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! A then* Bauer, Bat. 1888.
HARDWORKING woman.
V 1 (lay she hurried lo Ret through,
i in- .ame as lots of wlmmln do;
Sometimes at uight her hushan said,
•Mu. ain't you ROtu to come to bed?” «
\"n then slic’d kinder Rive a hitch.
.An I«
.Mi m
t\i
i half nay between a stitch,
-i.di, mi say that she
as slic'd ever )>e,
hlie reckoned.
•Mis'
o th« years went, one by one,
outehow she was never done;
i la i. the angel said as how,
!:h, it’s time you rested now,"
r raised her eyes to look
\ mil. ns a stitch she took.
••.Ml r.„ht. I'm cmniu now,” says she,
"I'm ready as I’ll ever be,
I reckou."
—Albert S. I’nine in Kansas City Journal.
VUi WESSON.
It was iii March, 1745, and the com
pany raised in Gloucester to join the ex-
« ,liti"’t ntininst Louisburg was to leave
town with the rising of the morrow’s
sum in the spring twilight three young
pi,ii made tlieir way, with noisy jest
and son;:, toward a wretched cottage
that stood in tho outskirts of the town
and rapped loudly for admittance. /
Tin' door was opened by a withered
0 j,l ,nc. A candle, burning on a
small table, dimly revealed tlie black-
,.,,,,1 walls of the interior, the bunches
of herbs hanging from the ceiling, a
scaur supply < f battered pewter plates
ami o cirri- earthenware on some shelves
in a cor:, r. «. r >w old chairs and a pack
,,f worn and greasy cards apparently
ju.-r llnng down.
• What ye here for? Off with yet” cried
th, old woman when she saw' who her
visitors wore.
• t ill, now, Peggy,” said the tallest of
the three in a wheedling tone, “we’re
oil m the morning for Louisburg, yon
know, and we thought we’d pay yon a
farewell visit and get our fortunes told.”
i ll warrant ve’ve no siller to pay me
vri’, Martin Sanders,” said Peggy, keep
ing a tii in grip on the door and pushing
It a little closer as she spoke.
• Here’s a bright new silver sixpence
for ye,” displaying it as he spoke, “and
T in and Job have more of the same
sort. So now let us come in and give
us a good send off.”
The money proved an argument not
to bo gainsaid, and Peggy admitted
them. When they were seated she took
up i-.tsr cords, shuffled them and pro
ceeded to tell the young men’s fortunes.
J*b Ayers caino first, then Tom Good
win. When Martin Banders’ turn came,
and Goody Wesson crossed his palm
with the coin ho handed her, his imper
turbable gravity, contrasted with the
irrepressible snickering of his compan
ion'. made her suddenly suspicious. She
gave him a searching glance; then, as
she was about to place the coin on the
table with the others, she scrutinized it
keenly and balanced it on her hand.
Ayers and Goodwin giggled and moved
toward tho door. But not the gho6t of
a smile passed over Martin Sanders’
face. Peg struck the coin smartly
against the base of the iron candlestick
an,’ listened to the sound, then pressed
it against the edge of the table. It bent
with the pressure.
••Curse ye. Mart Sanders,” she cried
ill a sudden fury: “it’s lead!”
Then Martin Sanders laughed, and the
three, roaring with laughter at the
re, nit of their poor trick, opened the
deer of Goody Wesson’s cot and rushed
out into tho night.
She rau after them, brandishing her
stall' and raving like a mad woman.
•■Curse yo. Mart Sanders!” she
screamed; “curse th’ three of ye, body
and breath, flesh and bone! Curse ye
lying down and rising up, sleeping and
waking, living and dying! I’ll take
vengeance on ye at Louisburg!” The
night wind bore the dismal threat and
its repetition to tlieir ears and silenced
their laughter as they ran down tho hill
to their homes in the more thickly set
tled part of the town.
The great fleet of nearly 100 vessels,
that made up the expedition against
Louisburg sailed from Boston on the
1st day of April. Favored by wind and
weather it soon reached Cape Breton,
Rial was coasting along the shore of that
island toward its destined haven. In
many of the vessels the soldiers were
watching the hills and woods on shore
with the interest inspired by new scenes,
but every indentation of the coast was
familar to most of the Gloucester men,
fur they had often been there on their
fishing voyages. Their attention was
attracted to the singular movements of
a solitary crow that hovered persistently
above them, now and then alighting on
the topmast.
As they were entering tho harbor of
Louisburg, Martin Sanders was sent for
ward to assist in furling the jib. A
tope parted suddenly under his feet and
ht fell headlong into the sea.
The last sound that fell upon his ears
before tho rushing waters closed over
him was the hoarse screaming of th6
Tow. A powerful current was running,
imd it was only with great difficulty
that Sanders was rescued.
When the exciteMent was over, and
half drowned man was once more
safely on deck, the e*ow had disappeared.
Tha fleet cast anchor in the harbor
and countless beats took the men on
shore. Before the siege could com-
lntri, :e the cannon must be landed and
placed in favorable position. It was
jnluons toil, for the soil was boggy and
* le men often sank to the knees, but all
worked with a will and the gone, one
sfier another, were landed.
Goodwin and Ayers, with others, were
railing a cannon on a sledge through
"™; frozen mud when suddenly with a
whir of wings a crow alighted on it.
" J Ayers made a dash at it with his
^• l P- At the very instant that he did so
le rear of the sledge sank in the treach-
i Tons ti ie C aimon gave a sudden
Urc 'h Hnd thfl nnn Via firmer flTlt WflB
somewhat stale and monotonous, and
there was excellent game in abundance
in the vicinity, Sanders and Goodwin
made two of such a party one pleasant
May afternoon. Often daring their
hunting they noticed a crow circling
near them. They were about return
ing to camp when Goodwin, striding
across some low shrubbery in search of
a fallen bird, thrust his foot into an
open foxtrap, which closed around his
ankle, the sharp points penetrating deep
into the flesh. His cry for help was
echoed by the “caw! caw!” of the crow.
It was with infinite difficulty that his
companions released him. Pale, and
half fainting with pain and loss of blood,
he looked np at the crow, still near.
“I believe it’s a witch,” he cried.
^ “Peg Wesson, by heavens!” exclaimed
Sanders, recalling the witch’s curse. He
lifted his loaded fowling piece, took
steady aim and fired. “Caw! caw! caw!”
screamed the crow, derisively winging
its uuward way unhurt. Martin San
ders was a renowned shot and never
known to miss snch a mark before. His
companions noted his failure with
amuzement, and thongh they thought it
a poor use for good powder and shot,
auother and another fired, bnt with the
same result.
“It is surely a witch,” cried Goodwin,
who, lying on the grrifii with hastily
bandaged ankle, was looking grimly on.
“It is surely a witch, and not to be
brought down by a leaden bullet. Noth
ing but silver will bring down a witch.”
“That’s true,” cried Martin Sanders.
He hastily tore his silver sleeve buttons
from his wrist. He wrenched them
asunder. It was the work of a minute
to load his gun with one of the pieces.
The crow was still within gunshot. He
took deliberate aim and fired. Wounded
in the leg, it fluttered downward in
lessening circles and apparently fell in
some hashes close by. Bnt careful and
prolonged search failed to discover it.
For some days the woodmen who
passed Peg Wesson’s hut morning and
jiight on their way to and from their
work in the forest noticed that there was
no smoke in the chimney.
Peg’s off on her broomstick,” said
one.
“There’s ill lnck for somebody some
where,” said another.
It was a mild and sonny May after
noon and they were busily hewing in
the woods when they heard a faint moan
ing. They heard it repeatedly, and at
length, following the sound, they came
upon Peg Wesson lying on the ground
and unable to get np.
How came she there? They could
have sworn that she had not passed
them on the path, and who could have
made her way through the impenetrable
jungle beyond?
Though loath totonch her they helped
her to her feet. She was unable to take
a step. Her leg was broken. A rude
litter was made and she was taken
home, uttering maledictions all the way.
A doctor was called. When he ex
amined the fracture he extracted there
from a small piece of silver which he
carefully preserved.
When the soldiers returned from
Louisburg, victorious and jubilant at
having destroyed the hornet’s nest that
had long been a torment to Gloucester,
they heard with amazement what had
befallen Peg Wesson, for in comparing
dates they found that she had fallen
with the broken leg at the very time
that the crow had been shot.
Sanders produced his part of the
sleeve buttons. The doctor produced
his. They were precisely alike.
They were linked together again and
carefully preserved by Martin Sanders
and his descendants. Indeed they are
kept to this day in the family for aught
1 know to the contrary. They were
brought out and exhibited whenever
this remarkable story was told, and it
was very often told.
Peg Wesson never recovered from her
injury. She died soon after and received
decent bnrial, bnt there is no stone bear
ing her name in the old graveyard.
Poor maligned, persecuted Peggy! For
thee and Buch as thou there should in
deed be, there must be, some happier
sphere where the shadows of earth may
be forgotten in the glad snnshineof hap
piness unknown before.
Peggy’s cot, untenanted after her
death, long the sport of the elements,
has fallen to decay. But if one cares to
know where it stood, its site near the
old garrison can be pointed out by any
of the older inhabitants, for this is no
tale of the imagination, imt one in which
oar forefathers and foremothers implic
itly believed.—Sarah G. Duley in Bos
ton Transcript.
ATHENS, GA., TUESDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 4,1892.
■■■ ■
$1.00 A YEAR
THE CITY BOARDER.
I
“She’s going to take a little exercise,"
said Mrs. Hinkfey to her husband as he
came np hot and red for a drink of wa
ter from the well, and looking down the
road he saw a smart, strange figure
strolling along by the wayside.
“Oh, she is, is she?” responded the
farmer dryly. He loosened the windlass
and dropped tha backet down into the
cool depths as he answered.
“And she’s rigged out to kill in a
sprigged muslin, jest covered with lace
rufflin,” went on his wife, with an ag
gravated envy which only a woman can
feel, “and ribbons—my! no end of ’em—
and a big leghorn hat loaded down
with flowers, and a white par’sol. If
she wears them things common, what
can she have for ineetin, Jabez?”
Whatever wise opinion Jabez may
have entertained it was lost to the world,
being uttered inarticulately from the
bottom of a large tin dipper.
^ “White shoes and stockin’s, too, and a
pink silk petticoat. My land! what are
folks comin to? I read a piece in the
paper the other day sayin they was fash’n-
able, but I never s’posed ’twas anything
but' newspaper talk. Her father must
be pretty well off. She thought mebbe
she’d walk up the hill to see the view.
She says she*B dreadful fond of nature.”
“Humph?* Farmer Hinkley mopped
his fevered brow. “Waal, it’s lucky she’s
fond of it, for that’s about all there is
goin on round here. She wants to learn
to milk.” His great sunburned face
shone with amusement, and he winked
one bine eye under the shaggy brow that
Aalf hid it. “I guess TO learn her with
Spotty.”
“Ain’t Spotty the one that kicks so?”
Her husband nodded.
“Waal, you shan’t do no such thing.
Jabez Hinkley. Ain’t yon ashamed of
yourself? She’s real pretty spoken, and
I shan’t have no tricks played on her
while she stays here. My! I guess if
here aiu’t nothing wuss about folks
than their bein dressy they’ll have to
fill up the aisles in heaven with camp
chairs to get ’em all in.”
“Waal, Pm goin back. I guess we
shall git that hay in this mornin. I
want to hurry ’em np so as to take hold
of the 10-acre lot tomorrow. Yon be
sore and ring the dinner bell good and
loud so’s I shall hear it.” _ _
You come in right off when I ring an t calf and tho rope and the stake,
Digestibility of Food*.
Calfs foot jelly, tripe and rice are the
articles of food most easily digested, the
time required for the first being only
thirty minutes, and for the other two
one hour each. Among the fish the
short fiber of the whiting, “ the chicken
of the sea,” makes it easily digestible.
Bnt the foods that are most easily
digested are not always the most
nutritions. Thus rice, which is more
extensively used SB an article of food
fVinn anything else, forming as it does
the principal diet of a third of the
human race, is not nearly so nutritious
as wheat or some other grains, thongh
it is far more easily digested than they;
more than nine-tenths of its substance
consists of starch and water, and it con
sequently forms more fat than muscle.
Digestion is rather hindered by care and
worry or ill health. Tha process usually
occupies from two to three hours.—
Brooklyn Eagle.
Napoleon’* Talisman.
Louis Napoleon, who believed himself,
even amid exile and poverty, destined to
that throne which the prestige of his
name and his cunning coup d’etat en
abled him to reach, was not withoutlus
superstitions. In his will he says, With
regard to my son,let him keapas * ti^is-
ihht» the seal I used to wear attached to
my watch.” This talisman had no power
to turn aside the fatal spears of the
Zulus, and the young Napoleon met a
sadder fate than his father’s v’orst fears
mid tho arm ho had finng out was
between the cannon and sledge jnan
“oiielessly crushed. The unfortu-
tl ‘ lu, iii was carried into camp and his
*"!'amputated.
•W sometimes, for the rations were Free Press.
clean np a little. Yon ain’t goin’ to set
down to the table in your shirt Bleeves,
now we’ve got boarders.”
If Jabez Hinkley bad been born in
Paris he would have shrugged his shoul
ders as he walked off. But as the only
world he had ever looked upon was up
among the New Hampshire hills, the
only expression he gave to his feelings
upon the subject of dressing for dinner
was to jam his dilapidated straw hat
down firmly on his head and hitch np his
trousers before he made his way out
again into the broiling sunshine of the
July day.
Mrs. Hinkley forgot all about her pies
in the oven. A deeper feminine note
than her housekeeping pride had been
touched, and she stood under the big
elm by the well gazing off persistently
upon the stretch of yellow road that
wound past the farm gate and up Buz
zard's hill. A turning had hid the sol
itary walker momentarily from sight,
but presently the figure appeared again,
relieved jauntily against the sky, with
the white parasol like a nimbus around
its head. There was a coquettish, world
ly air about its slender height, suggest
ing forcibly the Newport Casino, or the
beach at Narragansett Pier, or the fish
pond at Rodick’s, and a graceful ease in
its languid gait which could only have
been acquired on city pavements. But
these were lost on the observer, whose
eyes rested hungrily upon the crisp
white gown invested with the indescrib
able something of style and distinction
recognized and offered homage by every
woman whatever her degree.
Poor Mrs. Hinkley had never owned
a well fitting dress in her life. She had
never Been one of Doucet’a masterpieces
before.
“I guess,” she said to herself in astute
reflection, “I guess she has her things
made out.”
Ah, didn’t she have her things made
ont! Miss Mary Grinnell’s poor papa
conld have answered for that as he filed
away the bills for her summer wardrobe
—an array of marvelous confections in
tended to do execution at a half dozen
watering places. Why, after all these
expensive preparations made with glee
ful anticipations, his charming daughter
should have elected suddenly to spend
the summer with Aunt Matilda, on a
New Hampshire farm, was a mystery
that this wise parent did not attempt to
solve.
He simply set it down at once as one
of those things never to be revealed, like
the whereabouts of the north pole and
the real author of Shakespeare’s plays,
asked no questions, raised no objections,
checked the tranks and saw the two
ladies safely into the train. Aunt Ma
tilda, with a kodak, a library of French
fiction and a small botanical press, and
her niece, wearing a curious, half de
fiant expression, not at all unbecoming,
In fact, it gave her a new attraction in
the eyes of a young man who watched
the parting from the distance smiling to
himself, as if secretly amused, and tak
ing his seat in another car as the train
rolled ont of the station, snorting and
puffing mockingly,
The farmhouse was a’blow to Miss
Mary’s feelings. There had been a plain
sapper of baked beans, and smoked beef,
and soggy bread, and pit and cheese,
with plenty of milk, to be sure, bnt milk
just warm from the cow. And then the
evening had settled down—the long,
lonely summer evening. Aunt Matilda
sat by the student lamp inside absorbed
in one of Gyp’s novels and oblivions of
mosquitoes, while Mary, strolling out
side, lingered on the piazza, while a
sickly moon peered at her between the
pine boughs, and through the air, sweet
with the scent of honeysuckle, came
the shrill squeak of the cricket and the
pp^nplnining of a whippOOrwilL It
was not a silence, and yet stiller than
any silence could be. She cried herself
to sleep by and by.
But with the morning her elastic
young spirits revived. In a freak of mis
chief she drew ont from her boxes the
elaborate and very unsuitable toilet
which had stirred Mrs. Hinkley's soul
to its deptlis, and she appeared at the
breakfast table as a vision of loveliness
and freshness, at which the shy old
farmer gazed entranced and at which
Aunt Matilda cried ont in severe disap
proval. She. coaxed and smiled and
wheedled until every one grew into a
good humor, and as she started of: for
her walk even that grim spinster rela
tive bade her goodby with a relenting
heartiness, realizing how effectively the
fin de siecle figure would come into the
landscapes of the kodak.
Mary walked along with the pale dust
gathering on the little white shoes-and
tiie pink lining of the white pafasoi
deepening the bloom on her dimpled
cheek. Mary was trying to settle a
weighty question in her mind. She
knew its truthful answer well enough,
bnt pride and stubbornness made her
willfully blind.
The sun beat down fiercely upon the
leghorn hat as it neared the summit of
the little bill. A large Oak tree crowned
the height, with a seat beneath its
boughs, upon which Miss Grinnell seated
herself like aWatteau shepherdess. Start
ing np hastily she gave a cry of surprise.
Before her, gazing with great, mournful
eyes into her own, stood a pretty calf,
apparently not at all frightened by the
intrusion of a stranger upon his feeding
place, and, like Mrs. Hinkley, regarding
Donoet’s muslin with approval. At first
the city bred damsel was startled, bnt
in a second she saw that he was fastened
to an iron stake near by and that his
orbit was limited. So she laid down the
white parasol and began to pat the in
truder on the head, talking to him the
lort of nonsense with which women al
ways address babies and animals.
He seemed quite won by these atten
tions, and Mary was charmed. She rose
and walked about, calling him to her.
He followed obediently, and she began
to think seriously of buying him from
the farmer to take back with her for
a pet, when suddenly something sent
him into a panic. He started back and
ran around and around her, frightened
her half ont of her senses, and before
she realized what was happening Mary
found herself wound np tightly with the
At first
her sense of the ridiculous got the better
of her terror, and she laughed aloud at
the oddity of her position. But in a mo
ment she saw its awkwardness and hope
lessness as well, apd she struggled to
free herself, while the poor calf, in blind
bewilderment, ran to and fro, drawing
the tangle tighter and making escape
less possible.
At this critical moment a cool, well
bred voice behind her broke in. “Good
evening, Miss Grinnell,” it said as po
litely aa if she had been walking down
Fifth avenue instead of in such an ab
surd plight. Ah, me! The pink lined
parasol was nowhere in comparison with
the blush those, few words brought out.
“Oh, Rob!” she cried. “Save me!
Where did you come from? Can’t you
take me away from thiB dreadful beast?*
Not until you answer me the qnes
tion I asked yon the other night. Do
you think it was right to run away and
leave me in the lurch as you did, with
no address, and did you suppose I should
not hunt you up directly? No, Mar y.
Come, which is it to be—yes or no?
will drive away the calf whichever it is,
bat you must answer me one way or the
other at once.”
The young man had not smiled, al
though the picture was funny enough to
have sent a stoic into fits of laughter-
poor Mary, flushed and tearful, fastened
up against the stake, with her white
ruffles crushed and ruined, and the in
nocent calf, pinioned at her side, still
fastening his big, wistful eyes upon her
face.
“Oh, Rob,” she said again, “you know
I meant yes all the time. We women
always do when we say no.”
Well, they forgot all about the poor
calf. Honrs later they strolled in to
supper, having confided in Aunt Matil
da, who bestowed a blessing upon them
and announced in majestic tones to the
Hinkleys the arrival of her niece’s fiance.
He may be a fyansay,” thought Mrs.
Hinkley to herself, nodding sagely, “bnt
if he ain’t keeping company with her I
miss my guess.”
Somehow the supper did not strike
Mary as being so dreadful that second
night. The farmer thought he had
never seen a girl so pretty before, and
tried to make conversation.
Mother,” he said, “what do you
think! You know that calf of Spotty’s
that was fastened upon the hill? Waal
I vow ef the critter hadn’t contrived to
git onbitched somehow or other, and
there twas stroilin round down the
road. ’Lonze Briggs’ man fetched it
back this affnoon. Curious, ain’t it?”
Why, won’t yon up on the hill, Miss
Grinnell?” asked Mr. Hinkley sud
denly. “You didn’t see nothin of the
calf, did you, while you was there?”
“Well, it seems to me I did see one
when 1 first reached the top, bnt 1 don’t
remember noticing it when I came
down,” said Mary, dimpling and laugh
ing. The young man laughed too.
“I guess ’twas scaret. I guess them
flounces and tommy diddles scaret it.”
Mr. Hinkley’s great bulk shook with
amusement. He found himself areal
wit. Neither Horace Walpole nor
George Selwyn ever felt any greater
satisfaction in a bonmot.
“I guess they did,” responded Mary,
and the whole table laughed again.
There is something contagions in reck
less happiness.
That night Aunt Matilda finished
“Monsieur Fred” by the atudent lamp,
and Mary sat ont on the piazza again.
The moon peered' through the pine
boughs, too, bnt this time it wore
smile, while the cricket and the whip
poorwill had tuned their monotony to
major key. Yet still there hung over
sU the stillness which was not a stillness
after all, and Mary cried herself to sleep
again. But this time she cried with
happiness.—Chicago Post,
There is no song nnto the sea unknown.
With wild lance melodies and laughter low.
Its happy ripples frolio to and fro;
With passionate lovelnys breathed in under
tone,
woos the quiet night; with wailing moan.
It solas to cioudcd skies its tale of woe;
With triumph eoug as o’er some vanquished
foe.
passes on with foamy locks wind blown.
And dirges to the dying ear it brings.
And reqnims chanted soft of waves that
weep.
And strange dead marches, as with muf
fled drums.
It beats on lonely shores; and when night
comes,
A tender, crooning lullaby it sings.
Rocking its own unto eternal sleep.
—M. C. G filing ton.
THE SEA SONG.
RALPH, THE ROYER.
“Here, Ralph! Ralph! Hi, you scamp!
Come hack here, sir! There, he’s gone!
Off for two or three days’ tramp again.
Beg pardon, sir! 1 didn’t see you. 1
was that busy callin the dog, I reckon 1
nearly walked over you. The matter,
sir? Well, it’s that dog, Ralph. Yon
heard me call him, I dare say. A
grander older fellow you couldn’t find
a day’s travel, but he has one had
habit. Most humans have more than
that, and I ain’t sure in my own mind
that he ain’t human.
The habit? Well, it’s just this: He
will follow every blessed old tramp as
i here, and keep followin ’em,
sometimes for two or three days. He’s
queer one. Did you notice him just
now? Didn’t see him? Well, he keeps
just far enough behind tho fellows so
they won’t drive him back, sniffin,
sniffin along, and kind cf caatin his eye
back to let me know he’s hearing me,
but not heedin me. Just the same way
ho acts every time he goes off. He’ll be
back all right when he does come; and
he’s Ijeen acting that way ever since
I’ve had him. ‘Stolen? 1 Why, sir, I
don’t believe the one’s livin could steal
him or fasten him up ever so tight he
couldn’t get back ever since—an a right
queer way I got him too.
Is he mine? Well, yes, in one way;
an then no, in another. It was a qneer
story anyway.
Tell it, sir? Well, if I had time 1
might. Ah, thank you, sir! A fine
gentleman like you can afford to bs
generous.
Now, let me see! As near as I re
member, it was June, two year ago, as
come down stairs rather early one
morning to light the fire for my old
woman. She waru’t very strong then;
the youngster there was only a couple
of months old, an I was gettin the
things all handy for her to get break
fast. When she come down the fire was
lightin an the kettle singin—for joy of
seein her, I’m tliiukin.
Mollie was always a great one for
fresh air, so as soon as she saw that
everythin was goin right in the kitchen
she walks to the front door, turns the
key an opens it.
Well, quick as a flash she came run-
nin back to me with her face kind of
white an scared.
‘Oh, Jim, come ont here to the door!
Quick!’ says she.
“An when I followed her blessed if 1
don’t see the ruramest sight 1 ever did,
an there I stood, Btarin like an ape.
You see, these seats on the porch are
rather comforible to sit on, an with the
vines liangin over this way makes it
’most as shut in an quietlike as a bed
room; then the posts here an at the cor
ners form good rests for the back. Well,
anyhow, good or bad, right here, a-leanin
back in the most uncomf’blest way, was
the trumpiest looking tramp I ever saw,
sound asleep. An on the seat beside
him, with his head on the man’s lap,
was the dandiest setter 1 ever expect to
see. A vallyble dog, sir, too, as I knew
soon as I set eyes on him. I always
know a good dog, being rather in the
sportin line myself, an this was a genu
ine Gordon setter.
“Well, 6ir, I suppose I must have said
somethin, with surprise, for to wake
them up. The dog turned the solem’est
eyes round to me, askin me not to make
so much noise; an the man, all rags an
tatters, yawned an set np. An then,
seein Mollie right behind me, Fll be shot,
sir, if he didn’t stand np, take off his
piece of a hat to her, an begin to appol
ergise for settin on our doorstep. Said
he’d been ‘overcome with fateek.’ My
eye! For the manners of him I could
hardly believe he weren’t a swell cove,
dressed in the latest fashion, with a full
blooded stepper at the gate waitin for
him.
I know 1 must have stared at him
considerable, but, bless you, Mollie
didn’t spend no time a Btarin till she’d
asked him into the kitchen, an when the
breakfast was ready she gave him an
his dog, too, a good one.
“His feet were blistered with walkin
in shoes that left half of his feet oat-
doors an half in; an as he conld scarcely
take a step we made him stay with us a
day or so till they got better; but he
couldn’t bear it, an the only reason, ~
think, was that he was afraid of bur-
denin us. But, Lord! He did as much
for us as we did for him, I’ll be bound,
He filled the yard with kindlin’s, an
believe he’d V chopped alL-the wood :
the village if Mollie hadn’t seen his
hands all blistered an bleedin. That
give him away^ sure. • ‘A gentleman
born,’ says I to myself when I see those
hands.
“Then nothin would do bnt Mollie
most doctor an bandage them np for
him. An while she was doin it she
heard a sound like a child tryin not to
cry, an he just bends down an kisses
her hand, an then he says, kind of low
an choked like, more like a groan than
words, ‘Oh, mother!*
“An the way the little lad took to Mm
was a caution. A mite like he was—no
sense at all; only puckered np his face
and cried when I went near him. He’d
smile np in Robert’s face (that was what
he told ns to dill him) an hold on to his
finger like he was his nurse.
“Now, to be sure, sir, three days don’t
seem much in a life, an you’ll maybe
think it foolish the store we set by both
man an dog before that time was passed.
Ralph would lay down beside the baby’s
cradle, an nothin would move him till
his master left the room; then he’d get
up an shake hinuelf, as if it was time
to go. an he was goin.
“Mollie said ho was human, an if ever
soul gets into an animal's body—I hear
there’s folks as thinks so—there was a
good soul inside of Ralph.
‘Yes, we all liked Ralph, an Robert
even more. The fact is he was a real
gentleman, that was plain enough,
brought down as low as he was by Lord
only knows what. But a true gentle
man, an I know the right kind when i
see them. He never let on for one mo
ment, though, a single word about him
self but once an that was the last even-
in he was here.
The dog was sittin beside him, with
his head restin on Robert’s knee, when 1
says, kind of suddenlike:
‘1 bet Ralph’s a very vallyble dog,
Robert.’
“ ‘Yes, yes,' he says, sort of slow.
Too vallyble.’ stroking Ralph’s head
with a lovin hand, while the dog looked
at him with just.as much love. ’Twas
the humanest eyes you would ever see,
sir.
‘He’s worth a great deal of money,"
he said again, after a moment’s thinkiu.
I am very sorry for it sometimes. Fve
been in many hard straits at times, an
Tve been afraid—aye, afraid of myself
•that I’d he tempted to sell him. Not
while I was myself, old fellow, you un
derstand, hut when I was the brute 1
sometimes am.’
“By George, sir! you wouldn’t believe
it, I dare say, but I’d take my affydavy
that dog looked up, sort of sadlike, and
shook his head.
“To make the story short—though, all
told, it was not so very long—when we
came down stairs the next morning
Ralph lay on the floor gnurdin his mas
ter’s stick, bnt his master wasn’t no
where round.
“Tell me the dog didn’t know! He
knew as well as we did why it was done ;
that the master he loved an who loved
him had left him, bnt he had been told
to watch the stick, an with the saddest
eyes an droopin he lay there all day
long. An I truly believe if we hadn’t
got the stick away from him and burned
it he’d ’a’ been watchin it yet.
An his master? Yes, sir; gone-
clean gone. An we’ve never heard a
word of him since. Ungrateful? No.
sir; I don’t take it so. I think he couldn’t
trust himself with the dog he loved,
when he was himself, you see, an so he
left him where he knew he’d be well
taken care of. Yes, that’s the way 1 see
it anyhow. An then he got so far away
before the dog would quit watching that
the scent was lost for poor Ralph, But
he ain’t never give up. Not a day, sir!
“Do? Well, there’s liot a tramp
comes past here—an the worse looking
they are the wilder he is to get after
them, sniffin at their tracks, and then
his tail will drop so disappointedlike,
yet he’ll keep on an follow ’em for a day,
or maybe three days, till he gets sure he
ain’t comin to his master, when he’ll
come back. Seems to me as if he kind
of thought they might know him. How
does he find out they don’t? Bless you,
sAr, don’t ask me, bnt dogs know a heap
jn'i re than people think.
“He ought ’a’ been named Rover, for
he’s been in more different places round
here than I have an always turns up all
right when he’s settled the matter.
Why! ain’t that him now, a-sniffin
along the other road? Of course it is.
Well, now, how’d ha got over there, 1
wonder; seems as if he was scentiu
somethin, don’t it?
“Hi, Ralph! Ralph! Ah! there he
comes, a-boundin along towards us just
as he used to go for his master. Looks
as if he thought he could find him, sure.
See, now! Ain’t he a beauty?
Here, Ralph! Good old fellow! Come
here, sir! Eh! What! Straight for yon,
sir, he’s gone, without a look forme!
All over you in a minute! A fine gen
tleman like you! What! you, you, sir!
Robert! Great Scott! An Ralph knew
you! Well, well; I give in. Dogs is
human!”—M. Warren Hale in Pittsburg
Bulletin.
EASY TO UPSET.
SO IT is REPORTED CONCERNING
THE BONDS.
PROBABLE LAWSUIT,
In Which the CPy will be Victorious—
The Movement may be Made at
an Early Date.
The bonds have been carried.
But it is now currently rumored that
whenever an attempt to float them is
made, another lawsuit will be sprung
upon the city.
It is said that a prominent lawyer in
Athens has remarked that the bonda
will be more easily upset this time than
before, and that the Water Works
Company is in a stronger position now
than then.
Thi* is looked upoa br those who
have the legal matters of the city in
hand as the merest pieco tf bosh. The
decision of the Supreme court in our
last case has been tracked in every
particular and no fears are entertained
by the city authorities that the bonds
will be upset this time.
At any event there will be some live*
ly sparring, legally speaking, and then
the case will be decided in favor of the
city.
CLOSING THE STORES.
The Merchants will Lend Their Pull
Aid to Democrt' y.
Athens has a number of merchants of
whom the people should be proud.
We learn that nearly all the mer
chants of Athens have consented to the
closing of their stores on Wednesday,
the day of the State election, in order
to put in a solid day’s work for the tri
umph of Democracy and the happiness
and prosperity of home and community.
This is commendable in the mer*
chants, and will be remembered by the
Democracy.
There can be no greater aid to the
success of the Democratic iioket in
Clarke oounty than the aid of the mer
chants, actively enlisted under the Dem
ocratic banner.
The Democrats aro aroused and mean
to carry Clarke by a large majority.
THE LITERARY SOCIETIES MEET.
The New Rule of the Faculty Works
Weil.
The literary societies of the Univer
sity of Georgia met yesterday morning
in their respective halls, and nevoi in
the history of the societies has there
been such interest manifested in them.
The new rule of the Faculty requir
ing all students in the University to
become members of one of these so
cieties is working well and will be very
beneficial to the students.
The Phi Kappas and DemosthenianB
will issue the. University Magazine
again this year^n'd It will be a splendid
sheet that will reflect credit upon both
college and students.
The boys are well pleased with the
repairs that have been made on the
halls, and declare that they will this
year take greater interest in the societies
than ever before.
The Phi Kappas initiated forty-eight
men yesterday, and the Demosthenians
about thirty. Both societies are in a
flourishing condition.
The Cyclone in Mauritian
After, 11 a. m. the velocity of the
wind increased, being at 1 p. in. at the
rate of 96.5 miles an hour, and at ISO at
the rate ef 104 miles. But from 1:25 to
2:30 p. m. there was a lull, the velocity
decreasing to the rate of 43 miles an
hour at 2:33 p. m. It then began to in
crease again, and at 8:47 p. m. was at
the rate of 121.2 miles per hour, but it
soon began to abate, being at the rate of
72 miles at 5:20 p. m., 60 miles at 6 p.
m., 47 miles at 7 p. m. and 26 miles at 9
p. m. By this time the weather was
fine, the sky partially clear, and here
and there stars were shining brightly.
It maybe stated also that from the
25th to the 29th there were from five to
six groups of sun spots, indicating a con
siderable increase of solar activity, and
that from the 25th to the 28th there
were large magnetic disturbances, the
portion of the son’s disk on which there
was a very large group of spots on Feb.
12 being again on or near the sun’s
central meridian.—Nature.
All Look Alike.
It is often difficult, when opinion is
challenged, to know jnst what one is
desired to say. Mahlstick is apaiiter;
he has a work on the easel, and he
stands before it with a despairing
clutch of his hair.
“What do you think of it? If you
knew how I have straggled over it!"
“Yes; it shows the struggle,” en
deavoring to put in the answer a sym
pathetic note.
“Do yon think so? 1 don’t think so at
all,” Mahlstick replies with feeling, bnt
then takes heart, and waving his hand v
at the works standing and hanging
about him adds proudly:
“Yes; they all show struggle!”—New
York Evening Sun.
HON. JOHN TEMPLE. GRAVES
And the Work he is Doing In New
York.
Hon. John Temple Graves continues
to receive the plaudits and laurels of
admiring audiences before whom he
delivers his eloquent Democratic Cleve
land speeches in New York State. The
New York World of Wednesday says:
‘Georgia has ever been noted for- her
silver-tongued orators. She has pro
duced many, but not one —and we do
not forget the lamented Grady—was
more eloquent and captivating than
John T. Graves, wiu 1 ) is now in New
York under engagement to make a se
ries of speeches in behalf of Cleveland
and Stevenson.”
In Graves’ flow of i loquence there are
many gems of wit and humor. He
created much laughter in a speech at
Buffalo, N. Y., a few nights ago by re
lating a little incident of his experience
in Georgia sometime ago, when Senator
David B. Hill was visiting the State.
The Senator was to apeak in Rome, Mr.
Graves’ home, and the latter was the
chairman of the meeting. In welcom
ing Senator Hill he said: “Sir you will
never reach the presidency unless you
take a wife from Rome.” At that time
both the speaker and the Senator were
on equal terms. “But since then,”
continued the speaker, “I have taken
an enormous stride in advance of him
for the presidency—I have taken me a
wife from Borne, and tonight the blue
eyes of a Georgia baby staining at me
over a thousand miles of space rival the
splendor of this splendid meeting, and
make me rejoioe that the next era in the
white house will know the refinement
of a presence that makes the saving
grace of this republic, and that the in
fantine kingdom of America will know
an uncrowned queen in Baby Ruth.”—
Macon Telegraph.
An Eye for Effect.
Jinks—Why don’t they make bicycle
wheels with wooden spokes, the same as
carriage wheels?
legs.—Now York Weekly.
The many remarkable cures ofoatarrh,
effected by the use of Ayer’s Sarsa
parilla is conclusive proof that this
loathsome and dang. rous diseases is one
of the bloods, only needing such a search-
~ k oghly eradicate it
1
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