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About The weekly banner. (Athens, Ga.) 1891-1921 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 4, 1892)
[>' J £*'. I*S4 ;,Tr«7 »**»•«»» I «mmUM ed with the ! 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 s- ' * ■
