Georgia Historic Newspapers

    grub street, lonoon,
t
C> dinny street, where cenlua-ilt,
Half clod, her torch, where Johnson’s wit
j'lowed throuch the pretense of hie time.
Whero Goldsmith built the lofty rhyme.
land Smollett writ.
* » IlCriJ UUII19IUUU I
j And Savage died i
And
Where Gnrrlck, born to charm the pit.
First mAde the royal buskins fit,
trod the tragic stage sublime;
O dingy street!
A dreary street, no longer flit
Starved authors in and out of it;
They drudge no more in gloom and grime.
In dens of death, in caves of crlmo.
To kinder fates they now submit.
O dingy street!
—J. N. Matthews inAlbany Journal.
A METHODICAL MAN.
S“* •"* »' th« clerk. thonglit
mself a better looking man than Pe
ters.
Well, to come to the awful point where
peters methodicaluess nearly upset the
applecart The elopement was all settled
Peters quaking most of the time, and he
was to wnte Hera letter giring an account
it ^Ti arr t, ng f raent8 were Progressing.
It will hardly be credited—and yet it is
possib 16 enough when yon thinkVhat a
machine a methodical man geterto be—
ttat Peters wrote this epistle to his girl
r k and put {t in th ® Pile of let
ters that were to be copied into the old
man s letter box! The office boy picked
°P * h ® hea P -at exactly the usual hour,
took them to the copying press, wet the
thin leaves and squeezed them in; the
love letter next to the one beginning:
Sut—Yours of the 23d received
and the contents noted.”
Peters got the corner curled letters,
still damp, and put them all in their
right envelopes and Sadie got hers in
”® ii*® e > but did not know enough
abont business correspondence to know
tout her first love letter was written in
| a copying ink and had been through the
i,in during business hours. There ought pr ^ s ’
i !«■ :i placard to this effect hanging np' aa y w ben old man Bentham
I.ove worketh wonders, as hath been
said 1>\ various wise men ’ before the
prcsi-Mt writer manipulated the sentence
on his typewriting machine.
It is remarkable that the T.P. (mean
ing the tender passion) should, have
turned the methodical man's methodic-
ah). S to his tindoing, as nearly hap
pened in the case of Mr. George Peters.
Love should have nothing to do with a
ms’ ’ *■' —
to he n placard to this effect lianging'np
m all well regulated business houses:
« lurks in love are requested by the :
: maiiHgement not to think of the adored •
: eltjeet between the hours of 9 a.m. and A.*
• !’• By Order. :
Now George Peters was a very me
thodical jierson for so young a man.
When a letter got into Peters’ hands it
went through a certain routine, and the
answer departed from him to the copy
ing book, and from the copying hook to
the envelope, and the envelope, letter
and all, with inclosnres marked, went
inti >the letter box with a regularity that
noil ling hut the office clock could emu
late, and even that, the clerks said, was
in't as regular as Peters, for they claimed
it was always fast in the morning and
mighty slow in pointing to 6 o’clock.
it is little wonder, then, that Peters
stood so high in the confidence of old
man Bentham. Bentham was Bentham
Bros. & Co. There were no brothers
and no company—that was merely the
firm name—it was all Bentham. Per
haps there once were brothers and per
haps there was once a company, bar
that is all ancient history anyhow, and
lias nothing to do with thisstrictly mod
ern story. And it did not interfere with
looking over the leaves of the previous
day’s letters he suddenly began to chuc
kle to himself. Old Bentham had a very
comfortable, good, natured, well to do
chuckle that was a pleasure to hear
Even Peters almost smiled us he h^ard it.
“Peters!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have yon all the letters, Peters, that
these letters are the answers to?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“There is one I want to see. Peters.”
“What is the name, please?”
“Petty, I did not know that we dealt
in this line of goods, Peters.”
“H. W. Petty, sir?”
“I didn’t know the initials. Here’s the
letter.”
Peters was stricken. He was appalled
—dumb—blind. The words “Darling
Petty” danced before his eyes. He felt
his hair beginning to raise. The book
did not fall from his haud simply be
cause he held it mechanically—method
ically. Old Bentham roared, then closed
the door so that the clerks would not
hear his mirth.
“That’s one on yon, Peters. It’s too
good to keep. I must tell that down at
the club.”
“I wouldn’t if 1 were you, sir,” said
v i tV ** Bent ^ a “ B “ ame wasa Peters, slowly recovering his senses as
' ' | hl, ’ g have at th ® bottom of a i he saw the old man had no suspicion
iurge check. I how the , and j
1,10 ' Wka ~ * “No, I suppose it wouldn’t bo quite
the square thing. But of all men in
thp world, Peters—you! Why do you
elope? Why not marry her respectably
at the church or at home? You’ll regret
going off like that all your life.”
“Miss she—that is—prefers it'that
way.”
“Oh, romantic, is she? I wouldn’t do
it, Peters.”
“There are other reasons.”
“Father or mother against,, as usual, 1
suppose. Well, you refer them to me,
Peters. I’ll speak a good word for you.
But what am 1 to do while you. are
away?”
“I—thought perhaps—perhaps—John
eon would take my place.”
“All right, I can put np with Johnson
for a week, maybe, but think of me and
get back as soon as she’ll let you.'”
If old Mr. Bentham did not mention it
at the club he did at home.
“You remember Peters, Sadie. No.
no! that was Johnson. Peters is in my
room, yon know. No, the redheaded
man is Faraam. He’s in the other room.
Peters has the desk in the corner. Staidest
fellow on the street. Ever so much
older than I am—in manner of coarse.
The last man in the city yon would sus
pect of being in love. Well, he wrote”
—and so Mr. Bentham told the story.
Sadie kissed him somewhat hysteric
ally when he promised to say a good
word for Peters, and said he was very
kindhearted.
“Besides, papa, yon ought to have a
partner in the business. There is no com
pany, you know.”
“Bless you, my child, what has Peters’
wedding to do with the company? He
is taking the partner, not me. I can’t
take Peters into partnership merely be
cause he chooses to get married.”
“Oh, I thought that was customary,**
said Sadie.
There was no elopement after all.
The clerks say that it was the conscien
tious Peters that persuaded Sadie out of
it. But as the old man found he had to
give way it came to the same thing.
“Sadie,” the old man said, “1 think
Til change the name of the firm. I'll
retire and it will he after this, ‘Bentham,
Husband & Co.’ ”—Luke Sharp in Buf
falo News.
The clerks never speculated on the
probable effect of love on Peters because
it never occurred to them that such a
tiling ns Peters falling in love was with
in the bounds of possibility. Love, they
argued, was not an article that can be
docketed and ticketed and referred back
f°r further information and entered in
the daybook and posted on the debit or
credit side of a ledger, so what on earth
could Peters do with it if ho had it?
Manifestly nothing. If they had known
as much about human nature as you or 1
they would have surmised that when
Peters did fall it was time to stand from
under.
A ad who should Peters fall in love
with but the very woman of all others
whom he ought never have given a
thought to—in other words, pretty little
Miss Sadie Bentham, if you please. It
made Peters himself cold when he
thought of it, for he knew he had just
as much chance of getting the moon or
the lanreateshiy as the consent of ok)
man Bentham. The clerks always said
that it was Miss Sadie who fell in love
witli Peters, principally, I suppose, be-
ennso she should have known better,
and I think myself there is something
to lie said for that view of the matter.
Anyhow she came to her father’s place
of business very olten and apparently
very rmnect ssarily, but the old man was
always pleased to see her, no matter how
busy he happened to bo. At first she
rarely looked at Peters, but when she
did flash one of those quick glances of
hers at him poor Peters thought he had
the fever and ague. He understood the
symptoms later on.
1 don’t know how things came to a
climax; neither do the clerks, for that
matter, although they pretend to. Ee-
sidea, they are divided In their opinions,
so I think their collective surmises
amount to but very little. Johnson
claims that it was done over the tele
phone, while Faraam says she came to
tho office one day when her father was
not there and proposed to Peters on the
spot. One thing the clerks are unani
mous about, and that is that Peters left
to himself would never have had, the
courage. Still too mnch attention must
not be paid to what the clerks say. What
can they know about it? They are in
another room.
Peters knew that he had no right to
think about that girl during business
hours. He was paid to think abont the
old man and his affairs, which were hot
nearly so interesting. Bat Peters was
conscientious, and he tried to do his
Jut y. Nevertheless- the chances _are
that unconsciously little Mias Sadie occu
pied some small portion of big mind
that should have been given np to the
concerns of Bentham Bros. & Go., and
her presence where she had not the
slightest business to be threw the rest of
his mental machinery jout of gear.
It is very generally admitted now that
the sprightly Miss Sadie managed the
whole affair. No one who knew Peters
would ever have given him the credit of
proposing an elopement—“accuse him
“ il .” as Johnson pnts it. She claimed
that while she could manage her father
*11 right enough np to a certain point,
Tot in this particular matter she pre-
erred to negotiate with him after mar-
na ge rather than before. She had a
sreat deal of the old man’s shrewdness
—had Sadie. He used to say "he would
“ot like to have her as an opponent on a
wheat deal.
Then the clerks say—but bang the
clerical What do they know abont iff
, Fa mam truly remarked, casting a
gloom over the rest as he spoke, “Yon
omy Bay what you like about Peters, hut
you can’t get over the unwholesome fart
that none of ns has got her.”
The gdUngnegs of this undoubted
An Odd Way of Savins the Hair.
Among the Sakkaras the women twist
their hair into flat braids, which are lit
erally covered with cowry shells or
beads, and the ends are then gathered
above the head, forming a sort of bon
net. The whole is drenched liberally
with palm oil and sprinkled with red
powder. At night the women go to sleep
with their necks resting in a concavity
that has been dug out of a small log,
thus keeping their headwear from touch
ing anything and thereby being disar
ranged. Sometimes this uncomfortable
pillow is hollowed oat, the top of it be
ing a liil, which when lifted off discloses
a receptacle in which are kept the hair
pins and other objects of the toilet.—
New York Sun.
Hod Treated Them.
A collection of cholera germs was ex-
Blbited with microscopes at a meeting
jt male and female doctors* in -the
Academy of Medicine one night. They
had been prepared by Dr. E. E. Dunham
and colored with aniline dyes in order
that they might be observed to the best
advantage. Some of the women pre
tended to be a little nervous about going
near them, and one roguish lookitfg
young woman remarked: ‘’You are sure
that those are not live germs, doctor? I
do not want to catch the cholera.” “The
germs ore d6ad,” said the doctor; gravely.
“I dyed them myself.”—New York
Times.
WAS HE A MURDERED
I have always been a zealous student
of physiognomy and have an irresistible
hahit-af studying faces that I encounter
-to public. On one occasion at least this
faculty has led me into a serious pre
dicament.
The inci*: .-nt occurred on one of the
railways between London and west of
England.
As soon as I had conveniently disposed
of my belongings in a compartment and
wrapped myself in my rag, I proceeded
leisurely to take a survey of my fellow
travelers—a young man and a girl an-
parently traveling together.
The style c*. the young man did not
please me. He (poked “horsy.” His
attire was a great deal too “loud” for
my taste, and on his little finger he wore
a diamond ring—most probably a sham
diamond, I decided. He was not ugly
hut obtrusively big and strong looking!
and I saw at once that he was in a very
had temper.
The girl, on the contrary, pleased me
extremely; she was exceedingly pretty, I
~and she was daintily dressed and ex
quisitely refined looking. I was struck
by the fact that she seemed to share my
objection to her companion, for she
avoided his attempts to catch her eye,
keeping her face carefully averted from
him, and when ho spoke to her she an
swered in monosyllables, without look
ing around. I noticed also that her
pretty, childish face bore signs of re
cent weeping and that now and then
her blue eyes filled with tears. I even
fancied that she cast plaintive glances
In my direction, as though unconsciously
seeking for help and snccor.
With my nsual quick sympathy I
soon felt deeply interested in the lovely,
innocent looking young creature, who
was apparently in the power of the mo
rose scoundrel beside her, and I began
to consider what means I should adopt
to make her understand that I compre
hended her sorrow and desired to help
her.- No better idea suggested itself
than to offer her my copy of Punch,
which I did with a deferential bow and
a look which I flattered myself would
reveal my sentiments toward' her. 1
have always been told that I have a
mo6t expressive countenance. v
She declined the paper, but her eyes
met mine with an eloqnent look, and I
felt that I had established an under
standing between ns.
Then a brilliant idea occurred to me.
I could not talk to the girl righ^ under
the eyes of the scowling villain
her, but if 1 feigned sleep he might be
thrown off his guard and disclose the
situation to mo. I forthwith gave sev
eral portentous yawns; then Wnrog
back in my comer I spread a handker
chief over my face so as to conceal-my
features, hut not to prevent me from see
ing my companions, and after a little
while commenced to snore.
By and by the rase' seemed successful.
The young man, after several unavailing
attempts to gain the girl’s attention, took
hold of the tiny gloved hand which had
been lying listlessly in her lap, and as
she still continued to look the other way
suddenly bent his head and kissed it.
“How dare you?” she cried, hastily
drawing away her hand, while she
turned and faced him. “How dare yon
touch me, even when you know—you
know”— A flood of tears made the rest
of the sentence inaudible.
The man looked at the girl with a half
remorseful, half impatient expression.
“Come, Evelyn,” he said after a pause,
'crying won’t do any good. Forgive
and forget,” and he attempted to pat his
arm aronnd her waist.
“Forgiying won’t bring back to life,”
she cried passionately, shaking herself
free, “and as to forgetting, I never,
never shall. How could you have the
heart? He never harmed you!”
'No,” replied the young ipan, with an
unpleasant smile, “and he won't have
the opportunity now.”
“Yon never cared for him,” sobbed
the girl; “yon never had a kind word
for him!” ,
‘But I tell yon it was in self de
fense”—
'And I tell yon that I don’t believe
it,” exclaimed the girl. ‘‘He never would
have harm: I us, and you—you never
gave him even a chance for his life.”
And she hid her face in her hands and
sobbed convulsively.
By this time I was becoming almost
apoplectic from horror. There was hut
one interpretation to be put upon the
conversation. The mail before me—how
true had been my first impressions of
him!—had caused the death of a fellow
creature, agd the pretty fair haired girl,
by her very loathing and repugnance,
was perhaps recklessly risking a rimilm-
fate. My blood curdled at the thought,
but by a strong effort I repressed my
feelings and continued to strain my ears
to the utmost, and to snore as naturally
as was possible with every nerve quiver
ing from terror. -
“Evelyn,” said the man, evidently try
ing to be conciliatory, and as ho spoke,
forcibly drawing the girl’s hands from
her face—“Evelyn, sorely yon and I
need not quarrel abont the affair? I as
sure you I acted for the best. He would
undoubtedly have proved dangerous to
us both.”-.
‘Oh,” cried Evelyn, looking at him
with flushed, tear stained face and flash
ing eyes, “then, if you fancied that I was
going to prove dangerous to yon, should
I, too, fall a victim to poison?”
As the terrible words passed her lips
the engine gave a shrill whistle and the
train rushed into a tunnel^,the noise
rendering a reply impossible. I would
have given a good deal for a glimpse of
the man’s face at that moment, but there
were no lights in the carriages.
When, after a few seconds, which
seemed 'to me so many hours, we
emerged into the snnlight again, I per
ceived with a sigh of relief that the
man had seemingly subsided into his
former state of morose snllenness. He
leaned back in his seat with his arms
folded and stared absently out of the
window, taking no further notice of his
companion, who gradually ceased cry
ing and began to cast fnrtive glances at
him, as if apprehensive that she had
gone too far.
Twenty minutes later wo ran into a
station and. the train stopped. Matter
ing that he wanted a paper,’the young
man sprang' out of the carriage and
.walked quickly toward the. bookstall
My opportunity had come. Tiering
aside my hankerchief I arose and leaned
toward the girl, who started violently
and then shrank timidly back.
“Don’t be alarmed, my poor child,” I
said quickly, laying my hand reassur
ingly upon her shoulder; “you have a
friend close at hand. I will not leave
you till r have seen you to a pl««« of
rafetyr I know all; I have heard all,” I
added to explanation, for her expression
was one of mingled terror and bewilder
ment. “Yon may rely upon me im
plicitly."
At this instant I saw our enemy ap
proaching and moved hastily back to
my seat, trying to look as though I had
merely been awakened jfrom my slum
bers by the stoppage. As the train
started again I subsided with sundry
yawns into my former attitude.
I noticed that the girl gazed at me
with a startled, perplexed expression,
and I feared that the poor child’s im
prudence would attract the attention of
her companion. I longed to make her
a sign to be more cautiofis, but thought
it better not to do so, and was consider
ably relieved when the young man un
folded his newspaper and became appar
ently absorbed in its contents.
Presently, to my amazement and hor
ror, I saw the girl snddenty lay her hand
upon the man’s arm, put her lips eloee to
his ear and proceed, as I felt certain, to
inform him of my discovery and offer of
assistance. The man, after li<tmihig to
her with a look of blank incredulity,
turned and glanced at me with the most
vindictive malignity in his eyes. I could
not hear the words with which he ap
parently reassured the girl; hat one
painfully significant sentence reached
me—“I’ll soon make short work of him!”
Here was a pleasing situation! I knew
that the train would not stop for nearly
an hour, and in the meantime I was
shut in with and practically helpless in
the hands of a cold blooded murderer,
who, knowing me to be in possession of
his secret, was scarcely likely to let me
escape. The girl, in spite of her tears
and protestations, was evidently com
pletely under his influence and could
not be relied on to aid me with even her
feeble strength.
For a moment I contemplated a dea
Pirate leap from the carriage, hut the
prospect of almost certain dea' h was too
appalling. Then I thought of the com
municator, hut the raUway authorities,
with a fine perception of the fitness of
things, had placed this last resource of
toe desperate outside and above toe
window of the carriage.
Suddenly an idea flashed through my
mind. In a few minutes we should
enter another short tunnel, and it was
just possible that under cover of the
noise and darkness I might ^^cceed in
grasping the cord communicating with
the engine driver or the guard.
Putting my arm stealthily out of the
window I pulled the cord with desper
ate force, sinking back into my seat just
as wo emerged from the tunnel, and
then, with a thrill-of intense relief, 1
felt the train begin to slacken speed and
gradually come to a standstill. The
next moment the guard made his ap
pearance, looking wildly round the com
partment for signs of bloodshed or
violence.
“Mr. Murray!” he exclaimed, touch
ing his cap deferently to my enemy.
“Was it yon who stopped the train,
sir?"
“No,” I gasped, half choking with
fear and anger, “it was II That man is
a murderer, who has escaped justice,
and he* naa threatened me with violence!
My life is not safe, nor is that young
lady’s,” I added, pointing to the girl,who
was gazing at me with well feigned as
tonishment.
“Lor’ bless yon, sir,” cried the gnard,
with a broad grin, “there intuit be some
mistake! That’s Mr. Murray and his
good lady. Mr. Murray is one of. our
directors.”
“What has that to do with it?” I al
most shrieked. “What if he were fifty
directors? I tell you the man is a mur
derer and has threatened my life! Fetch
a policeman I”
“Benson,” cried the young man before
the guard could answer, “put that old
lunatic into another carriage. He has
already been annoying my wife with his
idiotic impertinence. He’s evidently
either intoxicated or as mad as a hatter!”
“Certainly, sir,” responded the gnard
obsequiously. “Corile, sir,”—to me, in
a coaxing tone which nearly
me—“come into the next carriage. I
can’t keep the train waiting any longer,
you know, and you cam. explain it all to
the inspector when we stop. Yes—quite
so, sir. We knows all abont it; we quite
understands how it ’appened.” And be
fore I had realized the situation I found
myself half dragged, half fitted into an
empty compartment, and at the mock
ing suggestion of my enemy the door
locked upon me.
Did I get any justice or satisfaction?
Not in the least. The circumstances
were “investigated,” with the result
that my would be assailant got off scot
free, while I was fined five pounds for
stopping the train without reasonable
cause. He and his wife had the audacity
to declare that the conversation I had
overheard referred to a little spaniel be
longing to the lady, which, having been
bitten by a mad dog, had been poisoned
by her husband against her wishes. Jn
vain I pointed out the improbability of
the story, and explained that my sus
picions were based on the unerring evi
dence of physiognomy. The wretches
took refuge in the unphilosophical con
clusion that I must he “a little cracked,”
a statement which my enemies did not
fail to supplement with the suggestion
that I m ist have been more than a little
“screwed.” Such are the gross miscon
ceptions into which a coarse nature and
uncultivated intelligence can betray the
unscientific. Posterity, as Napoleon
'i Bonaparte remarked, will do me jus
tice.—New York Recorder.
SURE. "
My thoughts go out like spider threads
Cast forth upon tho sir;
Filmy and fins and floating wide,
Caught by whatever may betide.
To seek thee everywhere.
In league with every breeze that blows.
Ail ways, all holds they dare;
North, east or south or west they fly.
And sure, though winds be low or high,
To Snd thee everywhere.
Love stilt Is lord of space and fate;
A11 roads his runners fare;
All heights that bar, they laaghing ellmH
They find all days the fitting time.
And highways everywhere.
-Anna a Brackett in Scribner’s.
LUCY’S LOVERS.
Lucy Watson had two lovers—this
would be an unfair allowance in these
days, but fifteen years ago there were
more marrying men in India and fewer
maidens. Besides Lucy was really sweet
enough and pretty enough and adorable
enough to monopolize the attentions of
any number. Of these two swains one
was an elderly swain—that is, if the col
lector of a district on two-thousand and
some odd hundreds of rupees a month
and a “fund” of the most liberal natnre
can properly be called a swain at all,
which is doubtfnl. He was a good fel
low, was John McAllister, but at least
twenty years older than Lucy, and, what
was more to the point, very prim and
stiff and solemn and serious, and in fact
destitute of not only appearance, hat the
thoughts and ways of yon-h.
And so when Colonel Watson cited
instances of the happy marriages he had
seen between elderly gentlemen and
youthful lassies—he used occasionally to
draw od his imagination a little—poor
Lucy would piteously reply:
“Yes, papa, but it isn’t his age; that’s
nothing, nothing”—oh, Lucy, Lucy!—
“but he’s so old in his ideas and habits;
he has nothing in common with a girl.”
And then there would be a little break
down in tho voice, and a tear would fall
on the colonel’s hand, and he .would
turn away to smoke a cheroot and make
the best of it, for he did not want to
force his child into a distasteful mar
riage; he was too fond of her for that;
but with six sons ranging from fifteen
to five, that his one daughter should
marry a well to do man was distinctly
desirable.
Pensions were good in those days, but
even £1,100 a year seemed small with
such a troop of boys to educate and put
into the world. And then there was a
trifle of debt which McAllister would—
but what was the use of thinking about
it if it would make little Lucy unhappy?
It is'almost superfluous to say that the
other adorer, whom Lucy did like, was
a hopeless ineligible. George Farleigh
was a subaltern in her father’s regi
ment, of abont five years’ service. A
fine young fellow, good at sports, but
with absolutely no prospects. There
was no chance of the adjntaucy failing
vacant for a long time, and there were
no departmental openings, so fat- at ‘
least as he was concerned.
In a small, np country station these
two had many opportunities of meeting,
and to do them justice they took advan
tage of all they could get. But Lucy was
not without a mixture Of sound, com
mon sense, and she would not pledge
herself to George until he could show
some reasonable grounds for believing
that his position would soon justify mar
riage; she would not listen to the idea
of an indefinite arrangement.
Matters were thus at a deadlock, and
there seemed no hope of a solution.
Months passed by, weary months to all
concerned. Then all of a sadden ra™
change. The new governor general
arrived in the country, and it so hap
pened that in former years he had
known George’s father rather inti
mately. The natural result followed.
For a boy who had passed nothing bnt
the higher standard in Hindooetanee it
was not possible to do mnch at once,
bnt still he might be tried. So down
came the offer of a semipolitical ap
pointment in a native 'state for six
months, the continuance of which was
to depend on George’s progress and abil-
There was a tearful parting.
“Now, mind, yon are not to write to
me unless I write to you first. Papa
would be very angry if yon were to write
direct to me, and of course I won’t have
anything donq in a roundabout way.
When I write to yon, if I do write at all,
sir, then yon may answer.”
So, half crying, half laughiflg, T7Hcy
dismissed him, and both, the colonel and
McAllister said goodby with a sigh of
relief. The sagacious Lucy had a reason
for the condition she imposed. Over
and above the difficulties of a corre
spondence to which her father would
object, she wanted to test her lover.
Married ladies often prone to Hiamni ad
vice had sniffinglyjtold-her of the incon
stancy of man, and she had also read
about it in novels and poems, so she
thonglit that an experiment should be
made.
“If we begin by writing to each other,”
she argued to herself, “he won’t have a
chance of forgetting me, but, if there is
no communication between ns for some
time, then that will show whether his
affection is sincere.”
Left alone in the field" good, honest
McAllister could make the running at
his own pace, but somehow he never
seemed to get any nearer the winning
post.
Bnt the three months never passed,
for one fine day the colonel, with a
white face • and J broken bones, was
brought back in a dhocly from the
and though the hones were soon mended
complications set in and the doctors
ordered him home—“internal injuries;
never get right in this place; voyage will
givtf hi m strength, etc.” Then the poor
man told Lncy that Bhe really had bet
ter make np her mind, that hef could ill
afford the expense of taking her to Eng
land, and reminded her that she did not
get on too easily with her stepmother,
who was looking after the boys. And
Lucy did make up her mind. She wrote
straight to George that very afternoon,
telling him everything.
“I hope it isn’t very unmaidenly, dear,
bnt there is no time to stand upon for
malities. If ypn still care for me—if
you think your position sufficiently hope
ful to justify marrying, .come down at
once or write. Bnt if”—here a tear
would faH on the paper—“yon find
for any reason it cannot be, then don’t
answer; I shall understand.”
It was three days’ post to George's
station, and Lncy told her father she
would think over the matter and wonld
give him a definite answer in a week.
The sixth day came, and the poor girl
was trembling with excitement; the
seventh, and she could scarcely keep Btill
for a moment. Bnt the post came—and
no letter. At first a feeling of nnmbirig
despair seized on her, bnt she immedi
ately rallied.
“How stupid I am! Thereunay not
have been time to catch the muff, or
George may .have been out shooting.”
So to make sure, and leave enough
margin, she begged her father for three
days’ grace, for she never doubted
George. Bnt the three days passed, and
there was no sign.
Lucy was married to McAllister a fort
night afterward.
“A very short engagement, my dear,
said the major’s wife to her bosom
friend, “but yon see the poor dear
colonel must he off at once; can’t wait
any longer, the doctors say, and it is
everything to have Lncy settled before
he goes. I wrote and told George Far
leigh it was coming off—an awful blow
for him, poor fellow, unless lie has for
gotten all abont her, which is probable."
Bnt he had not forgotten all about
her, and four hours after receiving the
good lady’s information he sat like one
in a dream. Then he shook* himself to
gether, and in-due course read the do
mestic occurrence in the paper quite
calmly. The McAllisters and George
Farleigh never met, for he went into
the political line, and went from one
native state to another without once re
turning to his former presidency. But
he now and again heard of them—how
they led an apparently happy life in a
quiet way, no particular love perhaps
on her part, but a sincere attachment to
her husband. And presently McAllister
retired and settled in England.
It was just fourteen years since George
left his regiment. He bad got on well,
and was now resident at the court of an
imbecile prince with an nnprononhee-
able name. It was a hot night, and his
solitary dinner was scarcely over when
the day’s post came in—the English mail
with it—so he lighted a cigar and left
the table for a long armchair in the ve
randa. The bearer placed the lamp con
veniently and retired to doze. The first
letter that canght his eye was from the
postmaster general, and wondering what
that exalted functionary could want with
him he opened it before looking at the
English letters and newspapers. The
following is what he said:
“Sir—I have the honor to inform yon
that an old man died lately at the vil-
Lige of Screepore, in the state of Aphin-
abad, who was formerly a tappalra: nei
in that state. On his deathbed he con
fessed to having stolen one of the lettei
lags many years ago, under the belief
that there was money in it, bnt that he
then became frightened and hid the let
ters in a box without opening them.
This box he buried, bnt after some trou
ble it has been fonnd, and the contents
are now being distributed as far as the
addresses can be traced. The inclosed
is apparently for yon, as on inquiry it
has been ascertained Chat it was yon
who were at the time in Ar-hin^H^ ;
have thtf honor, etc.”
George knew the writing on the in
closure at once; it was Lucy’s. The
faithful bearer wondered why the sahib
was so long in coming to bed; also he
did not seem to be reading, for there
was no rustle of paper, so with catlike
tread he crept to the veranda. The
eahib was lying back in the chair with
his hand over his face. Three and four
times the man returned, and always to
find his master in the same position.
It was not till the gray dawn made
the lamplight pale that George roused
himself from a long dream of what
might have been and of what had been
and even then he did not feel in the
least sleepy, so for sheer lack of somec
thing to do he took up an English paper
that had Jfist arrived, and chanrw to
open it at the deaths read:
“April 15, at 104 Greenfair gardens
Cheltenham, John McAllister, Esq., late
of the Indian civil service. inH^r,
pers please copy.” "
* * • • • *
Next month George Fairleigh started
for England on urgent private affairs.—
Million.
THE GARDEN CLUB-
THB
LADIES ARE preparing IN
STYLE FOR . -Iflj
«
THE FALL EXHIBIT
And it Will be one of the Most Inter
in* Exhibits Ever Made in Athens
of Fruits, Vegetables and
Flowers.
v '
LIFE’S DUTY DONE.
Mrs, B. R. Hodgson, Sr., Dies After a
Lingering illness,
On Sunday morning last the sad an
nouncement was made that Mra. E. 3.
Hodgson was dead.
While her death was not unexpected,
the news oarried genuine sorrow to
many hearts. Mrs. Hodgson was a
good woman, whose kindness of heart
and earnest efforts to render more hap
py all that came within the circle of
her influence, rendered her’s a meet
teuly lovable character. She had been a
memberof the M. E. church for many
years, and adorned her ohristian pro
fession by a consistent snd unifora ly
pious life. She leaves one daughter,
Mrs Mner, and several sons, (the latter
- , — ‘J being among the prominent business
faUea r men of our city,) and many relatives
and friends to monrn her death.
The funeial took place yesterday af
ternoon at the First Methodist church.
— * -
Don’t!—If a dealer offers yon a bottle
of Salvation Oil without wrapp:r or la-
b.ls, or in a mutilated condition, don’t
touch it—don’t buy It at any price,
there is something wrong—it may be a
dangerous or worthless counterfeit.
Insist upon g. tting a perfect, unbroken,
genuine paokage. Be on pour guard!
This club will hold an exhibition of
froits, flowers and vegetables on Nov.
1, 2 and 3, at hall cf Y. M. C. A. in this
city. The club has a numerous mem
bership, and the members are all work
ing hard to make their show a great
success, and have been preparing for it
all the season. Athens, for many years,
has been noted for its fine gardens and
beautiful flowers On this;cession many
rare and costly specimens in these lines
will be shown, as well as all the com
moner Unas in the greatest profusion
and variety and perfection, and the
display will be one well worth seeing.
Lunches will be served at the hall dur
ing the show, for the convenience of
the visitors. A number of valuable
premiums will be competed for by the
exhibitors. On Wednesday, the 2nd
November addresses will be made by a
number of the leading florists, agricul
turists and horticulturists of the stats,
who Lave signified their desire to be
present. Much pleasure and knowl
edge will be derived from hearing
these lecturers, as each is prominent
and successful in his own special line.
The railroads leading to the city, will
all give speoial round trip rates for vis
itors living along their lines to the ex
hibition. A large crowd is expected to
see this show, as its equal has uover
been seen in this part of the state. The
club during the continuance of its show
will distribute free to all out-of-town
visitors, and especially to farmers and
their wives, collections of fine plants. ■
In small froits such as strawberries,
grapes, raspberries, figs. In flowers,
geraniums, fcchiss, heliotropes, abnti-
lons, and other varieties. In vegeta
bles, asparagus seed, vineless sweet po
tatoes, bunch butter beans, satsity, etc.
Ail of these articles will be the very
best of their kind, < being grown by
some of the most snooessful gardeners
among the club members. The great
object of the club being, not only to
collect the finest and best varieties of
frnits, vegetables and flowers for their
own use but also to endeavor to induce
others to cultivate these things and to
share with those who desire them, such
as they have found, by actual experi
ence, to he beet suited to this section,
and of superior quality.
The club holds' business meetings
twice a month,at which times the mem
bers make statements of their pnrohases
from whom procured, the price and
quality of the same, and the various
methods oi growing each thing In its
season. Thue each member gets tho
benefits of the experience of the whole.
The club held a very successful exhi
bition in the spring of this year, which
was attended largely by the people of
the city and of the oonnty, and whiQh
was a surprise to all who attended, as
they never imagined sach a large hand
some di play could be gotten np on such
short notice.
Having met with snoh success at their
first show, they have decided to hold
the fall exhibition so as to give an op
portunity to those living at a distance .
to come and see the beautiful things
which will be displayed.
During the exhibition all of the lead
ing stores have signified their intention
to have special bargain sales, so that
the crowds attending may have an op
portunity of buying their winter and
Christmas supplies. Athens will pat
on b9r gala attire daring the show, and
every thing will be done to make the
large crowds that attend have a profita
ble and eDjoy able time.
Wa
Sore-throat and bronchial affection
are speedily relieved and effectually
cured b^ the use of that safe and relible
remedy, Dr Ball’s Cough Syrup. It
has stood the test of half a century.
A GOOD OPENING.
A well-established livery
Business for sale on easy
terms. Gann & Reaves old
stand, Thomas street, Athena,
Ga. Address,
J, M. Barby, Pro’p.
The CamtNAL Court—The criminal
branch of Clarke Superior court will be
taken np on the 24th inst. It will not
furnish a very heavy docket.
Mbs. Jxnkin’b Dfath.—Mrs. Jenkins,
an estimable lady living on Oak street
in Eist Athens died yesterday after
noon after a lingering illness with con
sumption. Mrs. Jenkins leaves a hus
band and family to mourn her death
The sympathies of all are extended to
the bereaved.
The finest line of Buggies,
Carriages, etc., at Klein &
Martin’s that can be found in
Northeast Georgia. They
the cheapest Buggies a
Carriages that you can b