenary j
marriages?’
“Why not?
parents chose for me; a man they knew i
could give me everything my heart de-'
way. Suddenly a deep, roaring sound
meets her earq,
“The riverf The river r she gasps.
“Lenn said today it had risen fearfully.
| That frail bridge will be swept away as
, . . ,, ! if it were a stick in such a fierce tor-
I married the man my rent „
OLIVE’S TWO LOVERS.
paca coat, a high stock, white waistcoat meanf The robust woman.read it there
mul trousers of shepherd’s plaid. On no ! and answered him huskily: “Poor mite,
definite grounds. I guessed him to be a : 8 bu J» ed her father this monnn; an
lawyer and unmarried. i Mister Barrabel la the coffin maker, an
Jnst before entering the station at na ~5r “?. ... ,
Lostwithiel, onr train passed between! Annie, this time eagerly,
the white gates of a level crossing. A i ','^1. ? e . ^ arm a* 111 ® 83 the big
moment before 1 had caught sight of the j do , __, d 1 ' , .”ppJP^ _
“George” drpoping from the church
spire, and at the crossing 1 saw it was !
regatta day in the little town. The road
was full of people and lined with sweet
standings, and by tbe near end of the
bridge a Punch and Judy show was just
closing a performance. Tho orchestra
hail unloosed his drum and fallen to
mopping the back of* his neck with the
red handkerchief that had previously
|x>und the pan pipes to his chin. A
crJwd hung around, and among it 1
noted several men and women in black,
hideous blots in the pervading sunshine.
The station platform was thronged as
w>- drew up, and it was clear at once
that all the carriages in the train would
bo besieged without regard to class. By
some chance, however, we were disre
garded and escape seemed likely till the
very,last moment. The guard’s whistle
was between ilia lips, when I heard a
shout, then one or two feminine screams
and a party of seven or eight came tear
ing out of the booking office. Every one
of them was dressed in complete black.
They were, in fact, the people 1 had seen
, staring at the Punch and Judy show.
A moment later the door of our coni :
partment opened and we were invaded.
They tumbled in over my legs, panting,
laughing, exclaiming, calling to each
other to hurry—an old man, two youths,
four middle aged women and a little?
girl about four years old. My choleric
fellow passenger leaped up, choking
with wrath, and shouted to the guard.
But the door was slammed on his indig
nation, and we moved off. He sat back,
purple above his stock, rescued his
malacca walking stick from under the
coat tails of a -subsiding youth, stuck it
upright between his knees and glared
around at the intruders. They were still
possessed with excitement over their
narrow escape and unconscious of of
fense. One of the women dropped into
tho corner seat and took the little girl
on her lap. The child’s dusty boots
rubbed against the old gentleman’s trou
sers. He shifted his position, grunted,
and took snuff furiously.
•That was nibby jibby,” the old man
of the party observed, while his eye wan
dered around for a seat.
“1 thought 1 should ha* died,” said a
rolmst woman, with a wart on herclreek
and a yard of crape hanging from her
bonnet. “Can’t ’ee find nowhere to sit.
uncle? 1
“Reckon 1 must shift ’pon your lap,
Susannah.” This was said with a
chuckle, and the woman tittered.
“What new fangled game be this o’ the
Great Western’s. Arms to the seats, 1
declare. We’ll have to sit intimate, my
dears.”
“ ’Tis first class,” another woman an
nounced in an awed whisper. “1 saw it
’jkju the door. You don’t think they’ll
fine ns.”
“ ’T all comes of our stoppin to glare
at that Punch an Judy,” the old fellow
went on, after 1 had shown them how
to turn back the arm rests and they were
settled in romething like comfort. “But
i never could refrain from that antio—
tho’ 1 feels condemned, too, in a way—
in poor Thomas laid in earth no later
than l i this mornin. But in the midst
of life we are in death.”
‘‘1 don’t remember a more successful
bury in," said the woman with the wart.
‘‘That was part luck, you see—it bein
regatta day an’ the fun o’ the fair not
properly begun. I saw a lot at the
cemetery 1 didn’t know by face, an 1 1
reckon they was mostly excursionists
that caught sight of a funeral an fol
lowed it, to fill np the time.”
"Well, it all added.”
“Oh, aye; Thomas was beautifully
interred.”
Tlie heat in the carriage by this time
was hardly more overpowering than the
smell of crape, broadcloth and camphor.
The youth who had wedged himself
next to me earned a large packet of
"fairing," which he had bought at one
°f the sweet stalls. He began to insert
it into his side pocket, and in his strug
gles drove an elbow sharply into my
ribs, l shifted my position a little.
t “Tom’s wife would ha’ felt it a source
0 pride, had she lived.”
But i ceased to listen; for in moving
1 hud happened to glance at the farther
e nd of the carriage, and there my at-
'"’’’ion was arrested by a curious little
piece of pantomime. The little girl—a
, a,k eyed, intelligent child, whose pal-
*°r w as emphasized by the crape which
I “bothered her—was looking very close-
J 3t the old gentleman with tho hump
Lnckily the old gentleman did not un
derstand this last allusion. He had not
seen tbe group around the Punch and
Judy show, nor if be bed is it likely be
would have guessed the train of thought
in tbe child's mind. But to me, as |
looked at my fellow passenger's nose
and the deformity of his shonlders and
remembered how Punch treats the un
dertaker, it was plain enough. 1 glanced
at the child’s companions. There was
nothing in their faces to show that they
took the allnsion. And the next minute
sired, and as whose wife I would be a
queen in society.”
“Were yon happy?*
The handsome brows contracted a lit
tle.
“Yes, child—what an absurd ques
tion.”
“Ah, aunt, 1 don’t believe it! Yon
were not as happy as you could have
been. Do yon really think that 1 would
be happy as Mr. Chester’s wife? Let
your heart speak.”
Bat the inscrutable mask is on her
face again; that instant’s agony is over.
She had cast off the young lover who
had her love for the wealthy suitor.
Well, tbe world is no wiser.
“Why should you not?” she says.
“You would be mad to reject liim, Beth.
He can give yon every luxury—more
even than 1 can. He is old, true, but
that is nothing. He would exchange
his wealth for your youth and beauty.
Yon could dp no better. Even 1, with
all my ambition, would be satisfied with
1 was glad to think that I alone knew I BUC ]j a marriage. Yon have done bril-
what had prompted Annie’s speech.
For as l looked, with a beautiful
change on his face, the old gentleman
had taken the child on his knee and was
talking to her'as 1 dare say he had never
talked before.
“Are yon her mother?’ he asked, look
ing up suddenly and addressing the
woman opposite.
“Her mother’s been dead these two
year. I’m her annt, an I’m takin her
home to rear ’long wi’ my own childer.”
He was bending over Annie, and had
resumed his chat. It was all nonsense—
something about the silver knob of his
malacca—but it took bold of the child’s
fancy and comforted her. At the next
station 1 had to alight, for it was the
end of my journey. But looking back
into the carriage as l shut the door, 1
saw Annie bending forward over the
walking stick and following the pattern
of its silver work with her small finger.
Her face was turned from the old gen
tleman’s, and behind her little black hat
his eyes were glistening.—Arthur T.
Quiller-Couch in Speaker.
Dlacouragetnont for Jail Birds.
Jail breaks” were being discussed by
a number of gentlemen. “For the bet
ter security of prisoners charged with
the more serious offenses they have
adopted a very ingenious plan in that
city of ‘jail breaks,’ Denver,” said Mr.
J. W. Freeman. “The principle upon
which it is worked is this; A man is put
into one of a number of iron cells, the
cells being ranged in a circle. Then the
whole thing is set in motion, hat the
construction renders the movement so
gentle that it is not felt by any of the
convicts. The result is that if an at
tempt be made to cut a hole at any
point, with the idea of resuming the
work at a future time, the attempt is
frustrated, because by the regular move
ment tho cell will be completely reversed
at the time the prisoner returns to it
from that which it occupied when he
temporarily left it. The motion is kept
up from morning till night, so that es
cape by ordinary methods is an impossi
bility.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
Bought Old Pipes-
A valuable pipe that belonged to the
late Lawrence Barrett had carved on its
bowl an ideal head of Ophelia. The
collecting of pipes was one of Barrett’s
hobbies, and he was often seen in some
of the New York establishments looking
np what be could find in tbe way of odd
pipes. The pipes he usually bought
were old ones that had been colored by
other people.—Collector.
Therapeutic Electricity.
The ordinary electric bath is one of
the best means of stimulating and re
freshing t patient in a debilitated state
of health. One singular result is the re
moval of metallic poisons from the body.
This is effected by electrolysis. The me
tallic poison will be found in the water
after thirty minutes’ sitting.—New York
Telegram. :
liantly—exceeded ray hopes. But you
must forget Jack; he is poor, he could
never make you happy."
“Is wealth, luxury, pleasure all one
must live for?- Is love to have no place
in one’s life at all?’ cries Beth.
Mrs. Thornton shrugs her beautiful
shonlders.
“When one is young one’s heart is apt
to take the lead in one’s life,” she says.
“You are young, what is to he expected?
Mr. Chester-will be here this evening-
see that he receives the answer he
should.”
With this she sweeps gracefully away,
throwing a significant smile at her niece
as she closes the door.
“Ah, Jack,” said Beth Russell, softly,
“I will be true to you till death—through
poverty, through everthiug! You doubt
my love row, but 6ome day I will prove
to you how even a society girl can love.
It has been bitterly cold all day, and
for the first time perhaps in many weeks
the street corners are deserted. A warm
house and a warmer fire is every stray
pedestrian’s goal. And now, just at
dusk, as the lights are juit peeping
through the gathering gloom, a fine, cut
ting snow begins to fall.
The usual crowd at the little station
is dispersing; the bustle and excitement
caused by the arrival of the through
passenger train has subsided and the op
erator is left once more to herself.
She closes her key with a little snap,
goes np to the blazing fire in the huge,
ugly stove and holds out her slender
hands to its warm radiance.
“The petted darling of a wealthy home
and innumerable friends in a common
serge gown!” She laughs softly and
rubs one hand np and down the sleeve of
her dress. “1 wonder what Mr. Chester
wonld say were he to see me now! Ah,
poor aunt, 1 wish you could have lived!
But perhaps it is best as it is, and I am
glad—glad you could not leave me one
dollar. Poor, proud Jack! When he
hears that 1—I, the supposed heiress—
am poor, even poorer than he is, will he
come to me—then?’
The door opens and slams, letting in a
cold gust of rain, wind and snow.
“Ah, Lenn, is that you?’ she says
brightly, as a young giant of a fellow
comes toward her, shaking the snow
from his clothes like a great dog. “How
could you remember me on a night like
this? And no overcoat!” she exclaims.
“Why, yon will freeze!”
FTi« handsome face lights np with a
cmilft that displays a dazzling row of
teeth.
“Perhaps 1 stopped in to get warm,
he said roguishly, “and not to see you at
all. Why, it was only yesterday that I
saw yon!'
Then the brightness dies out of his
face, and some of the youthfulnesa goes
with it.
“Ah, what an eternity that has seemed
to me,” he says, his eyes dark with
Every minute spent away
Now she is at the bridge—but where
is the bridge? The last of it is swept
away in the black, seething waters as
she reached the hank, and at that mo
ment, another sound, heard faintly
above the roar of tbe river, sends a new
terror to her heart. A distant thunder
ing sound, and she knows tbe train is
coming through the cat half a mile
away.
“Ob, God, for some strength!” she
groans. “All those sonls must not be
lost!”
She straggles on through the fearful
wind that drives the thin, catting snow
in her face like so many tiny lashes. On
comes the express—nearer, nearer. Grad
ually the roar of the river changes into
the roar of the oncoming train. Once
she stumbles and falls, and her fingers,
stiff with cold, almost lose their grasp
on the precious red signal; but she is up
almost before she touches the ground.
“Only a few more rods,” she breathes,
“and they are saved!"
Now she can seethe lights from the
station, and almost simultaneously there
flashes around a curve in the inky dark
ness the headlight of 802 coming down
the track at full speed.
With a last desperate effort she gains
the station, and, standing in the center
of the track, waves tho red light fran
tically above her head. She tries to cry
out—her voice is drowned in the roar
of .the wind and the approaching train.
But the engineer’s head is out of the cab
window; he sees the slender, wind blown
figure on the track,.her tragic white face
gleaming in the dazzling glare of the
headlight. He throws hack his lever,
and gradually—gradually—the long
train comes to a standstill, the engine
panting and quivering like a live thing
and sending out great volumes of dense
smoke.
They are saved! The lantern- falls
from her numb hand, and she sinks
down on the track, shivering and trem
bling all over. There is a ctowd about
her in an instant asking questions that
she is too exhausted to reply to, but
among all the strange faces she sees one
familiar one that sends the blood to her
white face and the light to her eyes.
She holds out her hand with a little
faint cry, and it is clasped in both of
Jack’s warm ones and held close to his
heart.
Then she tnrns to the conductor, wh
is standing impatiently beside her.
The bridge is gone,” she says. The
words come with difficulty through her
white, cold lips. “I went down to see
and reached here barely in time to save
the train.”
When they all know what has occurred
what a cheer is raised for her! Jack
leads her into the station and brings the
best chair he can find in the office and
seats her before the glowing fire—her
own Jack! And she has saved his
life! A great throb of exultation goes
through her as she sees him standing
there, so strong and tall and handsome.
Ah, now he knows how a society girl
can love!
She is almost dead with cold, but she
smiles faintly at him and then the white
lids close, hut not before she knows
Lenn is beside her and has her hand in
his and is bending over her, his yonng
face white and anxious, and so, between
the two men who love her, she gains
consciousness after a little and receives
the heartfelt thanks of all the passen
gers..
Jack and Lenn have shaken hands
cordially and Lenn, with a horrible
ache in his heart, has gone away and
left them together. He knows that is
the man that Beth loves, but he bears
it bravely. Beth is happy and he tries
to be glad for her sake.
Jack has her hands in his and is look
ing into the sweet, shy eyes.
Yon have saved my life, Beth,” he
says, and the gay voice is very grave
now. “Are yon going to make me wish
that yon had not? I had heard of your
aunt’s death, and my heart ached for
yon, but 1 dared not cpme near yon. 1
earnestness, "nivery minute spent away i * kear Q f y0 ur marriage to Mr.
from you is a blank. l never knew what | jNj ie8ter> but I did not. Ah! Beth, brave
Diet of the Gaaehoe Indian*.
The Guachos of the Argentine Repub
lic live entirely on roast beef and salt,
scarcely ever tasting farinaceous or
other vegetable food, and their sole
beverage is mate or Paraguay tea taken I powerful-brown one.
without sugar.—Gentleman’s Magazine. | “Poor Lenn!” she says softly.
it was to count the minutes before you
came. I never had this restlessness be
fore, bat with you I am calm; yon quiet
md; just one glance from your eyes—
that is enough.”
We were very fond of Tom, and when
he first bong out his sign, “Thomas
Winchester, M. D.,” we stood behind
the shutters to see the commotion, it
mnst naturally cause.
But people, as a general thing, are
very stupid; they looked over and trader
and around it, os if it were not there at
alL And not a person entered the poor
boy’s office for a week.
But one day an elegant carriage was
driven to the door, from which a yonng
lady of striking appearance alighted,
and 1 ran in great excitement to tell
mother:
‘‘Torn has a patient now worth hav
ing,” I cried. "A lady in a splendid
carriage. Perhap^she fell in love with
him somewhere (I was only nineteen).
Think how romantic.”
“Some 6tnck np thing, 1 suppose,”
Olive said, with a contemptuous shrug
of her shoulders.
“Really!” I exclaimed. “You had bet
ter not be so hasty in your judgments—
certainly wot until you know a little
more than you do now.”
Olive Sargent had been taken into the
family when quite small simply on ac
count. of her*eyes', which indicated,
mother thought, remarkable genius.
Bnt the genius did not develop, for she
was a perfect ignoramus, with nothing
unusual about her, except her brown
eyes and her skili iirusing them.- — .. s
Miss Seymour -proved a valuable pa
tient. She invited Tom to meet people
of standing and influence, and his genial
manners won him many desirable
friends My sister Lucy and 1 made the
most audacious plans, but we could not
mention the yonng lady’s name before
Olive without bringing a scowl to her
brow, for the little Bimpleton really had
the presumption to he jealous, and about
this time a very eligible yonng man
commenced paying her marked atten
tions, but site treated him with all the
airs and caprices of an experienced flirt
“Yon ought to he ashamed of such
conduct,” I said to her one day. “Mr.
Lamson is worthy of the most superior
woman and you might feel greatly flat
tered by his attentions. If von do not
love him why do yon encourage his
visits?’
‘Do you want me to marry him?’ she
asked.
“You certainly ‘will not have many
rach chances,” 1 replied.
Docs Tom want me to marry him?”
Of course he does. Ho has a very
high opinion of Mr. Lamson, and knows
you could not make a better match—if
yon intend to marry at all.”
Then l shall accept him. I always
knew 1 should hate the man 1 married.”
And she flounced out of the room,
scowling fearfully.
How queer she. is," Lucy said. “1
never did like such odd girls in real life.
They do ’.veil enough in stories.”
I shall be glad when she marries,” 1
rejoined.
And soon afterward she announced
her engagement to Mr. Lamson,
There is some one that cares for mi
anyway,” she said. “Tell Tom 1 have
accepted tho man he is so crazy to have
me marry,
I did not deliver the ungracious mes
sage, but when 1 told my brother of the
engagement 1 saw him catch his breath,
as if very much moved.
Little Olive, engaged!" be said. “1
never dreamed of such a thing.”
Little Olive is twenty years old,” 1
replied, “and 1 supposed you would be
pleased. Mr. Lamson is such a tine
young man.”
“Oh, yos; he is to be congratulated.
“She is the one to be congratulated,"
I answered quickly. “Such a baby as
she is, and oh, Tom, she is so selfish!”
You are very hard, Lillian, where
Olive is concerned. Remember that she
has had nothing to try her. She may
prove quite a heroine yet.”
But, my dear brother, just compare
her with Miss Seymour.”
“They, are entirely different in their
natures and dispositions.'
“1 should think so.”
“Then Miss Seymour is several years
older, to begin with, and having been
left an orphan at an early age she has
acquired a great deal of self reliance
and character.”
Yon like and admire her very much,
Tom, 'do you not?’
Yes, Lillian. She has been the kind
est of friends, and 1 owe her more than
I can possibly repay. She will be mar
ried soon”
“What!” 1 fairly gasped, all my beau
tiful air castles shattered in a moment.
“Is she engaged?”
' “Certainly. Bnt what is the matter,
dear? Yon look as if some one had
struck you."
‘Nothing—nothing," I answered fee
bly as 1 tamed to leave the room, my
heart sinking still lower when I heard
him repeating to himself, “Little Olive
engaged!’
I went as usual to my mother for con
solation, and throwing myself upon the
floor beside her, I cried:
Oh, mother, mother, Tom is not
going to be engaged to that lovely Miss
Seymour after all And worse still, 1
believe tie is in love with Olive—of all
persons in the world. Think of it!”
“What do yon mean, Lillian?” mother
demanded, with a look of unqualified
horror.
“It is so, mother, I am sure.’
“Well, if i had ever dreamed of such
a denouement, 1 never wonld have taken
1UU hxeq v ’ • -«
claimed.
“Hush, Lillian!” my mother said re
provingly. “Olive, have 1 not treated
you kindly? Have 1 ever done anything
to hurt your feelings or cause yon un
happiness?”
“No, yon and Tom have always been
nice, bnt the girls do not like me one
bit, I know.”
“We like yon when yon do not scowl
in that dreadful manner—and are not*
odd and queer”
“I cannot help the way I am made.”
“Bnt yon were not made in that way.
There is no need of your acting so
strangely. However, if 1 have been un
just I am sorry.”
I was not at all surprised when a few
days afterward. Lncy entered tuy room
in great excitement; but my fears were
realized.
“Oh, Lillian,” my sister cried, “Olive
has beep taking laudanum, and”
“Pshaw!” I exclaimed. “You are not
deluded by the little amateur Bernhardt,
I hope?’
Bnt she is on the bed unconscious.”
“Just call Tom, and then see how un
conscious she is!”
“Lillian, you are just as hard hearted
as you can he! She Loob a as white as tho
sheet she is lying on.
Call Tom and she will soon get her
color.”
She did as I told her. and we all went
to her room together, Lncy and Tom
very much agitated, but 1 myself, feel
ing irritated and impatient.
‘Stop 3 usomeptl” 1 said, holding the
others hack. “I want to Speak to her
first. Olive!”
There was hot the slightest movement
in response to my call.
Galatea was not more statuelike be
fore her awakening.
Then Tom whispered in tremulous ac
cents:
“Olive, my little Olive!”
It was the working of a miracle.
At the first sound of his voice her eyes
opened as if involuntarily, and she rolled
them up vo him with the look of a se
raph.
There!” I said to Lncy, and a more
disgusted young woman was never seen.
But Tom was not the first man doped
by a pair of melting brown eyes, and he
succumbed helplessly.
Kneeling by the side of the bed, he
asked in a reproachful why:
“Why did you do this, my child, why
did you do it?”
“Because I do not want to marry Mr.
Lamson,” she answered pitifully.
You shall not marry him if yon do
not want to. my darling.”
Bnt they said yon wanted me to ac
cept him.”
1 want yon to accept a man yon do
not care for? No, indeed, I love yon too
well for that.”
“Do you love n^e, Tom; do you love
me?”
Better than my life, little Olive.
And 1 love you a hundred times bet
ter than any Mr. Lamson.”
My darling!” Tom cried rapturously,
while 1 gnashed my teeth in impotent
fury.
I could not contain myself, however,
and approached the bell.
That is all very interesting," I said,
'but what do you suppose Mr. Lamson
will think of it?”
Lillian,” Tom replied, with a deter
mined look upon his face, “no man was
fonder of a sister than 1 am, but I will
not allow even you to interfere between
me and the woman 1 love.”
For the first time in my life I was
really angry with him, but 1 onlff an
swered by a Look; and if my eyes were
not as seraphic, they were quite as ex
pressive as Olive’s. Then 1 went toward
the door, but the dear fellow followed
me, and throwing his anus around my
waist he cried
“You are not angry, sister, are yon?’
I was melted in a moment.
“Oh, Tom,” l said—“poor boy—poor
boy!”
And trying hard to keep back my
tears, I left him with his darling.
The next day that young lady had the
audacity to ask if 1 wonld see Mr. Lam
son, who had jnst called.
Oh,” 1 exclaimed. Yon wish to get
rid of a disagreeable duty, do yon?"
He’ll tease me to marry him, and
never want to see the man again.”
Very well," 1 said. “1 will see him;
bat it is on his account, not yours.
And i descended to the parlor with
my heart aching for the lover whose
fondest hopes had been so cruelly blasted.
I grew more and more agitated, and
when 1 opened the parlor door my face
most have betrayed ( me.
Mr. Lamson extended his hand and
asked quite coolly:
“Is Olive sick?”
“No,” 1 replied, “bnt 1 have an un
pleasant duty to fulfill. Oh, Mr. Lam
son, if my sympathy”
1 think 1 understand,” he said, in
manner so utterly undisturbed that
looked at him in amazement “Yon
are surprised,” he continued, “bnt Olive
has not behaved in a proper or womanly
manner. 1 was greatly deceived. She
has the eyes of an angel, bnt her ca-
GOOD-BYE WINN-
THE CONGRESSMAN
NINTH
FROM THE
GOES TO THIRD PARTYISM,
Ho Gives hlsIReasons for the 8tep—
This will Alter the Situation
From the Ninth—The One-
Eyed Plowbody of
Pigeon Roost.
prices are a uy bet ®=gc!ic My
patience was nearly exhausted, espe
cially as 1 think she prefers yonr brother
to me. Indeed, she almost said so. Bnt
I assure you that your sympathy is fully
appreciated.”
Then he turned the subject and we
spent a very pleasant evening. 1 had al
ways liked Mr. Lamson.
He continued to call as frequently as
ever, seeming to appreciate my sym-
little girl, to face poverty when yon the child into my family. Bnt what 1 pathy more and more, especially when
conld have commanded millions by a - - _ * ----- ......
single little word.”
“It was for you, Jack,” she says in a
low voice. “I loved you—conld I swear
“I am
She lays one soft little hand on his | ^ j oye mother? Annt tried very hard
to persuade me to accept Mr. Chester.
Poor annt!” she sighs, and the shadowed
eyes brighten with a smile. “I have
yon, Jack," she says. “You will never
k-.ve me again,” softly, “will yon?’
“No, sweetheart," he says, “never
sorry.
Angel Coke. I jj e turns away and draws one hand
Chop up green apples, raisins, bananas j acros3 his eyes, then smiles at her in
in quantities to suit; stick them in dough. I almost his usual light hearted fashion.
Feed to the children and the angel part “By t h e way,” he says, “I am afraid 1 ^.'._ Wave rly Magazine,
will materialize.—American Grocer. | the bridge acmes the river just below j °
Tbe Jail Breakers Caught.
Charlotte, N. C., April 2.—John
Graham, Bob Pharr and Jim Patterson,
makes yon think the boy is in love with
her?”
“He jnst told me that Miss Seymour
will soon be married to some one else.
And he seems so shocked and depressed
because dive is engaged to Mr. Lamson.
I cannot be mistaken—and such a wife
for Tom!”
At that moment Olive entered the
room, looking gloomy and pouting.
“My dear,” mother asked, “when does say, with a sigh:
it changed into the tenderest love.
And he soon convinced me that it was
merely a passing fancy he had felt for
Olive.
There was a double wedding, and, al
though several years have passed, Tom
is as much in love with his wife as ever.
He' is successful and prosperous, en
joying- his prosperity, yet when we
speak of him to each other we always
Washington, D. C., April 2.—Con
gressman Winn has go He over to the
Third party. In a statement to a press
reporter be said:
“I deem it my duty as the represen
tative cf the people of the Niutn district
of Georgia who have delegated the
duty to me for the time being of repre
senting them in tbe house of represent
ing them in the house of representa
tives, to state to them candidly and un
reservedly the situation of affairs with
regard to remedial legislation, which
they have demanded at the hands of
congiess, and as a faithful watohman
and guardian of thair interests, I deem
it necessary to give them a candid
statement of the situation and what oan
be reasonably expected at the hands of
congress.
“1 state to you now, as I have on
previous occasions, tbat in my opinion
the financial question is the great and
overshadowing question before the
American people, and thfOUgti its right-,
fui solution the people look for that re
lief which they so much need, and in
which they are so deeply, interested.
The first measure reported to congress
ooking to financial re
form and which has been discussed, was
the bill for the remonetization of free
coinage of silver, known as the Bland
bill I gave my hearty support in a
speech delivered on the 22nd of March.
favored the bill not as a complete rem
edy by any means for the evils which ef
fect the people, but because I consider
ed it a step in the right direction, and
would indicate the purpose of the dem
ocratic party to meet the demands of
the people in the line of financial re
form.
I had confidently expected that the
great democratic majority—amounting
to about one hundred and fifty—could
be confidently looked to to fulfil its
promises to the perple to successfully
and ssti factorily grapple with all these
great questions and 60lve then* in the
interest of the people, but I am''
pelled to state to you candidly that from
their action on this bi l,the people can
not expect any relief on the line of fi
nancial reform.
“If the present house, with its over
whelming majority, ignores the great
financial questions, whioh it has done
by the defeat of tbe Bland silver bill,
with its slight concessions towards fi
nancial reform, it can well be imagined
what its action will be on the demand
of the people for the abolition of na
tional banks and tbe issue of treasury
notes sufficient to raise tbe per capita
circulation to $50, as our people are de
manding. What favorable action can s
be expected on our sub-treasury bill or
the loan of money by the government
on farm products ? I must confess to
you I see no indication on the part of
the house of representatives to make a
single concession to tbe people on the
line cf their demands, and It is with
sorrow tbat I have to admit the fact, be
cause I have believed tbat all tbe need
ed reforms would come through the
democratic party in time.
“1 did not expect that all oar de
mands would be obtained at once, be
cause all reform in our National legis
lation moves slowly. In tbe light of
recent developments, I cannot close my
eyes to the fact that the money power
of this country absolutely controls both
political parties of the Ea*t, and there
is no possible hope of that wing of the
party giving the people any relief. In
deed, I can see no difference between
the Eastern Democrats and the Eastern
Republicans on this financial issue.
“In view of these facts, if our people
decide that it is necessary for us to act
independently of the National Demo
cratic party in order to obtain these
demands, I stand ready to go with my
people, and say in tbe language ef Bath
to Naomi, ‘Entreat me not to leave
thee, or to return from following after
thee. For whither thou goest I will go:
and where thou lodgest I will lodge.
Thy people shall be my people and thy
God my God. Where thou diest wiU I
d’^and there will be buried. The Lord
do so to tne and more also,, if aught but
death part me and thee.’ ’’
The One-Eyed Piowboy.
The field is open to a Democratic
candidate in the Ninth district. Who
will take up * the Democratic cudgel is
not yet known, but it is said that the
band that routed in depen dert ism in
the same district can demolish Third
partyism now. The name of Allen D.
Candler, “the one-eyed piowboy of Pig
eon roost,” is already on the lips of hia
friends.
she
yonr lover wish to bo married?’
“A good deal sooner than I do,”
answered testily.
“1 do not believe in long engage
ments,” mother continued, “and I con-
here will not hold 802 tonight if it is as
Tue opdp ssed ra’j ets of Eorop' an I loaded as usual. Well, I'm off; I may
.rove, m t, turn to .hi* country fo, f - be back this way in an hour to help you
bomi s, tit** l»wa and for ihe free use «. butt0 ns his coat about his throat I three . of the P ri808 ®”_^ ho escaped ; rider you a very fortunate girl to have
Salvation Ci for their pains. his fur c m over his eves. At flom Wednesday morning were re- j woa the .love of a man like Mr. Lam*
It is a slifcbt cold irtqueoly diffracted ^She tooto S°Jnd hSitetek captured in Spartanburg. Pharr re- j son. Still”
that finally <uad*rmtiei the system. Oserw feel Btrange i y reluctant to leave 1 sisted arrest and was shot, and is lik-dy ; “Oh, if yon are tired of me, of
D . Bail’s Cough Syrup in tne beginning all a i 0 ne,” ho says wistfully, i to die. Boyd. the tram wrecker, has course”
Blages and becured. ‘ y °«Why, what conld hann me?’ not been captured. y
“Poor Tom!”—Chicago Press.
“Beauty” may be ‘‘only skin deep;” but
the secret of a beautiful skin is pure blood.
Those coarse, rough, pimply complexions
may, in most cs-es, be rendered soft,
smooih, and fair by the p r everiog and
systemmatic use ot Ayer’s Sarsaparilla.
On a Visit.—Mr. Howard Neely, of
Chattanooga, i3 in the city for a few
days on a visit to friends.
- .
THE HOCATCHEE QJ.UB
WIU go out Angling In a few Weeks.
Anew club has been organized in
Athens.
It is the Nocatchee Club and its eh*
ject is to ensnare tbe finny tribe. jB&g
The Club intends spending a week on
the streams around Athens and in
Northeast Georgia, and has sent off for
all kinds of fishing tackle.
The olub consists <f Messrs. E. B.
Hodgson, J. S. King, R. K. Reaves, D.
C. Oliver, J. L. Burch, T, J. T
amitb, and A. G, Elder
