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HENRY COUNTY WEEKLY.
i --
J. A. FOUCHE, Publisher.
R. L. JOHNSON, Editor.
Entered at the postofflce McDonr
jugh as second class man matter.
Advertising Rates: $1.60 per IndD
*er month. Reduction on standlnj
contracts by special agneement.
A modern Godiva h3a ridden
through Coventry. This time, says
the New York American, the people
■were taxed to see her.
The mysterious influence of the
mere name of a multi-milionaire on
the average mind, moralizes the
Washington Star, is a terrible temp
tation to people with the swindling
instinct.
A university professor asserts that
Walter Scott could not have written
a theme for the freshman year. This
is a safe assertion inasmuch as there
is no possibility of Walter Scott com
ing back and trying it. But the fresh
man, rejoins the Pitsburg Dispatch,
who can write a story of the rank of
“Old Mortality” will do well to dem
onstrate the fact.
The rapidity with which British
shipyards turn out work is one of
the most significant features of mod
ern warship building, to the Orleans
Picayune. The country that can
build ships twice as rapidly as any
other country has little to fear. The
shipbuilding interests of the United
States would do well to carefully
watch the progress of the great Brit
ish shipbuilding plants with a view
to improving the rate of speed with
which our warships are constructed.
If Dr. Peters of the Massachusetts
state board of agriculture is listen
ed to, the tax on dogs in that com
monwealth hereafter will be $5 to $lO
per annum. “This outgreak of ra
bies,” said the doctor, “would be
brought to a speedy termination by
bringing to an end a system of dog
management that has driven the
sheep industry from Massachusetts
and allows this privileged species of
domestic animal to prowl around de
stroying human life and other do
mestic animals and fowls. The dog
should be a luxury. Owners of dogs
should be compelled to keep them
under control at all times.”
The average and normal Immigrant
girl Is said to in about five years to
pass through the various stages of
discipline and development and grad
uate not only a self-supporting wom
an, remarks the Boston Transcript,
but one conscious of her opportuni
ties and of all they mean to her. She
has undergone an awakening. She
has discovered herself. Though she
may have been ignorant at the start
with the horizon of her ambition and
activities no broader than the wash
tube, she emerges from her chrysalis
ready for business or to undertake
the charge of a family with well-de
fined ideas of what its best interests
require and views for its future prob
ably much in advance of those of the
nominal head of It.
It is apparent that the public is at
as a means of preventing a total dis
appearance of the forests of the
United States, asserts the Pitts
burg Press. The annual cut of tim
ber In the South and Northwest is
appallingly great. Immense areas of
forests are fast disappearing and
within a quarter of a century hence
there will be comparatively little of
the present vast timber stretches re
maining. Mills with capacities for
cuting millions of feet of lumber each
month are continually being erected
and the annual output of lumber
reaches immense proportions. It is
idle to contend against this diminu
tion of the forests, for the demand for
timber is so great and the lumber in
dustry so profitable that so long as
timber cutting can be carried on so
Jong will the industry last. But a sen
sible contemplation of the future re
sults of this forest devastation ought
to lead to the concdusion that if the
existing forests are to fall, as they
are falling, by the axes and the saws
of the woodmen, somehting must be
dor*; to prevent the country from be
coming a treeless land.
V* fe By WALTER BESANT. *i|
CHAPTER XV. 13
Continued.
“I don't know. That is the thing
which will save me. I don’t know
where she is. Pretty ragged and
down on her luck she looked when I
saw her. It was then that I found
out the truth.”
“Jem,” said Harriet, in the direct,
manner peculiar to her sex, "you are
a scoundrel.”
Her husband made no reply.
“You have stolen all this trust
money. And as for the rest,*we were
only part inheritors.’
“Don’t be a fool, Harriet. It w'as
for your sake. Ilow else would youf
have got that crimson velvet dressy
Don’t call names, but see if you can’t
help me out of this mess.’
“How are we to live, I want to
know ?”
“Lord knows! The first question is,
how will Tom take it? And how can
I put it to him?”
“When we go from here, where’
are we to go? What are we to do?
You have deceived me again. You
ought to have told me everything.
You ought to have behaved honest to
that poor girl, whatever else hap
pened. I never thought that I should
be able to call my husband ”
“Oh! well—if you choose to be a
vixen, you may. Don’t think, Harriet;
that I’m going to slave and worry on
account of a she-devil If you’ve got
nothing better to do than to show tem
per—as If I wanted Tom to come
back—l shall—go and have my pipe
by myself.”
It was a tame and impotent conclu
sion, but she turned upon him and
looked so fierce that he collapsed.
In the small hours of the morning
Jnmes woke up suddenly-. The blinds j
were up, and the moon was streaming j
in at the windows. Harriet was stand- j
lug at the window in her nightdress, j
“Harriet,” he cried, “what are you
doing?”
“I’ve had a dream, Jem,” she re- !
plied. “A dreadful dream. I thought,
that you were tried by the judge and j
sent to a convict prison for robbery,
and I was left destitute. .And I’d got
a knife in my hand”—she held up her
hand and showed a dagger which
gleamed in the moonlight; It was only
a little ornamental paper knife, but
it flashed like steel —“and I was goiug
to kill myself and have done with it.*
You were a convict working at Port
land, Jem.”
“Come back to bed this instant!” he
said, sternly. “You and your dreams —
come back and go to sleep.”
She obeyed, and went to sleep again
calmly and sweetly. But her hus
band’s teeth chattered, he trembled
and shook, because bis action would,
he was conscious, bear such a co»«
struction. And Tom was on his way
home, doubtless having much wrath. \
CHAPTER XVI.
Tom’s Return.
To& did not cover the ground be- j
tween Suakim nd London in the short
est time on record. The story of his
captivity nud escape of course reached
home before he did in scrappy frag
ments, which made everybody talk of
the two prisoners. So that they were
the men of the moment. It is a great
thing in one’s life to have been, if
only for once, The Man of the Mo
ment; the honor is one which is be
stowed upon people variously distin
guished, and may be shared with Mr.
Gladstone or with Charles Peace. But
Tom neglected his opportunity, and re
fused even so much as to read a paper ,
at the Royal Geographical.
It was one morning at the beginning ;
of November, about a fortnight after i
that awful fog, that Tom arrived a*t
Victoria. He had sent telegrams from
Suakim, from Cairo, from Brindisi, and
from Paris, all addressed to Harley
House. lie would not burst upon the
poor girl without warning. She would
hear of his safety from the papers; she
should hear of his return from Ills tele
grams. Poor girl! Poor Katharine!
His eyes filled when he thought of her
trouble and sorrow on his account.
But now all the trouble was over. She
knew that he was safe. She was
happy again—poor, friendless Kath
arine! Six o’clock in the morning, and
not yet quite light. You can not call
at a house, even to see your sweet
heart, who has supposed that you are
dead, at six o'clock in the morning.
The lazy maids are not up at six in
a London house; they are only turn
ing round in the sheets, uneasy be
cause they are possessed by that pleas
ant, teasing, winning, masterful, per
suasive, coaxing devil (I know not his j
name) who haunts the bedrooms of
young people at times when they ought
to be getting up. and when the clocks
are striking with r. 11 their might, and
kolds them ag if by strong arms in
bed, and weighs down their eyelids,
and makes them helpless with sledp
as by enchantment, in so much that
for the sake of another hour in bed
they are ready to brave everything,
even a month’s notice. It is recorded
of a certain mediaeval housemaid —I
thing the story is the autobiography
of Guibert de Nogent—that one day,
under the malign influence of this
devi], she actually sold her soul for
one more hour’s roll in the sheets.
This w'as duly granted to her. She
is now punished—la-bas—by having no
sheets at all to roll in.
Six o’clock in the morning. Tom put
Ins kit into a cab, and drove to a hotel,
the only place where a welcome awaits
the returning traveler at six in the
morning. Then lie made up his mind
not to hurry things. Katharine must
have time to get up. He would re
strain himself and call at nine. He
would have a tub after bis long jour
ney, get into a change of clothes, and
take breakfast first. It was only
eight o’clock when he had quite fin
ished both. But he could wait no lon
ger, and he set out to walk.
Tom pictured in his own mind the
sweet face of his girl, and her lovely
eyes looking into his once more—he
knew that they would be full of tears—
and her dear hands laid in his, Ho
tried to think what she would say, hut
he did not get beyond her face and her
eyes and her hands. Of these he was
quite sure, and he clung to them. Half
past eight. He was opposite Harley
House. The door opened, and one of
the residents came out. It was a girl
employed in a shop ns cashier; her
hours were from nine till eight. His
heart began to beat violently. Suppose
it had been Katharine! He w'ould wait
no longer.
“Miss Cape!, sir?” asked the girl,
who was a newcomer. “There is no
lady of that name here.”
This was the unexpected; this it was
which threw him out altogether. For
that Katharine should have gone away
was the last thing he expected.
“She was staying here six months
ago.”
“Y'es, sir. I’ve only been here ten
days.”
“Will you give me her present ad
dress?”
“I’ll ask the matron, sir.”
She left him in the hall, and present
ly the matron herself came to him.
“Miss Capel left her three weeks
ago,” she said.
“My name is Addison.” I
“Oh!” she said, “you were engaged to
her, and you were killed in Egypt. I
know now. Oil, sir, I am so sorry!
Because I don’t know where she is
gone to nor what she is doing.”
“Why did she leave?”
“She left because she had no money
to pay for her lodgings and could get
no work. There was nothing but trou
ble for that poor girl. First she lost
you, and it would have moved the
heart of a stone to see her going about
so heavy and sad. Then she lost her
place. And then she tried and tried,
flint what with its being summer time
when there is no work going, and what
with the many poor young ladies every
where looking for w<frk. she could find
none. And so her money got lower
and lower and lower, and Oh, sir,
don’t look like that!—you’ll fiud her
sonjewliere.”
“Tell me all. Let me hear every
thing.”
“She -had a great friend here, another
girl, named Lily Doran. They stood
by each other, and shared their money
as long as it lasted. Then one morn- j
ing they went away together.”
“Where did they go? They roust
have had some place to take their
things.”
“They had no things. They had sold
or pawV.ed everything; their watches
went first and their clothes went last.” 1
“Oh, Katharine!”
“I would have kept them, but it is
against the rules. No one is allowed
to stay here a day after she is unable
to pay her weekly bill. Harley House
is uot a charitable institution.”
“Gone! Where could she go?”
“They must have gone to their,
friends and relations.”
“Katharine had neither friends nor
relations.”
“Could she have gone to your
friends?”
“I have only one relation in London.
She may have gone to him for ljelp.
She knew his address.”
“Go and inquire, sir. Don’t be down
hearted Young ladies don’t get lost!
in London. She must be somewhere?
Give me your address, so that if we
hear anything—some of our ladies) may
have heard of the two girls—l wfll in
quire and let you know.”
Tom turned sadly away. Katlarine
gone and in great distress. Mffiodv
knew better than himself how friend-,
less she was. She had no money left.
She bad to go.
Perhaps she had gone to his cousin.
The more he thought of It the more
likely this appeared to be. Jem had
promised faithfully, in case of his
death, to give her whatever was over,
lifter the trust money was paid. But
rhe bad no money. Therefore there
was nothing left over. As for his
coufcin, Tom knew very well that he!
had no money of his own. He walked
to Westminster, where Jem had his)
office; it was no use driving, because
he would not be there before tonJ
When he got there he learned that'
Jem had removed to New Square, Lin- !
coin’s Inn—his uncle Joseph’s offices,!
He retraced his steps, and walked all
the way back from Westminster.
In his uncle’s office he found hi?
cousin. |
“Tom!” He sprang to his feet and
seized both his hands, and laughed and
grinned and made every possible dem
onstration of joy, winking hard with
both eyes at the same time. “Tom!
old man! wekifc.ae home! Welcome! I
was about the only man who always
refused to believe that you were killed.
Shake hands again!” He repeated the
outward and visible sign* of delight.
“I always refused. Why? Because
they never found your body; the body
itself is a piece of evidence that should
never he forgotten. And none the
worse? Let me look at you. None
the worse I believe.”
“No,” si id Tom, “none the worse, ex
cept for worry and anxiety.”
“Ah! you worried about not being
able to escape.”
“Well, one looked to be speared every
day, -and one expected to get sunstroke,
and one worried about the people at
home (and the food was pretty bad, I
no can tell you), and there seemed no
chance of escape, and But there
Where is Katharine?”
“l’ou mean—oh,, yes—l had almost
forgotten—Miss Capel. I don’t know,
Tom. How should I?”
“I loft her at Harley House, where
she proposed to remain. But she has
gone, and left no address.”
“Why* bless my soul!” said Jem,
suddenly recollecting, “she called here
—not long ago—about four weeks, I
think, to ask if there was any hope
poor thing—none! It was no use tell
ing her that I myself believed you to
be alive, was it?”
“She called—here? How did she
look?” Tom asked, hoarsely.
“She looked, as far as I can judge,
very well, and very beautiful. In deep
mourning, Tom, but very well and
very beautiful.”
“Did she—did she seem in poverty or
distress?”
“I observed nothing.” Jem shut his
eyes and opened them several times
rapidly. “She was not, to be sure,
dressed for the park. But she said
nothing about any other distress thau
her distress on your account.”
“Poor Katharine! Jem, you made a
solemn promise before I went away—a
solemn promise.”
“I did, old man, I did. If I had ob
served any sign of distress, if she had
given me the least hint of trouble in
that way, I would—l would have part
ed with my bottom dollar to relieve
her. I would indeed, Tom.”
“Thanks, Jem.” Tom gave him his
hand. “Then she said nothing about
being in want?”
“Nothing; not a word.”
“Yet it must have been about that
time that she left Harley House.”
“Tom,” said his cousin earnestly, “I
hope you believe me when I say that
I remembered that promise.”
“I am sure you did,” said Tom.
“I have never forgotten it,” he went
on confidently. (This assertion, to be
sure, was perfectly true. He had never
forgotton that promise.) “I assured
you that when the trust was paid I
would look after her.”
“No; you would give all that was
left, if there was any, to her.”
“Just so. I fully acknowledge the
promise. Well, Tom, the trust has not
been paid off. I have advertised every*
where for the heirs of Captain Henry
Willoughby, but have had no answer.”
Perhaps he advertised in the dark
arches of the Adelphi or in the tunneds
of the Metropolitan Railway, because
those advertisements could never b«
found in any of the ordinary channels.
“As for your uncle's estate, Tom, I
found it in a devil of a mess, and it
will take another six months, I dare
say, to unravel it all and get a cleav
statement of how you stand. But
there will be more left over than I
thought at first. I can promise you
that, Tom. A good deal more. So
much is certain.”
“Oh!” cried Tom, remembering, “As
for the heirs, I have made a discovery.
Oh! a wonderful discovery.”
His cousin turned pale.
“What discovery, Tom?”
“I have found the heiress. It is none
other than Katharine herself, Jem; I
ame sure of it. Oh! if I had known
before I went away!”
“Is it possible? Miss Capel herself?”
“Her name is Willoughby. But where
is she?”
/
“I don’t know. She can’t very well
be lost. She must have seen the tele
grams about your return—you’ve been
spread out flue and large for the last
week or so, old man—and she’ll be sure
to write to you or come to you. She
knows your address, of course.”
“She knows my old lodgings, and
she knows the address of the paper.”
“Don’t worry about her, Tom. Go to
the paper and report yourself. And
you’ll find a letter waiting for you.”
“I’ll go at once.”
He rushed out of the office.
An hour later he returned.
“There’s no letter, and I’ve been to
the lodgings. No letter has been sent
there, and nobody has called since you
took away the books and tilings.”
“There are your books, Tom.” He
pointed to the shelves where they were
arranged. “They are safe enough. But
as for this young lady—it looks odd;
but then, you see, lots of women never
look at a paper at all, while there’s
others who’ll read every word from be
ginning to end every day, and wish;
! there was more—especially more law
j cases.”
“What shall we do, Jem?”
“There’s only one thing to be done.
Advertise. Leave it to me.”
“I suppose I must,” said Tom, un
willingly.
“Leave it to me. I will soon find her
for you if she is above ground. And
j now, Tom, let us go back to that dis
• covery of yours.”
“The heiress is none other than Kath
! arine herself.”
I 1 “So you told me before. How do you
| know, eh?”
Tom briefly related the points—we
know r them already—which had led him
to connect Katharine with the Wil
loughby trust.”
i “Strange!” said his cousin. “It seems
plausible; It may be true.”
(To be continued.)
JAMESTOWN
Ter-Centennia! Exposition April t
November, 1907.
Exceedingly low rates have been
authorized by the Southern Railway
to Norfolk, Va., and return, account
Jamestown Ter-Centennial Exposi
tion.
Stopovers will be allowed on sea
son, sixty day and fifteen day tickets,
same as granted on summer tourist
rickets. Tickets will be sold daiiy
commencing April 19th, to and moul
ding November 30th, 1907.
The Southern Railway is taking a
very great interest in this exposition
and doing everything within their
power to promote its welfare for the
reason that it is located on historic
and southern grounds, and has evi
dence of being one of the most import
ant and attractive affairs of this kind
that has ever been held.
Through train service and sleeping
car service to Norfolk during the ex
position has not yet been announced,
but it is expected that most excel
lent schedules will be put in effect
so as to make the trip comfortable
and satisfactory in every way.
Full and complete information will
be cheerfully furnished upon applica
tion to any ticket agent of the South
ern Railway compq,jny. tf
When two neighbors, living on op
posite sides of the same street and
belonging to different churches, fail
to understand each other, what is the
probability that any one of ns will
comprehend the motives and char
acter of people on the other side of
the globe?
YOUR
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Torpid, it s your enemy, and its
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Sick Headache, etc.
RWffi&LLS
AND TONIC PELLBTS
make active, strong and healthy
livers, preventing and relieving
liver troubles.
Complete Treatment 23 C.
LOCUST GROVE DRUG CO.
R. 0. JACKSON,
Attorney-at- Law,
mcdonough, ga.
Office over Star Store.
E. M. SHITtf,
Attorney at Law,
Me Donottgh, Ga.
Office over Star Store, south side square.
All work carefully and promptly attended
to. s3f Am premared to negotiate loans
on real estate. Terms easy.
HELP IS OFFERED
TO WORTHY YOUNG PEOPLE
We earnestly request all young persons, no matter
how limited their means or education, who wish to
obtain a thorough business training and good posi
tion. to write by first mail for our great half -rats
offer. Success, independence and probable fortune
are guaranteed. Don't delay. Write today.
The G*.«Ala. Business College, Hacon. Ga.
