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JOURNAL AND MESSENGER.
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THE FAMILY JOURNAL^-NEWS—POLITIOS-.LITERATURK—AGRICULTURE—DOMESTIC NEWS^rc,—PRICE $2.00 PER ANNUM.
GEORGIA TEL - APH BUILDING
ESTABLISHED 1826. '
MACON, FRIDAY, MARCH 24, 1882,
*
VOLUME LVI-XO IS
TJIB EAXDLADY’S DA VO H TE
[V*r WertMn Jbtvh(triein.]
1ST 0 CO KOI BIRDS EVE.
Throe students went sayly over the Rhine,
And stopped when they ns the old Inn sign.
"Pray, landlady, have you good beer and wine?
And bow (area that lovely daughi
"My beer and wine are
My daughter, alas! Ilea
ter of-thine V
and clear;
sparkling
dead on her bier!'
Then to the death-chamber they took their
way;
And there, In her coffin, the maiden lay.
The first uncovered the face of the dead.
And mournfully gaxed, as he sadly said:
"Hadst thou only lived, O, maid divine,
— • ' " — •—' thin
From this hour on had my love been thine?"
The second gently replaced the shroud.
And, turning away, he wept aloud:
'•Alas, that thou llest upon thy bier!
I’ve loved thee dear! (or many a year 1"
The last again turfted aside the veil,
And tenderly kissed her lips so pale:
"I loved thee ever—I love thee still—
And this heart of mine forever will!”
' —From the German of Uhlan J.
A YOUNG LADY’S LETTE ft.
- Wiiat is always to be seen from the
pretty stone bridge of three arches that
spans the Thames at Panghead, as one
looks down stream, is the large brick
house to the lefl; the comfortable inn,
and the boat house to the right; the pole
in the middle of the river to which are
fastened*various crafts; the swans; the
little boy fishing from the bank; and, what
la always to be beafd are the sounds of
rippling running water, of oars moving in
rowlocks, of voices talking in the distance,
of rooks cawing pleasautly m tbe fields
out yonder by the lock.
What is not always to be seen on Pang-
head, or indeed, on any other bridge, is
the very charming young girl that was,
leaning over the bridge parapet on a love
ly afternoou in October last. That she
was remarkably pretty was to been seen at
a glance. That she was frivolously twid
dling a piece of note-paper in the shape of
a paper boat, was to be remarked at the
second glance. Any man or woman—mac
perhaps especially—who took one glance
at this fascinating young lady, being as it
were compelled to take another. What
must bo told of her, however, since, from
the modesty of her dress and manner,
nobody could possibly Infer It, is that she
was as wealthy as she was pretty, and,
moreover, an orphan and, being of full
age, her own mistress.
This very desirable young lady was,
tbe while ahs twiddled her piece of note-
paper, ostensibly engaeed in admiring tbe
beauties of nature and enjoying tbe sweet
freshness of the breeze. In reality, how
ever, she was rather more occupied in en
deavoring in the most modest and one
might almost say shyest manner in tLe
world, to attract the attentiot®bf a very
handsome young man who stood with bis
Lands in his pockets, and a moody face,
at the door of the boat-house, looking
every way but hers. *
He certainly did not see her, but he
was nevertheless thinking of her, and as
the thoughts of both gentleman and lady
at this particular moment have long been
known to their friends, there is no reason
why they should not be set down here:
This is wbat tbe young lady a as thinking.
“I am sure Baker must have read tuist
She looked so pert when she brought 1.
out to me. And why indeed did she
trouble to bring it out at all? It is as if
she wanted to say, ‘This is not the sort of
document to leave about one’s room.’
and it certainly is not. I think being so
mnch in love with Mr. Lescar makes me
stupid. Because one can’t hide this sort
of thing from ono’s self. I am in love
with him, and I am sure he thinks about
as much of me as he does of bis boots;
less perhaps. Money can’t buy every
thing. It won’t buy Mr. Lescar, that’s
very certain. I wonder now if be were to
suddenly look up and shout to me like a
boatman with bis hands to tbe side of his
mouth: Hi; Hullo! Miss Pbcebe Munniss,
I haven't a penny, ami you are con-
rtnientiy rich; but III try to like you if
you wish It*—I wonder if I should smile
and geured and be fluttered, and say:
“Yes, if you please, Mr. Lescar, I do wish
It’ Someth—■! fancy I can’t really be
in love, bccause'I am able to eat my meals
as usual, aud I can reason about it all iu
- this jocose way to myself. And yet it is
certain that tbe mere sight of his hat lying
on [lie lull [able this morning made my
heart beat like no other hat ever did.
-Dear me! there he stand? looking as cross
as two sticks, and qnitc absorbed in that
foolish old ben clucking at her chickens.
Decidedly men are more disinterested than
women. A woman would not stand there
looking at an old ben while an unmarried
gentleman with ever so much huMol
money was standing staring down at her
from a bridge. Slie would know it direct
ly, and be all alive and gracious, and
meeting him half tray. I do so wish I
were poor, and very lovely, and then
perhaps. - .”etc-, etc.
The gentleman was thinking if he had
a million a year, he wonld lay it—and
himself—at Miss Munniss’ feet. In de
fault of a million, ho could only paint a
famous picture—or write a book that
would set tiie whole world wondering—
or better still, !f he could save her from
drowning—not in this bit of a river, but
iu the sea, from a shipwreck, swimming
about with her for forty-eight hours per
haps, aud being cast upon a desert island,
aud having all sorts of opportunities of
defending her from savages and wild
beasts . . . At this point in his re
flections tbe young man laughed right out,
as well he might! and came mentally back
from his wilde adventures with Aliss Mun
niss to his short holiday, which came to
an end on tbe day alter next, and to a
certain red spot which had come at the
end of his nose, just where anybody—say
Miss Munniss—would be sure to notice
it. At that moment Miss Munniss, goad
ed to desperation by tbe apathy of this
most aggravating young man, coughed,
uuuccessarily perhaps, but successfully,
for Mr. Lescar immediately looked up,
and his face beckine radiant.
“Howd’ you do?” cried be.
“Howd’ you do?” cried she, and nodded,
well pleased.
Mr. Lescar called out something—but
Miss Munniss could not make out what—
and most anxious not to lose one of the
words of wisdom that fell from the lips of
her love, leaned over the parapet, and
said, “Eh? What?
Mr. Lescar repeated his remark. But
it was lost on Miss Muuniss, (or at that
moment a meddlesome bumble bee, on
pranksome wing, came lull pelt at her
face, as it were on purpeae.
She did furious baUle with the intruder,
aud worsted him. Meanwhile Mr. Les
car, seeing his love in such extremity, had
moved a step or two to her assistance,
when he was suddenly stopped. The
piece of paper which she held iu her hand
had dropped from her agitated grasp, and
gently tluitering here and there had reach
ed the river, and was sailing down the
stream like the gallant little paper boat it
was!
Wiiat had arrested youug Lescar s at
tention was, not this compaiiiively unim
portant fact; it was the face of distress;
the wild clasp of tbe hands, the cry of
utter dismay of his pretty lady-love on the
bridge. Had it been her whole fortuue
in bank notes th* wae sailing away so
swiftly, she could ham hard if wpesrsd
■sore horror sir ideas.
On the spur of the moment he sprang
with a bound toward a punt conveniently
moored to the bank by an iron chain and
a spike, tore up the spike, and by tbe
mere Impetus of his spring into the punt,
sent it out into mid-stream. When he
found himself there he suddenly perceived
that he had no punt-pole.
“All right! all right!” cried he. “Never
mind. I’ll get it somehow.”
He was full of interprise, determination,
and ardor, standing valoxousiy in this
empty punt. But the punt being left to
itself took its own careful Ume, and swung
slowly rout’d, floating sideways like a
hansom-cab horse, afiei;the piece of paper.
It then struck him that he could be quite
as valiant aod useful standing in the
middle of the punt as at one side, and that
she would go a great deal belter for the
change.
Meanwhile Miss Munniss bad rushed
down from the bridge to the boat-house,
and screamed at the top of her voice:
“Mr. Lescar! Never mind! Do come
backl^fever mind! It’s nothing! Oh! my*
goodness me! What shall I do it he picks
ft up!” -
This last remark she made to herself,
and for all young Lescar heard of the
others, she might as well made them to
herself also.
“All right! all right!” cried he, waving
his hand encouragingly, it was needless,
he thought, to tell her be couldn’t “come
back,” even li be wished it.
As be spoke, however, he suddenly dis
appeared, and there was a wild flourish of
hoots in tbe air. He had only lost his
balance—which is a possibility to a person
who is standing violently gesticulating in
a punt. As he picked himself up he heard
punt. As he picked himself up be heard
unmistakable sounds of laughter from the
distant bank on which Miss Munniss
stood. This settled the matter. Either
he took that trivial piece of paper, which
very likely was nothing hut a silly letter
from some school-girl friend, back to Miss
Munniss, or he would perish in the at-
mt.
’Nothing could possibly be more ridicu
lous than this excited pursuit of a piece
of evidently useless paper, thau his return
without it.
Meanwhile she bad finished her wicked
laughter, and had run as hard as she could
run along the bank after the punt—call
ing out all the while entreaties that Mr.
Lescar would give it up and come back.
But Mr. Lescar was deaf to them. Iu
the first place, because the furious bark
ing of two small dogs that had followed
her prevented his bearing them, secondly,
because he could not come back without
a punt-pole.
Fins
inal’Jy Miss Munniss was stopped by a
closed five-barred gate—ou tbe other side
of which were cows. She made a final
attempt as Mr. Lescar floated away, aod
this time he felt sure he heard her say,
“Don’t read . . it.”
“Now this seemed a very unnecessary
request to make to an houorable man, and
Paul Lescar felt aggravated. But it was
no use to look hurt and reproachful at
that distance, so all be could do was to
lift up his hands in horror, and shake bis
bead violently, which agitated pantomime,
would he trusted, reassure the young
ladv.
“Now, wbat on earth can it be,” thought
he. “I’ll be bound it’s a love letter.
aring of
in this
some other fellow’s letter in this way,
Don’t read it indeed! Confound him!”
The thing, however, at the present
moment was, not to devote Miss Munniss’
favored suitor to the infernal gods, it was
to rescue his letter—if it was his letter or
not—not eniy because it would be agreea
ble to restore the .valued document to
Miss Munniss with a sigh and look tba
should speak volumes, but having begun
the pursuit of it entirely on his owu ac
cord, it behooved him to complete it.
For some time the piece of paper kept
to the middle of the stream, so did the
pant, and consequently so did Mr. Lescar,
they passed the field with cows, and several
consequent ones. They passed a villa or
two with well ironed lawn:. Then a
stretch of meadow laud, whereon were
daises and nothing else. At last they
neared a man fishing from tbe bauk.
“Hi! Hi!” called out Mr. Lescar, catch
ing at it as if it were a straw. “I say!
... I haven’t got a punt-pole . . .
and—”
The fisherman on the bank was prac
tical and pert. “Neither ain’t I!” shouted
he, grinning.
Mr. Lescar flashed a wrathful look at
him with one eye. The other he felt
obliged to keep fixed on the floating piece
of white paper ahead of him.
“Where does the current ... Hi!
where does the current set iu? Shan’t I
go aground somewhere?”
“Likely as not,” shouted tbe man, grin
ning again.
“You wait here till I come back, my
man!” shouted Mr. Lescar.
A few minuitejafterwardandthepaper,
tbe punt, and Mr. Lescar came to rather
a sudden bend in the river. The current
took tbe piece of paper with it to the
elbow as it were, of the bend; where, be
ing a light craft, not drawing more than
the hundredth part of an inch of water,
it wriggled for a moment or-so in the
erasp of a small eddy, and then sailed off
again into deep water and went on Us
way. Not so the punt of Mr. Lescar.
They, too, were taken to the bend by the
current, and being too large and heavy to
toss lightly about in a whirlpool the size
of a wasbband basin, there they stopped.
That is to say, there tbe punt stopped.
For young Lescar was of too impatient
a temperament to stop there with it, and
rail at Fate. And after all it was as easy
to follow its coarse, down tbe banks on
his legs, as to float helplessly a matter of
ten yards cr so after it in a poleless punt.
Follow it to the best of his ability he
did. It may be tbongbt strange that this
piece of paper should have gone so long
an its way “unstopped by twig orjsnag, or
overhanging bush, or venturous weed
upereepins through the water to the air
and light;” but the fact'is, that it did so
float iu tth&t unfettered manner. One
sees the straws and twiggs that have been
stopped—but cue cannot tell hew far they
may have come, tumbling over weirs aud
gliding through open lock* before they
were so brought to a standstill.
Nor was; Mr. Lescar stopped. Cows
were of course nothing to him. Boards
with such warnings painted thereon as
“Trespassers will be strictly prosecuted,”
‘•Beware of the dogs,” “Private,” “During
the floods this road is under water”
troubled him not at all. He passed a
few people’certainly, but however hotly
he might himsell be engaged in the pur
suit of Miss Munniss’ truant correspon
dence, lie was quite sensible that it would
be of no use to ask assistance. One old
gentleman be did stop, because the
old gentleman had his dog with him, and
because the dog was wet, and having pre
sumedly been in the water for his pleas
ure, might possibly be induced to go into
it agsiu ou business.
“Sir, sir . . . your dog has been in the
water hasn’t he . . .? I mean—he’ll fetch
things out, won’t he . . .? There’s some
thing in the river.”
“Good G—d, sir! where . . . ?” cried
the old mau, stopping short at once with
a face of horror. “Here, Vixen, Vixen.’
“Allow me to explain. There it goes
. . . No, by Jove, I’ve Iostil! No! There
it is out in the full of the stream. It’s a
little bit of nolepaper ...”
The old man w as furious.
‘I daresay you young fellows think it a
very clever thing to startle a quiet old
gentleman oot of his senses. I call it veiy
vulgar and. . . and unaentietuauly . . .
out you are quite welcome to your fun,
sir; If such little things amuse you—”
“Good lieaveDS sir,” cried horrified,
polite Paul Lescar. “I am quite serious I
assure you. Do let mo explain. . .”
“You’ll lose your bit of paper If you
do!” said the old gentleman sarcastically.
“By Jove! so I shall!” cried the young
man, and was off, leaving tho old gentle
man standing staring after him in utter
amazement.
“Poor fellow; touched in the head!
That’s^what come of competitive examina
tions. Every brain is stuffed exactly
alike. Healthy, strong brain doesn’t
burst—weak brain does bunt. There
yon have the whole thing in a nutshell!
Poor fellow!”
Meanwhile the poor fellow was scam
pering (having nearly lost sight of his
piece of paper) across, first a meadow,
and secondly a remarkably well kept lawn,
having calmly opened and come through
a little gate that divided tbe one from the
other; shaking with surpressed laughter
at his own impertinence, and devoutly
hoping that “the family” were out. For
behind the lawn of course there was a
house, and behind the walls of the house
presumably there would be a family.
Fortuue, however, is known to lavor
the bold, and she not seldom extends her
patronage to the Impudent. At the farth
er end of the lawn was a diminutive har
bor of refuge, cut in the lawn itself, just
wide and loDg enough to hold a canoe.
And iu it there was a canoe, and crown
ing mercy! a paddle. There are some
temptations too strong to do successful
battle with; Mr. Lascar did not attempt
to fight with this one. To get into the
canoe, to tear after the bit of paper—to
pass it—to geutiy fish it up with one end
of the paddle—to return to the little har
bor—to chain up tbe canoe and to walk
back triumphantly to Miss Munniss—
seemed such a harmless set of proceedings
that he at once proceeded. The chain
wa3 unfastened, the canoe. . .
He was so excited, so delighted, above
all in such a hurry, that perhaps he had
not cars to hear. Anyhow he did not
hear the thud of quickly coming foot-steps
uniiLthe person whose feet were steppiug
was close upon him. Then be turned, of
course, with the most guilty, horrified
stare possible. And the next second a
young man, as strong and excited as him
self, bad put his band on bis shoulder.
Until tho moment Paul Lescar looked
up, the intention of the owner of the ca
noe, whose wrath in bis brief journey
from the house to the water’s edge had
grown fiercer and fiercer with every step,
had been to seizo the intruder by the col
lar and to shake the life out of him. But
when he saw that he had to do witn an
individual who, however free and easy in
his views, was still a geutleman in the
vulgar acceptance of the term—l. e., not a
mere needy thief—he altered his inten
tion, with that iunate love of fair play
and that deep dislike to putting one’s self
in the wrong by too hasty a conclusion,
which is a characteristic of Englishmen
generally.
“I presume, sir, that yon don’t know
that that canoe is private property, and
that this lawn is also private.”
“Yes, I do;” was the hurried answer.
“Lend her to mo for a minute or two, and
I’ll briag her baek and apologize to you
from then till bedtime. Only don’t stop
me now."
“You must take me for a thundering
ass! ”
“No, I’m the ass. Lsok here; here’s
my card. In that pocket-book you’ll find
It. A—a lady dropped a paper—a letter,
into the liver, and I—I must get it for
her. Back in a minute.”
There was no mistaking the expression
of the intruder’s eyes, or the frank tone
of his voice. The other young man
smiled.
“All right,” said he; “you’ll confess it
looked a little awkward. Get in; I’ll
shove her out. Can you manage her ?
She’s not of the tub order.”
“Your very good. Can I manage her ?
Rather! ”
He took her gently out with two care
fully calculated strokes, and then slanted
down with the stream with a wary touch
to the right now and then till she was
straight. An upset here would have been
disastrous, aud she was built lor speed—
not (or safety.
When he had given a few vigorous
strokes, and had left the villa far behind
him, lie was horribly disappointed to see
no traces of the paper anywhere. This
was puzzling. Either the current was
very much more rapid than he had imag
ined, or be bad wasted more time thau be
thought. Ho stopped paddling, and after
allowing for tbe impetus to die away,
found that he waf leaving trees and other
landmarks quickly behind him. The
current had tberetore carried the bit ot
paper a long way in that short time.
Here the river was broad, but some way
ahead of him it was divided into two
channels by a long island. The right
chaunel led to the weir, the left led to tbe
lock.
“Of two things—one,” thought he.
“Either that bit of paper has had the
gumption to go straight to the Lick—in
which case I shall find it stopped by the
gates-or it has been idiotic enough to go
ovei the weir, in which case I must go af
ter iu Confound it! That will be a
nuisance, seeing that I don’t know any
thing at alt about this particular weir, or
how much water may be going over it at
tbe present moment, and if there’s any
water on tho lower side or only stones.
Because, though I suppose I’ve a right to
break my own neck, ir I like, I mustn’t
break that man’s canoe’s back. Besides,
ir tbe paper has gone over tea weir, I
should say it must have become so much
pulp by this time. And I shall have _ a
hot walk home; and Miss Phccba will
laugh at me for my pains, and think me a
meddling idiot.”
Anyhow, he first went to tho lock, and
there be found against the gates a large
collection ot river weed, straw, twigs, dry
leaves, swans’ feathers, anything except a
piece of highazed,ad, inonograiumed
paper, such as had fallen from Phoebe
Munniss’ careless fingers. There were
people about here, too, botonging to the
lock-house, and two or three pairs of eyes
to stare at tho slnmge apparition of a
strange gentleman in Mr. Pettigrew’s rac
ing canoe, who came right up to tho very
gates, not to go through them, but tq
poke about in the rubbish tnat had ac-
comalated behind them with tho end of
bis paddle, and a very eager face; and his
search being nnsuccessTul, backing care
fully until be had space to turn, and then
makiug off again up the river 03 quickly
as ho had come down it.
When he reached the end of the long,
narrow island, which divided the weir
from tbe lock, on which the lock-house
stood, ha rounded tbe point and went
down a little way toward the weir. Here
the channel was wide, but tbe current
was veiy strong toward the middle, -and
auytbing but sluggish at the banks, aud
there was a roar of falling water.
“Hi I—hi I ” cried a voice, end a man
came running after him along the baDk.
He stopped the canoe with a stroke or
two backward, for the voice waa argent.
“You can’t take her over there! ” cried
the man.
“Impossible? I was going to see
about it.”
“Well,you can’t. There’s too much ot
everything for that ctnoe—water and
stones, too. She’s too long.”
By this time Patti Lescar bad backed
toward tbs land, and tks man cams dow»
to him
“I wonder Mr. Pettigrew didn’t tell
you that, air.”
“He had no time. Well, I don’t care
about going any further. 1 only wauled
to follow something that I think has gone
over the weir before me. You didn’t
happen to see a bit of note paper pass by
hereabouts a little while ago, did you ? ”
lie watched the man’s (see as be said
this, fully aware of the absurdity of the
question, and quite ready for a laugh;
but to his surprise the mau showed none,
himself, and answered:
“Ah! a bit ot white, stiffisb paper
sticking up like a sail, as it might be.”
“Yes, yes; you don’t mean to say—”
“Bit of paper—size of tea-cup or break
fast cup, you might say.”
“Yes, yes; has it—” •
“’Bout minute—minute and a half-
two minutes ago.”
“Yes; well, where is it ? ”
“Ah ! I noticed It particular; it’s gone
clear over.”
“Confound it all! Over there ? "
“Yes; and I’ll tell you where it it is.
It shot over in the veiy smoothest place,
and went straight out into the pool. Aud
there’s a party down yonder fishing in a
pant, aDd I see that very identical piece
of paper up against the side of tbe punt,
and Isays to myself: If that ’ud ’ been a
bank note it couldn’t a took: more care of
itself; and there it is now, unless they
took it aboard.”
“Thank yon. How can I get there ?
Through the lock, of course; but that
would take time. Can I cross higher up
and ran down the bank beyond the weir
and call to them ? Can I leave the ca
noe there safely ? ”
“I’ll keep an eye on her for you, sir.”
Thank you. But your eye won’t do
much from this side if somebody else
should think fit to put a hand on her cu
the other.”
“ohe’ll be right enough. That’s Mr.
Pettigrew’s, ain’t it?"
“I’m sure I don’t know. Weil, if you’ll
wait here, I shall be obliged. Thank
you.”
“Thank yen, sir.”
To cross the river, to land on the oppo
site side, to fasten the canoe to the stump
of an old willow tree, to run along the
bank and past the weir and to come in
sight of the fishing party, was the work of
a very few minutes, l’aul Lescar, how
ever, did not see tbe white paper at the
side of the pant, but, as the man had
said, that might be because the people in
the punt bad taken it on board. Of course
it was a disappointment not to see his
treasure before his eyes, moro especially
as its absence from tbe scene entailed the
necessity of making questions and answer
ing them.
The people in the punt were sittiug
quite silent and almost motionless.
Ferbaps of the stilling influence of the
scene—the calming beauty-of the wooded
banks to their right; the blue of the sky
overhead; the whiteness of tho tumbling
water just before them. Perhaps because
of the soothing monotony of the rook
cawing iu the distance, tho roar of the
weh{ perhaps because of the necessity of
not disturbing tho fish; and perhaps a
little because bottled ale taken In how
ever small quantities,in tbe open air has au
exceedingly soporific efiect on the sys
tem.
Paul Lescar, hot and excited, was as
sudden and a3 rousing in the complete
quiesenco of the spot as a whirlwind In a
desert.
“What an infernal row!” thought he.
“How am I going to make them hear ?”
There were ladles in the pnnt. Ladles
are actually in tbe way, sometimes. He
couldn’t shout “Hi! hi! ” to a couple of
ladies, and “Hi! ” is a sound that carries
far.
ne began nervously with “Excuse
me—’’ They heard nothing of this, so
he inflated his lungs and shouted:
“Hex—coose me—” It did not
sound like a preamble or an apology, but
it was a noise and attracted attention.
“Oh !—look at that man gesticulating
on lhe bank; what is be saying?” said
one of the party.
Mr. Lescar shouted something.
“What does he say? Something
about a newspaper ? ”
“A newspaper ? Oh, I know! It’s
the man from the station about tbe pa-
S era. What a fool he must be to come
ere, shouting at us like that 1 All right,
all right! The Times and The Saturday
Review—Times! Saturday Review.”
“What! ” shouted Mr. Lescar, infinite
ly puzzled.
“Wbat does he say ? Does he think
we’re not to be trusted with ninepence ?
All right—all right. Leave ’em at the
house. To-morrow. Tomorrow.”
“He’s saying something about some
thing belDg a better paper, I think,” said
one lady who had sharp ears.
“Well, I don’t want his opinion about
the papeis I read. Don’t langb like that,
Georgians. The Times. The Saturday
Review.”
“He’s laughing himself,” said Georgi-
aiia. “It’s not a man—it’s a gentleman.”
There was a shout of laughter at this
definition, in which for some reason or
other the individual on the bank joined
heartily.
“You’re right. I don’t think it’s the
station man.”
“It ain’t the station man,” said the
fisherman, placidly. “Leastways, it ain’t
the station man as I know on.”
“Well we had better shove iu and ace
what he wants. We can leave the poles.
He evidently doesn’t Intend to go till he
has had speech of us.”
So they prepared to shove in.
Mr. Lescar was serious enough by the
time they had come within speaaiug dis
tance of each otner. It was rather an
awkward thing to explain to a punt full
of curious people—two of whom were la
dies—that be bad disturbed them from
their peaceful employment, shoutibg and
gesticulatiug to them wildly from a dis
tant bank—not because somebody bad
just caught a whale in the upper ranche,
or tho Mikado of Japan was at that mo
ment passing through the loot with twen
ty junks fullof attendants, and tho right
was worth seeing, but because a BUe bit
of note paper had floated over tho weir
and been stopped by their puut.
“I’m sure I must apologize to you,” he
said, getting crimson when they were
near enough for him to be understood,
“hut I’ve bad a great deal of trouble. I
havo come half way from tbe bridge in a
pnnt without a pole. Then, fortunately,
I ran agronnd and landed. Then I ran a
long way and at last I stole a canoe on
the other side. Then I was stopped be
cause I couldn’t shoot tbe weir without
endangering tho cance. Thank you very
much; it’s of the highest importance. It’s
a rather important letter. In fact, if it
hadn’t been so I sbouldpit have dreamt of
disturbing you, I assure you. I’m aw
fully sorry. I’m sure—”
“Pray don’t mention it. It’s of no con
sequence. I’m glad we picked your let
ter up. My sisters wanted the mono
gram—so we took it out of the water.
Pray don’t apologize.”
Manifold and reiterated expressions of
a polite nature passed between pant and
bank.
‘If we put it in the landing net, can you
manage to reach it?”
“Ob, yes; I think so. Can’t I come
down to you, tborgh ? ”
“Not very well, I think. You see the
bank is veiy steep here, and exceedingly
slippery, not to say crummy. There’s
nothing to hold on by—but we can go
lower down if yov wish it.”
• l*Ob, no, thank you. I’m ashamed «f
giving vou to much troubl* *#
“Never mind that,” said tbe other
pleasantly.
Tbe letter was put between the meshes
of the landing net. The fisherman held
out the net at arm s length. Mr. Lescar
stretched hit arm a little further and
grasped the letter. The fisherman, how
ever, took back tho net a little too quick
ly—a mesh of which caught in some in
explicable manner Id Mr. Lascar’s shirt
sleeve stud. Mr. Lescar was, uufortu-
nrtely, ioaniug too far forward to havo
tire power of resisting even so slight a pull
as that, and down the bank he plunged
headforemost, rollin^ over and over into
the water. It was very fortunate tbat
they saw him falling even before he quite
fell,for by the time he.reached the water’s
edge be had iu bis wild struggles to re
cover himself sprained his ankle and
bumped bis head so severely that he had
fainted. They were, however, ready for
him and caught him just as he was dis
appearing.
Then they hauled him into the punk
with no little difficulty, and were very
much relieved to find that he soon opened
his eyes and tried to smile, and said:
“It’s nothing—nothing at all.”
“Isn’t it? ” said the other, tbe rescuer.
“Ixien’t know then what your views of
‘something’ may be. I should say vast.
Never mind, we’ll get you home in no
time acd dry you.”
“But I’m afraid my ankle is sprained,
also.”
“I’m sorry for that; never mind—pray
don’t apologize. These accidents will
ippen, and it was partly our fault.”
“1 am afraid I splashed these ladies.”
“Of course you did; but they don’t
mind that.”
“And I’ve left—whose Is it—a Mr.
Pettigrew’s canoe—is that tbe name ? ”
“Yes; where havo you left his canoe?”
“Above the weir, with a man keeping
his eye on it from the other side?’
“All right; we’ll send this man. Poul-
de r , when you’ve put us down, just take
Mr. Pettigrew’s canoe back to him, will
you ? ”
“With Mr. Lascar’s unfeigned thanks.
He has my cards in my pocekt-book. At
all eveDts I left it lying on his lawn.”
No questions were asked, of course, pe
culiar as it might seem that a gentleman
should ignore .the name of the own
er of the boat ho hail borrowed, and yet
should leave so intimate a possession as
his pocket-book lying on his lawn. But
these people were of the simplest, kindest
quality. However violently and sudden
ly Mr. Lescar may have introduced him
self to their notice, he bad become during
the prooess of bis introduction both wet
and maimed, and there was reason
to receive him as a brother. They would
bear of no apology and were distressed at
his evident distress, and an boar after
ward he was dry and his foot bandaged.
His letter too was diy and he was lying
on a sofa and his letter on a little table
beside him. They bad even—this at his
ex-nest request—furnished him with
bjns^ ink, paper aud envelopes. In one
envelope he put Miss Munniss’ erratic
doemne nt. Aud here it may be confessed
that as he lay back on bis sofa with that
document in his hand, he would havo
given much to read L. Not because of a
mere vulgar craving for prying inu> other
peoplo’s concerns, but of the natural pas
sionate wish of a very anxious lover to
know what were the contents aud who
tho writer of a letter which tho belovel
of his heart prized so highly. He was
not, however, for one single instant tempt
ed to gratify his curiosity. Without hes
itation aud with averted eyes lest ho
should see by chance any one word of the
writing, he put the letter into an envel
ope. He then wrote a few words to Miss
MuDniss on a sheet of paper and put that
with It,
“My DeAn Miss Munniss—I managed
to pick up your letter with no groat diffi
culty. 1 have been stupid enough to
sprain my ankle, but my lines have fallen
in pleasant places, and try host will keep
mo until I can get a carriage to take me
back. I shall hope to see you shortly.
Most faithfully yours, PA.cn Lescab.”
He did not add, “I havo not read it,”
for it did not strike him that she could
posiibly doubt bis honesty iu this matter.
Half an hour afterwards and this letter
was ou its way to “Miss Munniss, care of
Somebody Something, Esq., Panghead.”
There was another note, too, to tho
landlady at the inn where Mr. Lescar
bad beeu staying, begging her to send him
some clothes to-night, and as easy a car
riage as she could procure to-morrow
morning.
This t eing done, it behooved him he
felt to make some remark to his new
frleml about tho; letter and the reasons
why ho had been so anxious not to lose
it.
“I’m sure I must seem rather cool to
you all,” said he to his host. “Tho fact
is, tbe letter is not quite an ordinary let
ter—that is to say—” Hero ho .became
scarlet, not because of what _ the letter
really was, but because he didn’t know
himseir; so he floundered awhile. “It’s
a—weli, I can’t perhaps quite explain,
but it’s very important.”
hi* host came to his rescue.
any
“There is not the slightest necessity for
ly explanation at all,” he said. “We’!!
call it a price list of cheap sherries, if you
like.”
“You’re very good. That would be
rather a flight of tho imagination,though.”
Then with a change of tone: “Pray par
don the question. The paper came over
tho weir and was stopped by your punt,
and you picked it up ? ”
“Yes. Tho monogram was seen by
my sisters so I took it out cf the water,
and—and—as it was very wet I spread it
open to dry.”
“Very naturally. Did you, naturally
again under the circumstances—did you
read it ?”
There was a moment’s pause.
“I’m very sorry to say I did,” said tho
other frankly.
“Sorry.”
“I ibink I don’t quite understand you.
I read it because it was there before my
eyes to read, without thinking, ou the
spur of the moment, as it were. But of
course I bad no wish to look into other
people’s secrets.”
■“Of course not.”
“You don’t know me, but I can assure
you I am the last man iu the world to
talk about this ti any living soul. Your
secret, if it bo a secret, is safe with me.
You may quite count upon mo.”
“Thank you,” said Paul, uneasily.
“Wiiatwas in that letter? One more
question, Did either of the youug ladies
read it 2 ”
“No,"said tho other, promptly. “Uer-
tamly not. I must tell you tbat ou tbe
spur of the moment again I called out,
‘Ob, this is a love letter! ’ but nobody ac
tually resd.lt but me, and especially as I
saw the name of tbe lady, who is well
known to us as the intimate friend of the
Somebody Somethings, though we have
none of us ever met her, aud as I con
clude—”
The thought flashed across Lescar’s
mind that if he let his host talk on he
might learn from him, who of course pre
sumed Mr. Lescar to be as well acquaint
ed with the contents of the letter as him
self, tbe uame of the writer of it, or rath
er, to whom it was written. It struck
him in a second flash of thought that this
would be acting in a contemptible man
ner.
“Pardon me," interrupted be, “don’t
conclude anything. I am infinitely
obliged by your frankness affd discretion.
Will you add to my deep sense ot oblige*
‘ ibl • ‘
you
Von bv droDoinv this sublet*
“Oh certainly, certainly. And do yon
know l roust ask you to excuse my leav
ing yo
ball."
you?
£ have to take my sisters to
I wss
“At the ‘Laurels,’ perhaps
asked, too.” w
“Were you ? How unfortuuate! But
you don’t lose much. Good-night.”
“Good night, and thank yon again and
again.”
“Ob, dont mention that.”
Now, at the “Laurel’s ball” Miss Mun
niss had been bidden with her friends.
And there she was to be seen, not a little
disturbed, having received her own letter
and Mr. Lescar’s inclosure while she was
dressing. One moment she told herself
that of course he must have read what
was In it to read; the next she scolded
herself for doubting the discretion ol so
troa gentlemau; presently she was moved
almost to tears because he hsd come to
grief in her service. Then she reflected
that he would not be at the ball that even
ing. Meanwhile she was supposed to be
listening to an impervious person who
was tellug her a long story in which be
was too much interested himself to per
ceive that she was not interested at all.
This is tbe conversation iu which she
was interested and which took place at
her very aide, both,converters having their
Dacks turnod towards her:
“Ah!Pettigrew,got your canoe back
all right ? ”
“Ob, yes. How is the young man?
Who is he and wbat is he? Cracked or
what ? ”
“No, he has sprained his ankle, that’s
all.”
I t“I know; your man told me. Lescar’s
name. By Jove! Fancy a mvu
throwing himself over a weir after a love-
letter ! ”
“Ho didn’t throw himself over a weir;
he only stumbled down a bank. And
who told you tbat it was a love lett
ter? ”
“Yonr sister Georgians.”
“I think she was mistaken.”
“Both the girls say they saw you read
t, and you cried out, ‘By George 1 it’s a
love io.ter! ’ ”
“Why don’t yen ask this Lescar to let
you have a look at it yourself ? ”
“My dear fellow, don’t excite yourself.
I don't care a baud whetner it was a
love letter or his tailor's bill, only Tfon’c
humbug.”
“I’m not humbugging. I read the let
ter and have given my word to the man
that I’ll hold my tongue about it.”
“This is becoming very mysterious,”
said Mr. Pettigrew, smiliDg. “I sbali set
your sisters to work to find out what they
can.”
“Do. Tell me, who is the girl with
the red cabbage m her hair ? ” etc.
“Excuse me,” said Miss Munniss, faint
ly. “I feel the beat f so vecy much. Do
you think you *could find Mrs. Somebody
Something forme? I dont think I feel
very welL”
A quarter of an hour afterward ?1iq
went home,
For the next two or three days her
friends knew not what to make of her.
No, nothing was the matter. She did not
feel ill. No, she wasn't cross. No, slie
was not fretting—what had she to fret
about, pray ? No, she was not boring
herself, what an idea. No, she was not
put out about anything—what should put
her out ? Her eyes were red. Yes, she
had caught cold. Yes, perhaps she did
feel rather feverish aud restless. Don’t
everybody look at her liko that, please.
“Dear me! isn’t that Mr. Lescar coming
up the road ? ”
“What eyes yon have, Phicbe,” said
her friend. “I suppose he is going to
call here.”
“Then I’ll just go upstairs, if you’ll al
low me,” said Phccbe, rising. “I can’t
quite stand Mr. Lescar’s twaddle.”
“I don’t know any youug fellow of his
age who talks loss twaddle thau he does,”
said her friend’s husband, when sho had
gone. “I really fancy Miss Munniss has
got up on the wrong side of her bed these
last few mornings.”
She, however, did not go upstairs. At
first her intention bad certainly been to
avoid meeting him. He would probably
leave for London next day. She would
moat likely never see him again, or at
least not for many mouths, and it was
belter, far belter, so. When she found
herself alone in the hall she suddenly
told herself that sue must meet him lace
to face once more.
So slie caught up her hat and a parasol
iromthe hat stand, ran out by a little
back door into the garden, down the very
path that he must come, and met him as
he came toward the house to leave his
farewell cards. He came slowly, limping
a little, and leauiug ou a stick.
“Oh! Good mornlug, Mr. Lescar.”
“Good morning, Miss Munniss.”
Both htarts sank witbin them. His
because she looked so gay, careless aud
happy. Hers because his manner and
look were so cold.
“Fine day.”
“Very fine day.”
“I—you—yonr letter reached you
safely ? ”
“Oh, yes; so very many thanks. >It
wasn't worth all that trouble. And your
sprain, too. I hope your anklo is getting
better ? ”
“Thank you, it is not of any conse
quence. I thought perhaps the letter
was.”
“No,” she said, Indifferently. “It was
only a little rubbish I had scribbled. I
tried to prevent you rusbiug after it, you
know, but you wouldn’t pay the least at
tention.”
“I hadn’t a punt-pole,” he said, sav
agely.
He was furious at her deceit. Only a
little rubbish she had scribbled. Great
heavens, now women can prevaricate!
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, “that you
should have come to harm became of
that stupid letter.”
“Thank you,” said be, smiling, but it
was not a pleasant smile by any means.
Miss Munniss became crimson.
“Mr. Lescar,” said she, agitatedly. “I
think you are behaving very, very badly
to me. I think you are read.ng me a les
son. 1 think you are horrified at what
yon read in tbat letter, and—and—I
think it would have been more gentleman
ly in you to have kept your horror to
yourself.”
“1 must remind you, Min Munniss,”
said he. coldly, “that I don’t kuow what
you had written on tbat bit of paper.”
“You do knflpr,” . cried she, “or you
would not be contemptuous.”
“Excuse me, I did not know I was
contemptuous. And I do not know wbat
you wrote.”
“Mr. Lescar—no, but you smiled! ”
“I will not argue with you, Miss Mun
niss.”
“Mr. Lescar, you have not chosen a
delicate way of putting me in place,”
said she, and her eyes filled with teats.
“But I will be more true to myself than
to deny what I wrote. I am not at all
ashamed of wbat I wrote.”
“Upon my word! ” cried he, angrily.
“I dou’t see why you shou Id be. Each of
us is iree to have an opinion. Suppose I
tell you tbat 1 do kuow what is written
in tbat letter. Suppose 1 were to tell
you that I bad certainly not read it, but
tbat quite involuntarily I bad been made
aware of the contents by tbo mau who
first picked it up. Well, suppose tbat I
tell you tbat it has certainly not added to
my happiness to know what you wrote on
that paper. Witt that suffice you ? ”
She looked at him for a moment or so
his
may aud utter distress that went to
heart like a knife.
She has said that at that moment she
felt nothing of wbat she might have beeu
supposed to feel—anger, shame, disap
pointment. A rush of words uttered
pell-mell cau convey no meaning to tbe
listener; so a rush of conflicting thoughts
can admit of no predominating feeling.
jShe was only confused.
“In justice to- myself.” said he. “I
must assure you that I have not been
qnite so mad as to fancy you could possi
bly aUMv 5 oursei’ to think seriously of so
insis^Kcant a fellow as myself; never-
tbqjBs—”
Aiou are very cruel,” said she.
“It is you who are cruel,” said he.
“When you give me that rose on Tues
day, do you kuow how you looked ? Do
you, or don’t you know? But it is worse
thau folly to speak of that. I suppose it
was one ot those '.ti le amusemeuts of
women to give roses and smiles right and
left, and we men are to be grateful for
smal 1 mercies. I am very rough with you
I dare say, but I have begin, and you
must hear me. I went after tbat—that—
wretched bit of paper because you
seemed so annoyed at having dropped it.
I have never read it, bat I inferred from
what the person said who picked it up
that it was a love letter, lndeod, he as
good as said it was. He then mentioned
tbat it was written by a lady who was
staying with the Somebody Soomethiug,
and was a very intimate friend of tffeirs.
I knew he must meau you; aud bad I al
lowed him to go on I should probably
have heard the uame of the gentlemau iu
question. I djft not allow him to go on,
and I do not know to whom the letter
was written. Now, I have one more dis
agreeable tbiug to say.”
But he waited before he’said it. They
had walked on. It is only on the stage
that people are capable of having wordy
and agitated discu sions standing quietly
in the same place face to face, la real
life, if the discussion takes place iu a
room, one walks up and down the room.
If out of doors, one wrlks straight on,
anywhere and anyhow, one’s body must
rnovo with one’s thoughts aud words.
Tbay had reached the water’s edge,
however, and not being able to walk oc,
they had stopped for a moment or )so.
“It is this,” said he, “I love you! I
think you must know it, acd I don’t think
I have startled you at all. I don’t see
why it Should trouble you. I am going
away, aud shall soon he forgotten doubt
less. I don’t care a d—n for your money,
aud I care with every-beat of my heart
for yourself, that’s all.”
He would probably have walked away
after the first moment or two of utter si
lence ou both sides, had he not divined
rather than felt a hand on his coat-
sleeve.
•‘One moment,” said Miss Munniss.
So ho waited, while she searched for
something iu her pocket with trembling
fingers and eyes that were blinded
wit]
was
was
“Paul Lescar, Esq., to‘be given to him
when I die.” *
He gave her one look, which she bore
valiantly, and tore tbe envelope open.
Inside was the identical letter which had
caused so much heart-burning and con
fusion.
“Am I to read it? ” asked he.
>! It belongs to you,” said she. But
while he read it, sho turned away with a
pair of hot scarlet cheeks.
And this is what he read in the blurred,
water-stained, crumpled sheet of note-
paper:
Pjiccbe Munniss. Heb Confession.
I iove Mr. Lescar! 1 love Mr. Lescar!
Hove Pani Lescar!!! And alas, Paul
Lescar does not love me!!! But I will
many no one else in this wide world.
Witness my hand aud signature m sign
thereof, Phocbe Meta Munniss.
Oh, what a pump I km! But this is all
true.—P. M. M., October 15,18—.
His face may be imagined. He had,
however, only lime to give her one look,
bat such a look, when a voice said:
“Oh, here you are.” and a couple of
forms came from out a small laurel-lined
side path before him and stood between
him and her.
“You said you had gone upstairs—I
mean you were going upstairs; and we
couldn’t think what had become of you,
Mr. Lescar.”
“How do yon do, Mrs. Something,”
CUPID’S CAPTURES.
DOW THE MOST GOD 18 Bl'fL,O-
I.VC TJP THE 8TATE.
•t»ry Matos at Swaarsas Alllaaaaa
Which Hava Besa format In. yi T>r
Eta.
Mr. A. T. Bower, one of Rome’s promi
nent citizens, was on March 15th, married
to Miss Bessie Bouet, a beautiful and ac
complished youug lady.
At the residence of the bride in Lexing
ton, Ga., on tbe evening of £e 13th, Dr.
B. Cbedel aud Mrs. A. H. Aderhoid, Rev.
J. G. Gibbon officiating.
Near Covington, on the 9th of March,
by Rev. Mr. Edens, Mr. Hugh Mabry to
Mias Sallie Avery, niece of CapL N. Avery.
In Hawkinsville, on Saturday, list.,
Mr. Wm. Rooney aud Miss Martha Much-
Bell, Bev. E. J. Coats officiating.
Mr. James G. Letter of Cummin^, wa*
married to Miss Hennie Merri wether, o
Newlou county on the 2nd Inst.
In Pine Tucky ViUo, on March 12th
1882, by Dr. Thomas K. Leonard, Mr.
Alonzo R. Burke, of Burke county, to
Miss Francis H. Cook, of Jefferson county.
At the residence of tbe bride’s father on
the 15*.h inst., Mr. Willie J. Tarver to
Miss Fannie Brown by tbe Rev. H. D.
Murphy, all of Jefferson county.
On tbe 1st lost., at the residence of the
bride's parents, Mr. Eddie B. James, of
Thomas county, to Miss Sallie Vanbrunt,
of Leon county, Fla.
At the residence of the bride’s father,
four miles from Tboroasville on Thursday
afternoon, tbe 9th iust., Miss Goodie Mil
ieu aud Mr. Orriu Swift, Rev. T. A.
White officiating.
At the residence of tbe bride’s father,
Mr. T. Warren Smith, on the first day of
March, Mr. Geo. W. Parker was married
to Miss Mattie Smith, Rev. B. F. Tharp
officiating. All of Houston county.
Ou Thursday cveniDg, March fith, at
the residence of Mr.D. Choate, ilawkma-
yille, bv Rev. R. H. Feldor, Mr. William
E. Mcvay, ot Cochran, to Miss Sallie
Birch ol Hawkinaville.
At Columbus factory,Wednesday night,
at the resideuce of the bulo’s motner,
Mrs. Emily Cain, Mr. Jamas F. Jackson
and Miss Fannie Cain were joined in holy
matrimony, Rev. J. C. White, officiating.
On Tuesday evening 21st ult. at the
residence of W. H. Thurmond, Griffin,
Mr. Thcrnai J. Means to Miss Annie
Thurmond, by Rev. S. C. McDaniel of
Griffin. Tbe attendants were W. J. Thur
mond aud Miss Lizzie.Means, M. S. Means,
and Miss Amanda Thurmond.
At tba residence qf Mrs. Abi Hall, of
Pike county. Mr. W. F. Matthews and
Miss AUie Hall by tbe Rev. J. A. Jackson.
March 10th, 1882. v
ti tear?. AtlMtshe found what if *
! searching for aud gave It to him. D 'Thomas, to MiMAiiwtuhLl
! a closed envelope, addressed _ to * . v . Uftv _ Mon
Ou tbe 23d ult, at the residence of the
James, of
Ramsey, of
Brooks county; Bev. Mr. Morehouse, of
ficiating.
On the night of February 28tb, at the
residence of Mrs. Matilda Blanton, at Tal-
bolton, Mr. William Blanton and Miss
Anna Vaughn, Re7. E. H. McGebee of
ficiating. Much happiness to the happy
twain.
On Sunday last at the residence of Mrs.
Williams, In the Antioch district, Mr.
Buck Boyett to Miss Susie Wilson, both of
Stewart county. Also, on tbe same day
in the same district, Mr. W. W. Yeiver-
tou aud Miss Mary F. Daniel were united
in marriage.
At the residence of Mr. James T. Hun
ter, near Oglethorpe, March 12tb, by Rev.
A. J. Harvey, Mr. Muuro Mott aud Miss
Lizzie Moore. Attendants: Mr. James
Moore aud Miss Sallie Cunningham, Mr.
James McGure aud Miss Bertha Kitchens*
Mr. W. L. Converse, one of Valdosta'S
most enterprising merchants, was united
in marriage to Mus Lula McDonald, a
lovely anil accomplished young lady of
Savaunab. Late Tuesday afternoon the
services of the Rev. Dr. Kerr were pro-
cared and at 8 o’clock that evening the
happy couple in company with a few
friends, repaired to the Presbyterian
church, and in a sboit time the two throb
bing hearts were united.
At the Episcopal Church in Columbus,
on Wednesday at 11 o’clock, Mr. William
,,!d he, too glorious!, b.ppy to Kfl *-
“How d’yon do, Something—how d’you
do ? Yes, here we are, you see.”
“Yes, there you are. Why, Mr. Les
car, you are a privileged person. Isn’t
that the very letter you were groaning
and moaning over last) night, Phccbe,
when the drawing-room was quite dark,
and you thought nobody was there?
Well, Mr. Lescar, I am curious, I con
fess. Phoebe nearly boxed my ears for
looking over her shoulder at it.”
Paul Lescar looked at his Phccbe with
a little hesitation this time. He would
havo preferred keeping this precious bit
of paper to himseir. But Mrs. Somebody
Sometbings seemed really annoyed.
“Giveft tome, please, Mr. Lescar,”
said Miss Munniss.
He gave it to her with a smile. If she
bad asked for his head at moment, be
would probably have looked around him
lor sometaing handy with which to de
capitate himself.
But Mrs. Something was too quick for
either of the others. She was rude
enough to snatch the letter away before
Phoebe could take it. Why should Mr.
Lescar kuow Phoebe's secrets, pray, and
she not ? At tbe moment sbe did it
light gust of wind fluttered a hat ribbon
into her face. She pushed it away. She
lost her bold on the paper, and once more
the wind caught it, aud ft fluttered icto
tbe river.
Ph(Ebe Munniss and Paul Lescar’s
abuudandant Iigbt-hearleduess found ut
terance in a sudden shout of laughter.
“Oh, Phccbe,” cried her friend, “I am
so sorry; does it matter 1 ”
Mr. Lescar looked at Phoebe, “Shall I
go after it ? ” said he.
“No,” said she. “I don’t care if all the
world reads it now. Stay with me, Mr.
Lescar.”
“O—hi” said Mr. Somebody Some
thing, “that’s it, Is it?”—Temple Bar.
W«rklwm«H,
Before you begin your heavy spring
work after a winter of relaxation, your
system needs cleaning aud strengthening
to preveut an attack of ague, bilious or
spring fever, or some other spring sick
ness that will unfit you for a season’s
work. You will save time, much sickness
and great expense if you will use one
bottle ol Hop Bitters in your family this
month. Dou’t vtaM.—Burlington Hawk-
eye.
Mr. Charlton Fletcher, or, Liberty coun
ty, who believes in black seed cotton, is
now planting his cotton. He believes he
is near enough to tbe sea to make^ sea
island cotton profitable.
There is on Mrs. Jsne Girardeau’s
place in the upper part of Liberty couuty
an almond tree in lull bloom. It !s quite
curiosity iu that part of the world.
One of tbe heaviest rams iu Pulaski for
some time fell on Sunday night last. We
learn from some of our tanning friends
that some 4-imagQ was douo by washing
the lands, much of which had been piant-
as if sbe had not quite heard; .and than ed la corn. Fort. naiwte • - w*wc •sc
abs turned awav with a little err rf die- imwM frf!*
iu iisarnagc, »tiu uuuwi, ictwi
of tbe church, officiating. The happy
pair left soon alter the ceremony for the
home of the groom.
On yesterday morning, at the residence
of the bride’s father, Mr. W. G. Overby,
near Lumpkin, Stewart couuty, Mr. R. J.
Grimes aod Miss Ella P. Oreroy were
joined In tbe holy estate of mat rimony,
Rev. W. B. Stephens officiating. Tbe
groom is one of Stewart’s sturdy young
farmers, with a will aud energy tbat leads
only to success, and has chosen for his
helpmeet one of Stewart’s most accom
plished and worthy daughters, who will
make for the man of her choice a noble
companion.
Talbottou has loomed up as a great
guano distributing point and there is a
stock on band oi about 800 to 1,000 tons.
The air is redolent with tbe unsavory
smell and tbe couuiry is as thick with
agents as a carcass with vultures, and we
hardly think the illustration is inapt for
tbe eyes have already been plucked out
and tbe traffic is now feeding on tbe agri
cultural interests of the country. The
lawyers look on with quiet satisfaction,
for they see in the traffic a rich harvest of
business, for to them these people will
finally have to look for protection tor
their homes.
Three-fourtlis of the corn crop in Hous
ton couuty has been planted, aud some of
it is up. FotwUhslanding the fact that
cotton U the money crop here, corn is re
ceiving more thau the usual attention this
year. An earnest effort Is being made to
become independent of tbe Western com
cribs. Tbe fact tbat tbe oat crop promises
an excellent yield goes far towards mak
ing our farmers view the prospect with
hope. With home-made provisions in
plenty, high-priced corn and bacon will
have no ill effect upon our farmers.
Who is tbe editor? Is be a farmer?
Oh no, the editor is not a farmer, but be
is a nice wise man who tells tbe man who
is a farmer how to farm. He will tell
yoa how much corn, peas and potatoes to®
plant, and how much meat to raise for
his family during the year, and a wise
editor will tell a good farmer not to plant
only enough cotton to pay the subscrip
tion for his piper, and if he has any
money left lend it to tbe editor. Children,
when you get grown you must ali be
editors, as they attend to Ihqjr own busi
ness. *
Several cases are reported of cattle fac
ing killed by lightmug while standing
near the barbed wire fencing, and a man
injured while opening a barbed wire gate.
To prevent Ibis, woo.en gates are recom
mended and frequent ground connections
with the wire fence.
Ou Monday last Mr. W. 8. Hollim*"
was shewing iu Hawkiusvllie au Irk
potato, Early Rose variety, of this yW
growth, which was nearly as large
guinea egg, and said ft wm a nwfi
his crop. HawlMMkiXteillMtit
