The weekly banner. (Athens, Ga.) 1891-1921, May 03, 1892, Image 1

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The weekly banner., May 03, 1892, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Text■ Ival. I»M I «MMW S’ronicle,'K»l. 1ST7. i Athena B with the anaer, Bah 1832. ATHBNS. GA, TUESDAY MORNING. MAY 3.1892. ‘•‘AWAKENING." “I love you, sweet!” you whispered low. The while your eyes cozed into rath* As If to rend Iovo's mystic sign • *- Within their dei>ths. Dear, was It sot • were four miles distant, and site would be compelled to pass through their lines, but as she was in possession of the countersign she did not fear the result. C EVEN UP TO DATE. Soon Kuo saw the' picket’s' bayonet V “ 0,lsht 1° b ” l "' ny ““P””?: i*£j» the mooulight and beard bin, L’w.uZt «S.Sio i "*“• 1 **"“ Who goes there?" W ^’ v - .. > • , . | “Well,’ i don’t like him, Mr. Gray. ”A friend, with the countersign.” , There ““ * no and hope he'll never ball ag’in.” • - - - - 8 other feller yer thtnkin more of than “Why, Mira Mandy, did you and him yer air of me, is there?” hev an ' trouble?” Im talkin fair and squar' to yer, i » A little. not much." Van Jones I ve always liked yer as a j “Would ye mind tellin me what it mend, but if yer want to keep friendly q^s about. Miss Mandy?” and Sam bash- . With me yerll have to Stop this talk hitched his chair a few inches Tight here. I*ye told yer that I didn^t • nearer the bitching Mandy. “I’d rathef not, Sam,” she replied, hanging her^ head in modesty at calling “Nobody in pertic’ler—at least that’s what 1 think of Van Jones.” Why, seeius to me. Miss Mandy, that And lo. Into i gome subtld __ _ Which woke oucoTkototo life aud The love that tong therein had slept. I cannot tell yon when or how— I,ovc docs not measure such pure bliss By lionr and moments. U not this Sutlleieut, dear—I love yon now? —Stella G. Florence in Springfield Homestead, A WOMAN’S HEROISM. The year 1781 was a dark tend gloomy one for our forefathers who; were then struggling for liberty. In $onth Caro lina affairs were then in a critical situa tion. General Greene made an unsuc cessful attempt on the British post of Ninety-six, aud withdrew fete men be yond the Tiger and Broad rfvors. Lord Raw-don followed him, but could not draw’ the patriot general into an en gagement jt At that period there stand in South Carolina a plain and unassinuring house. It was a one story builang, neatly whitewashed and surroundef by a fence. The garden contained many ^hoice flow ers, and the beautifnl honeysuckle shad ed the doors and windows. <Jt was the home of Mrs. Heath, whd lived with her two daughters, while hek son George was in Washington’s army fighting for *reedom. Kate, the eldest of the daughters, was a beautiful girl of sixteen summers. Her auburn hair hung in graceful cnrls down to her shoulders and her face beamed with kindness, whife her eyes shone like the stars that $ijglit up the azure vaults of heaven. One evening ns Kate was standing at fhe cottage door she beheld two mount ed officers approaching. They were richly dressed, and one of them she recognized as Lord Ruwdon, the com mander of the British forpes in that section of the country. Tbe J rode np to her and Rnwdon leaned oveMn bis sad die and said in a kind voice: . “Well. miss. «.«m yon let me have thi use of a room for a few minutes.” “Yes, sir: our house is open to yon “Come, colonel. Jet us hurtfy up busi ness.’’ said Itawdon, dismounting, wliilt the colonel did the same, the latter leading the horses to the stable. Lord Rnwdon advanced towhereKate was standing and said: -if “Whose house is this, miss?* "Nlrs. Heath’s, sir.” -Hu! her son is in the r*ff«l army under Washington, is he not?" Kate trembled at the insult and sh< looked at the Briton with a searching glance. "My brother is no reliel. Lord Raw don. lie is lighting for his country.” •1 am so-y for that. He is a brav boy, and would no doubt make a goo< British soldier." returned Rawdoii "Lord Uau don. you insujt me, ajr. lyonld sooner see fleorge die a felon’, death than see him in the king’s army, was ike heroic answer. "1 see you are a rebel, too. Mis Heath, Rut here pomes, the colonel said Itawdon, as he saw that worthy coming frpni the stable They unte.ed the house and went inti a small room to hold a consultation Kate thought they might have some thing important to say, so she con eluded to play the part of eavesdropper She told he” mother of her intention who approved of it. and Kate placed nerself in a position to overhear tin Briton's plans. It was a dangerous nndertalnng, and elm knew that if she was caught in the act of listening she would lie treated an a spy. and perhaps executed, for Lord Rnwdon knew no mercy.. She cautious ly approached * the door and looked through a crevice. Ruwdon and his colonel were seated before a table on Which lay maps. They were examinin them closely, while Rnwdon was ex plaining them to the colonel. “Here is Greene’s camp." said he. “and here is ours. Wo must make a bold strike, and if it be successful Greene will bo destroyed. “1 dou’t see why it should not suc ceed, do yon, my lord?’ “No; if" onr troops fight as well as they have heretofore we shall succeed,” said Ruwdon, his face assuming a triumph ant expression. “I shall feel happy when the cursed rebels are driven away from Carolina, and then their rulp will be over,” said Colonel Roberts. “We must crash Greene, colonel. I do not want to go back to England and let it be said that I was outgeneraled by a rebel. No, never!” exclaimed Raw don, rising to his feet. “Then we make that attack at day break, do we not?” asked the colonel. “We do. Have your regiment ready and make your men fight .like demons.” "Let ns go now. But hold! What is the countersign for the pickets tonight, my lord?” i “England.” answered Lord Rawdon [ glowering his voice. L, Kate listened to the Briton's plan with I di I fr A “Advance, friend, and .give the coun tersign.” She approached the picket and whis pered: “England!” “All right; pass on. But stopP’ cried m the picket as be caught a glimpse of her A ^e’yerVand,'‘mor^ahst, I never coifid* — ’ . , . ., . an, 08 to lovin or thinkin more of some- Kate stopped her horse and laid her body else that's somethin I don’t think . hand on a pistol. The picket approached . consarns yo in the least.” j 811 881 ’ I “Oh, come now, Mandy. don’t pntme „. . .. ^ , , I off in this here way. If yer a friend to It is, Gny, returned Kate, for she , ma . it won’t take yer long to love me. recognized the soldier to be Guv Jack- son, who had often visited their boosed” “Where are you going tonight. Miss Kate?" he asked. To Bee Mrs. Blake; she is very sick" "Just like yon, Mias Kate—always visiting the sick: yon are a ministering angel.” said the haughty Briton. “Tbauk you for the compliment, Gny. but 1 most be going. Good night!” And Kute was again on her jonrney. while the picket returned to bis post. • She had to para four miles yet ere she would be safe, so she urged on her steed. Before she had gone a hundred yards him Toy the “Qf don’t w; biznessn and Sam’s uey around t time by his given name. Mandy, if it’s a secret I hear it; it’s none of my , 1 reckon, is it, Mandy?” began a cautious jnur- Mamly’s apron strings. Mandy (ujjfonscionsly, no doubt) help ed Sam’s arm along a little by leaning toward him. as she answered: “Well. Sgm. 1 guess you won’t tell anybody if I tell yon. Van Jones’s hen ROSES. I gave her roses for her breast, A red and white, to he love’s test: If she tonight the red one wears • I’ll know she thus her love declares: Or If she deign to wear the white Twill tell as well as words “she might:” And if she chance to wear them both I’ll surely think she’s nothing loth. If none she wears? Why, that will show She’s too demure to tell me sol Ahl roses, joy your beauty would eclipse If I dared have such faith in her sweet lips. —Thomas J. Moore. John Grunt was the next person to whom site had to explain her nonsuc- HER INHERITANCE. been, mighty nigh crazy fer ye fer the last three year. I’ve got so J can’t verb fer thinkin of yer in the day tier sleep fer thinkin of yer in the night There’s lots o' other girls in Uhincapin Holler, but yer takes the shine out of all it eni. They’re no more like yer titan ’ tryin his pest to get me to have him, B dishrags like a Silk handkercher.. In j and 1 jest pmtedly told him he couldn’t gyeye yer as far above’em as Pilot; He then.waited to know if 1 thought .Kj£>b* above Cowsktn Flat I’d give; more of somf one else, and I told him it mansion to the New Jerusalem fer j didu’t conztfn him. I had ter threaten feet one kiss o them purty little red jo call pa before he’d leave. He were Bps a’yer’s.” So saying. Van tried to powerfullywsap’inted when 1 give him grow Mandy toward himself, but Mandy no for an answer. I’ve allns thought r ,, , . a ,, ^nth flashing eyes arose,to her feet, and , purty well of Van as a friend, but I’m *■/i d„«»-. and their leader cned out: } ‘ “Van Jones, yer a fool! Ye take yer. j “And witoi did you refuse Van fer, ^hereor I’ll call pa- ManSy?” s^d SamL he gave the girl a nme sincer 1 rve been a-tryin to reason with yer as a 8 iy squeeze. • iriend, but I see yer ain’t got no sense, “How kin yer ask, Sam? Didn’t yer Thar ® tl^e door, and don t yer never j know kase why? Kiq a woman marry a apme back here again." maq she don't luv?’’ ' A ^ nrt y”— MThenye* didn’t Inv Van, Mandy, is “flon’t Mandy me pal* 1 that a fac\ an couldn't yer if he’d mar- Yft» did not Stop to meet “pa.” but ^ed yer?" “ took up his hat and, with a scowl on his 1 y faup and an oath to his heart, left the hpnse. He was an ill visaged fellow, features wore the unmistakable Yes, sir,” was the picket's reply. “Do yon know who it was?" ‘ 1 do: it was Miss Heatlp" Had she the countersign, sir?'’ “She ha4.” { fear she is safe. Fprward, men! ff she escapes Greene is s^ved. A hun dred golden gttipeas and g commission to the plan who catches herl" cried the leader of the hand as they dashed after the brave girl, leaving the picket to a state of bewilderment. Kate soon beard the sound of her pur suers and she pushed on faster. It was a race for life or death. The British horses were fresh while hers was begin- ing to show signs of fatigue. “Forward. Selim! You must take “No, Saxmi l never could,” and Mandy (poked at the floor as she spoke. “Mandy, if yer don’t and can’t toy Van. and ydr ain’t luvto anybody else, cruelty, cunning and sensual-1 how, er—an—er—humph! would yer like fer to- His face was dark naturally, bnt it WOa colored a deeper dye by the smoke of his forge, for Van was the black smith of Chincapiq Hollow- His burly t>lack head was set upon a thick neck and thus fastened to a herculean trunk, fta'lmd all the characteristics of a cruel pie to Greene’s camp." said Kate to her ^ ferocious being.. He wended his iw? 6 ;. , , . J Mfiw slowly up the Hollow, muttering But her enemies gained upon her and 1 panes as he went, QUO of them seemedbent op catching her I “1 know .who she’s stuck on: its that for he was some yaWs to advance BCtSis dflm 8ai* firay, but by thunder I’ll gel Comrades. Kate beard the I even vvith’em,” he hissed between his tramp Of his horse amf drew her pistol I'teeth. “She Vouldot own to to it, hut Nearer ho caine until he was at her Jhrehad my eye on him,Confound him. ^4 cneq QPt; I $ lovely Bmulay evening in the “Halt, you cursed rebell" mouth of September, iu that part of Ar Those were his last words, for Kate I kansas called the Boston mountains, fired and the bnllet crashed through hi: I .The sides of the mountains were covered b ™ l “\ T . he ° thers ‘H d u ® t 8top to ,ook witil luxuriant chincapins, scrubby oaks j ^a^er do"um-wOuS"‘er^r—yer'^tod at their dead comrade, bnt pressed on and trailing, heavy laden muscadines. > - V . . - J They neared her again and anothev The scenery in Cliincapin Hollow was ttopper received bis death w?und. Tb«' delightful to one in a frame of mind to fhmdnder ba|ted, and a momept after | pujoy it, bnt Van Jones saw none of its “Hike teT what?” softly asked Mandy. “As i wua goin on ter say, Mandy,” and he took one of her hands to his as he continued', “as 1 wus goto on ter say —if yev don't luv Van, aud yer have told him to go, bow’d it be if- er-’-l—er—wns fer ax”— Here Bam stopped stock still, tis if he was unable to proceed any far ther. Mandy beamed encouragingly on him and smiling one of her sweetest smiles, said; “What wus yer goin ter say, Sam? Yer needn’t ter bo a bit uneasy, Sam, fer 1 won’t say tsword about it ter any body. if it’s a secret. “WelL as 1 wus a-sayin, Mandy, if yer don’t like auy other feller better U* bavin me?” and Sam broke down com pletely. “If any relatives of the late James Handford, some time curate of Widstoh, be still living, they may hear of some thing to their advantage by applying to Messrs. Dodd & Son, solicitors. King street. y- Barbara Reed pnt down the paper with a jerk. “1 wonder if that means me,” she said thoughtfully. “My grandfa ther’s name was certainly James Hand- ford, and I know he was a curate, but ] did not know there was any money to the family.” “If you think it worth while go to Messrs. Dodd & Son and find out,” sug gested a sharp featured, elderly lady. Who was stitching at the table opposite. “Of course I will! Why, there may be £5,000 waiting for me there.” ‘Or live pounds, more likely,” supple mented the stitcher. Barbara laughed. “I’d' rather think of the thousands, Mrs. Stewari; they would be very much more fe |uy advantage,” “1 know of something that would be more to your advantage than all the rnouey yon are ever likely to get from advertisements, if you had hut the good sense to, see it,” returned that lady sig nificantly. Barbara flashed as she left the room ro get her cloak and bonnet and set out for home. She was the music mistress to Mrs, Stewart’s. school, and had been one of the most promising pupils to it before that; she was almost alone to the world, except for a distant aunt with whom she lived, and after school days ended it became * necessary that she should do something toward keeping up the little household, she had been very glad when Mrs, Stewart’s proposal to retain her for the younger girls’ music lessons saved her from applying to strangers. Still, notwithstanding her obligations, there were times when Barbara felt strongly deposed to protest against that lady’s authority, which was pretty much as it had been in the days when she was “quite a child,” as Barbara often phrased it to herself. “She never seems to re member that | am grown npand able to manage my own affairs. It does not follow that because I was her pupil once she has any right to interfere to the mat ter now She wus inarching down the road, her 'Just what 1 expected, Miss Bar bara," said he cheerfully. “One is never sure of a chance of that kind till one actually has it 1 wouldn’t build upou it if I were in your place.” “Yon don’t seem to have had a fortu nate experience in that way,” retorted Barbara ungratefully. “It is only de ferred in this case, and 1 am to no hurry for a few days.” “Days!" echoed John. “A man in onr office has waited years, and is likely to wait, so far us I can see.” Ten days later came the much looked for communication from Dodd & Son: We are to receipt of Miss Reed’s paper, aud would assure her the matter shall have our best attention,” etc. Barbara flung it into her desk with a disappointed face. It was tedious to be obliged to wait to suspense like this. She would scarcely know how to get through the time bnt' for Mr. Lawrence’s atten tion and warm interest to the upshot John Grant’s indifference, not to say skepticism, on the subject, threw up hie rival’s superior qualities in fuU relief; and yet there, were times when Barbara felt just a little puzzled that Mr. Law rence went no further. With all his solicitude and looks that meant more than words, he never absolutely com rnitted himself to anything more bind ing than the merest friendship. ABSTAIN. Doctor Dash, a successful physician in the West, returned to his old home lately atiei a long absence, and visited the college in which he had been edu cated. Twenty years ago,” he said to a group of students, “I graduated in this ball. There wete eighteen men In my class. “Of the eighteensix-drankhabitually while at college. Not to excess, but • regularly— a, glass or two eaoh day; ’ Not one of these men has succeeded in attaining fortune, reputation, or,even a respectable positiqp. But they were among the ablest men ia the class. While at college, 1 was in the habit of frequenting the daily newspaper of fice here. There were ten men in it— editors and reporters. I knew them all a lot of bright, jolly fellows. The work was hard, the hours late, the meals irregular. Every man in the office drank hut one, & repo, ter, Ben Perry. O e of the editors told me he had seen B3n como from a fire at two o’clock in the morning, drenched to the skin and tired ouu He would look wistfully at the whisky bottle, but be never touched it. “I inquired for the boys today. Three had died from drinking; six were hold ing inferior positions iu newspaper of fices. ’Habits bad,’ said my informant. “I can’t ask him,” she said one day I ‘They could not make their way, and so under her breath, as she walked slowly home after oue of these “accidental' meetings. “But 1 do wish he would say straight out what he means or else stay away altogether. It makes one feel un settled.” Poor Barbara felt more unsettled still before she reached home. It was a lovely sornmer evening, and fifty yards further on she was joined by another cavalier, -John Grant this time. She shrank back at first, half afraid of some jesting re mark about the legacy, but she soon dis covered that he had quite forgotten the matter. There was something else on his mind, and he lost no time to saying very straight out what it was. fell lower. Perry’s head was always clear, aud he was regular at his work. He is editor-1 n-chiet of one of the prin cipal newspapers in a seaboard city.’ He had net half the natural ability of at least three of the others. “These are facts,” said the doctor. “I advise you who are beginning life to consider them. I have not a word to say about the moral question involved in drinking. But I know, as a physiciar, that no Amer ican, with his nervous organization, in this wearing climate, can. habitually fake liquor without injury to his health, and without in greater or less degree hindering his chauces of success.” A schoolboy in Australia recently put the matter tersely, thus: “I ab- ‘1 may not be able to offer you a fine stain from liquor because I wish to ex- house and luxuries,” he said, “bnt l have I cel a9 a cricketer. Grace says ‘abstain,* saved plenty to begin to comfort, and 1"" ” w “ c ’'' r ‘ a< ”’° ‘“ h “ tn,n *’ • think we might be very happy together w$rd Kafe heard tho American picket cry out: . . _ “Who goes fhere?” “Kate Heath!" pried onr heroine as she dashed through the liffe. The soldier had raised his gun, bnt when he heard her name it was lowered and he answered: “All tight!” The American camp was reached Kate threw herself from the saddle and placed her faithful horse in charge of a soldier. ‘Where is Greene’s tent?" sh“ asked. ‘To the right there, where you sec that light,” replied the man, pointing to the place. She entered the general's tent and found him engaged in writing. He raised his eyes, then arose to his feet and said: “Yonoomeatalate hour,Miss Heath." “I do, general. Yon are in danger.” “How is that?” exclaimed Greene. The brave girl told her story and the patriot grasped her hand, while the tear:: trickled down his war worn cheeks. “Thank God! you have saved my anoy, Miss Heath. I can never repay you.” 1 want no payment. The thonght that 1 have done my dnty and tile thanks of Nathaniel Greene, are worth more than gold or diamonds,” was the heroic reply. ~ - Take my thanks, my brave girl, and beauties, in fact it is doubtful if be ever conscious of Htoift.. - .. f if pe took any further notice of diem at all it was as rock, water and brush. He soon reached bis shop, which stood some distance up the hollow. It' was (in old log building, whose caving roof bore a striking resemblance to a sway back horse. The tottering chininey vis ible above the gable had the rakish air of a battered silk tile on a drunken sailor. The door, hung on a single hinge, and being partly open, exposed Mandy tamed as red as a hollyhock, head well up, while she argued themat- and it secu^l to Sam that the weight of ter out to her own satisfaction, when her Bhoul<^t increased as it rested heavi-1 some one quietly fell into step behind her. The shadow vanished from her brow like morning mist as she looked unu. Whether he feared it ThT’couM not "thus support her I weight or that she would ’tall, he sud denly clasped her to his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and ] sweetly whispered to his ear, “I luv yer, Sam, aud I’ll have yer.” A pair of wicked eyes gleamed through j the single, uncuftained window at the picture. The eyes were those ol Van | Jones. up, 5 ., ... . , . , '.Ahl yer there, are yer, blast verj” the interior of the building fe View | ^ betwe ^ hi / teeth . “WeU, Td like ter kill yer both, but I’ll not do J It tonight. But 1 know what 1 can do; Thft tool 3 were lying promiscuously ground, and it was evident that Van was pot a neat shopkeeper. He entered the building, still bitterly cursing his luck and swearing vengeance against his rival. “I’ll get even with him if it takes fifty years,” he snarled. “He shan't marry Mandy Pigg.n because he’s got a good farm and a horse or two tuore’n I’ve got. I’ll get even with him if I’ve got to burn his barn or pizen his well. I’ll let him know that the man he’s bnckin agin to this business ain’t no slouch,' and a diabolical scowl settled over his features as he ceased muttering and drew from his pocket a large clasp knife, which he proceeded to sharpen upon a grindstone. _ While Var was thus occupied the sun was slowly sinking. Long shadows fell across the Hollow. Gradually the dis may the Great Jehovah watch over and I jgpf mountain tops were wrapped in guide you through the changing scenes I ideate mists, and.over the valleys, float- of life.” responded Greene. v ed purple vapors. The shadows begin “And may be Have my country too.’ I ^ deepen to the Hollow, and finally the added Kate. Must ray of light vanishes from the monn- “You need rest. Hero, Bleep in my I tain’s peak. First one bright star and fent tonight, while l seek a resting place | then another rises in the east, peering among my men." said the kind hearted J flown into the shadows below. Slowly l can spile the beauty of this yer fine mare o’ his’n. He’ll never know who dun it,” and walking to where Sam’s mare stood patiently awaiting her mas ter’s return, he whipped his knife from his pocket and in another instant cut off both of the poor animal’s ears close to her head. ‘There now,” he growled to himself. ‘Sam Gray, 1 know that’ll almost kill yer when ye seo it. 1 wish to God it would.” and the brute slunk off in the darkness to his den. When Sam Gray on the following morning discovered the disfigurement of b‘is best horse—by the loss of both her ears—he was the maddest man to “seven Sfetes.” Yet he held his tongne. Sam was not a man to make threats. He was a reticent fellow add kept his troubles ‘ What are you to such a hurry for? 1 could scarcely keep you to sight," in quired the newcomer. It was the subject of Mrs. Stewart’s admonitipn, her drawing master—clever enough at his profession, but of his Industry and general dependableness she had not the highest opinion. Not so Miss Barbara, who was fast developing a very warm sentiment for the good looking young artist. “1 am going home to deposit my music; after that 1 think of making a journey into the city, to King street." “King street! That is an expedition. “Isn’t it! Bnt 1 have some idea of coming into a fortune, and that is the place 1 am to apply -to. if yon wonld only try. I have thought about it for the Last two years, and worked hard to be able to tell you so.” Barbara looked up at him with genu ine tears to her eyes. 1 am so sorry!” she said. “I never thonght of such a thing—at least, not in earnest,” as she remembered sundry re marks of Mrs. Stewart’s. “Besides, there’s lots of other better girls yon might find." ‘That is not to the point,” he inter rupted; "it is you, not other girls, 1 want Try and think of it, Barbara. 1 don’t waut to hurry you, but let me have a line as soon as you can; it means a good deal to me.” For another week or two things con tinued to go in much the same fashion. Mrs. Stewart wore a chronic air of dis approval, John Grant was invisible. Gniy Mr.’ Lawrence w^erfo the fore with his - sympathetic inqufneSjcbut in some mysterious way. Barbara J>egan to find them irritating rather than fluttering. She got tired of giving the same re sponse, “Nothing yet,” and of hearing the same polite remarks about his con cern and admiration of her. They did not go deep enough, At last on Saturday morning, as she was setting out for Mrs. Stewart’s, she met the postman, who gave her a blue, official looking envelope. Barbara stood still on the step, holding her breath as she opened it. ‘Messrs. Dodd & Son’s compliments to Miss Reed, and beg to inform her that Mrs. Elizabeth Drake has been proved the nearest of kin, and conse- as a walker, Weston says ‘abstainas an oarsman, Hanlan says ‘abstain;’ as a swimmer, Webb says ‘abstain;’ as a missionary,Livingstone says ‘abstain;* as a doctor, Clark says ‘abstain;’ as a preacher, Farrar says ‘abstain.’ ” Asy lums, prisons and work-houses repeat the cry, “abstain.” THE PRICE OF DRINK. Bekk and Wiuskkv Money Would ^ Buy Much Better Commodities. The money paid for one glass of beer would pay for one loaf of bread. The money paid for two glasses of beer w ould pay for a peck of potatoes. The money paid for tour glasses of beer would pay for two dozen eggs. The money paid for three glasses of whiskey would pay tf? a dressed fowl. The money paid for three glasses of beer would pay for a quarter of a pound of tea. The money paid for one glass of whiskey would pay for one pound of beef. The money paid for two drinks of whiskey would pay for one pound c f C °The money\“ an T^^T/fi^e8of' whiskey would paV TOT' three pounds of butter. The money paid in one month for two glasses of beer a day would pay for a ton of coal. The money paidm one month for two glasses of whisky a day would pay for a suit of clothes. The money paid in one year for four glasses of beer a day would pay for a carriage. The money paid in one yhar for four glasses of whisky a day would pay for a horse and harness. The money paid in a year for three Mr. Lawrence’s face showed such gen-1 quently heir-at-law to the £500 left by I glasses of whisky a day would pay for nine interest in the news that Barbara speedily told him all she knew, perhaps with a little unconscious exaggeration by way of justifying bPV first announce ment. “Yoq will he suro U n d let me know tbe result of yotur expedition?” he said earnestly, with a lingering clasp of her hand, as he left her at the corner of her own street. “1 shall be anxions to hear, and no one deserves such a fortune bet ter than yourself.” In King street she ran full against a the late Mr. James Handford.” Miss Reed folded np the letter and put it soberly into her jacket pocket. She had scarcely realized before how much she had been counting upon it. There was nothing left now but to put on a brave face and make the best of it. As Barbara crossed the hall to the schoolroom that afternoon she en countered Mr. Lawrence. He was standing at the table buttoning his light gloves. She saw at the first glance that Mrs. Stewart had told him of her an outfit of household furniture. The money paid in one year for three glasses of beer a day would pay for the rent of a small suite of rooms for a year. Unitarian Journal. to himself. But he was mad, and to his 1 plain, rather commonplace young man I disappointment. She hesitated one in- Greene. “1 do not wish to rob you of yonr couch, general.” ‘Yon will not. 1 shall be engaged forming my troops to meet the attack,” and General Greene left the tent Kate enjoj^d a good rest that night. the heavens become decked with the heart he swore to be revenged on the one who had perpetrated the outrage. The first person whom be suspected was Van Jones. He knew his rival’s dastardly nature full well. He took out his claspknife and care fully examined its edge. It seemed to be satisfactory. Without saying a word coming ont of one of the warehouses. “Why. Miss Barbara! it’s not often yon | find yonr way to this quarter,” he said, as he held ont his hand. It was a brown, nngloved hand, and bore evident traces I of hard service. Barbara gave the tips of her fingers rather coolly, contrasting | it with the well shaped, yellow gloved myriads of bright scintillating gems of to any one be leisurely walked into I one that had pressed her a little before. . night. It is a calm, delightful night in early autumn: the pure mountain air, like an ethereal elixir, exhilarates and cheers both man and beast In the starlit night a man on horse- and in the morning General Greene [ back is seen slowly riding toward Jef- came to her and joyfully exclaimed: I ferson Piggin’s house. He seems to be Good news! Lord Rawdon is in full I ^ no hurry, for he allowB the splendid retreat We took a prisoner this morn- j mare he is riding to choose her own tog who says yon frustrated their plans I gait. He rides np to the front of tb» and saved the army. God bless yon- for I picket fence surrounding the house, that good act! Bntl must leave yon | throws the bridle over one of the pickets. wildly throbbing heart, and she re- now, for 1 am going to follow Rawdon knocking gently at the door is met ^ yer gam?” piteously cried the cring Van’s shop. The latter was pumping I “I came on some business, Mr. Grant,” away at his bellows. she said. “1 believe there is a legacy “Van,** he began, “ye’ve cut off my I waiting for me. It was advertised in mare’s ears, and Fve come here to settle I th® papers, and 1 am going to see the so- with yer.” | licitors about it now.” ‘I didn’t do anything of the kind, Sam I John Grant laughed. Gray, and yer know it,” snarled Van. “Well, l hope you may get it, Miss “I didn’t come ter argy with yer. Barbara. For myself. I’y® never had Van. Git down on yer knees,” and as I much faith to legacies since I wasted he spoke threw the cold muzzle of t\venty-five shillings once to answering I with a frigid bow, as she opened the his pistol to Van’s face. Advertisements about one," schoolroom door. ’ » Good God! yer not goin to kill me. | “That may have been a very different | A tiny note was dropped into the let- stant, then went straight np to him. Yon see 1 am not come into a fortune after all,” she said quietly. So it seems,” he said coldly, not look ing np from a refractory button. “Bnt it was not mnch of a fortune, anyway. I thonght it was to be five or six times that amount. 1 1 wish I had never heard of it,” spoke Barbara, looking at him to scornful sur prise. “It has been nothing but an up set and annoyance from the first.’ “Y-es, rather a pity—disappointing, and waste of time too. Well, I’m go ing into the country for a few weeks, Miss Reed, so good afternoon if I don’t chance to see you again.” Good afternoon,” returned Barbara, WHAT RUM WILL DO. Ram will scorch and sear the brain, Rum will mad the heart with pain, Rum will bloat the flesh with fire And eternal thirst inspire., Rum will clothe with rags your back, Make you walk a crooked track, Change yonr meat to naked bones, And to wrath your gentle tones. Rum will rob the bead of sense, Rum will rob the purse of pence, Rum will rob the mouth or food, And the soul of heavenly good. Rum the jails with men will fill, And the dungeon’s gloomy cell; It rouses passion’s deadly hate. And pours its curses o’er the state. lved to save the patriot army. When he heard the countersign she' left the loor and busied herself in her household duties, and soon the two officers emerged from the room. “We nust go, Mira Heath, but first let me thank you for your kindness,’* Said Rawdon. "Your thanks are received," replied Kate. The horses were saddled and the offl- cers were soon on their way. Kate watched them till they wereout of sight, and then prepared for her perilous jour- She threw a shawl over her head and went to the stable. Her fleet footed horse neighed as she entered and she patted him on the head and said: "Well, noble Selim, you most carry oie safely through tonight, for if yon do ®ot Greene will be destroyed.” The animal seemed to understand her, for ho gave a loud whinny. Our heroine saddled Selim, led him 'tu the stable and was soon riding to- and teach him that we can fight. When are yon going home?” “In a few minutes, general." “Goodby. and may yon have a safe jonrney,” responded Greene, shaking her by the hand. Her horse was lea forth, and she was soon on toe way to her home, which was reached in safety. —Buffalo News. by the blushing Mandy and bashfully invited in. “Howdy do, Mira Mandy? How air ye 1 this evenin?" ••Party well, 1 thank ye, Mr. Gray. How air ye and how air yer folks?” tog coward as he rank to his knees. Lord, Sam, don’t kill me! Fer mercy sake, take that pistol away from my head!” *Yer didn’t have any mercy on my mare, Van. But yer needn’t ter be mutter from this," returned Barbara | ter box that same evening addressed to Stiffly. “1 bad better notdetato yon any | Mr. John Grant. Men with Green Whiskers. The miners at the Martin White mine, Ward, Nev., all have green hair and whiskers! This wonderful transfopna- Hl’m party well, 1 thank ye, and the I’afraid. I ain’t ter goin to kill yer, bnt fnllra air about as common. Been enjy- p ve a great mind ter. I’m just goin to j tog yerself today, Mira Mandy?” trim them ears o’ yers like yer trimmed “No, I haven’t, Mr. Gray. It’s been I the mare’s.’ an uncommon dull day to me. Yon With the pistol still leveled at Van’s been injying yerself today, Mr. Gray/’ | head, «am drew his knife from his longer, Mr. Grant.’ “And that is the man Mrs. Stewart thinks is worth half a dozen of .Alfred Lawrence,” said Barbara to herself, as she walked into Messrs. Dodd & Son’s office. “It seems to be a decided virtue to some people’s eyes to have coarse hands aud shabby coats.” Her foc$ was several shades longer when she’eame ont again. Messrs. Dodd & Son had not received her with by any Dear John,” it ran; 'Tm not half good enough for yon, bnt if yon wish it -111 try.” It was not perhaps a great achieve ment to the way of composition for a young lady who had been under Mrs. Stewart's guidance for so long, bnt it perfectly satisfied the person it was in tended for, and mnch loftier epistles have often failed in this respect “Mrs. Stewart, that unfortunate legacy was something to my advantage after all,” Mrs. John Grant said once some Rufo the Christian’s love will cool, Make him break the golden rule, Bind his soul to error's bands, And to evil turn bis hand. TEMPER- CHRISTIANITY AND ANCE. When a Christian nave refuses to ab stain from intoxioating beverages he may know that he puts in jeopardy the temporal and spiritual welfare of many immortal beings around him; that he imperils their highest interests for this world and the next; that he does this rather than surrender a slight personal gratification himself,and this while die is all the time professing to order bis life by the Christian principle of self sacrifice for the good of others, while ha is accepting tne obligation ‘‘we then that are strong ought to bear the bur dens of the weak.”—Bev. Dr. A. H. Plumb. ferd Greene’s camp, which was eight- No, l can’t say that I hev, Mira pocket, opened it with his teeth, and ( means the respectful enthusiasm she had wmsKers: auia , «mndy. I was down at a shootin -^ith two rapid strokes the man’s ears expected. There had been awkward — - , . tion is brought about by the fumes from match at Cowskin Flat, but there wus lay upon the ground. Turning to tha questions about proofs and genealogies . 1 ‘JSSVw ft some mysterions mineral, all the orw | no good shootin done, and I came home, horrified wretch, who seeing hardly that she had not been prepared to an- I wotod not chan^ with her. The . i»#~i .mi mnctmi i got looks like a purty gal like you conscious of his condition, Sam raid, j swer; indeed, she half fancied that they I it has brought me far more hap- shouldn’t feel lonesome—hey, Mira I utik,; maVM ns even nn ter date. Van.” 1 took her for an imnostor. they had been tha m>«tin>, it- •> from the mine being smelted and nmsted by the miners themselves.—St. Louis Republic. COM- DYSPEPSIA AND LIVER PLAINT. Is it not worth the small price oft^c to free yourself of every symptom oi these distressing complaints, if think so call at our store and get a bottle tf Shiloh’s Vltalizer, ev ery bottle has a printed guaranteeon It, piles distant. She rode swiftly, for ahe ary bottle has * printed eSS CityDngScore. «. c. Orr, Manager. Mandy?" “Why not, Mr. Gray? Don’t yer think gals git lonesome sometimes?” “Well, I thought, Mira Mandy, ye’d have plenty cnmp’ny, speshly on Sun day.” “That makes ns even np ter date, Van," and left the shop.—Arkansaw Traveler. When in wsn- of a eood lir iment buy Salvation Off, which costs only 26 cents, at ail dealers. . . . What is the. if'rencebetween a dnek re» rve ***.j* 1 -vjth ore wing and or.e with tw..? Only the difference of a pinion we want every. Dr. warn’t a bit agreeable. Td rather be alone at eny time than to hev it. “If it’s a'fair question, who’s been yer I one 10 P’* 3 '* anopinion on Dr. Bull’s cnmp’ny today, Mris Mandy?’ _ »Cough Syiup. It needs but one trial. took her for an impostor, they had been so reluctant to part with any informa tion. She should hear from them in a few days, and to the meantime she must kindly fill in the answ ers to certain ques tions on a paper they had given her. Mr, Lawrence sympathized with her over tie 1 l" 1 "mlost on deeply as she did wiih herself when she told him the result of he v sit tne next day. Barbara was quite stn ck with the way he seem ed totnter into all her feelings. piness than the getting it ever could.”— New York World. We have a speedy and positive care for catarrh, diph’heria, 'canker mouth, and headache, in SHILOH’S CA TARRH REMEDY. A nasal injec tor free with each bottle. Use it if you desire health and sweet breath. -Price 50c. Sold by City Drug Store, R. C. Orr, Manager, .... . / 1 • HOW DRUNKARDS ARE MADE. “Tell me,” said a gentleman to a wretched looking man, who had onca moved in good society, where it was you first took the first step in this down ward course?” “At my fatherV ta ble.” replied the unhappy man. as a youth, before I went to business, I had learned to love drink. The first drop I ever tasted was handed to me by tny loving but n- v heartbroken mother." W HISKEY AT TB*E BOTTOM OF IT. Whiskey is at the bottom oi trouble than it gets credit for. the devil’s anesthetic for sorrow shame, and it plunges tbo .victim deeper shame, A wl erally part o’ ’ cide.-Cu ’