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■■ m. JOURNAL AND MESSENGER. *1 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