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VOLUME Y.
HIS BRIDE OF THE FOREST.
A STORY OF LOVE, AMBITION AND
BROKEN VOWS.
The Heir of a Wealthy English Family
and His Life in the West-An Aban
doned Wife and Child and
Their Good Fortunes.
Cleveland Plaindcalor.
Had n traveler chanced to pass along
the line of construction of the Atlantic
A Great Western railway, now the New
York, Pennsylvania & Ohio railroad,
early in the summer of 18G3, all along
the lino at irregular intervals he would
.havo met with buildings temporarily
•erected for the use of the grading aud
Wasting hands. In the foreground of
one of these same shanties down in cen
tral Ohio lies the lirst scene of the fol
lowing narrative:
Thirty or forty-section hands are
ranged around in groups, some chatting
over a game of cards, some smoking
their evening pipe, others stretched
.upon the ground, resting after a hard
Gay’s work.
The majority of them great, brawny
muscled fellows, powerful in limb and
broadth of chest. Apart from the gene
ral crowd "’ore Uo y° un £ men vfll0 >
though dresseu shnilar to their fellow
laborers, were tobw. 1 / UTilike thi nin
manner and appearance. 1C
glance would reveal the fact ie y
were brothers, and the flashes C.
from the fire before the camp revealed
the features of Englishmen in every lino.
The elder, Hamlin Maxelton Middle
ton, heir to Middleton Hall, Carmathen
sliire, England, was a tall, well built,
dark complexioned young man who had
barely reached his majority. The
younger Couraue Maxelton Middleton,
was a pronounced blonde with a clear
cut profile and boyish figure.
The small, perfectly shaped hands and
feet, tho high-born mauner of both be
spoke their gentle origin.
They were earnestly conversing con.
coming the events which had occurred
since' fhey, in anger with their father for
the manner in which ho held them in
check an id curtailed their liberties, left
the parental .roof aud relinquished all
claim to the rich. fields and elegant man
sions which had been their home and
the home of.thcir ancestors for genera
tions in the past. Thd.most diligent re
search could not have produced two men
so little adapted to the life they were
following.
Reared among the gentry of England,
without a thought of care, they were
.tofculy unlit for the life they were follow
ing, and although scarcely twelve
months had passed since they had fann
ed in America, already what little money
they brought with them was gone and
they were destitute. Disheartened, they
were determined to write to their
mother for assistance. Conrado wrote
to her imploring aid, and the mother in
reply to her favorite’s letter sent them
£IOOO, with a promise of more tc follow.
With that the brothers invested in
210 aOfc ea °* l aU( I 011 ie hue of the rail
road and bfc ar ! a Baw uiill.
They were L'ulsily employed getting
out timber for the railroad, and soon the
Englishmen were conspicuous for theii
easy circumstances and thrifty ways.
Business was constantly improving,
but a cloud was overshadowing them
which threatened at any moment to
break. The brothers were boarding at
the house of a man by the name of
•Chard, and whose land joined theirs, in
whoso employ was a domestic by the
name of Mary Loganecker, noted in all
that vicinity for her beauty and winning
ways.
Miss Louganeckor was a charming
young miss of some 19 years, of respect
able parentage, with a name above re
proach.
lathe course of a few weeks Miss
liongftuecker and young Conrado struck
up an acquaintance which soon ripen
ed into moat ardent love. “They
loved not wisely but too well,” for
early in the spring of 18G5 Miss
Longanecker brought action against
Conrade for broach of promise, while
another action Was brought against him
for bastardy. The latter case was dis
missed and the former settled tem
porarily for a linancial consideration,
while the son should write homo to ob
tain the eoeeat of his father.
Tu e father’s answer was characteristic
of the mk. u ant l vei T tersely forbade his
son, Conrad's Maxwell Middleton of
Middleton Hall, parrying Mary A.
Longanecker or any jnaideu not of
gentle blood.
Supported by this protest young Mid
dleton’s attorney easily brought about
a settlement which, if not entirely satis
factory, nevertheless had remained un
broken for twenty-one years. At this
point anew figure appears in the person
of the mother of the boys, who, through
the father having heard of the trouble ol
her younger so 1, hurriedly comes to
America, and reaches her son in time to
iiud him the father of a little girl baby,
'With all her family features already
allowing in its childish lace. Partly
through love of the child, it may be
p irtly in sorrow for the mother, she
patiently waits at the bedside ot the
poor domestic whose ruin her soiT had
brought about.
A straflge picture. One of England's
high born ladies, proud beyond her race,
with the personal aud intellectual at
tractions of a queen, nursing the almost
unknown girl, whose entrance into their
English home had been denied.
Week after week she lived at the
humble home of the farmer, nursing
and caring for her grandchild and its
mother.
Finally the little babe is weaned, aud
after much persuasion the mother con
sents to give up her offspring aud re
linquish it to her who has been its con
stant watch since its birth. Relying
upon the grandmother’s promise to edu
cate and care for the child, she renounces
all claim to it aud promises to make no
inquries into its future, totally to forget
that the child lived. The brothers leave
their affairs iu the hands of an attorney,
and with the mother aud tho babe depart
for England. Soon after a letter with
an English postmark reaches the betray
ed girl, informing her that her child
died on board ship and was buried at
sea.
After the lapse of ofie year tho father
died, aud soon after Hamlin, the elder
son, and the younger, Conrade, became
the heir.
'When the brothers left England Con
rade was betrothed .to a young lady
who lived on a neighboring estate, but
the match was not congenial to him, a 8
it was an arrangement of his parents and
being compulsory necessarily was dis
tasteful to him.
Rut coming together again when each
had attained mature thoughts and years
many attractions before undiscovered
Logan to make themseives known in her
to hind.
Truthfully he told her his story, hold
ing back nothing, and she, who had
never ceased to love him, and in the
following summer became his bride.
By this marriage lie had two children,
but his heart still retained a tender
member for the little*, waif that was
being raised as the adopted daughter
of his mother’s. Two years in succession
he came back to America and hunted
through Ohio, Indiania Illinois. Twice
he comes aud goes in safety, but the
third trip was his last. His body was
found one morning iu the woods with a
bullet hole in his forehead, another
through his heart. His watch, an elegant
affair, set with diamonds, his jewelry
and gun are gone. The motive of the
murderer and the perpetrator of the
robbery are as yet undrecovered.
Whether he was murdered through
need of gold or for revenge'is hot known.
His remains were embalmed and sent
back to his native land to be there laid
to rest in the vault of his ancestors.
Fifteen years have passed and wrought
wonderful changes. The wife and
children are gone, the mother has pass
ed away, aud one heir alone remains to
the vast Middleton estate. And that
heir is the little waif, the adopted
daughter, the illegitimate child, who,
raised in luxury, had every Advantage
Wealth and position could give, educa
tion bestow, and to-day in her adopted
name is one of the belles of London,
whose name frequently in the newspa
pers meets the eye. To-day the honor
ed mistress of a fine estate of England,
the occupant of a palatial home, she
lives in ignorance of her birth aud pa
rentage.
The mother. Her parentage. Ah !
another example of life’s contrast. A
few weeks ago J saw the mother, who
was once a beautiful, light-hearted girl;
but now, alas! a wreck.
The betrayed girl, shortly afteY the
news of her child’s death, married a man
in fairly well-to-do circumstances. Ill
fortune hovered over him; step by step
lie fell, until now there is scarcely any
cup of degradation at which he has not
supped. The daughter, a belle in soci
ety, fair to look upon, while the mother
is living a hand-to-hand existence in an
almost vain and useless struggle with
poverty.
The occupant of an old log cabin in the
heart of a swamp, with windows devoid
of glass, a blanket before the door, the
wife of an acknowledged thiet who
spends his time hunting by gay and
stealing by night.
GUIDK FOR GIKI-iS.
Do not “choose an opposite.” You will
be opposite enough in time.
Take your mother’s advice on the ques
tion ora husband, provided she took her
mother’s.
Either put your foot down on liis cigar
before marriage or make up your mind to
keep quiet about it afterward.
Learn to cook and sew if you can, but
above all things learn to keep still and
look sweet when mad enough to take the
roof olf.
See and hear all the plays, operas and
concerts you can during the engagement.
Pad weather is very apt to interfere after
marriage.
When furnishing a house make sure of
an easy chair, a foot rest, an open grate
and a corn-popper, if you would enjoy the
bliss of matrimony to the full.
Don't ask your broth r about the per
sonal habits of a suitor. He can’t tell
enough to matter without giving himself
away, and lie won’t do that.
Do not be offended when Ids sister in
voluntarily wonders what any woman of
taste can see in him to admire, lie mem
ber how you hate your own brother.
If he asks if you can sew on buttons,
answer “No.” A man who has not at
some time or other been obliged to sew on
his own buttons lacks a very necessary
' part of life’s discipline.
CAKTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1886.
A FAMOUS OUTLAW.
THE SPOTTED CAREER OF A DES
PERADO.
Ono of the Revolutionary Terrors of the
Whig Families—The Daring and
Desperate Captain Fitz -How
He Met His Death—Etc.
Philadelphia Times.
In tiie gray of a misty morning, Septem
ber 26tli, 1778, at Providence arid Edge
mont Avenues, in the borough of old
Chester, was executed the intrepid outlaw,
Captain James Fitzpatrick, the terror of
the whig revolutionary forefathers of
Chester county.
Captain Fitz, as he dubbed himself, was
a blacksmith by trade. He was a patriot
volunteer early in 1776 with the “Flying
Camp” of Chester county, which went to
participate in the disastrous battle of Long
Island. He might have taken not only a
hand in the engagement that killed or
consigned to prison ships most of the “Old
Pennsylvania Line,” but have attained
rank with the best blood of them all, had
not a brutal flogging for slight disobedi
ence changed the current of his future ac
tions. Deserting the patriot cause he
swam the Hudson river, crossed New Jer
sey and reached Philadelphia, homeward
bound to Chester county. He was arrest
ed in this city aud safely quartered in the
old Walnut street prison. On promising
to renew his military life he was let go;
but the memory of that flogging haunted
him, and when the British appeared at
the Elk river, preparatory to the battle of
Brandywine, Fitz joined the enemy’s
ranks.
FORAGING ON TIIE NEIGHBORS.
Subsequently, when the victorious Brit
ish, under General llowo, took possession
of Philadelphia, Fitzpatrick was therein
the role of captain, with a lieutenant of
of his own choice named Mordecai Doher
ty. With a small command they terror
ized their old neighbor whigs in Chester
county! Their headquarters were often
at “Hands Hass,” near the present town
of Coatesville. The tax collector seems to
have been the particular object of Fitz’s
affections. It is related that on a certain
foraging expedition, falling in with two
of these worthies armed with muskets and
entering into conversation with him, they
inquired if he had ever seen this Captain
Fitzpatrick. One of them, Captain Mc-
Gowan, was particular bellicose in expres
sing the great pleasure it would give him
a lesson. On hearing this Fitz drew out
his pistols, giving them to understand lie
was the individual in question and would
be obliged to fork out their money and
valuables. The boastful captain was
forced to resign his military sword and
pistols, his queue was cropped close and,
being tied to a tree, he was severely flog
ged. On representing that the watch
Fitz helped himself to was a family relic
it was returned. An old ballad says :
Some lie did rob, then let thorn go free,
Bold Captain McGowan he tied to a tree ;
Some he did whip and some he did spore,
lie caught Captain McGowan ami cut off his hair.
A VIGILANCE COMMITTEE FORMED,
These daring acts of lawlessness led the
whigs of Chester to combine in an effort
to capture the outlaw and to this end they
offered a reward of SI,OOO for liis head.
Several vigilance committees were on the
hunt and meetings were hold to devise
plan? to bring the outlaw to justice,
Fitznatiick himself put in an incog ap
pearance at one of these meetings at a
tavern on the West Chester road. A mi
litia captain was holding forth in grandil
oquent style, dilating on the eminent
pleasure it would afford him to meet Cap
tain Fitz face to face that lie might hand
him over. The outlaw watched his
chance and when the noisy captain was
alone, he approached him and said be
could have liis wishes gratified relative to
Captain Fitz. He was invited to a neigh
boring room to see the outlaw face to face.
011 entering the room Fitz locked the
door and leveled a candlestick at the
dumbfounded captain’s head, saying:
“Young man, you want to see Cap Fitz ?
I am that person. I’ll trouble you for
your watch and the money you have
about you.” With hands tied with his
oym handkerchief behind his back, die
captain was told : “You may go back tp
your friends and tell them that you
wanted to see Cap Fitz and you have
seen him.” The proclamations of the ex
ecutive county committee offering a prize
for hia. head made him a target for con
cealed marksmen, yet he escaped, appear
ing even in broad daylight in Kennett
Square, with pistols and dagger, at the
“Unicorn,” the noted tavern of that time.
It is said that the people made way for
him as he passed, but these
must have been tory friends, who were
very numerous and influential- there
abouts.
THE OUTLAW A HE KG.
Never was it said that Fitz molested a
tory, robbed a poor peddler or insulted a
female. Tins brought him into favorable
recognition with the young ladies who
sympathized with lying George*
and they regarded the outlaw- as a hero.
On August 22, 1778, he called at the house
of Captain McAfee, an ardent whig, resid
ing near Castle Rock, a romantic spot,
where the West Cluster road crosses
Crum creek, about ten mile3 from Ches
ter. Inquiring if Wm. McAfee lived
there, lie was given to understand polite
ly that he was talking to the son, Robert
(Captain) McAfee. Rejoining, “1 am Cap
tain Fitzpatrick,” he was politely invited
by the muscular McAfee to tea. Fitzpat
rick gave them to understand there were
four of them; that he came to levy a con*
tribution.ot £l5O, and, drawing pistols,
demanded the needful.
Espying a handsome pair of buckled
shoes on young McAfee he was not loDg
discussing their utility. Thwarted in not
finding the money after ransacking all the
drawers, or rather compelling Captain
McAfee to do so, he imposed, as a penalty
that McAfee should join him in his next
excursion.
ms CAPTURE AND EXECUTION.
Ordering the four helpless ones —Mc-
Afee’s wife, children and housemaid—in
to line, he was fixiqg on the buckled
shoes, and in the exertion to get them on
used both hands. Tin# was McAfee’s op
portunity. He suddenly sprang on the
outlaw and held hi# arms, while the
housemaid, Rachel Walker, seized the
hand holding the pistol and wrenched it
trom his grasp. He was safely taken to
prison on the 15th of September, was tried
and convicted of burglary and robbery at
the county seat, at Chester. He was sen
tenced fo. execution on the 26th. It is
said the outlaw was'strangled to death,
his shoes touching the ground as the cart
was drawn from under him, and that the
executioner brutally aided the work of
strangulation by jumping on his back.
A WORTHY SON OK A BRAVE AND
GALEAN I* SIRE.
Mr. Editor: Will you allow' us a
line or two to speak in behalf of our young
friend, James Miihollin, who is offering
himself as a candidate for the position of
Tax Collector of our county? We, as his
neighbors, feel a deep interest in his elec
tion, knowing him to be honest, capable
and in every respect able to make the
county a most efficient officer. We have
known him intimately from the cradle to
the present hour, and knew his father,
Maj. John Miihollin, before him. His
father was for many years clerk of the
county court and only resigned the posi
tion to take up his sword in defense of his
country. His father, as a soldier, was a
most gallant officer and was ever ready to
lead his command where honor called and
duty commanded. His young life was
poured out on the battlefield, leaving a
widow and six small children as the only
legacy. James was then bat a little boy
but with the energy and determination of
a man, w’ith the wind and tide all against
him went to work to aid his widowed
mother to earn a support. His neighbors
all knew how hard and constantly he
worked for this end in the dark days of
reconstruction, and how nobly be has
been the stay and staff all along to his
mother and sisters.
lie is now a married man with a sweet,
nobfe woman for a wife with three inter
esting little children. He is struggling
hard against poverty with a strong and
noble desire of giving his children an ed
ucation and further aiding his mother and
sisters. His neighbors have persuaded
him to ask this office of their fellow-citi
zens. Now, fellow-soldiers and fellow
countrymen, let us unite in bestowung
this benefit upon a brave and illustrious
sire. By so doing ive perform but our
duty to the dead to the aid of a worthy
fellow-citizen, His Neighbors.
HAVE A BURRO.SK.
Young man, have a purpose in your
heart. Now r , what is your purpose iu
life? Is it that, under all circumstances,
you will do what you think is right? Or
is it to become rich at the expense of
principle and right? The first purpose
you should have is to caro for yourself.
Young men nowadays don’t; and when
the body is wrecked, they hobble through
life, making everybody about them mis
erable. Find out what diet best agrees
with you, and adhere to it. Daniel began
by abstaining from wine. This would be
a good start for you, young man.
Next, take care of your intellect. Study;
if you have intellect —there are some
young men who don’t know whether or
not they have any intellect —improve it-
Many hard-worked men have acquired
( profound education by being studious
during small intervals of leisure. Get an
hour a day if you can get no more. De
vote half of it to the study of the Bible,
and divide the remaining 30 minutes be
tween, say geology, botany and astronomy.
Do this one year and you will be surprised
at what you have accomplished,
Then take care of your manners. The
manners of Americans arc degenerating.
There w r as a time when a young man
would not offend a lady by puffing cigar
smoke into her thee. Now 1 see it done on
the street cars every day. Imitate the
sweetness and gentleness of Daniel. Be
affable, suave, courteous and kind. Never
utter a thoughtless word that will pain.
Start in life with the principle, “I’ll be a
gentleman, come what will.”
A HUMAN FOOT IN THE STREET.
At Savannah the other morning con
siderable excitement was created at the
corner of South Broad and Abercorn
streets by the discovery of a human foot.
A large crowd had gathered around it
and considerable speculation was indulged
in as to w hose foot it w'as. Several gave
it as their opinion that it was the foot of a
be ir. A Times reporter, not satisfied
with any of the explanations given,
called at Dr. Norton’s residence and asked
the doctur to look at it. The doctor read
ily accompanied the reporter, and pro
nounced it a human foot, without a
doubt. He gave it as his opinion that the
foot had been amputated at the hospital,
and had been brought down to South
Broad street by a dog. This seems to be
the best explanation. Some ventured the
opinion that the foot might be—the first
clue to a terrible tragedy.
ICHTHYOSAURUS HI NT.
PITIFUL VICTIMS OF A PRACTICAL
JOKE.
Tramp Fire Days Along; Bitter Creek in
Search oi an interesting Wild
Animal.
Bill Nye, in Chicago News.
Several years ago I had the pleasure of
joining a party about to start out along
the banks of Bitter creek on a hunting
expedition. The leader of the party was
a young man who had recently escaped
from college with a large amount of
knowledge which he desired to experi
ment with on the people of the far w r est.
He had heard that there was an ichthyo
saurus up somewhere along the west side
of Bitter creek, and he wanted us to go
along and help him to find it.
I had been in the w'est some eight or
nine years then, and I had never seen an
ichthyosaurus myself, but I thought the
young man must know his business, so I
got out my Winchester and went along
with the group.
We tramped over the pule, ashy, glar
ing, staring stretch of desolation, through
burning, quivering days of mo
notony and sagebrush and alkali water
and aching eyes and parched and bleed
ing lips and nostrils, cut through and
eaten by the sharp alkaline air, mentally
depressed and physically worn out, but
cheered on and braced up by the light
and joyous manner of the ever hopeful
James Trilobite Eton of Concord.
James Trilobite Eton of Concord never
moaned, never gigged back or shed a hot
remorseful tear in this powdery, hungry
waste of gray, parched ruin. No regret
came iorth from liis lips in the midst of
this mighty cemetery, this ghastly pot
ter’s field for all that nature had ever
reared that was too poor to bear its own
funeral expenses.
Now and then a lean, soiled gray coy
ote, without sufficient moral courage to
look a dead mule in the hind foot,
slipped across the horizon like a dirty
phantom and faded into the not and
tremulous atmosphere! We scorned such
game as that and trudged on, cheered by
the hope that seemed to spring eternal in
the breast of James Trilobite Eton of
Concord.
Four days we wallowed through the
unchanging desolation. Four nights we
went through the motions of slumbering
on the arid bosom of the earth. On the
fifth day James Trilobite Eton said we
were now getting near the point where
we would find wliSt' we sought. On we
pressed through the keen, rough blades
of the seldom bunch-grass, over the shift
ing, yellow sand and the greening gray of
the bad-land soil which never does any
thing outsit around through the accumu
lating centuries and hold the world to
gether, a kind of powdery poison that de
lights to creep into the nostrils of the
pilgrim and steal away his brains, or
when moistened by a little snow to accu
mulate around tire feet of the pilgrim or
on the feet of the pilgrim’s mule till he
has the most of an unsurveyed forty on
each foot, and the casual observer is
cheered by the novel sight of one home
stead striving to jump another.
Towards evening James Trilobite Eton
gave a wild shriek of joy and ran to us
from the bed of an old creek, where lie
had found the bed of an ichthyosaurus.
The animal was dead. Not only that,
but it had been dead a long, long time!
James Milton Sherrod said that “if a
college education was of no more use to a
man than that he, for one, allowed that
his boy would have to grope through life
with an academical education, and very
little of it.”
I uncocked my gun and went back to
camp a sadder and madder man, and
though years have come and gone 1 am
still irritable when 1 think of the live
days we tramped along Bitter creek
searching for an animal that was no long
er alb'e, and our guide knew it before we
started.
1 ventured to say to J. Trilobite Eton
that night, as we all sat together in. the
gloaming discussing whether he should
be taken home in the capacity of a guide
or as a remains, that it seemed to me that
a man ought to have more sense than to
wear his young life away trying to have
fun with his superiors in that way.
“Why, blame it all,” says James, “wlxat
did you expect? You ought to know
yourself that that animal is extinct!”
“Extinck!” says James Milton Sherrod,
in shrill, angry tones. “I should say he
was extinck. That’s what we’re kickin’
about. What galldcd me was that you
should of waited till the old cuss was ex
tinck before you come to us like a man
and told us about it. You pull us through
the sand for a week and blister our heels
and combemb near kill us, and all the
time you know that the thing is layin’
there in the hot sun gittin’ more and
more extinck every minute. Fun is fun,
and I like a little nonsense now and
then, just as well as you do, but I’ll be
eternally banished to Bitter creek if 1
think it square or right or white to play
it on your friends this Kind of a way.
“You claim that the animal has been
dead goin’ on 5,000 years, or something as
that, and try to get out of it that way,
but .long as you knew it and we didn’t it
shows you’re a low cuss not to speak ot it.
“ vVhat difference does it make to us, 1
say, whether this brute was or was not
dead and swelled up like a pizened steer
long before Nore got his zo-ologickleshow
together? We didn’t know it. We have
not seen the Salt Lake papers for weeks.
You use your edjecatiou to fool people
with. My opinion is that the day is not
tar distant when you will wake up and
find yourself in an untimely grave.
“\ou bring us 150 miles to look at an
old bone pile, all tramped into the ground,
ami then sav that the animal is extiock.
That’s a great way to talk to an old man
like me, a man old enough to be your
grandfather. Probly you cacklate that it
is a rare treat for an old timer like me to
waller through from Green river to the
Yallerstone, and then hear a young kan
garoo, with a moth-eaten eyebrow under
his nose, burst forth in a rollicking laugh
and say that the animal we’ve been trail
in’ lor five days is extinck. *
“I just want to say to you, Janus Trilo
bite Eton, and I say it for your good, and
I say it with no prejudice against you, for
I want to see you succeed, that if this
ever happens agin, and you are the party
to blame, you will w'ake up on the foller-
Li’ day and find yourself a good dealex
tinckcr than this here old busted lizard is.”
NO ROOM FOR. MOTHER.
The Sal Story of an Oltl Heart That liml to
Unburden Itself.
IMiilaidclphin Times.
“Going north, madam?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Going south, then?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“Why, there are only two ways to
go.”
“I don’t know. I was never on tho
cars. I’m waiting for the train to go to
John.”
“John? There is no town called
John. Where is it?”
“Oil! John’s my so. . He’s out iu
Kansas on a claim.”
“I am going right to Kansas myself.
You intend to visit?”
“No. ma’am.”
She said it with a sigh so heart-bur
dened the stranger was touched.
“John sick?”
“No,”
The evasive tone, the look of pain in
the furrowed face were noticed by the
stylish lady as the|gray head bowed up
on the toil-marked hand. Sue wanted
to hear her story; to help her.
“Excuse me—John iu trouble?”
“No, no—l’m in trouble. Trouble my
old heart never thought to see.”
“The train does not come for some
time. Here, rest your head upon my
cioak.”
“You are kind. If my own were so I
shouldn’t be in trouble to-night.”
“What is your trouble? M i/be I can
help you.”
“It’s hard to tell it to strangers, but
my old heart is too full to keep it back.
When 1 was left a widow with the three
children I thought it was more than I
could bear; but wasn’t hard as this—”
The stranger waited till she recovered
her voice to go on.
“I had oidy the cottage and my will
ing hands. I toiled early and late all
the year till John could help me. Then
we kept the girls at school, John and
me. They were married not long ago.
Married rich as the world goes. John
sold the cottage, sent me to the city to
liye with them and he went west to bo
giufir himself. He said we had pro
vided for the girls and they would pro
vide for mo now—”
Her voice choked with emotion. The
stranger waited in silence.
“I went to them in the city. I went
to Mary’s first. She lived in a great
house, with servants to wait on her; a
house many times larger than the little
cottage—but I soon found there wasn’t
room enough for me—”
The tears stood in the linos on her
cheeks. The ticket agent came out sotly,
stirred the lire and went back. After a
pause she continued:
“I went to Martha’s—went with a
pain iu my heart 1 never felt before. I
was willing to do anything so as not to
be a burden. But that wasn’t it, I
found they were ashamed of my bent
old body and my withered face—asham
ed of my rough, wrinkled hands—made
so toiling for them—”
The tears came thick and fast now.
The stranger’s hand rested caressingly
on the gray head.
“At last they told me I must live at a
boarding house and they’d keep me there.
I couldn’t say anything back. My heart
was too full of pain. I wrote to John
what they were going to do. He wrote
light back, a long, kind letter for mo to
come light to him. I always had a
home while lie had a roof, he said. To
come light there and stay as long as 1
lived. That his mother should never go
out to strangers. So I’m going to John.
He s got only his rough hands and his
great warm heart—but there’s room for
his old mother—God bless—him—”
The stranger brushed a tear from her
fair cheek and awaited the conclusion.
“Some day when I’m gone where I’ll
never trouble f hem again Mary and Mar
tha will think of it all. Some day when
the hands that toiled for them are fold
ed and still; when the eyes that watched
over them tlm ugh many a weary night
are closed forever; whe.i the little old
body, bent with the 1 urders it bore for
them, is put away where it never can
shame them—”
Tke agent drew his hand vuieklv be
fore bis eyes, and went out, as if to look
for the train. The stranger’s jeweled
fingers storked the gray locks, while the
tears of sorrow and the tears of sympa
thy fell together. The weary heart was
Soothed by a touch of
sympathy the troubled soul yielded to
the longing for lost, aud sho fell asleep.
NT M BEK 16
lot ng rinoi itous.
T Texas Sittings.]
When your sweetheart’s little brother
Too much freedom is allowed,
And proves that two is company
And three an awful crowd;
You had better turn attention
To the candy you have bought,
Or he’ll very likely mention
More conjectures than be ought.
For he’ll blab upon Ids sister,
As experience will show,
Ku.-;And betray the times you kissed her
W ben you thought be didn’t know.
So the bribing sweets must tickle
This übiquitous young lad,
Or he’ll put you in a pickle
With your Ann Eliza’s dad.
NOT SIJMI A lItANK A1 TKlt ALL.
Marshalville Tiir.es.
Twenty years ago nearly everybody
in Macon and Houston counties regarded
Mr. S. H. Humph as a crank upon the
fruit question. They argued that there
was no demand for fruits and trees
grown in the South; that the Yankee
had already a monopoly upon that
business. Also that but few varieties
could be grown here; that the growing
of apples and raspberries especially, was
an exploded idea, and that nobody but
a Northern man could successfully oon
duct a nursery. These and a thousand
other objections were urged by every
one, and it was with great difficulty that
Mr. Humph, thou quite a young man
and with limited means, could get a
piece of land upon which to lay the
foundation for an immense busmens,
and out of which ho is to-day making
a fortune. Nothing daunted, however,
be established his fruit farm and nursery,
known to-day in every State and market
iu the United States. He gets the first
red raspberries every season into Jack
sonville, Savannah, New York and
Boston, and he realizes fully 50 cents
per quart for the yield from a five-acre
patch. He has propagated a vaiiety of
peach believed the finest, in every par
ticular, grown in the South, if not iu
America, which ho christened the “El
berta,” in honor of her who, in his
young manhood, plighted her love and
fate with his, and rejoices with him in
his prosperity and sympathizes iu ad
versity, as only a devoted and loving
wifo can do. He has a large number of
the Elbertns, and last season the crop
paid lum on au average of 11 cents per
peach in Now York and Boston. He
ships carloads of peaches of other
varieties every season that pay satis
factory [trices, and he yearly increases
his acreage, which already number
several hundred. Apples are grown to
perfection, and every week in the year
he fills orders for this delightful fruit,
sweetened by (Georgia suns and grown
on Georgia lands. Hut it is said (we
have never been through this interest
ing farm and nursery) is the biggest
thing in the (South, a notice of which
must be reserved until we take a stroll
through it, when we shall take pleasure
in telling our readers of its magnitude
aud management iis best we can.
Suffice it to say, at present, last week
he sold 85,000 trees, to be delivered in
different States the coming full. His
home is one of the loveliest in the coun
try, surrounded by fruits and dowers of
every variety and species, aud is visited
annually by hundreds of travelers aud
excursionists who pass this way and
stop a period.
AT Till: UAI LUOAII STATION.
It is always pleisant to witness the
meeting of friends who have teen long
separated, but sometimes in traveling one
sees exhibitions of simple, outspoken ex
pressions of joy that have a somewhat hu
morous flavor. For instance, a correspon
dent thus describes the meeting ofa happy
old couple with a long-absent daughter
aud her family at a rural railroad station.
“Here they air pa ! Here they air 1”
A keen eyed little old man, w T ho had
been anxiously pearing into the car-win
dows, now ran forward, and cried out.
eagerly and loudly,—
“Where, ma? Where?”
“Oh, there’s your grandpa !” shouted
the daughter to her children.
“Here we are, pa!”
“Shure enough !” exclaimed grandpa,
almost frantically, endeavoring vainly to
embrace the whole family.
“Well, I declare!” said the old lady.
“If here ain’t little Benny ! How he has
grown ! Just see, pa !”
“The land of mercy, yes!” cries grandpa,
“And here’s John Henry, almost a
growed-up man.”
John Henry, aged ten, twists one leg
around the other and grins.
“I never would have knowed him ! ’
affirms grandma.
“Nor me !” cries grandpa. “Aiul here’s
little Mary Jane, uatch’rel as life. Well,
I do say!”
“But let’s see the baby. We ain’t never
seen him yet. Well! well! well! Don’t
favor nciti e: liis pa nor his ma, as 1
can see. You think he does, grandpa?”
“Not very much, sure. But I tell you
lie’s a fine little feller ; and ain’t he big?”
“Why, here’s little Elizy, grandpa! We
ain’t tuck no notice of her yit. No won
der, though, for she’s fairly growed out
of our knowledge. Well, I declare,
they're all look in well.
“Hearty as little pigs!” says grandma,
beginning with them heavy weight baby
and kissing the all over again, while
grandpa darts off to bring around “the
critters and the wagon.”