Georgia Historic Newspapers

    ■ 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 ’