—mi
C— - ' '—
u/ntchoian. Kal. I8S4 I CrauildUcd with the
$?r«?«cle, «£•». 1877 \ Athen. Buu.er.Xat. 1SSB.
ATHENS, QA., TUESDAY MORNING. SEPTEMBER 13,1892.
ONE DOLLAR A YEP
A SERVIAN SONG.
awt-M
Mother, n dear little lad
Alone through the night is creeping:
Ho has lost his way and is sad;
I |.o»r him bitterly weeping, -,
I know he Is coming to me; 2
Go to tho door and see. jj
Danghter, woman’s undoing h
Is to he won without wooing,
Wl.cn she meets her lover halt way.
He holds her favor light
As the cup ho drains by day.
Or tho lamp he burns at night. /
Mother, no more, •
But open tho door; •
1 have his heart, he mine;
He must be boused and ted;
1 will givo him kisses for wine,
And my eyes shall light him to bed!
—R. H. Stoddard In Century.
OVERCONFIDENCE.
Ton years ago In a certain good sized
town in Pennsylvania there lived a fam
ily whom 1 will call MitchelL The fam
ily consisted of hnsband, wife and two
children, the latter being a boy aged five
and a girl of seven. Mitchell was a pri
vate banker, known to be honest, re
spectable and worth a clear $100,000. 1
knew little or nothing about the family
until certain incidents occurred. One
day his wife was fatally injured in a
railroad collision at a point about fifty
miles from home. * When he reached
her, in response to a telegram sent by a
stranger, he found she had been removed'
to a hotel and was being tenderly cared
for by a woman who gave her name as
Mrs. A. 13. Gray, of Philadelphia. She
was on the train, but suffered no injury
Mrs. Gray, as 1 might os well tell yon
now, was petite, good looking, a good
talker, and in a general way captiva
ting. Tho fact of her taking charge of
Mrs. Mitchell as she had done proved
her tender heart. She told Mr. Mitchell
she had been a widow eighteen months
and was practically alone in the world,
and though he was burdened with grief
ami anxiety, he did not forget to thank
her for her great kindness and to take
her address. She resumed her journey,
and he took his wife home to die of her
injuries. It was three weeks after her
death that I came into the case. After
everything was over the husband sud
denly discovered that his dead wife’s
jewelry was missing. She had with her
when the accident took place about
$1,000 worth of diamonds. They had
disappeared, and when he came to run
over events in hie mind he could not re
member that they had come home with
ln r. Mrs. Gray had turned over to him
Mrs. Mitchell’s purse.and a few other
things, but a pair of diamond eardrops,
two rings and a pin were missing.
I was employed to proceed to tho scene
of the late accident and seek to trace the
jewelry. The collision had occurred
right at the depot in a small town. Peo
plo about the depot and the hotel assured
me that Mrs. Mitchell had her jewelry
on when takeu to the hotel. The land
lord’s wife was positive, and the doctor
who was called in was positive, and
when 1 had worked the case out I re
turned ooine to report to Mitchell that
nobody but Mrs. Gray could have taken
the jewelry. He was astonished and in
dignant, and not only vigorously re
pudiated the implication, hut discharged
me from tho case with the assertion that
1 was a novice in the profession.
i went about other business, and it
was about fonr months before I saw
Mitchell again. Then he sent for me in
an official capacity again. No reference
was made to my previous work, hut
fresher and other troubles had come to
him. A month after the death of hi'
wife he had opened correspondence with
Mrs. Gray, and the result was that she
had come to take charge of his house.
He was without relatives, or at least
without those who could aid him in bis
situation, and she claimed to be free in
her movements. You will suspect just
as 1 did, that she had captivated him.
hut he fought shy of any acknowledg
ment of the sort.
i I haven’t told yon about the bank. It
was situated just a square from his
house and exactly in the rear of it. The
house fronted on one street and the bank
on another, and there WM no alley be
tween. Indeed the rear yard of the
house led right np to the rear door 01
the bank, and Mitchell used to come np
and go through the yard. In the rear
of the banking rooms, divided off by the
usual railing, were the private offices
and the vault. A burglar alarm was
connected with the front doors and win
dows, but none with the back. A largo
and savage dog guarded the rear, having
a kennel close to the door,
i What the banker wanted to see me
about was thi?; He had not only missed
money from his wallet at night, but on
two occasions considerable sums of
money had been taken from a small safe
which stood in bis office outside the
vault. One of the mysteries was in the
taking of the money. Be employed a
teller and a bookkeeper, neither of whom
had a key to safe or vault, unleasit was
a duplicate made without his knowledge.
Neither had the word of the combina
tion of the vault, and it seemed impossi
ble that they could have taken the
money, even if so inclined. Both were
perfectly honest, so far as any one knew,
and Mitchell waa all tangled up over
the mystery.
He hadn’t talked to me five minutes
when I would have taken my solemn
oath that Mrs. Gray was the guilty
party, but of course I didn’t drop a hint
of my suspicions to him. She was shy,
prudent and apparently all right, ana I
had put in a month on the case and
made no discovery when the outside
safe was robbed again. A deposit and
some bonds had come in at the last mo
ment and had been placed there for the
night The whole thing amounted to
about $000, and bonds and greenbacks
were missing next morning. ^ The safe
had not only been opened with a key,
but the bank had been entered by un
locking the rear door. No one could
have entered by the front without
sounding an alarm. No stranger could
have entered by the back on account of
the dog, who was wide awake ur-d all
Mitchell sent tor me to give me
Mrs. Gray was the guilty party. I be
lieved she had the nerve to enter his
room in tho night, secure the keys and
then slip through the back yard, enter
the bank and open the safe. When 1
learned that the dog was a great favor
ite of hers this belief was a certainty. 1
couldn’t, for reasons already given, say
a word to Mitchell about this. He want
ed to suspect his two employees, but
when he had canvassed the matter he
was made to see that it was altogether
unlikely that either of them was guilty.
Indeed he was alone in the bank when
the bonds and money came in, and he
alone knew where the deposit was
placed.
What did 1 do? 1 turned to Mrs. Gray
again, and in abont a week something
happened to prove that I was on the
right trail One of the street car lines
of the town ran down to the railroad
depot. It was Mrs. Gray’s habit of an
afternoon to ride on this line with the
little girl as far down as a certain park,
and to sit near the fountain and read
while the girl romped about with other
children. 1 had closely watched her
while in this park, but no one bad ever
come near her and her demeanor had
been perfection.
On the third afternoon after the rob
bery she occupied her usual seat for an
hour without anything happening. 1
sat on a bench in the rear of her and
abont thirty feet away, and by and by
1 noticed that she was writing a note
with pencil. She did it so deftly that
one sitting in front of her could not have
told what she was at. Beside her was a
large shade tree, and as near as 1 could
make out she disposed of the note, when
folded np, somewhere abont the tree.
When she left 1 followed her for a short
distance, and looking back I saw
A DAYBREAK SONG.
Daybreak! daybreak! Bright grows the east at
last;
Beils ringing, birds ringing, son In the dew
drop glassed;
Leaves shaking, kine waking, soft sounds from
field and wood—
Look np, my weary heart! morn’s here, and
tied is good! •
Kew skies and blue skies—cheer heart I another
day
Lights on the changing world: up! strive!
whilst strive thon may.
What though the past went wrong? What
though the night were long?
Wake, wake, my weary heart! new be thy
hope and song.
Daybreak! daybreak! Thank God for veiling
night,
Bleep’s sweet forgetfulness, setting the sad
world right.
Thank God for birds and bells; “Cheer 1 cheer!"
they seem to say;
'All that Is past, is past; life is new born each
day.”
Sparkle of beamy dew, deep skies so clear and
bine,
God smiling on the world, light me to labor
trnel
Help me to strive with seal—strive, though
my star go down—
Sure that while mornings rise, some day my
task shall crown.
—James Buckham in Youth's Companion.
Much to Annot’s surprise, Mrs. Pres
cott did not seem to like her pew ad
mirer, and there was just enough will
fulness in An not to make her like him
all the more for that very reason. Mrs.
Prescott fostered her dislike to St. Ives;
she quarreled constantly with Annot
abont him. and filially forbade Annot to
see him.
The result might have been foreseen.
St. Ives contrived to meet Annot out
somewhere, swore that he loved her too
well to live without her and made her
believe him. Late the following night
carriage was waiting not far from
Mrs. Prescott’s residence. Annot crept
softly down from her own room and
stole out toward it, and they were driven
swiftly away, Annot sobbing in a hys
terical fright at the step she had taken.
It had been nndorstood that they
should proceed immediately to the house
of a clergyman and be married, but St.
Ives proposed that they should leave
the city for that purpose, and, as it was
too late to render it probable that they
would easily find a clergyman, postpone
the ceremony till morning dawned.
It was far into the next day before
A GIRL’S MISTAKE.
“Well, Rollin, what do you say?”
Annot; Branson’s liquid brown eyes
tearched her lover’s face wistfully.
Rollin Dracut frowned slightly.
“Where is the use of my saying any
thing? You’ve made up your own
mind.”
“I don’t know why I should always
stay jrat here,” pouted the girl, “but of
course l shall stay if you wish it.’
Would you really?” the young man
yonng and well dressed man occupying I questioned, putting an arm around her
the place vacated by her. An houi | and drawing her to him. “1 believe yon
later, when I could examine the tree, 1
found a hollow in the trank just about
on a line with her shoulders as she sal
on the bench. One not looking for it
would have sat there fifty times and dis
covered nothing.
My theory was that she had an ac
complice—the young man whom I had
seen. The hollow in the tree was theu
postoffice. Next day 1 was at tho park
half an hour before her usual time, and
behold! the yonng man was occupying
that bench. As she appeared he got up
and took a seat a hundred feet away, and
by watching closely I saw that she took a
note from the tree. Before leaving she
wrote and “posted” one in reply, and
after she had gone l saw him get it. 1
was now certain that 1 was on the right
trail, and 1 went to Mitchell to secure
some particulars 1 wished to know. 1
told him I had a clew, but would not re
veal which way it led. 1 learned from
him that the combination of the vault
door bad four numbers, and he alone
knew it It had been changed about a
month after Mrs. Gray’s arrival, and ht
hesitatingly admitted that the word was
“Aime," which was her Christian name
He would not, however, admit that this
fact was known to her.
For two weeks after receiving this in
formation 1 hardly got sight of Mrs
Gray. For some reason she remained
very closely at home. 1 found out from
Mitchell in a roundabout way that the
money needed to pay the men at tb
coal mine and also at a large factory
was deposited with him on the 14th of
every month. It was simply passed in
to him to be locked in the vault ove;
night, as it came np from Pittsburg by
messenger. I reasoned that Mrs. Gray
would work this information out of him
in some way, or that her accomplice
would discover it, and that if she had
tLe combination of the vault she would
make her strike on the night of the 14th.
On Aug. 12 she exchanged notes at the
bank, also on the I8tb. On this latter
date 1 shadowed the young man for
three hoars and became satisfied that he
was from Pittsburg and a “slick un.’
Among the things he did was to go to
the depot and inquire about various
night trains, and particularly one which
passed over the road half an hour after
midnight.
I promised Mitchell that a climax
wonld soon be reached, and then staked
myall on what might happen on the
night of the 14th. At 8 o’clock on that
evening I threw a piece of “dosed” meat
to bis dog from a neighboring yard, and
at JO l softly plimlied the fence to find
the canine in his kennel and sickemongh
to remain there. I lay down within ten
feet of him, hidden behind a bush, and
it was an hour and a half before any
thing happened. Everybody in the
neighborhood was in bed and asleep by
that time, and I was not greatly sur
prised when a female figure, which 1
knew to be that of Mrs. Gray, suddenly
appeared and passed me five feet away
going toward the bank.
She stopped at the kennel to speak to
the dog, and then opened the rear door
and entered. I did not move from my
hiding place until she reappeared abont
twenty minutes later. She carefully
l/yVpd the bank, and as she passed me
on the way to the house I followed
quickly behind. The beys .he laid on
the bank steps, softly opened the side
gate, and I let her reach the street be
fore 1 brought matters to a climax. She
was only ont of the gate when she was
joined by a man, but when I rushed to
seize them he got the alarm and was off
before I could grab him. I got her,
however, and she Bad a bundle unde*
her arm which I took charge of—a bun
dle containing about $19,000 in green-
k^VYhat a nervy woman she wasl She
6 at simply laughed a bit as 1 led her np
e steps and rang toe bell to arouse
Mitchell, and when I had told lmu all
and had the money and the keys to
prove it she just looked up at him with
‘ oalrWl *
LUNCH IN THE FIELDS.
Blue sky and sunshine and noontide.
And rest from the reaping.
And all in the wheal ears the sooth wind
Its fragrances sweeping.
White is the bread that the master
Shall have for the taking;
Coarse is the loaf that their hanger
Finds sweet in the breaking.
Golden the vase and the flogen '
His red wine is spilling;
Rudo is the cup for their drinking,
The flask for their filling.
I
His is the cool and the shadow.
The gold and the guerdon;
Theirs is the fierce dew of labor.
The heat and the burden.
Yet while the great sky gives blessing;
The wide summer weather.
No odds of fate are they asking—
They are togetberl
—Harriet P. Spofford In Harper's Bazar.
HIS FIRST’S ASHES.
When toe wife of Durande, captain in
the One Hnntired and Twelfth cuiras
siers of the line, died, hie was sorely
stricken with sorrow, and would not be
they stopped at a little country hotel | comforted. In fact, he had hardly had
miles from the city, and Annot, haggard | tj me to enjoy his happiness or appro-
from sleeplessness'and red eyed from
weeping, was conducted within.
St. Ives ordered breakfast and went
ont afterward, as he said, to look for a
minister. Annot waited, still very much
depres»jd and not feeling at all as she
had sup posed people did who were about
to be m arried. Some one knocked.
Blualing guiltily, she opened the door:
but instead of Sjb. Ives and his expected
compaiion, a woman glided into the
ciate his treasure, for they had been
married only a month, when she was
taken from him in the midst of their
wedding tour in Italy.
Just about returning to Paris, she fell
ill in Rome and died of fever, in spite
of the many physicians called to attend
her and the devoted care of her husband,
who never left her side till she breathed
her last.
Conscious to toe end, she bravely
room, and throwing back her veil 1 sought to console him.
would, and 1 won’t vex you by saying a
word against your going. You mustn’t
lorget me, though.”
“Indeed I shan’t; yon know, Rollin, 1
couldn’t if I tried.”
“I hope so but I don’t know it,” Rol
lin said, with an involuntary sigh. “The
first city bean you have you’ll be asham
ed of me.’
Annot colored. She was pretty, and
in spite of her love for Rollin she could
not help a throb of pleasure in toe
thought of being admired by city eyes.
The next week she went to the city
with her Aunt Bella Prescott—to stay
month or two. But the “month or two’
swelled to six, and there seemed no more
prospect of Annot’s quitting the city
than .during the first week after her ar
rival there.
The truth was that, aside from the
fact that Mrs. Bella Prescott—a gay and
somewhat attractive widow, and young
still—had taken a decided fancy for her
lovely little niece, she found that she
added so much to the charm of her ele
gantly appointed drawing room that she
did not know how to spare her from it.
One morning as Annot finished read-
' a letter from Rollin, Aunt Eella said
i : A.er with a laugh:
^Rollin won't be coming here to see
you, I hope.”
Annot blushed without replying. In
deed, in this very letter Rollin had an
nounced that he was coming, and An
not did not- know for the life of he,
whether she was glad or sorry.
Mrs. Prescott looked seriously annoyed
when she understood the state of the
case. Annot saw her displeasure, and
her own uneasiness was increased.
Both might, however, have spared any
anxiety concerning Rollin Dracnt.
He had brown hands and a bronzed
face, but he was a large, splendidly
made man and carried himself easily.
Neither Mrs. Prescott nor Annot, I am
sorry to say, met him with quite the
pordiality they ought. He had antici-
S ited something of the sort from the
ne of Annot’s letters, and he had come
to the city to see for himself just what
the mischief amounted to and whether
anything could be done.
If he could have remained his cool
self, content to rest the matter patiently
on his own merits, Annot might have
seen in time how infinitely superior he
was to most of those who surrounded
her and returned voluntarily to that al
legiance which was really considerably
shaken by the flatteries that had of late
turned her pretty, silly head completely.
But he loved her too well. He was
too impulsive and impatient to be able
jo stand calmly by and behold his pure
little blossom tossed upon the boson* qf
such a stream as this which bore her
now. __
Annot, too, in her foolish vanity,
conld not forbear “showing off” for his
benefit some of the new and fashionable
airs she had acquired. She laughed and
chatted with her various admirers and
threw arch, smiling, enticing glances
this way and that, just as she had seen
toe city belles do. In short, Rollin Dra-
cut’s love, his emblem of daintiness and
pure simplicity, flirted just as any beau
tiful coquettish worldling might have
done in her third season.
He was terribly shocked and very
He remonstrated quietly. But
showed a face of surpassing beauty,
and fixed upon the shrinking girl a pair
of dark, burning Italian eyes.
“Who are you? What do yon want?
stammered Annot at last, rallying her
self.
The woman’s glance softened.
“You are such a child,” she said—“so
young. I am very sorry for you.”
“Sorry for me? I—don’t—understand
yon,” Annot said, wishing that St. Ives
wonld come, and thinking that this
strange woman must be crazy, and then
with a low cry sprang to meet St Ives,
who hod just entered toe room, and
stood glaring at the stranger with en
raged eyes.
Banging toe door to behind him, and
pushing Annot from him almost sav
“ 1 V A a. XL 4-V* t
“It was not given to mortals,” she
said, “to be happy for long. Our joy
has been too great; it oould not last.
Do not weep, dearest,” she cried; “let
me pass away in peace, without the
memory of your distressed face. Smile:
do not look so sad!” and she raised hei
trembling hand and caressingly laid it
on his cheek.
“You are a soldier,” pursued she:
“death should have no terrors for you.
I have loved you only; do me, then, one
last little favor. I wish to be near you
always, even in death. I beseech you.
cremate me, theu; reduce me to a little
heap of ashes that you can carry always
with you. I shall never disturb you.
How strange it seems to call a heap of
ashes ‘I’—yet so it will be. You will
agely, he spoke to toe woman with the I sometimes glance at me tons, and can
dark Italian eyes.
“Have yon told her?” he asked.
The woman shook her head.
He laughed bitterly.
“Yon thought it was too pleasant a
task for me. to bo deprived of, eh?”
St. Ives turned sharply toward her.
“There’s no use in dilly-dallying now,
Annot,” he said abruptly. “I couldn’t
deceive you any longer if I wanted to.
I think you and I won’t be married this
morning.”
Annot dropped trembling and uncom-
prehensive into a chair.
“For the very singular reason,” he
went on, “that 1 have already one wife
and she’s too much for me.”
The strange woman glided to the side
of toe bewildered girl.
“I am his wife, dear,” she said almost
tenderly. “Dop’t mind, it might have
been worse, you know.”
St. Ives seemed touched by the face of
white despair Annot lifted at the wo
man’s words.
never entirely forget me!'
Nevertheless when Durande returned
to Paris he was a changed man. He waa
thin and haggard; his eyes had lost their
luster, his step its elastic spring and
confidence.
“Courage, courage, my boy!” bis colo
nel would say to him.
“Be brave, my friend!” repeated his
brother officers.
But joy and brightness had gone out
of Durande’s life. The once brilliant
soldier was a broken wan.
No one on arrival was allowed to
touch his luggage, and he himself, with
care and weeping, drew from his satchel
an artistic little vaefAthat he solemnly
charged his brossenr never on any ac
count to lay hands upon.
“A token of poor wadame?” the man
ventured to ask.
“Yes, a token,” Durande responded;
before which, the slim Roman urn that
held all that was left of his poor wife’s re
mains, he knelt and wept bitterly when
darted from the room and deposited it
in an upper chamber, piled with a
bachelor’s litter of old books, boots and
firearms.
Next morning, determined that pro
fanation like that of the previous night
shonld not happen again, he resolved to
turn this lumber room, where he had
temporarily deposited the precious re
mains, into a mortuary chapel, and gave
instant orders for a cathedral window
and a niche and altar to be placed be
neath it.
There the am was again enshrined,
but tho lilies and roses had given place
to immortelles. Some days later, per
ceiving that these had lost color from
look of air and light, Durande had them
changed for garlands of Sevres and
bisque of the costliest character, aud
thus the urn stood peacefully in this
calm retreat.
Two years of widowhood lengthened
to three, and Durande took unto himself
a second wife. Why, he couldn’t have
told you. Certainly it was not a case of
desperate love, though the new Mine.
Durande was a charming woman.
No, he had but one excuse for refilling
the empty niche in his life—Mmo. Du
rande the second was exceedingly like
Mme. Durande the first, with one ex
ception—she was jealous. A jealousy
that caused her to look with suspicion
on every one, word or gesture, and the
knowledge that he still retained tender
memories of the dead would have caused
her tempestuous anger.
Durande no longer dared to keep the
urn in a conspicuous place. It was
quietly and secretly a third time re
moved from its quarters and reverently
stored in a spare room in the mansarde.
Matters grew better as time wore on
Peace and happiness reigned with the
young couple, and more than once Du
rande, in this atmosphere of renewed
content, was on the verge of unbosoming
himself and confiding to his wife the
mystery of the urn. Alas! his courage
always failed him.
Iu due time a son was born to the
house of Durande, and Mme. Durande
found it necessary to clear out and use
the room where the urn lay forgotten.
As for Durande himself, the joy of a
new made father dissipated all remorse
in his heart, and to celebrate the chris
tening with due pomp and splendor in
vitations were sent far and wide for a
magnificent dinner.
“fcit, my dear,” said his wife as he
earn* in from the barracks the day of
Ahe great event, “don’t go to your dress
ing room till you have seen toe table,
the flowers arranged with my own
hands.”
Arrangedt A great heaping cluster of
blood red roses—in an antique, strangely
familiar Roman urn, which held tho
place of honor on the sumptuous board 1
Durande bent closer. His wife saw
him start.
“Yes,” said she complacently, “ ’tis
yours, you dear old stupid, to throw
away as you have done the handsomest
thing collected in your trip to Italy! It
was up in the garret filled with dust.
Heaven knows how long it. has been
there 1”
“Wi-wito dust!” stammered Durande,
white as death, “and—and what did you
do with it, the—the dust?’
“Threw it on the rose pots, dearest—
that is, what the wimLdidn’t scatter.
But the effect—isn’t it lovely?”
“Very, very lovelyl” murmured the
soldier, with a strangled sigh. And in
JACKSON CAPT0RED-
GEN, GORDBN DOWNS THE THIRD
PARTY.
BIG BARBECUE.
Two Thousand Present-Splendlt
Barbecue—A Field Day for Democ
racy-Third Party in the Back
Ground.
Saturday was certainly a field day
for the Democrats and old veterans. It
was a barbecue given for the old vet
erans, but a little politics mixed in,
served to make the re-union of those
that wore the Gray have a good time to
hear about the Third party.
Gen. John B. Gordon, the gallant sol
dier and statesman, arrived in Jt fferson
amid the boom of the cannon and the
music of the band. Everybody looked
happy and as the gallant Gordon rode
through the streets of Jeffsrson, a yell
went up that reminded the old veterans
of the days that tried men’s souls.
Two thousand people were present
and a field day was declared for the
Democracy. The few Third party men
present hung their heads and looked
like they thought it was getting time
for them to quit their foolishness and go
back to the Democratic party.
Gen. Gordon took the stand, and in a
speech of one hour and a half, held the
rudience spell-bound with his elo
quence. Not far from where the Gen
eral was holding forth, a hundred fat
lambs and pigs were being gently
roasted over a slow fire, and when they
were browned to a turn they were taken
from the pits and out up and piled on
several large tables.
The large number present went to tbe
table and eat in an orderly manner un
til they thougbt they had got enough
to do them for several days to come. It
was a glorious day for the Democrats,
and the Third party are on the ebb in
this county.
“Mister” Mabafley did not appear..
His friends here are afraid he is lost.
Three cheers and a tiger for old Jack-
son.
JackBon county is safe in the Demo
crats fold by 450 to 500 majority.
To rise in the morning with a bad taste
in the mouth and no appetite, indioateB
that the stomach needs strengthening.
For this purpose, there is nothing bet
ter than an occasional dose of Ayer’s
Pills taken at bed time.
I | l
Daughters of the Revolution.
A most enjoyable and instructive
meeting of the Daughters of the Revo
lution was held at the borne of the Re
gent on Friday afternoon at five o’oiook.
The secretary read the minutes of toe
last meeting and afterwards, graceful
notes of acceptance from the different;
members of the advisory board. These
gentlemen most cheerfully agreed to
furniahjdl advice needed gratis, and
each promised to deliver one lecture a
You’re only ten miles from Jaynes-1 alone again. At night it stood in full I the fresh, fragrant flowers, whose petals I year on some subject connected with
. -i *■ 1—i the American history.
The plan entered upon by the Chap-
ville, Annot,” he said almost remorse
fully, “and there’s a stage, 1 believe.
You can go right home and nobody he
the wiser. Here is money to pay your
way.”
Annot rose mechanically, and as she
did so toe bills he had upon her knee fell
to the floor.
He picked them np and offered them
,-to her again, as she was tying on her
bonnet; hut she left the room without
looking at them or him, and went slowly
out of the hotel, with her veil down, her
head dizzy, and her heart so heavy it
conld hardly throb.
The stage drove np at that moment,
and while it waited she eagerly entered
it, and took her seat, without glancing
toward toe single passenger who was
already there. An exclamation caused
her to lift her eyes.
view upon a cabinet beside his bed, that
his eyes might rest upon it when not
closed in sleep and by day. When hit
leave had expired and he had returned
to duty, he was distrait, a stranger to his
comrades, joining in none of their pleas
ures or amusements, seeming to live only
in the memory of his lost wife and that
up;—which might be knocked over.
He had placed her portrait in every |
room in his house, and by a strange para
dox of sentiment it was here, among all
these tender recollections, that he passed
his least miserable hours.
By degrees, through steady contem
plation, perhaps, the sight of the Roman
urn produced a less painful effect upon
the disconsolate widower, and no longer
caused him the cruel heart pangs of the
first days of bereavement.
He was now able to picture his tier-
parted softly, like the lips of a yonng
girl to the first kiss of love, Durande
believed that he saw the tender smiles
and blushes of his dear, dead wife.—
Short Stories.
It was too much, too much, that that ling as she had been in toe zenith of
face of incredulous surprise shonld be- I strength and beauty, gay, smiling,charm-
long to Rollin Dracnt. But it did. He ing. Again and again he recalled and
caught her as she fell fainting. lived over toe moments of that honey-
She waked from that swoon to born- moon journey, and grew happy himself
ing fever and toe unconsciousness of | in this sweet, posthumous revival of
delirium; and Rollin, supporting her all
the way till they reached home, gath
ered from her crazed lips the whole sad
story, or enough of it to wring his heart
and make his own brain whirl.
radiant hours.
When at work toe urn stood on his
writing table, and he thought how in
life and in that bygone time he had writ
ten and pondered and she had sat qni-
She lay ill weeks, and he went every I e tly beside him reading or sewing tran-
day to see how low she was. Then, I quilly, silently, without disturbing him.
when she was pronounced out ot danger, I Six months passed, lengthened to a
he left Jaynesville without seeing her at I year, and now and then it happened that
alL I Durande forgot the urn and left it onhis
table at night instead of carrying it to
his bedroom. Finally he enshrined R
for good on his office table. Not that
toe memory of his wife was less than at
first, hut because in time it was borne
Two years after he came back. He
went to see her as any old friend might,
and he found her so sweetly like the
little Annot who had been his promised
“B h1 S'SSEStoySTttrtSlSt I innpon him that. depo«t life
StoXwSrSS MTom “ iw*» tar to tmtahmfet, ttat to Ml | rafemte,. <u*fetth, to .
whS she had expected such unbesitat- more deeply in love than ever, and asked
wiiuiusuoiuh; _ • foer to be hia wife as though nothing had
happened. Annot had long since waked
to a consciousness of his worth, and she
did not say no.—C. C. in New York
News.
Trout Pumped Up.
C. D. Brooke, who lives a half a mile
or so east of Oak park, has a fine trout
stream running through his land. A
couple of days ago his pump threw out
a trout several inches long, and Mr.
Brooke thinks he could have lots of fun
bobbing for trout if he had an open
well reaching down to the trout stream
that flows beneath that locality.
There can be no doubt that a subter
ranean river of considerable volume
runs through that gravel section, for a
few years ago W. L. Willis, who lived
in toe same neighborhood that Mr.
Brooke does, pumped np a number of
mountain trout. This stream seems to
ran down toward the Cosumnes, as tront
of good size have been taken from pumps
at Sheldon, many miles south of here.
This stream probably comes from Lake
Tahoe, that being toe nearest mountain
lake of sufficient capacity to keep up the
Bupply that is known to exist beneath
the surface in this vicinity. Scientists
have long been of toe belief that there is
a subterranean outlet to Lake Taboe,
and as none other has been discovered
it is reasonable to suppose that this may
be it That it is not a mere pond, with
out source or exit, is evident from the
fact that the trout that have been pumped
np were without toe peculiarities that
flfetjngniah fishes taken from under
ground reservoirs or the waters of deep
caverns, and evidently had not long been
on the journey to this point.—Sacramen
to Record-Union.
ter for the purpose of studying Ameri
can history has proven most successful.
Eich month, two questions for investi
gation are given out by the Regent, and
at the succeeding meeting answeis are
handed in by the members; authorities
cited, and in a familiar way discussed.
These questions are then handed over §
to the historian and preserved by her
for future reference.
. By appointment, an essay on soma
subject connected with American his
tory is prepared by one of the Chapter,
and read at each meeting.
On Friday last, one of the ladies read
a most delightful paper on Prehistoric:
America. This paper abounded in
most entertaining suggestions aud facts
concerning the old aztec civilization,
whioh showed that the reader was not
only a most careful student, but a most
wise compositor. Her material was
well choBen, her style not only pleasant,
but strong.
The work entered upon by the Athens
Chapter of the Daughters of the Revo
lution, promsses not only a great deal of
pleasure, bat a large amount of profit
as well for the coming year.
ing adoration and indulgence as from
jiim He went home without seeing her
again, and never so much as ■wrote to
her afterward. He considered her com
pletely lost to him, and Annot, though
scared at first, felt rather relieved to
have everything got along with so
easily.
Abont this time appeared upon toe
scene toe “conquering hero” in the per
son of one Raymond St. Ives, a hand
some yonng Englishman of superior in
tellect and fascinating address. Annot
had been flattered and admired to the
extent of her desires, bnt, strangely
A Bare Sign.
Little Dick—Papa, how does thunder
sour milk?
Papa—It is not the thunder, but the
electricity.
“How does electricity sour milk?”
sleeping room.
Nevertheless every day it was sur-1
rounded, as usual, with lilies and roses,
liia wife’s favorite flowers.
The-one year lengthened to two, and
Durande had returned to his bachelor j
life.
“Tis wrong to bury yourself alive I
tons,” said his friends and his wife's re
lations; “begin, go into toe world
again.”
Durande yielded, once more went ont,
Banning Expenses.
•entleman—.About what are your run
ning expenses?
Newsboy—’Bout a dollar a month.
“Is that all?”
“Yessir. You see, I buy ’em second
hand.”
. “Buy what?”
“Shoes, in course.”—Good News.
a smile and asked;
“Well, what of it?” _
The “what of itP HfaSSr enough, she had not once imagined her-
Mitchell couldn ^ ^ robbed, self in love with any of those gentlemen
that his bank __ ^ know that be who adored he* so gracefully and dressed
and he couldn’t let society knowtoat be
had been duped by an adventuress, and
after aconsiStataon he actoally gave
that little adventuress $2,000 hi cash to
clear ouL She went, and as I left her
at the depot she said; . _ rt _
•Give toe old man my love when yo
l t fan hnrtRn. and ask him if 1
so unexceptionaUy.
It was quite a different thing when
t>>i« yonng WngHahman came. He con
trived to impress her with a vague idea
that he was some great personage or
other in disguise, and he certainly
the news I was perfectly satiafiod that Columbus Poet.
A Stone’s Odd Formation.
Chemical action formed a stone in the
stomach of La Marshals, the famous
hurdle jumping horse of Paris. He died,
"uivo iud wtu ««•“ —j -- , w j* oiner in disguise, ana ne cervauuj «r i and the stone, a ball nearly eight inches 1 which Durande suddenly recall e
get back to the house, and ^khim if he ® j* ’ h - ^ f in diameter, is in toe museum of a Pa- j “presence of toe dead,” as he was wont
Uver heard of Tony Weller’s advice.”- aira for * ^ 1 risiaa veterinary.-St. Louis Republic. to c all the urn, caught it up hurriedly.
Bighteoas Indignation.
-nuw uura oum uiiui i , , , ,, . „ i Mike—It’s like owld tune to see yon
“It works certain chemical changes in frequented the quarters of his brotoer again p at> why did you niver wroite
the constituents of toe fluid, which re- oSxcers, joined in their J°tofj™g. and £ letther since last we mit?
1 actually one evening earned them all 1
home with him to a banquet iu his own
apartments. The wine was good, toe
champagne sparkling, laughter, songs,
uproar toe order of too night; when toe
supper ended they all adjourned to toe
private office, where the mortuary
shrine stood alone upon toe table, severe
and mournful.
Revelry ran riot, in the midst of
suit in toe formation of an acid.’
“Of course. But how?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought yon didn’t, or you wouldn’t
’a’ used such big words.”—Good News.
Pat—Oi didn’t know your address,
Moike.
Mike—Thin why, in the name 6’ sinse,
did ye not write fur it?—Harper's Bazar.
An Interesting Family.
The "Coincident Glocks” live at Ca-
rondelet. Daniel, toe head of - toe fam
ily, his wife and each of their - three
children were horn on toe same day of
the month. The wedding anniversary
of toe old folks falls on the same inter
esting date.—St Louis Republic, s
JUDGE KERSHAW’S EXPERIENCE
Camden, S. C., March 30,1892.
Dead Sib;—I Bhould be ungrateful if
1 delayed longer to say a good word for
the Electropoise. I commt need its use
about two y ears ago at a time when my
health was very seriously impaired, and
Btill continue its use, although in much
better condition. It is an excellent re
medy for insomnia and other nervous
disordeas. Its operation is gentle and
almost imperceptible egeept in results,
which I believe are always beneficial, if
instructions are followed. It inspires
confidence in those who use it, and
gives the invalid the same kindly com
fort experienced by the presence of
trusted medical friend, and I shall ne?
be without it in the fature. My ex
perience has been with both toe p
and standard instruments, and so la
I have obse rved tbeir eftcc is mnoh
same. 1 sincerely recommend its ua
invalids. Yours truly, J. B. Kbrsha?
Foa all information, A:
Atlantic Electropoise Co., Atlanta, l
TAKE WARNING.
Hello, my friend, yoor buggy i
to be in bad shape. Yes, it needed re
pairing, and I being in a hurry to i.
done, carried it to a cobbling blaoksmi
near by, and this is toe shape he
in. It has learned me ale
next time I will carry it to r
tin and get it done right.
