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THU SUN_
HARTWELL, MAUI' C'IHISIIT, HA
AYERS & MiBHiL, tfditow.
FOR PKEHIU^T,
GEN. V. S. HANCOCK,
OP PENNSYLVANIA.
FOR VICE-PRESIDENT,
HON. W. H. ENGLISH,
OF INDIANA*
PKVfiIDKNTIAI. ELBVTDRB,
FOR THE STATE AT LARSE :
J. C. C. BLACK, R. E. KENNON.
ALTERNATE:
LUTHER J. GLENN, A. P. ADAMS.
DISTRICT ELECTORS:
First 'District—Samuel D. Brsdwell
of Liberty. Alternate—Josephus Camp
ol Emanuel.
Second District—VVm. M. Hammond,
of Thomas. Alternate —VVm. Harrison,
of Quitman.
Third District —Christopher C. Smith,
of Telfair. Alternate—James Bishop.
Jr., ef Dodge.
Fourth District—Lavender R. Ray,
of Coweta Alternate—Henry C. Came
ron, of Harris.
Fifth District—Jno. I. Hall, of Spald
iDg. Alternate—Daniel P. Hill of Ful
ton.
Sixth District—Reunen B. Nisbet, of
Putnam. Alternate—Fleming G. Du-
Bignon, of Baldwin.
Seventh District—Tboa. W. Akin, of
Bartow. Alternate—Peter W. Alexan
der, of Cobb.
Eighth District—Seaborne Reese, of
Hancock. Alternate—James K. Hines,
of Washington.
Ninth District—VVm. E. Simmons, of
Gwinnett, Alternate—Marion G. Boyd,
of Whirs.
They Can’t Help It.
There is a limit beyond which the
housewife who has eagerly plunged into
the canning and preserving season can
not go. There are only 1,500 known
methods of putting up peaches. It may
take her sometime to get to the last one,
but she’ll reach it in time. The latest
estimate places the number of fruit jars
ou sale in this country at 30,000,000. No
housewife oan secure more than her pro
portion of these. After she has asked
her husband seventy-eight consecutive
times to “send up another dozen of those
cans, ” there must come a lull. She may
then demand her share of the crocks
and jars and jelly tumblers of this great
and growing country, but winter is only
three months away. By and by there
will come an end to this asking for “an
other twenty pounds of that same kind
of sugar. ” The stock on hand in this
country will not allow any family to con
sume over 5,000 pounds in putting up
preserves. The woman who goes be
yond that must do so at her peril. While
the average husband feels a thrill of ex
altation as he realizes that plums are
played, he must not be plunged into
despair to learn that peaches will go down
to fifty cents before the last of the crop
is in, and that pears were never known
to be so plenty. No cellar can hold more
than it can. After the jugs and jars and
cans and pitchers are stacked from floor
to joice, the wife has either got to lay off
her big apron and quit or else rent space
from the neighbors, and the chances will
be that they will have none to spare. In
two weeks more she’ll have to give up on
peaches and pears. Then she’ll begin
on tomato pickles and catsup, jump to
cucumbers—slide off on apple butter—
work up a bushel of quinces—boil down
a barrel of cider, and then sit down and
give up the unequal struggle. That is
she’ll suddenly remember that every can
and jar and jug must be lifted up or taken
down and opened and heated over, and
if perchance she finishes the job before
spring the mince-pie season will serve to
keep the house stirred up. They were
bom that way, and men must suffer and
endure. —Detroit Free Press,.
Use Good Language.
A writer, advising the youth to abandon
Blang and acquire the habit of writing and
speaking good plain English, says: “The
longer you live the more difficult the ac
quisition of good language will be, and if
the golden age of youth, the proper time
for the acquisition of language, be passed
in abuse, the unfortunate victim of
neglected education is very probably
doomed to talk slang for life. Money is
not necessary to procure this education.
He has to use the language he reads in
stead of the slang he hears; to form taste
from the best speakers and poets of the
country; to treasure up choice phrases in
his memory, and habituate himself to
their use, avoiding at the same time that
pedantic precision and bombast which
show rather weakness and vain ambition
than the polish of an educated mind.
Strange Freak ot Mature.
Mr. Robert Marshall, of Marshall
Brothers, proprietors of the Iron City
Elevator Works, has in his possession a
section of a poplar log which has im
printed upon it a wonderfully exact
‘ ‘ photograph ”of a pigeon. The imprint
extended through the entire diameter of
the log, which was about eighteen inches.
The beak, comb and entire outline are
sharply defined, as perfectly as the work
could have been done by the camera on
ft prepared base. —Pittsburg Dispatch,
The Hartwell Hun.
By AYERS & McGILL.
VOL. V. NO. 9.
(Written for Tb* Chicago Lnlaar.]
NI.UKPY HOLLOW.
NT OJiAHI.aa St. LOOLN.
In a dnar, tccludad Tallcv, Wtwaan Urn hollow of tha
hni,
'Ulilat Uw rooka and ahaaraa grouping, In the pools
and marahaa droopm*.
Stands au anniont miU- -a ruiu in it* alow and sum
decay ;
Sot still It roars In broken tiers ; It Is falling fast
sway;
It is ovarrun with msaaes of the wildest creeping
grasses.
That ltavs started from the moisture of the rills.
In this hollow, of an evening, not a soul has dared
to roam ;
Though the stillness there Is sleeping, and the
crescent moon Is peeping
Down Into the crumbled, broken stonework of the
pile,
There ts s dread, as of the dead, that hosts of former
style
Are still and slowly treading where the moon la
always shediUng
Scattered silver through the fragments of the dome.
The willow shades the marshes with a waving hedge
of green,
Its boughs to waters bending, from whoae darkest
depths are sending
Phosphorescent wisps of grasses to tlumo the somber
air;
It Is a sight so ghastly bright that a mortal fain
would dare
Its solitudes of mystery In quest of ancient history
To enllght' the worldly mind upon the things that
be had seen.
But when first those broken walls unfolded to our
view,
The daylight’s sun was streaming, and through
the windows seeming
Like a weloome to the long-forgotten room.
Vnd In the buu, unlike a nun alone, 1 saw a crimson
plume—
A butterfly. Its wings, Its gaudy trapping, were
noiselessly flapping,
Driving from its oloak the morning dsw.
The glimpse reminded strangely a long-forgotten
past
That rushed in freshening surges—through my
mind there slowly merges
A suspicion that I see the noted pirate that once these
beams beetrid—
That It’s the fiery-whiskered Kidd, guarding his
treasure hid
From the greedy hands of miners that would seek
the phantom shiners,
That were thought to have been buried and beneath
these walls amassed.
In this room they once were sitting, these pirates
hard and stern,
Like the pictures of Miles Standlsh, dressed in
costumes now outlandish,
Though picturesque In attitudes, like sculptured
Roman clay.
With faces cold, In rigid mold, until the twilight
day,
With morning breezes rising, their sordid minds
apprising,
They vanished to the spirit world, though nightly to
return.
Distant, ghostly sounds were heard to echo through
the bare
Rulnaof the mill decayed, aud through the morn
ing’s darkness vague,
And spectral rushed the rushing streams
In broken rills between the hills and from the dark
ravines.
Clanking chains and flapping sails, that seemed to
be amidst the gales,
Fell with deep distinctness upon the morning air.
St. Helena. Cal.
[Written for The Chloago Ledger.)
The Myshrious Cadet.
A College Reminiscence.
BY CAM..
This evening, as I was seated on the
veranda, with my feet elevated upon
the railing and leaning back in an arm
chair, listlessly watching the passers-by
on the street, one of them attracted my
attention and caused my thoughts to
drift back down the long corridors of
time, and bring up vividly to mind
scent* and faces long buried in the past.
He was only a boy, this individual
who had thus suddenly stirred up old
memories, and a casual observer would
have noticed nothing peculiar about him
except that he was dressed in a suit of
cadet gray, heavily bespangled with glit
tering buttons, and wore upon his head
a cap of the same color—the uniform of
some military college. But as he turned
his head for a moment toward me I saw
the letters “A. C. C.” on his cap, sur
rounded by a glittering wreath. In an
instant I knew that he was a cadet of the
University of .
Some of my readers may remember
that in the catalogue of that university
for the year of 18— the name of Leslie
Barton appears as a student, and oppo
site the name there was a blank where
the residence of the cadet should have
been. As I have the time at my disposal,
I will gratify the morbid curiosity that
any may have upon the subject.
It was at the age of 18 that I entered
the university, and it was u[x>n the day
of my arrival that I first met Leslie Bar
ton. I was standing near the entrance
©f the college, watching the groups of
cadets out upon the parade ground, and,
being unacquainted with any one, I was
feeling decidedly homesick and lone-
some.
I had been standing there some time,
trying to devise some plan of getting
acquainted with the boys, when my at
tention was directed to a youth who was
standing a few yards from me, leaning
against the corner of the building. My
attention was called to him by an excla
mation which he had, seemingly, un
consciously let fall from his lips, and as
I turned toward him I heard him mutter:
“Yes, it is he. It is impossible for
me to be mistaken in that face.”
And as I followed the direction of his
eyes I saw that he was intently watching
a cadet who was approaching the college
from the direction of the entrance to the
grounds. As he came nearer I saw that,
though rather small of stature, he was a
man of at least 25 years of age. Had it
not been for his smoothly-shaven face
and the badge of the Clantonian Society
which he wore upon his breast, I should
have supposed him one of the professors.
As he passed I looked into his face and
met a pair of as wicked, devilish eyes as
it is possible to conceive of. It had al
ways been customary with me to read a
person’s character by the eyes, and I had
found that during my brief experience I
had seldom been mistaken in my esti
mate ; and as this man passed into the
building I decided that he was one cadet
whom I did not care to become intimately
acquainted with.
kn I turned froaa watching him, I
HARTWELL. GA.. OCTOBER 27. ISBO.
found that the boy I had first noticed
had moved up quite close to me, and,
seeing that I was observing bim, he
raised his cap from the cluster of crisp,
black curls that covered his head, and
asked, in a voice that struck me as being
uncommonly low aud soft:
“ Do you Know the gentleman that lias
just passed ?”
“No," I replied, “I am a stranger
here ; this is my first day, and I am not
acquainted with any one. ”
“ Then we two should become ac
quainted by all moans, for wo are in the
same fix. My name is Leslie Barton,”
he said, holding out his hand, which, I
noticed, was white, soft and shapely.
“ And mine is Carl I said, as I
took the proffered hand.
Just then the cadet I had before ob
served entering the college came out
and brushed against Leslie Barker in
passing. Such a look of mingled hate
and disgust as came over his face I hope
never again to see on a human counte
nance. I saw his small white hands
clinch till the nails were buried in the
flesh. He stepped back as suddenly us
though Borne loathsome reptile had
touched liim, and I hoard linn mutter
between his clenched teeth :
“Curse him, he docs not recognize
me, and it is well for him that he does
not.” But, remembering that I was
standing near and must have heard his
remark, he turned toward me, aud, see
ing the look of surprised inquiry upon
my face, he said :
“ That fellow reminds me very much
of a person I once knew.”
“ The remembrance is not a very
pleasant one, 1 should judge, from the
look you gave him as he passed,” I re
plied, laughing.
To this he made no reply, and in a
few minutes bade mo good evening and
walked into the building.
My curiosity was excited. I felt as
sured that Leslie Barton knew this man,
and that he had some reason for hating
liim with all the strength of his fiery na
ture. I wondered why it was that he
had endeavored to lead me to believe
that he had only recognized a rosem
blanoe to someone he had once known.
The more I thought about it, the more
deeply interested I became. What puz
zled me most was that the stranger had
looked directly into Leslie Barton’s face
as he passed him, and I could detect no
sign of recognition on his part. There
was a mystery about these two, I was
satisfied, and I determined, if possible,
to discover what it was.
During the following day the different
classes were organized for the term, and
the cadets assigned to their rooms. Two
boys occupied each room, and, as every
boy had the privilege of selecting Ins
room-mate, I sought out Leslie Barton,
and, on the strength of our slight ac
quaintance, asked him if he would oc
cupy the same room with me. He
seemed surprised at my proposition, and
informed me, rather haughtily, that he
had made arrangements with Col. W—,
the commandant, to have a room entire
ly to himself.
“Very well,” I replied, turning away,
but he laid his hand upon my shoulder,
detaining me for a moment, us he said :
“ I am sorry I cannot room with you,
but I always prefer a room to myself.
We’ll be good friends, though, won’t
we?”
“ Certainly," I replied, for I had taken
a strange interest in this pale-faced boy.
I was assigned to a room with Edward
Walton, an overgrown, good-natured
sort of a fellow from Mississippi, who
had attended tire two previous sessions
at the University. He knew everyone
connected with the college, from the
head Professor down to the old negro
who attended to the building.
One day, about a week after my arri
val, I was standing in the hall, in com
pany with Ed, when the cadet who had
so excited my curiosity on the day I
first met Leslie Barton passed.
“Do you know that fellow, Ed?” I
inquired.
“Oh, yes; that’s Oscar Phelps.”
“How king has he been attending
school here ?”
“ He came in at the beginning of the
last session. Why?”
“Nothing, only he seems pretty old
to be attending school. Do you know
much about him ?”
“Very little. He’s from New Or
leans, I believe, and from the way he
spent money when he was here last year
lie must be pretty wealthy. That’s
about all I oan tell you of him. Fact
is, he is a queer kind of a cuss, who has
very little to do with the rest of us fel
lows.”
And that was all I could learn about
Oscar Phelps. I made inquiry of sev
eral other boys, but none of them
seemed to know more about him than I
had already learned from Ed.
The more I saw of Leslie Barton the
better I liked him. He was of a modest,
retiring disposition, and while he had
no intimate'friends among the boys, yet
they were all ready to declare him “a
j*gal good fellow —a little queer in his
notions, but a good one, nevertheless.”
There was one thing that struck me as
peculiar, and that was tha the never re
ceived or wrote any letters, or ever
spoke of his home or relatives. One
day I asked him which State he was
from. He replied that he had lived in
so many different States that he claimed
any and all of them as his home. And,
as I saw that he was very reluctant
about conversing upon the subject, I
never referred to it again.
I remember distinctly the first time I
saw Leslie Barton and Oscar Phelps
speak. It was just after our class in
French had recited, one day about two
months after the beginning of the term.
We were leaving the recitation-room,
and were just without the door, when
Devoted to Hart County.
Oscar' Phelps walked up beside Leslie
Barton and addressed film in sneering
tri*Cß.
u I say, young what's-your-name, you j
always seem to know your French pretty
well; I think I’ll give yotl a diDlar a
wsek to post mo up in all the difficult
translations.”
Leslie Barton turned toward him with
an angry light in his bright, black eyes,
and, regarding liim with a haughty stare
for a moment, asked in a voice which he
in Vain attempted to make sound natu
ral :
“ Did you speak to me, sir?”
Oscar smiled in a most sarcastic and
tantalizing manner, as he replied:
'• Yes, did it hurt you ? "
“You will please remendier, then,
sir, that my name is Leslie Barton, and
unless you can call me by that name
and be more respectful m your manner
when addressing me, I would infinitely
prefer that you would not speak to me
at all.”
Aud, as he finished speaking, he
w:Xked away to his room. Oscar looked
after him for a moment, then, turning
to me, he asked :
“Who the devil is that fellow, any
way ? One would think from the way
he acts that it was necessary to remove
one’s cap when speaking to him. ”
“ His name is Leslie Barton, as he
has just informed you," I replied, “and
that is all I know of him. ”
“ Know, where he’s from ?”
“No.”
“It strikes me I have met him some
where before, but curse me if I can re
collect where it was. Well, no matter.
I’ll learn him before he leaves this
school that it is better to have Oscar
Phelps' friendship than his enmity.”
*****
Months passed, and it was drawing
near the close of the term. 1 had never
heard Leslie Barton and Oscar Phelps
exchange a word since the occasion pre
dously mentioned. They seemed to
avoid each other by mutual consent, and,
though I had been unable to fathom the
mystery that I was satisfied connected
these two, yet I hoped that they would
separate at the end of the term without
having Lad any trouble with each other.
But I was disappointed, as the sequel
will show.
One Saturday, just before the com
mencement, Leslie Barton met me as I
was on my wav to my room, and asked
me if we could have a few minutes’ pri
vate conversation together. I replied
ip the affirmative, and invited him to
accompany me to my room, secretly
wondering what he could want of mo.
After locking the door to preclude tho
possibility of an intrusion, we seated
ourselves, and I waited impatiently to
hear what his business was.
After a few moments, during which
time he appeared lost in thought, he
suddenly looked up and asked :
“Carl , are you a friend to me ? ”
“Certainly, Barton,” I replied ; “but
why do you ask ? ”
“ I have a favor—a very great favor—
to ask of you. You are the only one I
have been on anything like intimate
terms with since 1 have been here, and
yet 1 hardly think our acquaintance haa*
been of sufficient length to justify me in
expecting the favor I am about to so
licit.”
“Anything I can possibly do for you
will lx; done cheerfully, Barton,” I re
plied, anxious to know what it was ho
wished me to do.
Again he was silent for a brief time.
At length he spoke :
“ Carl, I am to fight a duel this even
ing.”
“The devil you are!” I exclaimed,
springing np from my chair.
“Yes,” he replied, “ this evening at 5
o’clock. ”
“ With whom ?” I asked, having some
what msovered from the astonisliment
his words had caused.
“With Oscar Phelps. The arrange
ments are all made between us. We
are to fight in the cedar grove just be
yond the college grounds, with pistols
at ton paces distance. What I want is
for you to act as my second. Will you
do it?”
“But, Barton," I asked, “have you
thought of what the consequences may
be ? I have heard that Phelps is a dead
shot with a pistol. ”
“I have thought of everything,” he
replied. “ You will be surprised, Carl,
when I toll you I came here to hunt this
man. Oscar Phelps he calls himself,
but that is not liis roal name ; what his
name is, no matter. For two years I
have been seeking him, and only acci
dentally found that he was here under
an assumed name. He has wronged mo
so deeply that only his life can atone
for the injury. My name is not Leslie
Barton, and lam not what I seem. I
might tell you the story of my life, but
it would do no good, and it better rest
untold. Phelps has no idea tliat lam
the one; whom lie so foully wronged in the
years gone by, and I have no wish that
he should know it. One of us, perhaps
both, may fall ; for, as you say, Phelps
is a g<xxl shot, but he has none the ad
vantage of me in that respect.”
“Now, Carl, knowing what you do,
will you act as my second in this affair ?
If you refuse, I must fight without one.”
What could Ido ? Leave this friend
less toy to fight that man, without a
single friend near to see fair play ? It
was against my nature, and I did what I
think most boys of my age would have
done under similar circumstances—l
agreed to act for him.
“Thank you, Carl,” he said, taking
my hand. “If you are ever placed in a
jHisition like this, I hope you may find a
friend as true. I have only one request
| to make ; should I fall, have mo buried
in the cedar grove where the fight will
take place, and m the name clothes I am
$1.50 Per Annum
WHOLE NO. 217.
then wearing. You will find sufficient
money in the hands of the President of
the college to defray all axtiensos. I
deposited it with him when i paid my
tuition.”
And with that he again pressed my
hand, aud left the room.
At twenty minutes to five, I arrrived
at tho grove and found Leslie Barton
already there, walking back and forth
beneath tho tall cedars, whose thick
boughs were so closely interwoven as to
almost entirely exclude the rays of the
setting sun.
As I approached, L noticed that he
had discarded the college uniform, and
was dressed in a liently-fittiug suit of
black broadcloth, and wore upon his
head a narrow-hrinunod white hat. He
did not observe me until l was quite
close to him, and then, glancing up with
a smile, he said:
“You are the prince of punctuality."
“Fhedpe has not arrived yet?' I
asked, looking around.
“No; but he will l>e on time," he re
plied. “I never hoard of his being lute
on an occasion like the present."
“Then this is not his first? ” I asked,
in surprise.
“No; Oscar Phelps has made more
than one vacant chair in what, bi t for
him, would now be happy homes."
“ What kind of pistols will you use?"
I asked.
He stepjied to tho foot of a large tree,
and picked up a black obony case, which
I found, ujMui opening, to contain a pair
of gold-mounted pistols, the finest 1 bad
ever soon. They wore (Jolt's latest
improved patent, .18 caliber. Much
a weapon in tho hands of one skilled in
its use would easily kill a man at forty
yards, and they were to fight at ten
paces. I shuddered.
“They are coming,” said Barton, in
terrupting mo in my examination of the
pistols.
I look fid in the direction indicated by
him, and saw Phelps, accompanied by
a cadet named Mumfee, witli whom 1
had but a very slight acquaintance.
They raised their caps politely as they
came up; Barton acknowledged tho
presence of Mumfee with a haughty sa
lute, but did not deign to notice Phelps.
“Wo are on time, I presume?” said
Mumfee, looking at his watch.
“Yes,” I replied, “and have several
miuutes to spare before the time ap
pointed.”
“Then let me see you a moment,” he
said. And we WttLked apart from tho
others.
“Do you know how this trouble orig
inated ? ” he asked, when wo were out
of hearing.
“No,” I replied; “don’t you? My
prineipjJ did not consider it necessary
to tell me.”
“ Just tho case with mine. I say, this
is going to be a boil business for us, I’m
afraid. They say Phelps is a sure shot,.”
“Yes, and, from what I can learn,
Barton is no indiffurent hand with a pis
tol.”
“ I presume those are the weapons to
be used,” lie said, pointing to the case I
hold in my hand. “Let me see them,
please."
I handed him the pistols, and saw by
the way be handled them that lie was
familiar with such tilings. Ho examined
them closely for several moments, and
then said :
“One or tho other of those toys is
doomed. ”
Before I had time to reply Phelps
called to us:
“ Gentlemen, time’s up."
Wo walked back to where ho and Bar
ton were standing, a little apart from
each other, and, having selected suitable
ground, Mumfee measured off ten paces.
Wo then carefully loaded the pistols,
after which I walked to where Barton
was standing.
Is everything ready?” he aHkod, as I
came up to him.
“ Yes. Is there anything you want to
say ?”
“ Nothing, except to thank you for
your kindness to me, and to ask of you
to see that my instructions of this morn
ing are carried out. Don’t try to dis
cover what my real name is, for it would
be useless. ”
And without another word ho took
position. Phelps wus already in las
place with his pistol in his hand. I
handed Leslie tie; pistol selected for him,
and walked off a few stops to his right.
A moment’s silence, and then Mum
fee, who was to give the word, cried out:
“Gentlemen, are you really?”
“ Beady,” carne from both.
“One!” . . , ...
They both raised their pistols, and the
sharp, metallic “click, click,” of the
locks resounded upon the evening air.
“Two! ”
I looked at Leslie Barton. Not a
muscle moved. His face was hard and
stem, and there was that same light in
his handsome black eyes that I had no
ticed on the day that Phelps addressed
him in the hall of the college.
“Three!"
Himul taneously the reports of Vxith
pistols rang out—so near together were
they that it seemed that but one pistol
had fired. My eyes were fixed upon
Leslie, and at the crack of the pistols I
saw him stagger for a moment, drop his
pistol and clasp both his hands over his
left breast, and. before I could reach
him, he had fallen backward to the
ground.
As I raised his head upon my knee he
gave one or two gasps, a convulsive shud
der passed over him, and he was still.
Unclasping his hands from his breast, I
saw where the Dali had entered, just
over his heart, and I knew that the spirit
of Leslie Barton had taken its flight
from this world.
Laying his head gently back upon the
ground, 1 turned and saw Mumfee bead
ing ever the prostrate form of Phelps.
Approaching, 1 naked :
“ Is he badly hurt?"
“ hurt I tho devil. Why, he
was dead* lieforfi ho touched the ground.
Look at that,” and he ported U a bul
let-hole justl>etween the oy6e. “How
■boat Barton ?”
“He in dead, too. Hhot directly
through the heart. ”
For a time we were both silent. Mum
fee was first to B|>oak.
" Well.” he said, rising, “something
must le done — one of us must report
this at the college. Will you go ?’’
“ Yes,” I replied, and, without n mo
ment's delnv, hurried to the oollege. I
found Col. W- in his room, and re
ported tho affair to him. At first he
seemed to think I was drunk or crazy,
but when I told him that Cadet* Barton
and Phelps were lying dead in the ce
dar grovu lie sprung from his chair, ex
claiming :
“ And you assisted these two in mur
dering each other ?”
“ I acted as Barton’s second, sir," I
replied.
“ Then go to your room and consider
yourself under close arrest. You will
answer to a higher court than a college
court martial, and, seizing his hat, he
hurried from the room.
I went up to my room, and threw my
self into a chair. My state of mind can
more easily be imagined than described.
In a few minutes I heard footsteps as
cending the stairs, and then the key was
turned in my door, from the outside, and
the steady tramp of someone back and
forth before my door told mo that a sen
tinel was on guard there.
The hours dragged weanly on, and,
just as the clock in the hall told the hour
of 10, the door wa* opened and a cadet
came in with orders for me to report to
001. W immediately. He followed
me down the long hallway, down the
stairs to the door of the Commandant’s
room. I entered, but tho guard re
mained on the outside. I found 001.
W excitedly walking the floor.
Turning to me, lie asked, fiercely :
“What did you know of Leslie Bar
ton?"
“ Nothing, Colonel, until to-day. when
ho told me his name was not Leslie Bar
ton,” 1 replied.
“l)hl lie tell you what his name
was ?”
“ Ho did not, but he told mo some
thing else.” And I told him of the con
versation I had with Barton, and what
he said in reference to injuries received
at the hands of l’helps, and that his only
object iu attending the college was to
seek out Phelps, uud bo revenged.
“ Then I can tell you something that
you did not know/’ lie said. “Leslie
Barton wan a woman. No one ever
dreamed of it until since her death. I
have not the slightest idea who she was.
or where she came from, for she declined
to give any place of residence when she
entered. But why I have sent for you
is this : You will be arrested to-morrow
if you are here, and my advice to you is
to leave to-night, and the further you are
from ibis town to-morrow morning the
safer you will be. There is a train
leaves in twenty minutes ; when it goes
be mm that you are arnoug its pas
sengers. Don’t bother about your bag
gage ; you can write back and have it
shipped to you.”
The advice wa* too good not to be fol
lowed. I went to my room and changed
my uniform for a plain citizen's clothes,
hurried to the deiiot, boarded the train
just as it was pulling out, and liefore
daylight the next morning I was in an
other Htate.
A week afterward I read an account of
the affair in a uewsimper, but so differ
ent was it from what really occurred
that, had it not lieen for the names, I
should have failed to recognize it as the
same.
The mystery was never cleared up,
and in tho cedar grove where she fell and
wa* buried there stands a marble Hhaft,
erected by the cadets of the college,
with the name of Leslie Barton upon it,
and underneath the Latin injunction,
TV ’il mortuuH nisi bonurn.
I'KATTVJM.K. Al.
A Satisfactory (undulate for Life In
surance.
Josh Billings says: “I kum to the
conclusion lately that life was so onsar
tin that tho only wa for mo tu stand a
fair chance with other folks was tu git
my life insured and so i kalled on the
Agent of the Garden Angel Life Insur
ance Cos., and answered the following
questions, which was put tu me over the
top ova pair ov goold specks, by a slik
little fat old feller, with a little round
grey head, and as pretty a little belly on
him as enny man ever owned : Ques
tions—lst. Are you mail or feinail ? If
so, pleze state how long you have been
so. 2d. Are you subject to fits, and if
so, do yu have more than one at a time?
3d. Did yu ever have enny ancestors,
and if so, how much ? 4th. Du yu eve!
have enny nite mares? sth. Are yu
married and single, or are yu a bachelor?
Gth. Do yu believe in a future state ?
If yu do, state it. 7th. Have yu ever
committed suicide, and if so, how did it
seem to affect yu ? After answering the
alxive questions, like a man, in the oon
firrnotif, the slik little fat old feller with
goold specks on ced I was insured for
life, and proberly would remain so for a
term ov years. I thanked him, and
smiled one ov my most pensive smiles.”
Astronomical.
Young Mr. Latohours was sitting on
the [xircli watching a 17-year-old girl
trying to keep awake long enough to see
the morning star rise. They talked as
tronomy. ‘* I wish I was a star, ”he said,
smiling at his own poetic fancy. “I
would rather you were a comet,” she
said, dreamily. His heart beat tumult
uously. “ And why ?” he asked tender
ly, at the same time taking her unresist
ing little hands in his own ; “ and why?”
he repeated, imperiously. “ Oh,” she
said with a brooding earnestness that
fell upon his soul like a bare foot on a
cold oil-cloth, “because then you would
only come aronnd once every 1,500
years !” He didn’t say anything until
he was half way to the front gate, when
he turned around and shook his fist at
the house and muttered between his
b-eth that “by the dads, it would be a
thundering sight longer than that be
fore he came around again.” But by
| tliat time the poor girl was in bed and
sound asleep.