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ATHENS. QA., TUESDAY MORNfNG. DECEMBER 27.18j?2
$ 1.00 A
LOVE THAT LOITERS.
They will brine their hoarded kindneaa
When oar ears are ffoaf to love;
Whun llic pmstos wave above
And bewail their present blindness. ]
‘When we cannot heed repret
They will waste tlreir shallow tears.
An if such could pay arrears
Or discharge the living debt.
They roust know we shall not crave
Sunshine in yon grim retreat;
Gifts ofUfc, however sweet,
Yet they keep thorn for the grave.
Though the gravo has but despair,
Aud but hollow echoes wait
All who knock at that weird gate,
Still they pour their treasure there.
Let the suowy shaft aspire;
We ( hall rover read the lie;
Grief uprcar:fihe marble high.
But remorse can rear it higher.
They will come when wo are dead.
When to love our lips are dumb;
Then otff laggurd friends will come
And straw (lowers overhead.
—Mrs. il. Morange In New York Advertiser.
AM ADO.
I I had not seen Sawyer—“Cal,” as we
called him—since we parted at Harvard
upon commencement day, when, full of
fervor and the class punch of ’81, we
swore to keep one another in sight.
Cal went home and into leather, and
1 to a desk in Wall street. Now, five
years later, I had almost, run over my
old college mate in my nightly mad rush
for tlm L. I seized him by the arm and
bore him rflotig, postponing apologies
nntil f had him packed into my little
up town flafc-*nd introduced to my wife,
who was the dearest woman on earth to
me still, and who I knew could comfort
and console the tall Californian as 1
could not, for 1 had already discovered
that Sawyer had come east in pursuit of
the ejnige Weibliche.
When dinner was over my wife slipped
away to see if the baby was really sleep
ing as only such “bald headed tyrants”
can, leaving ns unnecessary and irre
sponsible men smoking and reminiscenc
ing in my den of 5 by 9.
Suddenly a blow on the door startled
Sawyer almost out of his chair.
■•His majesty wishes to ccrne in,” 1
said, rising and opening the door.
••What a magnificent brute!” exclaiin-
iugs like myself, after a brief visit to my
mother. " ,
“During these occasions I saw Mar
garet only once or twice, and always
carried away the disturbing impression
that she was in no way impressed either
by my superior manners or talents. This
was slightly annoying, as she was far
and away prettier than any girl of my
acquaintance, east or west. To be sure,
I had made her blush—such an exquisite
red—but it was with vexation. Upon
my first departure we had written one
another quite regularly, but abont the
middle of my first year 1 received a let
ter from her, in which she professed
humbly to believe that her western ways
were but s. burden to such an exalted
being as l had become—and wrote no
more. Her letters were so fresh and in
dividual that I missed them, but I was
fatnons enough to accept her silence as
a simple hearted tribute to my worth. 1
say, Sawyer, when a man is a fool how
many different ways be finds to show it!”
“Or when he is in loveH added Saw
yer ruefully.
“That stage was to come seen
enough. Along the last months of the
year I had caught ‘winged words’ here
and there regarding some not impos
sible she, spending a year in Boston,
who had become a creator of contention
between various givers of college
‘spreads.’ You were in ’80 and of
course not interested. Would this she
accept one or all of the invitations show
ered npon her? Would she like Van
Rensselaer's rooms best, filled aa they
were with old colonial furniture and
silver, or would she prefer to linger at
Tarrey’s, in a purely Bohemian atmos
phere, with boxing gloves and barrings?
“The affair promised to be interesting,
and 1 was bent upon being a witness
posribly myself not wholly unnoticed.
It was therefore with a very bad grace
that 1 read in a letter from my mother
tbftt Margaret Burton was in Boston,
anti asking ifte to see that she was suit
ably initiated into the preciousness of
things Harvardian. yet I was
piqued enough when in answer to my
formal note—1 had dispensed with the
needful call—1 received a closely worded
little note saying that 6he had already
accepted for ‘spreads’ at Weeds and
Halworthy. I had of course supposed
that she knew nobody, and had been l>y
no means averse to apt the mod***
mentor to a fair Telemacha. ‘Of
you’ve guessed the end. Even an
IS
HOW I LOVE HER.
Go. lasshing, leaping, romping rill—
Go where my love is straying.
And in the pools, when yoa are still.
Then list to what slic'd saying.
And with the sunny, summer skies
Of araro arched above her.
Show her her ov a angelic eyea
And tell her how I love her.
Go, gentle winds, soft, sighing winds—
Go where my love is sleeping.
And be about her window blinds
And through the curtains creeping.
Weave in the wimples of her hair
The tici feme of the elov^PT
Caress her face, ao sweet and fair.
Ami tell her bow ) love her.
—Cy Warmou in New York Sun.
A WAIF.
ed Sawyer. __
“Not. ’bwnte,’ if von please. Cal, hot t detective would have a clew by this,
my friend. A;nad«, kindly shake banns “But 1 was as unsuspicious as only a
with my old friend^ here and then com- | f ore g 0 ne conclusion can make one, and
pose yourself. You know your are j w j ien j satl ntered into White’s room* a*
rather pervasive In a room of this size ” J Kalwortby and saw Margaret
Afv' mastiff gravely did as he was b:d rnnmiMi Wv •iha snnerlatives.’ a
I
My mastiff gr;
and then eeUled himself at my side with
a thud that made the things shake on
the table.
’ “That’s about the only uncivilized
thing about him,” 1 said, laughing. “He
still remembers that his wild ancestors
had to make their bed in the wilderness
and crushed the tangle of vine and root
under them.”
Sawyer, who was quite as much of up
animal lover as myself, knelt down be
side the dog, fairly running over his
points of beauty aud of breeding—bis
coat of delicate fawn, silvery on flank
njjd shoulder; his breadth of chest and
strength of loin, the velvet blackness of
his muzzle, the whiteness of his teeth,
the clear brown of his eyes, the pure,
rich scarlet of his tongue, the black
markings of the mouth and the sinewy
power of his straight, wide paws.
“Where did you find such a magnifi
cent dog, you enviable fellow?” asked
Sawyer as he seated himself and re
lighted his cigar.
“Dear old clmm! He is getting pas
sive and rheumatic. I’ve owned him now
three years, and I’ve never yet regretted
the small fortune 1 had to pay to get
him from the former owner—a person
wholly unworthy to possess even a png.
But it is for better reasons than points
or pedigree that he is beloved next to
the boy, aud even the boy can’t put his
- nose out of joint. He was the dens ex
machina that gave me my wife.”
“Ah! That sonnds interesting,” said
Sawyer. “Tell me the whole story. I’ve
confided to you my plight, and you won’t
find a better listener.”
1 had never before felt the least in
clination to babble of my own affairs,
past or present, but if I could soothe and
distract the mind of this old classmate
that was plainly my duty. “Very well,
then, here goes for it. You will find it
as mild as a homceopathic pellet, but it
waa interesting enough to me.” I said
this with well affected indifference, but
was really eager to begin.
Margaret — my wife—-and I had
grown up together in a little town in
southern Ohio. Yon know the kind per
haps—everything pastoral and religious,
all church and no chaperons—where
the boys and girls were allowed the ut
most liberty, a liberty, it must be ad
mitted, they did not abuse, btit used and
enjoyed with a sort of sturdy sanity and
self respeck impossible in this gophisti-
tefl. crowded city of conventionalities.
e- 7 she''an<l't—lived Aide by side and
Id long and confidential conversations
er the stiff, green wire fence that sep-
atod our grape arbor from her bed of
'a roses. I saved the last sweet, frosty
inch for her, and at the first chill hint
winter helped her cover her roses
ith straw, making their tall stalks in-
qneer, angular scarecrows for Jack
rost’a terrifying. ,
“My mother was a New Englander,
i nd the thirst for knowledge of books
Ud men mat sinoldpred in her breast
lamed into power for her only son, and
o 1 was sent to Harvard. While still a
reshmau I came to regard my native
own as the vanishing point in the per-
H pective of an inglorious past. With
vhatalofty smilol shonld have received
I *: she hint'that the dark eyed little girl
I whom 1 had left to tie her roses alone
! . might one day amply avenge all my
> Mights! ...
“1 concealed my boyish delight in Jife
under the most pronounced end classic
•indifferentism,’ and I vondev even now
bow ever mv mother could pat up with
" 1 friends laughed »t my airs
j dislik-. j
found j
my vaca- 1
of be*
rounded by ‘the superlatives,’ as we
call them, smiling, gracious, witty and
wholly at ease, 1 was dnmfonnded,
overcome, ecrase. Whether it was that
my nativity spoke for me, or as 1 think
now, from pure womanly kindness, Mar
garet neither scorned me, as I deserved,
nor froze me, an she well knew how.
Bbe gave me her band in its long yello-T
glove, made a place beside her, and then
seemed to quite forget me.
I've made a lengthy preamble, but
the denouement is at band. Suffice it
that the next year 1 wa& her slavish
shadow. I climbed awkwardly down
out of the rarefied air of my superiority,
content to be in the same world with
her. She perhape Bnspected the truth
of one of my own epigrams—that it is
only an unrequited love that makee a
man good and keeps him humble. She
was sweet aud frank and charming, bat
she had no blnshes to hide from me.
There were’no quarrels to make up, and
while 1 got as many smiles as the rest—
and the rest were many and ardent—1
was never given a confidence nor made
trembling witness of a tear.
Wherever Margaret went I followed,
usually on a later train, as 1 was qlwaya
forbidden if 1 stated my intentions.
Now conies the crisis, modestly dra
matic! Margaret had gone to Narra-
gansett for a week. After two days I
found the town insupportably hot, and
getting off late arrived at the hotel
about 11 o’clock. There was dancing
in the ballroom, and as 1 registered at
the desk through the wide doors I could
see the lights and the moving figures.
As 1 hesitated there, making up my
mind, as there was no chance of a dance
with her, to grumble crossly off to bed
and a lovfer’s dreams, a child, almost a
baby, dashed suddenly out of the side
corridor’ and ran, screaming shrilly
through the doors and down the ate;
made by the dancers, who were begin
ning the lancers.
“Behind the child came an enormous
mastiff, his eyes blazing, a length of red
tongue showing between his dripping
jaws. 1 do not know to this day how 1
got there, bnt an ihstant later 1 stood in
the middle of-the ballroom holding the
child'high in the air. Then the child
began to ponnd my head and face,
kicking violently. The dog stopd.by
my side wagging his tail. A roar from
the men,and a heartless giggle from the
women began to enlighten ms When
the child’s mother took him from me
and began resentfully to smooth down
his tumbled laces l quite understood.
‘The dog was the pet and viottm ef
this enfant terrible, and 1 the beresf a
—comedy. Cruelly mortified and deep
ly disgusted, 1-turned to go. Somehow
stepped out of the group nearest me. It
was Margaret.. She held out her hand
to me, and in her eyes I read something
sweeter than .pity. I bought the dog.
who was pf ■ course Amado.”
At the sound of his name the mastiff
opened one eye sleepily and beat with
his great tail on the floor,—Dorothea
Lummis in Chicago Inter Ocean.
He Evades HU Own Instructions.
F. Marion Crawford says that he
Thinks there is a richer field for the nov
elist in the United States than in Europe.
And yet Mr. Crawford confines his' at
tention largely to Italy and pegleeta the
“original characters” of America, whom
he so much admires.—Rochester Herald.
A Brave Mon.
The man who has never needed to have
any teeth pulled out is the loudest in ad
vising the sufferer to “brace up like a
man and have the thing out at once.”—
Exchange,
. - ”*• •.
The great yard of the King George inn ’
at Cornchester was almost emptied of
men, horses and vehicles when Jeremiah
Mott, the Willowmere carrier, entered
it. It was then 8 e*clock of a winter
evening, and nearly everybody had gone
home from market. The stables of tin
King George were almost empty. In its
accustomed corner stood old Fanner
Scrooby’s gray mare, bnt that was not
unusual, seeing that Sorooby never went
home nntil he had finished his “market
day lowance.”
He was sitting in the bar parlor just
then, leisurely soaking his capacious
body with gin and water, and the ’ostler
know that the gray mare would have to
stand .in its stell for a good hour yet.
But it. was something very unusual to
see Jerry Mett’s stout pony In the sta
bles at that time, and the ’ostler was
curious to know the reason of the car
rier’s delay. As a nsual thing, Jcremiah
was off and away before 6.
“Yew.be late tonight, Master Mott,”
said the ’ostler as Jerry approached the
stable door. “You’m away home afore
this in general.” .
“Ah!” Jeremiah heaved a long sigh.
••Ai.f ton be right, William; yes, yon
bo right. Outward at 12 and inward at,
6—them is my rule, as a bovysual thing
—yes, oh, dear, yes.” __
“Well, yew he two hours late in going
bin wards tonight, then, Master. Mott,
for ’tis 8 now by parish church clock.”
“Ah, dear, yes!” said Jerry, helping
the ’ostler to yoke thb stoat pony into the
•hafts of carrier's eart. “Bnt 1 was
two hours late in »t*rtin from Willow-
mere, ye s*e, Willum. Oh, ah—yes of
course. Trouble, Willum, trouble it
was that did it ‘AH flesh is grass,’ ain’t
it, now, Willum?”
“Ah, yew be right, Master Mott. Yes,
•man as is born of woman’—very power
ful, effeetin words them be. Somebody
dead, Master Mott?’
“Yes,” said Jerry, heaving another
prodigious sigh. “Oh, yes, Willum. My
little grandowter.
“Nay. What, Bob’s little g’el? 1 be
sorry to hear - on’t. Master Mott.’ And
the only one they had too! Dear, dear!”
Ah!” sighed Jerry. “Ten month old
this very day, and as fine a child as ever
yew did see. The way it took nourish
ment! Oh, bnt.’tis a world o’ trouble is
this, nbw—ain’t it, Willum?’
“Yew be right- there,” said William.
•There do be a deal o’ deaths. Old
Simon Brown died last week—matter o’
ninety-fower he were. Ah, very sad is
this world—so it is.”
Aye,” said Jerry, climbing into his
cart and aging his lantern over its
ponteutt.: ' .hat they were all safe;
“aye, Willum, we be all born to trouble,
accordin to the Scripcher. Taka it very
bad. do some on ns, too, when we ho
called to kiss the rod too.”
“Hnman • natur, Master Mott, human
natnr. Yes, I l’eckon Bob and his pore
wife’ll take it very hard. Dear, dear, a
deal they did think o’ that child, sure-lyl
The way it were dressed—like a quality
infant. Ah, a sore trouble indeed.”
“Aye, Willum, and, ye seo, all the
more so ’cause Bob and his wife has no
more. Oh, a very desolate house in
deed, 1 assewer yon, Willum, when 1
come away. ‘Bob, my lad,’ I says, ‘yew
bear up. Listen to parson, Bob,’ I says.
‘Let him speak comfortable words,’
says I.”
“To be sure,” agreed the hostler. "Tis
very seasonable Is a bit o’ religion when
a man’s in trouble.”
“AyeP said ,Jerry, gathering np the
reins. “Ayel Buried it today they did,
Willum. Alongside my old woman it is
—God rest ’em both! Well, good night,
Wiliam—a very sad world is this here.”
Jerry went rumbling out of the yard
and through the archway into the glar
ing lights of the market place. Usually
he had stopped his pony at the sweet-
stuff shop and purchased a “marketing”
for Bob’s baby; tonight he drove sadly
past, for the baby was dead and beyond
the reach of lollipops. He could see the
little green grave in Willowmere
churchyard in hiB mind’s eye as he
drove slowly out of Cornchester and
turned into the dark country lane that
led homeward. Such a tiny mound
it was—how strange that it covered so
much of human love and sorrow l
It is it* miles from Cornchester to
Willowneoro, and between the market
town and the sleepy village lie two other
s—one a rathe? large colliery vtt-
called Pitmotrth, the other a tiny
hamlet called ^little Ashby. It was old
Jerry’s duty to call at both these places.
There, were parcels to deliver and com
missions to give an account of. Pres
ently therefore he pulled up at the Blue
Pig in Pitmouth, 'and after collecting
half a dozen miscellaneous-parcels from
his cart' disappeared into the inn. His
pony remained quietly outside. It was
accustomed to stay in the same spot ev
ery Saturday evening for at least half an
hour.
Everything was very quiet inside the
inn. The village lay a hundred yards
farther along the road, and the Bine
Pig waa therefore comparatively lonely.
Thus it happened the* no one was about
when a woman, carrying a square bas
ket hamper, came cautiously from the
direction of the
Jeremiah Mott’s
to see that no one
laid the basket very
Btraw in tho body of
moment she lin^e:
shawl closely about her face and harried
it way. ,
At the end of half an hour Jerry
emerged from the inn, climbed to his seat,
bade the pony proceed and rolled away
again. He left the colliery village be
hind him and was soon in the open
country. . Left to himself once more the
little green grave in Willowmere
churchyard began to haunt him again.
He sighed, as he pictured the lonely
cottage’ at home. Bob and his 'wife
would be there waiting his return, and
no doubt still sorely troubled by-their
bereavement.
' “Eh,” sighed Jerry to himself, “what
a deal o’ difference a little nn dew make,
snre-lyl I’d gi’ a hundred goold guineas
to have it back.”
The road grew rather rough. They
had been laying down a course of dross
upon it, and vitae pony staggered a bit as
he picked his way in the darkness over
the sharp points. The cart had nd
springs, and it began to jolt and shake
somewhat. Presently it got over the
stones and onto, smooth surfaces again.
Then Jerry was suddenly aware of a
ihild’s faint cry somewhere close at
tand. He started and pricked his eart
like a watchdogs
“Seems to rad like a child a-cryin,*
said he. “Yes; .’tis a child, sure-ly
Whoa, Robin, lad! Let’B see what thi
may be. Whoa; then!’’
The .pony stopped, and Jeremiah go I
down, and having lighted his lanter i
went over toward the hedgeside. Th ‘
S had stopped then. He looked aboi i
l curiously, bnt saw nothing. “Mm!
j>e pn t’other side,” said he, and wer t
stumping across the lane. Then tbjc
faint cry came again, and the carri
straightened himself up in amazemei
“Blessed if ’tain’t in mycartl”
he. “Well—well—this do be very
tickler strange. A child cryin in
cart.”
He held the lantern over the cart tail
and looked at the miscellaneous collec
tion of baskets, bags and parcels Ar
ranged there. And then his face grew
PEE-WEE.”
When the morning long was filled With
book
That burst from every tree,
I heard a foolish little bird
. That only sang “Pea-weeI”
And I spoko ont clear, so the bird could
'* hear,
“It really seems to me
If I couldn’t sing a different song
Than just ‘Pee-weel Pee-weei*
’ “I’d hide away from the songsters gar
In the thickest greenwood tree.
And I wouldn’t sing the foolish thing
To show my low degree.”
But the little bird, when he had heard
My wise speech, looked at me
With his bright eyes wide and his head
-a one side.
And said again, “Pee-weeP*
And I understood the lesson good
The little bird bad for me.
God gives one song, and we should sing.
If it only be "Pee-weel”
—Albert Annett in Youth’s Companion.
A CAPTAIN’S DREAM.
“Bnt, sir,” said the orderly in respect
ful remonstrance, “yon are annihilat
ed."
“Annihilated!” echoed the captain in
indignation.
“Yes, sir; the umpire sent word as
yon and all your company was swep’
away by the last discharge of the mi-
lishy."
“By the militia, too!” exclaimed the
captain. “Well, I’m d—d. Here, give
Ige my flask and sandwiches and take
the horse.”
The captain sat watching the fight as
it rolled over to -the opposite hill and
consuming his sandwiches. He was of
coarse annoyed at being annihilated;
bnt after all he was saved some march
ing in the sun, and the day was hot.
He wondered where he shonld be likely
to find his wife, who had expressed her
intention of trying to see something of
the maneuvers. By the time, however,
that he had finished his lunch and lit his
cigar he decided that he did not mnch
want to find his wife, and he lay back
and smoked in lnxnrions ease.
“Talk abont meeting death with resig
nation 1” mused he; “why, it’s splendid.
I’m sorry it was the militia, though. 1
suppose our charge was rather rash—a
Balaklavasort of’——
He nodded off, and his oigar fell from
his lips. Hardly had this happened
when be was roused by a sweet voice
Opening bis eyes, he saw before him p-
lovely girL •
“1 beg your pardon, sir,” she said,
“bnt conld yon tell me Where to find
mamma?”
The captain looked at the lady. “1
am dead,” he said; “dead men can’t find
mammes.”
“Yon don’t look very dead,” she an
swered. smiling.
“An Englishman never knows when
lie is dead,” said the captain in hazy
reminiscence; “bnt 1 have it on the au
thority of the umpire, if that will do.’
“1 left mamma just about here,” re
marked the lady.
“Then she’s undoubtedly annihilated
also. Nothing bigger than a mouse
conld have lived through that fire.”
■ "Mamma is mnch larger than
jmouse,” said the lady, smiling.
[j “Won’t you sit down?’ asked the cap
tain.
The lady, smiling again, sat down.
.She wore a simple dress of white, and
troubled, for he saw a hamper and d
not recognize it.
!‘Pear, dear]’’ said Jeremiah. “He:
be strange work, 1 misdoubt. 1 didn’t
never put that i’ my cart.”
The hamper lid was loose, and Jen
turned it back and gazed with astoi
ished eyea on the sight which present*
itself. For there, warmly wrapped
various ancient garments, lay a bat
girl, fair haired' and blue eyed, wl
stared at Jerry’s wrinkled and weathe
beaten face, and smiled contentedly.
“Dear-a-mel” said the carrier. "Dea
a-tnel"
He Btood staring at the baby nntil
began to whimper again. There was
feeding bottle in the basket with it, ar
Jerry hastened to thrust the tube ini
the little rosy mouth, at the came tin
giving voice to certain soothing chnekl
which he had used when hashing his lj
tie dead granddaughter to sleep. Then *
covered the baby np again fend went for
ward to Little Ashby and pnlled np
-the door of the “Brown Cow.” He s'
inside little more than two minutes, 4!d
when he came forth again the sto
comfortable looking landlady folio'
him to the cart.
“Look ’ee there, missis,” said J
holding his lantern over the sleep!
baby’s face. “Look *ee therel”
The landlady nodded and sighed.
“Ah, poor dearl” said she. “ ’Tis j
a dispensation o’ Providence, Maste
Mott—it is indeed. Take it home fc ,
Bob’s poor —ife—maybe it’ll comfort herlthe bine ribbon round her waist was ri-
the captain’s horror Beauty Jocelyx j
kissed his wife.
“Another?” asked Beauty Jocelyn.
“I shonld like it.” said the captain’s
wife.
This is a hideous nightmare.” thought
the captain.
'Just one more!” pleaded Beauty Joce
lyn.
‘Well, if you”— began the captain’s
wife.
Bnt the captain leaped to his feet
“The devil!” he cried.
“Oh, yon are awake now, dear, are
yon?” said his wife. "How imprudent
to sleep iff the son! i met Mr. Jocelyn,
and he kindly helped me to find yon.”
“I was delighted,” murmured Beauty
Jocelyrf.
“Delighted, yon scoundrel!” exclaimed
th# captain. “Yon dare to kiss ray wife
before my very eyes! And she—she per
mits it!” and the captain groaned.
‘My dear captain, 1 kiss your wife!”
expostulated Beanty Jocelyn with raised
eyebrows.
‘Charles! How dare you!” said the
captain's wife.
“You deny it? You have the audacity
to deny-it? Just now, this very moment,
you kissed her twice.”
‘You must have been dreaming.
Charles."
‘At first I thought 1 was.” said the
captain bitterly; “bnt I am awake now."
“Ah, bnt yon were dreaming!” in
sisted his wife, and her eyes wandered
from his face and looked down the hill
side.
Near the foot of the hill, side by side
with a stout woman in black, the cap
tain saw a white mnslin dress and a bine
sash. The eyes of the captain’s wife
rested an instant on the white and bine;
then they traveled back and dwelt npon
the captain’s face.
“Yon were certainly dreaming,” said
the captain's wife, and Beanty Jocelyn
smiled.
A pause followed. The captain
thought he heard a light langh wafted
by the breeze from the foot of the hill.
He looked again at his wife. His wife
smiled.
“1 must have been dreaming,” said
the captain.
Beanty Jocelyn laughed.
“Bnt are you awake now?’ asked his
wife.
“Well, yon woke me,” said the cap
tain.
“1 thought we should,” said his wife,
“Shall we go home now, Charles?'
“Perhaps we had better."
“Yon don’t want to sleep any more?’
“No; 1 think, on the whole, 1 have
slept enough."
“On the whole, perhaps you have.”
His wife took the captain’s arm and
bowed to Beanty Jocelyn. *
"An revoir!” said Beauty Jocelyn, and
jivhen the captain saw him last he was
tacking warily down the hill in the wake
of the white and bine.
“1 think Mr. Jocelyn likes dreams
too,” said the captain’s wife.—True Flag.
for the loss of the other.”
So Jeremiah set forward over the last
mile of road to Willowmere. The baby
slept quietly all the way, for the road
was smooth, and the motion of the cart
was soothing.
Poor Bob, his eyes red with weeping
for the dead baby, was at the gate to
welcome his father. Jeremiah got down
from his perch very softly’ and ap
proached him.
-“Now, my lad,” said Jerry, “how do
'ee feel now like, and how’s poor Mary?’
“Bad—very bad, feytfier, is Mary,"
said Bob. “Her sits by the hearthstone
and don’t say a word to nobody. Mis
tress White—she says ’at if on’y Mary
’nd cry a bit ’t would do her good, bnt
her don’t cry—not a tear.'
Bob,” said the old man, “look thee
here!"
He held the lantern over the sleeping'
baby. Boh, opening his eyes and month,
stared and gazed in amazement. The
old man set down the light, and lifting
the child from its nest turned with it
toward the house. Mary sat by the
hearth as he entered, her eyes dry and
burning, her face full of despair.
“Mary,” said old Jeremiah very softly.
“Mary—look thee here, my dear.”
He laid the sleeping baby on her knee.
It suddenly woke and shed the fall light
of its blue eyes npon her. For a second
she gazed at it wonderingly; then she
clasped it in her arms, and the hot tears
began to rain down npon its ronnd little
face. Old Jeremiah watched the little
group wonderingly; then he turned,
sighed and went back to his cart.—
Newcastle Chronicle.
Inventions of Women,
Women Inventors by do means con
fine themselves to- those departments
where they might be supposed to possess
special experience. Patents have been
granted to women for a plan for dead
ening the noise on railways, for pre
venting sparks from locomotives, for
sweeping the streets, for a new form of
life vaft, for textile manufactures, elec
trical' appliances, and in London a
woman has patented a machine for
making watch screws that is provided
with a thread so dedicate as to be almost
invisible, and so perfect as to cut threads
on a human hair.—New York Sun.
ed by the bine of her eyes.
“1 mustn’t stay long,” she said.
"At a moment like this,” remarked
j|ie captain, “a man’s memory wanders
ree through the delightful labyrinths of
jouth and love”
\ “Love! Are you married?’
1 was married,” answered the cap-
And yon were thinking of your wife?"
while his fancy,” pursued the cap-
n, “pictures joys yet in the future—
haps tha near future.”
'he lady was picking a daisy to pieces,
i) raised her eyes for a moment and
jked at the captain.
But if yen are dead”— she suggested.
Now yon,” the oxptain continued,:,
tg himself on his elbow, “are too
even to have thought of a kiss!"
have certainly never thought mnch
kiss,” said the lady.
£he thought does not fill yon with
oua trepidation?”
h, no.’’
[thought not,” said the captain in a
ed tone. “It does me, you know.”
hi” said the lady. ^
Ion can’t know what it’s like.”
e often kissed mamma.”
jt’s not quite the same thing; still,
• me how you kiss mamma.”
/.ell, supposing my hand was mam-
|I should go like that.”
sea. And what would mamma do?”
h, 1 can’t show yon that. My hand
kiss me, yon know.”
\ift supposing 1 were yonr hand”-—
Vs nonsense, isn’t it? I couldn’t
;e that.”
^i-11, then, supposing 1 were mam-
5
" Some Interesting Relics.
What appears to be the most interest
ing archaeological discovery since the
settlement of western New York by the
whites waa made recently near the city
line. Workmen who were engaged in
laying ont a new street turned np
quantity of hnman bones and copper in
struments, which bo excellent an author
ity as W. U. Bryant believes to be relics
of the Kah Kwahs, the little known
tribe of peaceful Indians who occupied
this region before the days when the
Senecas came to keep the western door
of the Long House.
The early and complete extinction of
this nation by the more warlike and bet
ter organized lroqnois left little more
than a legend of them to inspire the
poetical fancy of the lamented David
Gray, and to fnrnish a name for a cot
tage on the lake shore. If further in
vestigation shall tend to confirm Mr.
Bryant’s apparently well founded con
jectures^ the relics discovered will add
distinctly to onr knowledge of the people
whose fires burned here long before ours
were kindled.
This was an ancient burying ground
for a race of giants, judging from the
size of the bones found in the loamy soil
of the hill. They show the men to have
been very large.—Buffalo Courier.
A Way Out of It.
The other day a journal, hitherto with
out a spot on its character, inquired with
well feigned innocence, “How can five
persons divide five eggs so that each man
will receive one and still one remain in
the dish?’ • After several hundred people
went two-thirdg distracted in the mazes
of this proposition, the journal meanly
“One takes tlie dish with the egg.”
you’re not a bit like mamma."
ve it. Suppose yon were inaa-
I were yon”
[t would do capitally; bnt we
|t trouble. I’ see mamma coming
| ointed, and at the foot of the
iptaia also saw mamma.
i she good sight?’ asked the eap-
she Is nearsighted. Fm afraid
she’ll ot seo tis.”
1’ said the captain, and he kissed
With a little cry and a little
he sprang np and ran down the
iptain closed his eyes, bnt in a
ia well known voice made him
again. His wife stood before
l-.e was looking very handsome, -
thonght. By her side stood
young Icelyn—Beauty Jocelyn, as they
called 1(q—the last joined cornet. The
captai%iife and Beauty Jocelyn stood
just in IpJit of the captain, some six feet
see why not," said the cap-
> beauty Jocelyn, and to
AN ELEGANT BALL.
To be Given for the Benefit of the
Bloomfield Band.
The Bloomfield Brass band desires to
pay the balance doe upon the instru
ments used by its members. They
have succeeded in getting together a
large portion of the money necessary
to pay for them, bat still need a small
sum to complete the payments.
They intend giving an elegant ball
tomorrow and tomorrow night at the
Clarke R flja’ Armony on Broad street,
and will charge a small admission prioe
for the benefit of the band. Strict or
der will be preserved, and an enj iyabl ;
time is promised those who attend.
Our people should help this band odt
in a financial way and assist in putting
it in a condition where it can furnish
good music on all occasions in Athens
Athens needs a good band, and the
members of the Bloomfield band are
endeavoring to give her one, and they
shonld be aided and assisted in every
way possible for among her most nr
gent needs is a brass band.
ssfsc
Bie Hunt.—Sheriff Weir besides be-
iug the best sheriff in the state is the
b033 hunter. He returned Friday nigbt
with 185 rabbits andG5 partridges. We
might add that the sheriff had at least
25 helpers to kill the above number of
rabbits and partridges.
CHRISTMAS IN All
WHAT COULD BB BEEN AMO?
THE ATHENS POOR ANO HOW
CHRISTMAS CAN "jSa
—
BE ftUDE HAPPY
By Visiting the Fatherless and W»J
ows In their Afmotion.
Cotton has been selling high, go
weather has broughtrth raaoy people
the city and hae in'oreased the t
among the merchants and bust
mar, the manufacturers are in
spirits over the work of the past
and the prot pacts for the next. A roatt
usevsry one s»emi to be pleased an
prosperous. Every one senna to aati
cipate a happy and a j >yful Christinas]
A few days ago the Sannkr reports
visited some families In Esut Athem
that he had heard of as not heir g in th
best of ciroumstanoes.
The first was the home of a widow,
one roomed cottage comprised the en
tire household. She was surrounde-
by four small children, the youngesi
two years old, the oldest ten. Th
furniture was poor and scarce,
children scantily ulotbed and Mrs.
looked worn and tired.
Upon inquiry It was learned that om
child, twelve years of age, was at wor
earning four dollars per month, andi
upon this and what money she madi
by sewing, washing, ate.,
the entire family subsisted
Her life had been comparatively pleas
ant nntil a ye-ur ago, when 6he lost her
husband, at the reoital of which she
almost broke down. He had tried to
save the life of a drowning child in the
Oco nee and succeeded, but lost his own.
Some good church friends had raised
money enough to pay the faneral ex
penses and pay for the little home she
lived in. With her life was indeed a
struggle. The future looked dark, and
the prospeot of the coming Christmas
gave her little hope.
The next family visited was one that
lived on Oak street. The home was one
room in a long frame building occupied
Dy several families. A widowlay sick—&
hard, heavy cough caused her c insider-
able pain. She was evidently the vic
tim of that relentless and sad disease,
consumption. Three children depended
upon her for care and support, the old
est thirteen years old, earned $1.50 per
week in the co-ton factory and on tl is
the family liveu. The city physicist
was attending her and’ supplying her
with medioinc. It could be easily seen
though that more was needed than
medicine to relieve ber sufferings.
Her story was as follows: After her
husband died two years ago, leaving
ber with three small children, she found
herself almost unable to support them.
Her home was then in the country and
she resolved to move to Athens, \kith
the hope of making enough to support
them by finding employmet in the cot
ton factory. “ I worked in the ootton
factory until 1 became too weak to work
any longer. Some kind ladies have
brought me some clothes for the
children and other things since I have
been sick.”
Although the room was poorly and
scantily furnished it had an air of clean
liness about it that showed that, neglect
or carelessness was no fault of the home !
Another home visited was on Peter
street. A husband, wife and four child
ren made up the family. The youngest
child was four, the oldest thirteen years
old. For ten weeks both husband and
wife had been prostrated with sickness
with the wages of a little girl at the
factory sb their only support. Both
were now recovering. Some kind ladies
had bronght some clothing to the child
ren and help to the family..
These ace only a few of the many
cases of want and unrelieved suffering
in and about Athens.
The ladies who have for several weekglffi
past been visiting and relieving Apse ’
families are a committee represen C'Y
neither creed or denomination yvht v ^
independently carrying- on-'this nobler - s
work.
Mrs. J. W. Brumby, Mrs. W. W.
Thomas and Mrs. Joe Fleming have
tried to mskeChristmas*pleasant-time
for as many people as their efforts and
work would let them.
Tuesday afternoon at the residency.ef
Mrs. W. W. Thomas about seventy-dive
poor children will be provided with
clothing, toyB,.caodies and almost every
thing that will help to make them com-
fortable and happy.
There may be some who were not
&ware of this work going on and would
like to spare from their abundance
something that -*=ou!d relieve some
one’s want. Tb^'^pnce of Mrs, W.
W. Thomas at ?t«5^~jnce avenue, ia the
headquarters for the Christmas giving
to the poor and what is sent there will
be wisely and well disposed of.
About 3 o’clock yesterday evening
about twenty good sized packages, filled ’
with all kinds of Christmas toys, fruits
and presents, left the rooms of the jfejj
Young Men’s Christian Association,
carried by members of tb«f^
partment to twenty poor^
different quarters
For several
Do notallow yourself to be imposed on WO rking hard in
by the many novel scheme", advertising j t hese gifts
newand u - t’ied so-called cough r‘ir 5 — — -
edi s; but stick to the old’reliable,
Bull’s Cough Syrup, the unfa'ltng
lor all affections of the throat ank chesi
Christm
“bringing goo
and feeling
jlessed to give than to
