Newspaper Page Text
HE
. .. * Mjt| | (immIMsuA with the
ft |8»T. 1 Alien. n*«oer, Krt. 1883.
ATHENS. QA, TUESDAY MOANING. MAY 10,1892.
■
1 Clerk Sop Court . iV
jl,> rutlsl UritH irTmoftAT^rToK, 1
"| inivi- rlinc-kins nows for yon, —-
I'idlniirt that will harrow
l-.M i y sympathetic breast:
(i.me to its eternal rest
j L ;),«• I.ii il my K'irl careiwed—
Peml is Isisbia's sparrow!
ll knew I,esl)i;i <|tiite as well
As diil I.esbla lieMSelf
Know her ipksI olil mother:
ttrateful to the dot ini; maid,
1 ruin whose reaeti it seldom strayed,
!t wits ’ out loseretmde .
heshia. nml none other.
Victim to Plutonian wmthji '
X(,w it hnjis ahmu the path
Downwtird. dark and narrow:
Mah dietious on thy head.
Dirts! See how tearful red
Are the branter.u%eyes that shed
Ocean* for that sjKtrrnwl
-Kugeue 1 iehi in ( 'hiuSKO News.
IN LOVE ANI) WAR.
Thi‘ story of n country village is Ute
no it of its store.
That wonderful place where tlie mail
nnd tite molasses flow from a common
so to speak—where your inner
1 outer man. your mental anti phys-
j. ttl self, must get nil their stimulus—is
the epitome of all the diffusely written
: .story of the lives that cl lister aronr.- 1 it.
\v; at the store man cannot tell yon of
evt .--y pa.sser by and every customer yon
are not likely to learn yourself, except
by unusual fortune: and all lie does tell
\ou has the delightful pitpiancy of hav
ing passed through the medium of a
lately shrewd m i ml, gaining more than
one beauty spot in the transit.
That was what 1 was thinking as 1 sat
in Utah's store, with the initialed odors
of calico print and dried apples, eofiW
and t he straw that crockery is packed in
timmng for supremacy in tny notice.
'Uriah's broad back was turned to me
and he was sorting the day’s mail with
comments that made me as wise as him
self regarding its contents.
•Mis' Mi-randy Beal." said ’Bljah:
“that'll be ahaont her pension, i guess,
gather official lookin, tliet is. Mr. Asy
i'owler: his son John—gone down to
PiK-heiiionth—he writes ter him nigh
miter every week—*en a nice, clean hand
lie writes, does John. Here's a letter
ter the sehnlema'am. Now thar’s
lian'writtin fer ye! Putty ez she is, an
jest us simple like."
The latch clicked and the door opened.
'Bijah looked over his shonlder and
unniied. 1 was shut out from sight of
inore than the visitor's legs by a slack
line of dangling towels, aprons and
M«-ks: but the}' were steady, reliable
looking iegs. straight and strong, clothed
in heavy boots and bine overalls.
Bijah neither turned nor laid down
his letters. lie stood there grinning,
ui whether the person in the doorway
as gi inning also, or plotting my Jissas-
c.iUon in pantomime, 1 was uone the
w:
i-r.
The heavy hoots shuffled and turned
about, stepped outside and the door
shut. 'Bijah chuckled to himself and
locked back to in's letters again.
'•Them papers is for young Thomp
son. lie's th' editor of onr p-per. He's
alive alive an kickin. He's lteen out
west fur a spell, an he thinks we're all
dead an buried. An he has made a
great change in The Bugler, 1 tell yon.
Folks say he'll be made ter smart fur
the way he musses roouml inter people’s
a dans: hut it's lively, it’s lively."
The papers went into a separate box.
and Bijali resumed the letters.
•Mehaly Hopkins: she’s got a heap of
money. ’Maziu lmow fond yer folks is
of ye when yer got a pile and ain’t no
heirs of yer buddy. She's good fer eiu
though; she's a cute’nil."
") suppose it is unusual for any one to
make much more than their livingaway
tip lure, isn't it. ’Bijah?”
"Humph! yes, fer any one. Not fer
some on 'em though. Some on ’em
smarter 'it greased lightniu."
He put his head on one side and
squinted at the letter he was holding.
“Him. now, Jeremiah Wilson, he’s a
keen uti. Nobody ever got the best o'
tli'ole man but Jim. Yon saw Jim—
came in here jest naow; ain’t no 'tater
bugs on Jim; when he gits up he’s up
fer all day.”
Bijah grinned and wagged his head.
•Jere miah—Wil-son!" he remarked
and slapped the letter into its pigeon
hole.
Tim latch clicked again, the doot
opened and the same pair of legs ap
peared in the very samespotwherelhad
seen them before.
Bijah grinned.
Presumably tlie unseen grinned also.
Hr there was too much of ’Bijah’s grin
hut to be offensive, if it were otherwise.
"Whut chu want?"
"Nothin."
"We don’t keep that; or. if we do.
vt'ere jest aont of it.”
The big boots turned about slowly.
"Sure ye do' want no lamps, are ye?”
"Unis go with ’em?"
"Not in this shop.”
"Tltet settles it. as fur as I’m con
cerned." and he went away and closed
the door again.
'Bijah looked after him and chuckled.
"What’s the joke, ’Bijah?”
"Bono' ez I'd orter say an’thin, aont-
s 'de, but yon know how it is, Mr. Carson.
y ,m hover seem no stranger.”
. "Hand over your story, yon old gos-
s 'l'." I answered. “Why, it would burn
.' "nr tongue off if you tried to keep it
in.”
Bijah laughed heartily at this polite
Rally.
"Well, I take fer my tex\ as Elder
•Slocum says, that beautiful axtnn, ’AH is
■air in love an war.’ ”
He came around the end of the counter
a ’al sat ou an unopened sugar barrel,
his legs crossed and his rongb
^•la-sped around bis knee. ,
Hi' 0 |e llliin> j er emiah Wilson, that
mentioned back a spell, he’s a Tartar.
,. u ," Jjnow nothin buthisown way; an
• ls V\ ilson, sho never know’d nothin
l ‘' r > r > n 't to him. He's got a trick
ur ain redfaced an lookin like he was
" 01M ,t; r bust, an Mis’ Wilson, she wuz
’ neat, she couldn’t bear ter hev her
°hse mussed, so she jest gin in to him.
t-tier - ~ •
“Her father wanted her to be a bov,
an he alloz felt as ef she done him when
she wa’u’t. He wanted ter make a law
yer ont nv her; he’s dead in love with
lawin. ole man Wilson is; but yer might
better try ter make a hossrake out of
whalebones an gristle ez to make a law
yer outer Marne. Wliat th" ole man said i
wuz Gospel, though: she felt sorter like
Bhe better not make him no more hard
feelin, after not bein that boy he wanted.
“Her mother meant her ter be a good
housekeeper an put up p’serves an make
pickles: an Marne would stan at the
winder an sing an fergit all ahaont her
j mess till ’twas clean spilt,
j “After Mis' Wilson died, though.
. Maine done better round the liaonse.
i Mebbe ef th’ ole man wnz ter die she'd
take ter lawin. Ye can’t tell: she kin
do most an’thin.
“Jest ahaont then, Jim Lane began
ter sleeve raonnd with Marne Wilson-.
Sidart ez a steel trap, he is; he runs the
sawmill up the Creek: but th’ ole man
hates him like pizen, an he talked ter
Marne
np with
“Jim Lat.e is the darnedest good na-
tnred feller you ever see. He’s allnz
got a good word an a pleasant smile fer
folks, an he'll go further out o’his track
fer a friend 'n most anybnddy I know.
“He took it otful hard abaout Marne,
an he reg'ly got tuopy an down in the
month abaout it. An then he got his
second wind, an he tried every witch
way to play it on tli' ole man. But Maine
she got putty stuffy, too, an shrf declared
she'd never ’pose her father, an thar
twas.”
Bijah got off the barrel to sell a
couple of candy balls to a rosy faced
little lass who was so short as to be visi
ble under the slack line, and resumed,
ta Rlje closed the door of the shop—
“Tlw> hull village kuew all abaout it
and they talket] ft np. early an late.
The gals they wasn't slow ter say what
they'd do ef they wuz in her place, anil
The Bugler took a baud, so ter speak,
an nearly drove the ole man wild. But
Miss Peterson, the minister's sister, sho
'lowed thtit Marne wuz right ter mind
her father.
“ ’Look a-here.’ says Jim. ‘ain't 1 got
no rights at all?' an Miss Peterson she
Ainghed an said she s'posed so. bnt he
certainly did n’t orter ask Marne ter
take the responsibility of breakin her
word.” ■
Bijah chuckled and changed his legs
and clasped the other knee.
'Twasn'f very, long after that ole
Wilson went home one night. Twttz
gettin early dnsk an he tole Maine she'd
better get the lamp afore she set down
ter tea. Maine wnz agoin through the
entryway with a whoppin great shade
lamp in her hand, when somebody
knocked ter the front door, and she jest
stopped an ojiened it without thiukin.
Jim Lane was a-standin there. ’Don't
say nothin, Maine,' says he. an he taken
her iKxtily. lamp an all. and tucks her
inter a carridge that he bed at the gate.
He didn't fool raonnd with no railroad
train, bnt jest turned them horses’ head*
fer Canada, an when they got ter the
line Maine wnz a settin there ez still ez
a mouse, without ary lmt er coat, an that
shade lamp a burnin jest as peart an
FLOW ON, SWIFT STREAM.
the city awl advise me about the sale of j
a piece cf~ 'p*operty, and you need not !
be surprised at anything that happens.”
Mrs. Cate Cal ding Was the only ono
in the world who ever did understand
her brother Hiram, and she hail planned
a clever little ruse to be played on tho
unsuspecting farmer.
Mr. Bryan, whom Jennie had con
fessed to her mother she cared a great
deal for, was well suited to her. He had
not yflit declared his love, bnt it was not
ungueased by the shrewd little maiden.
To Mrs. Cabling, however, he had
opened his heart, and she bade him wait
a little. She knew how prejudiced her
brother was against all arrangements
not conducted by himself, and rightly
concluded that he might put serious dif
ficulty in the way of the young people.
After satisfying herself that the name
of Jennie’s lover was quite- unknown to
her brother, she resolved to introduce
“It .ain’t no use in agoin agin your pa,' llim as a * oun S woul(l *”> a
Jennie—he’s had his owp way 'pound
Flow ou, swift stream, amid the flowers.
Flow ou and dance with Joy,
And tell nit* of the happy hours
When l wan yet a boy. .
I watched thee with tho loved ones then.
Now all alone I came again
To wander by tho river: ,
And 1 am old and they are gone.
But it unchanged is gliding on
As young and bright as ever.
Unchanged it seems, yet who can stay
The water's ceaseless motion?
The little waves of yesterday
Today have reached the ocean;
. Unmarked, unmissed, they swiftly fly.
Unmarked, unmissed, we. too. must die.
And leave the mighty river.
Where youth and joy and love and strife.
And all the various modes of life.
Flow on unchanged forever.
—W. E. 11. Lecky in London Spectator.
CLEVER AUNT KATE.
was one gal—Maine her name
they both thought a sight of
it,’ , le wa’u’t no more like neither nv
th 1 n nothin at all, and they both
^ Wrecks with her.
bis
ef it wuz ou the ole man Wilson’s table
ter home.
Bijah spat at the stove and laughed tu
himself.
Fearful thing—the ingratitoode of
children, ain’t it? But you’d orter seen
The Bugler nex' mornin. Every dad
blamed col time in it hed a big head
line. ’Jim Lane has got his gal. Jim
Lane has got his gal.’ Gosh! that jest
proved ole Wilson wouldn’t never hev
busted when he didn't bust that mornin
“He went whoopin off ter his lawyer
ter see what he cud do to Jim. but
Marne sho wuz of age an she writ him
that she went of her own free will; so all
he could make any fuss abaout wuz the
lamp, an they've been a lawin an foolin
an a arbitratin ever sence.”—Margaret
Ingersoll in Boston Transcript.
Danger In Meat Diet.
The evils of a meat diet are being ap
preciated by many high livers in cities
and these are being counteracted partly
by the wealthy in adding more fruit:
and vegetables to their tables duping
the winter. The cheapness of meat and
a peculiar craving which the system
seems to have for meat have gradually
made it common for city people to live
almost entirely off meat in the winter
months. Meat is eaten three times a
day in quantities, and the excessive use
of such a diet is that rheumatic and
gout temperaments are acquired. Tbeso
temperaments are on the increase, am
they are largely due to the excessive use
of meat.—Pittsburg Dispatch.
Some Pogtofflce Figures.
The number of postoffices in the United
States thirty years ago was a fraction
over 80,000. Now there are 18,799 post-
offices in the states and territories west
of the Mississippi, and of that number
9,396 are west of the Missouri. Nebraska,
thirty years ago, had 45 postoffices, while
today she has 1,127. The total revenue
of the postoffices west of the Mississippi
for the year 1891 was $11,780,192, of
which $7,268,068 represents the postal
receipts of the region west of the Mis-
souri. In 1860 the total postoffice receipts
for the United States were only a fraction
over $11.000.000.—Edward Rosewater’s
Omaha Address.
What Platforms Are For.
A weather beaten American citizen
stood on the platform of a railroad coach
while the train was speeding along at
the rate of fifty miles per hour.
“Can’t stand on the platform,” shout
ed the conductor.
’ “What are platforms for, anyhow?"
asked the man.
“Platforms are not made to stand on
they are made to get in on,” replied the
conductor. * ' : _j •
This is the story with which Repre
sentative Allen, of Missouri, illustrates
tho frailty of political platforms.—Wash
ington Cor. Omaha World-Herald.
A SAD CASE.
Husband, Wife and Child all Very I«
There is a very sad case in Athens
ju«t at present. Mr. J. P. Stevens, his
wife and an only child, are ser.'od
sick at their home, near the Voss park
end Hiram sat in inwell appointed
dining room the nig it ->f the arrival.
“Yes, and l'n- w. lli.t. She ought to
be settled.” said the old man decidedly.
“It decs not do, Hiram,” began Mrs.
Cabling, watching the T^rd lined face
intently, “to depend on tt girl’s choice,
and”
“Well. I guessit don’t,” he interrupted
witlr a sneer.
“There is a young man in town who, 1
know, admires Jennie, and if he should
gcod! match for Jennie, if only the girl
.,,7 W mcu in•. , would be wise eneuglfto thiol: so. Al-
e till she'lowed she wouldn't take ’ “ere continual for moren thirty years, lowing him to believe they had never
itli Jim. 'less he wuz willin." an } on " j® 8 * Bev to give in; jjq ns© met, she trusted to his unequaled ob-
talkin at him. T only make him wuss.” stinacy to do the rest.
Poor little Mrs. Olcott had been ac- “I’ve wanted so much to talk with
custotned during the whole of her mar- y° u about Jennie,” sa’i the lady, as sin
ried life to "jest give in,” and her only
chance of peace was in yielding to her
selfishly determined husband and allow
ing him to carry his point without op
position.
Jennie wa3 differently constituted.
She inherited her father’s strong will
and he had, much to his surprise, sud
denly discovered an opposing force in
his youngest child.
She had been away from home for
nearly three years—this pretty brown
haired girl with the determined face and 1,1 eet Ber l know something would cotne
graceful carriage, and the father secretly i of Very quietly, yet with the
admired and almost feared her. utmost caution she made this statement.
A weal thy. mid ehildless aunt in the ; The ola Ulan was interested. “Rich,”
city had besought Jennie to share her he inquired, rubbing his hands gently
home, and Hiram Olcott’s pretty daugli- j together.
ter, though clinging to the farm with j “Yes," was the answer; then she went
gi) jts dear memories of childhood and] on . : „. . ,
childhood’s joys, cljq.se wisely when she i rT . course, it s so very uncertain,
yielded to her mint’s rennest. ! Hiram. \on see, aenme might refuse
It was better, far better for her. for liav ® » word to say to him and”
even after her departure there were „ Ka ;°- 1qc * Bore* interrupted
plenty of children to keep the miserly ! m thoroughly excited old man, as he
old fanner in a perpetual grumble about
money matters. . I
It was May. and the country wore ono •
glad smile, atid Jennie hailed with de
light the prospect of a visit to her home,
assnming very willingly the responsi
bility of housekeeping while her two
unmarried sisters attended tbe wedding
of a cousin in a distant town.
This morning she was cooking, and
with her sleeves rolled above her elbows
stood beside the kitchen table. In ouo
hand she held an earthen plate, while
the clip, clip, clip of a fork sounded
noisily as she whipped some eggs to a
froth.
Yer sisters hed to many to nit hhr "
wailed the iiervon;. Iluie \vn;: a, “. a
you’ll have to too: ef you don't t :e.-e v
awful fusses, so you'd jes' better give in."
That morning the father had spoken
to Jennie of a young farmer, whom ho
termed a "likely catch.” Sho had ex
pressed her opinion of him in so decided
a way- as to AWm Mi. Olcott for thu
safety of his much prized authority.
He was wont to speak of himself as a
marvelous example of the patriarch
Make ’em mind," ho would say. “Keep
yer household beneath your feet: govern
’em well, an they’ll git alqjig.”
Jennie's boldness in opposing his judg
ment so stupefied him that his auger had
not yet had time to blaze forth, but Mrs.
Olcott knew it would come, and so after
her husband had left the kitchen sho
pleaded with the girl to “give in.” Jen
nie had been very thoughtful during tho
little woman’s appeal, but now she wa-'.
resolved, and it was the Olcott in her
nature which spoke. “1 wouldn’t many
Jordan Moggs though father should
threaten to mnrder me.”
The eggs were stiff now, and as she ! „
set the plate down on the table she turned j Magazine,
her mother
drew his chair nearer hers and empha
sized his words with decisive gestures,
“ef I like that yonhg man I’ll just take
him on home with me, an I'd like to see
Jennie tell him to go if I'm livin,”
Mrs. Calding was delighted at her suc
cess thus far. The next day Mr, Bri an
was introdv -ed, and became the old
man’s ideal of a son-in-law.
On the fannev’a return to his home
Mr. Bryan accompanied him. having ac
cepted tlie hearty invitatiou of his new
friend to “jest run out and take a look
around onr part of the country.”
Jennie had been apprised of Mr. Bry
an’s coming and of the little deception
in which slu was to play her part. 81;
met him as if he v.\ ;-e a stranger, w’uil
her father secretly rejoiced at the
thought of subduing fcis proud young
daughter.
Mr. Olcott took an early opportunity
to enlighten Jennie fs to her duty to
ward his new friend, and with a twinkle
in her eye she promised to do her best to
please him in the matter.
A week passed. Jennie and Mr. Bry
an were very happy. The days were
delightful ones to them, and the old
farmer rubbed his hands at the success
of his scheme and gave hi3 consent to
an early marriage with no hesitation.
He often speaks now of his match
making. “There’s Jennie.” he will say.
“She'd hev picked np with some empty
noddled city chap ef 1 hadn’t just took
her in hafirt. i brung Bryan out an told
her that she’d got to behave to him. It’s
the only way to do—jest make ’em mind
and they’ll git along.”
They would not deceive him for any
thing—the happy young couple—but
wben be boasts they think with loving
gratitude of clever Aunt Kate.—Drake’s
from her mother and busied herself
among tbe ingredients for cake baking
which were before her. Jennie was
blushing ns she began softly, “There is
some one in Poole 1 like very muc a.
mother, and he’s coming out here too."
He needn’t mind comin,” said Fanner
Olcott grimly, as he quietly stepped into
the kitchen. His face wore a cunning
leer, and his wind reddened cheeks were
distorted by the sneering curves' of his
hard lined month.
Seating himself on one of the painted
wooden chairs, he drew the bcotjack to
ward him and took off his heavy shoes
with a calmness and deliberation which
warned Mrs. Olcott that he was thor
oughly aroused. The poor little nervous,
broken spirited woman had learned that
this particularly qniet and inoffensive
manner of removing his footgear always
preceded alrarst of passion.
Hiram Olcott set his cowhide boots by
the stove to dry, kicked the jack under
the table and, turning toward his daugh
ter, shouted^
“Don’t let me ketch none o’ yer city
fellers comin to see yon. Ef they do I’ll
talk to ’em; not a word now,” he growled,
shaking his long finger menacingly at
Jennie, as she essayed to speak.
“I’m master in my own. house and
yen’ll not talk till such time as I'm done.
You’ve been away an kinder forgot how
things is run here, bnt yon might as well
get broke in now. I tell yon I won’t
have any city fellers a-follerin yon, and
if 1 ketch-.,yonr Aunt Kate makin
matches for you I’ll just fetch you home
from bein a fine lady down there and
set yon workin." •
Before Jennie conld speak he had gone
A Alan of Adventure.
John Switzler, who now lives within
one mile of Pendleton, thirty-six years
ago saved the lives of thirty persons a t
the Cascades, on the north side of the
Columbia river, at a place at that time
called the Upper Cascades. John is now
old and well wearied with years. But
then he was a young man and after
making thirty persons safe he ran the
gantlet for a mile with other parties
6ome of whom were wounded, while
others were killed by the Yakima and
Klikitat Indians. Yet he arrived at the
fort safe and sound and in time to care
for the wounded in the fort, where
twelve soldiers were imprisoned three
days and nights.—East Oregonian.
TWO SITUATIONS* "
Yes. all alone. I High,
She is not Here.
Yet not alone am I;
I dream she's near.
Those loving eyes I see,
Lovclit for me;
That sweet chimed voice I hear.
Chimed for my cheer;
That tender hand 1 press
Seeks my caress.
Yes, all alone, I sigh.
Though she is hero.
More l ban alone am I;
She's far. though near.
In loving eyes 1 see
No love for me.
In that sweet voice I hear
Naught for my cheer:
No tender hand I press.
Not one caress.
—Arthur Reed Kimball in New York Sun.
DR. WEDM0RE.
An Elephantine Nurse.
Miss C. F. Gordon-Cumming, in her
book on Ceylon, gives a few lines to a
pet elephant, who seems to have been a
creature of mnch amiability and intelli
gence. He had been captured yonng.
and was known as Kurnnegalla Jack.
Housed to go the hospital rounds with
his master, a medical 'officer, who had
tanght him to be generally useful, and
even to administer pills. A Malay soldier
ono day dropped hi3 pill, whereupon
Jack picked it np and dropped it into
the man’s open month, with a puff that
blew it safely down.
A Lunatic’s Advice.
Mr. Lionel Brough once played a game
of billiards in an asylum with one of the
patients. He conceded his adversary
twenty-five points, with the result that
he was hopelessly beaten. Then the
patient took him quietly on one side and
into the dining room, slamming tbe door j said
behind him. 1 “Look" here, if you go on giving points
Tears of mortification and rage stood | so reckless as that, you’ll be in this asy-
in her brown eyes and hot words leaped lum instead of me!”—London Tit-Bits,
to her lips, but os she glanced down at
ihe agonized face of the little woman
beside her the fierce mood changed.
She bent to kiss the pain drawn lips,
murmuring, “Never mind, mother dear;
ni be patient for yonr sake.”
“That’s a good girl, Jennie,” replied
Mrs. Olcott with a sigh of relief; “try
and git along peaceable like, an jes’ give
in for the sake of quiet. Yer pa’s gettin
wuss and wuss.”
Jennie wrote a partial account of what
bad occurred to her Aunt Kate, and
(his was the answer of that clever
woman: ,
“My Dear Niece—Yonr father needs
managing and 1 will undertake to do it.
i ha-xo written to him to como down to
Cromirell** Nickname*.
Cromwell, of all men, has perhaps
had most nicknames applied to him.
He was known as “Old Copperface,”
“The Brewer,” “His Noseship“Old
Noll,” “Saul” and a score of others.—St
Louis Republic.
MR- D 0. SMITH
Appointed Local Council of the Rich
mond and Danville R. R. System.
Mr. D. O. Sanith has been appointei
Athens attorney for tbe Richmond &
Danville Railroad sys’em. This is quite
a compliment to Mr. Smith, who is de:-
The provincial young man has never
possessed any attractions for me, and it
is certain that if 1 had not gone up north
to stay with Daisy Drysdale, 1 should
never have knowu so well such a strik
ing specimen of the type as Dr. Wed-
more. He was not a bad fellow, but oh.
he was so pleased with himself 1 Your
provincial, indeed, is rarely modest; in
the limited circle of country towu society
young man is pursued with too much
pertinacity and ardor to have any doubt*
in his own mind as to his personal desir
ability and manifold charms.
Dr. Wedmora was a stoutisb young
man of thirty-two, with nondescript fea
tures and at slow, portentous maimer
He had a large and increasing practici
in the suburb of Northaw, where hi;
medical skill was iu constant request
among the spinsters and widows of that
somewhat damp and chilly neighbor
hood. 8o highly esteemed were his ser
vices in tho sickroom that these larlie
would send for him at all hours of the
day or night. until the good doctor it
self defense took to sending his rei
haired assistant to some of his tnor<
flagrant malar!-.is imagiuaires.
Daisy Drys.l.tle’s husband wasamanu
feature! in Mudchester. and. like othe
manufacturers,' he ' lived as far awa;.
front the factor}'chimneys of that thriv
ing city as p-i-.ib!e. So his brand ne\
red brick”’mansion lay'on the other sid
of the suburb of Nortkaw, and the so
ciefcy of Northaw supplied uearly a!
Mrs. Dryedaic’s intellectual recreation
Poor Daisy! How. she missed Londo;
and tlie Upp r Bohemia! She had t
genius, for giv ing little dinners, bnt cl
what use was that, seeing the component
elements of which her parties were t<
be henceforth composed? Still she wa-
not to be baffled, and Mrs. Drysdale con
stantly entertained. Tho night after 1
arrived one of these dinners was givet.
in my honor, and 1 was sent down to
tho dining room with Dr. Wedmore.
1 shall not easily forget that night.
Accustomed to the manifestly insincere
gushings of Loudon young men, 1 was
astonished at the uaive manner in which
this country iEsculapius tried in vain to
hide his sudden admiration. It came
out in every word aud look. It was a
case of "love at first sight” on the part
of Dr. Wedmore. Before 1 left ihe din
ner table he had offered to lend' me a
horse, proposed that he should drive me
to a meet ten miles off and expressed a
wish that l should know his three sis
ters.
But the next time I saw him my head
was tied up iu a flannel shawl aud my
throat was so swollen 1 conld hardly
speak. The doctor had been called in
professionally. The climate of Mud-
chester had been too mnch for me, and
I was down with a malignant sore-
throat,
The doctor came every day, and once
he came twice, to work a patent in
haler aud paint my throat with some
mysterious compound. He constantly
changed the treatment; it was as if he
conld never do enough. He even used
to bring me flowers—and who ever
heard of a doctor taking his patient
flowers? Daisy was convulsed with
amusement. She said that when she
was ill she sometimes used to have to
send for Dr. Wedmore two or three
times before he appeared, he was so
busy.
At the end of a week 1 was better,
and in ten days 1 was quite well,
really felt very grateful, for 1 knew
that the doctor had saved me by his
constant care from a dangerous illness,
i wonder if he took my gratitude for
—something stronger? Anyway; as 1
told Christina when she scolded me for
the whole affair, it was not my fault.
1 hadn't fallen in love with Dr. Wed
more—that’s all.
The thing came quid*? to a crisis.
We were all invited to spend an evening
at the doctor’s house. In the north they
have a mysterious meal called “high
tea.” which is apparently a source of no
little comfort and even of self righteous
ness. it enables the partakers thereof
to allude witheringly to the habit of
“late dinners” indulged in by the inhab
itants of the south. Aud so, if'you are
invited ont in Northaw, be sure you will
be regaled ou 'tea and cold chicken (fear
ful mixture), on hot cakes, jam, mar
malade and currant bans. To this even
ing meal, then, we were bidden by Dr.
Wedmore.
He lived atone with his sisters, who
were curiously - like him. They were all
stoutisb, with nondescript features and
had slow and somewhat pompous man
ners. To set- all four of them together
inclined one to indecent mirth. It was
impossible ta be more worthy, more dull
and more self satisfied. The
Wedmore were considered to have
pretty taste for art; they painted every-
thiiig wirin' reach* Vi th sprawling red
rose* or stat lug white daisies, and the
doctor was of opinion that his sisters’ar
tistic talent was of the first order. Miss
Ada, too, sa: g songs by Pinsuti and Mil-
ton Wellings. The doctor liked Miss
Ada’s vocal efforts: while Miss Emily
was literary, sho assiduously read Miss
Edna Lyall and Rider Haggard, and of
these authors we discoursed solemnly
nntil “tea” was announced.
The air was full of ominous portents.
The doctor’s manner, when he invited
rench say. that he showed me tho pho-
ograpb album, full of aunts and cous-
ns, lifter tea. and the good doctor
Hiked quite seutimental when later on
iliss Ada warbled a romance, with a
valtz accompaniment, entitled "The
Love That Will Never Fade." I began
o feel cold all down my back.
Five times did I get up. cross the
•oom, engage cither of the solemn Misses
iVedmore in feverish conversation—1
ilways ended by finding the doctor at
ny elbow. At List 1 resigned myself to
hy fate and sat down to talk to him. 1
magined that the state of drains in the
suburbs of Northaw would be a safe
mbject and one unlikely to lead to a
leclaration of a tender nature, but' in
his.it appeared, 1 was mistaken. We
pot on to the subject of fevers, and to
.-onvince me on a certain point tho doc-
x>r suggested a reference to one of the
.nedical books in his surgery. Once in-
dde tho little room, which lay just across
;he passage. Dr. Wedmore shut the door
ind advanced toward me with that par-
icular expression which is so intolerable
n a young man one doesn’t care for.
1 put on my most indifferent manner
indr inspected with much interest the
■ows of medical books in their glass-
ases.
"So kind of yon,” 1 said hurriedly to
ill up tho dreadful pause, "to take so
uuch trouble. Most doctors only laugh
t you ii oue wants to know any real
act—about your dreadful trade,” 1
aided-w'th flippancy, seeing that the
nan was not listening to a word 1 was
aying, but was gazing at me as the
nake is popularly supposed to regard
he sparrow.
“Trouble.” he said at last, “how can
mything be a trouble that is done for
on? I wish you would let me tell you
tow much I—how much I”
A sharp rap at the door interrupted
his speech. A servant came in. x
“Please, sir, Mr. Brown is very bad,
ind Mrs. Brown says will you come at
>nce, and bring some of the drops, and
he hopes you won’t be long.”
“A three mile drive,” said Dr. Wed-
nore, with a sigh, “and I shall not see
.-on again tonight.” He took my hand
ind held it fast. ,
1 will bring the book tomorrow
noming,” he said. “Shall 1 have a.
:hanee of seeing you alone? Try to be
done when 1 come,” and. wrenching m-J
land violently, the doctor disappeared. -
Daisy,” l said hurriedly, in the car
nage going home, “I am sorry to say.
lear, 1 shall have to go home by the
10:15 tomorrow. I—1 had a telegram
just before we came out.”
You had a fiddlestick! What non
sense, Peggy. Why, you came to stay
i month, and you've hardly been twelve
lays.”
Twelve days! Good heavens! Why.
how has he”
“Oh, it's that, is it? And so, you don’t
like him? Well I think you’re silly*
You might do much worse. How much
better to marry some one like that than
some of your flipperty London young
men. He’s sensible, clever, a good fel
low, well off and very fond of you”
“The 10:15, please, Daisy.”
And sure enough, hy the 10:15 I went.
As the Yorkshire fields flew before in'*
on my rapid journey back to dear old
London, the whole thing seemed like
;ome nightmare from which 1 had just
iwoke. Great heavens! From what had
i not escaped? A lifetime of high tea,
uburbau gossip aud provincial self suf
ficiency, of rose bedecked door panels,
the novels of Mr. Rider Haggard and
The Love That Will Never Fade.”
1 am very fond of Duisy Drysdale, but
it will be a long time before 1 again trust
myself to the seductions of that suburb
of Mudchester.—Buffalo News.
A Mixed Lot.
Lieutenant (to his man)—Johann, they
are selling a very rare book by auction
today. I should like to have it. 1 have
written down the name on this slip of
paper; now, mind you don’t let it go at
any price.
Johann (returning from the auction
with a porter wheeling a handcart con
taining a rocking horse, a magic lantern,
a cradle, an old suit of clothes, etc.
Herr Lieutenant, 1 have got the book,
but had to buy this rubbish at the same
time. It was all put up in one lot!—
Buntes Allerlei.
Deathh from Lamps and Stoves.
A popular Broadway club man, who
wears the uniform of the metropolitan
police, says he has been making an esti
mate of the matter and that an average
of two persons are burned alive every
week in New York; that is, they are
burned dead—killed by fire. While an
occasional bolocanst startles the com
munity. the real loss of human life by
ike comes from the lamps and gas
stoves, and is the result of carelessness.
Some official figures on this subject
would serve as a timely warning.—New
York Herald.
Ho was Puffing Bananas From the
Stalk When Bitten -Suffered Aw
ful Tortures—He May D*e from
the Effects or the Bite.
Bitten by a tarantula.
Aud suffering awful agonies as a re*
suit of the fearful bite.
Such was the condition in vrhioh the
Banner leporter found Mr. W. S. Ap
pling Saturday night about nine o’clock
at Lyndon’s drug store.
While pulling bananas from tbe stalk
in the store of Mr. Ed. Weatherly on
Foundry street, he was bitten by an
enormous tarantula, about the size tf
the palm of the hand, concealed under
the bananas.
The bite was exceedingly painful and
Mr. Appling in company with Mr. W.
T. Jackson came at once to Lyndon’s
drug store. Doctors ' Quillian
and Goss were summoned
and responded promptly.
By the time they reached the store,
Mr. Appling was almost in convulsions.
He was suffering teiribly. The finger
on his left band was swollen, the whole
left arm wa3 powerless, and the pain
was very great. Stimulatts were given
and several injections of m rphino were
made.
During all this time, Mr. Appling
called loudly for his mother, said that
his time had come to die, ai d that be
never would rise from the floor upen
which he lay.
He was Anally carried tc his boarding
house at Mr. George Williams’ cn
Foundry street, wheio he was
placed in bed, and every at t> ntion ren
dered him. At one o’clocl he was rest
ing easily.
The physicians said that he would
live through the night, but u ben asked
about his obanoes of recovery, simply
3aid that the mortality record of such
bites was very large, and also that the
poison of the tarantula is worse than
that of tbe rattlesnake.
The tarantula that inflicted the bite
made its escape, but four smaller ones
were killed.
Mr. Appling is a son <f Mr. Jame3
Appling, of Oglethorpe county, aud
has many friends who wish him a
speedy recovery.
| |Monday morning he was 'resting'
much easier.
THE TECHS ARE COMING.
They are Coming Over Next Satur
day for a Game.
The Technological school will come
over next Saturday to play the Uni
versity team a game of baseball. ,
The Techs are playiDggreat ball, and
they intend giving the boys a good
game here next Saturday.
Tbe game will more than
likely be played at the
new ball park if it is
finished by that time and a large crowd
will of course be in attendance.
Mr. A, O. Halsey, the cap'ain of the
University team, has > nnounced his
men and they are given In the Banner
first. They are, Calloway, catcher,
Foster, pitcher, S. H. Sibley, 1st, A. O.
Halsey, 2nd, Frank Herty, short stop,
Grambling. third, Ed Halsey, left,
Kimball, centre, Nally, right, with
Whelchell and .Lang Sibley as substi
tutes.
The game will he & great one and the
boys will play hard to win as they have
lost all they intend to.
Thirteen at Table.
The widespread superstition concern
ing the unlucky thirteen at table, ac
cording to which one of the number is
doomed to soon die, doubtless has its or
igin iu the fact that at the last supper
there were that many persons assembled
at the table with our Lord. In that in
stance Judas Iscariot was the one who
gave up his life, not, however, from any
superstitious notion regarding the num
her in question, but from remorse at his
dastardly betrayal of his Lord and Mas
ter,—Detroit Free Press.
A Land of Fire. ’
There is said to be a volcanic area
forty miles square in extent in Lower
California that is a veritable fire land.
Every square rod of the territory is
pierced by a boiling spring or spouting
geyser.—Philadelphia Ledger.
Salt for Hemorrhages.
Hemorrhages of the lungs or stonjacb
are promptly checked by small doses of
salt. The patient should be kept as
quiet as possible.—New York Journal.
Mr. Mendel Morr s has finished up
his three hr uses on Hatic ck. avenue
me for the second time to partake of and they are rowoeeupied hy Messrs,
cold chicken or pressed apor me with E. G-*th imtr, Abe Joel and P. Funken
„ ........., . , stein. They are neat and tasty cot-
northern hospitaht} the currant cake tage?, and reflect credit upon the cily
was full of certain protecting pride, Mr. Motris says he believes in investing
while a humbly conquering expression allspare mon<-y in Athens real estate,
lined to become one of the 2foremost of i was in his eyes when they rested upon as he believes the city has a luture
the legal fraternity. me. It was with “intention,” as the ahead of it.
. " — gey- '
1
1
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■m
m
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WILL HIS SENTENCE STAND?
A Movement to Secure Its Reduction
to Life Imprisonment
William Johnson, the condemned
murderer, baa concluded that he will
not starve himself to death, and now
eats hu meals regularly.
Although the ministers visit him reg
ularly he has nob yet professed relig
ion, and in regard to his future has lit
tle to say.
But he may not swing after all. His
attorney, Col. A. G. McCurry will
start a petition to have his sentence
commuted to life imprisonment ca
account of uncertainty as to
the provocation offered by Webb, the
negro who was killed. Col. McCarry is ^
now attending court in another county,
but will on his return start the pe
tition.
It is more than likely c’te petition
will receive many signers. At least a
strong effort will be made to secure the
reduction of bis sentence to life im
prisonment.
Not many physicians make great thera-
puiic discoveries. For Ihe mast part they
content themsrives with administering
judiciously what Is prescribed in the hooks.
To Dr. J. C. Ayer, however, is due the
credit of discovering that greau si o! blood
purifiers—Ayer’s Sarsaparilla.
mm
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