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l prim) Haft limplmitr.
J. C. HEARTSELL, Ed. and Pub.
YOL XIII.
memory.
Beyond the woodland's wide demesne,
Beyond the river's silver sheen,
Beyond the sea. beyond the sky.
Are set the Isles ot Memory—
Where hands Ions folded on the breast
Unclasp from that chill, silent rest;
Where ciay-cold lips utiseal and break
The silence ot the grave, and wake
To life once more the forms that keep
So closely veiled in death's sad sleep—
Long couched low where flowers leant
Above them, and the grasses bent
To fold them like a cerement.
Sad isles! where songs to childhood dear
Pervade the slumberous atmosphere—
I>ream haunting notes that rise and cling
About the heart, as though some string
By Fancy touched, with gentle bauds,
Responsive echoed, while life's sands
Flowed backward to the time when we
Yet dwelt in vales of Arcady—
When, nestled close, fond arms would cling
About us, and sweet lips would sing
A cradle-song, whose minor flow
Fell soft as summer breezes blow
Where she who sang it lieth low.
—[New Orleaus Times-Democrat.
A Fisherman’s Daughter.
There had been a fog in the early
morning, but the sun, gathering
strength, burst suddenly behind a
black and indigo cloud and streaked
the sea with a copperish hue. Fat
down tho beach were two men and a
boat. They were stalwart men, and
the eldest was busy shaking from the
meshes of a draw-net entangled tufts
of maroon and brown seaweed.
“Poor draughts, Shelah,” said the
net-sliaker, looking philosophically
into the basket that held the fish.
“Poor enough, Master Reeks. Is it
homo now?’’
“Ay, lad; home it is. Get iu the
boat, Shelah.”
The young man jumped into the
boat and took the oars; tho other
shoved off, and when ho was knee
deep in the salt water clambered in
after him.
“Shelah,” said Reeks, speaking of a
sudden, “when are you going to marry
my Jen?”
There came a little extra color into
Shelah’s smooth, tanned cheeks. “1
don’t know master,” he said.
“Ah,” said Recks, witli a sigh, “I
wish her mother was alive.”
“AVhy, old Tom?” asked Shelah.
“Why? To sheer her, lad. I’m
afeered my hand is a hit too heavy on
the tiller for a dainty craft like my
Jen. She wauts a woman at her hel¬
ium—or a husban’.”
“AVhat makes you say that?” asked
Shelah, resting on his oars.
“I’ll tell ye, lad,” he said, slowly;
“it’s been on my mind a long time, an’
now I’ll toll ye. I don’t like the
comin’s an’ goin’s of that young
brewer o’ our’u, Mr. Cyril Rivington.
Now, in my father’s time, an’ in my
tiem, the old “ship” might ha’ tumbled
about our cars for all tho brewer
cared or troubled. But since this here
young chap ha’ come from abroad, an’
his father ha’ taken him into partner¬
ship, things ha’ altered. Nigh on
every day lie’s a-ridin’ up to know if
wo want’anything done. I shouldn’t
care how many times he come,Shelah,
if it waru’t for Jon. I’m afrecd that
his flue boss an’ his velvet coat an’ bis
leggins an’ watch-chain may dazzle
her, lad. It’s precious little company
we see at the ‘Ship,’ an’ it may make
her dissatisfied with the life she’s
leadin’.”
“Jen is all right,” said Shelah,
firmly.
“So she is, my lad; but she’d be a
lot better married. An’ so, between
man an* man, my lad, I wauts to
know when you are goin’ to marry
her?”
“I’d marry her tomorrow,” said
Shelah, wistfully, “if she’d ha’ me,
master.”
Reeks looked at him steadily for a
moment.
“Shelah Baxter,” he said solemnly,
“you put me in mind of that song the
Scotch packman was singin’ iu the
‘Ship’ the other night. You sit on a
stule an’ look like a fule, with your
hold jaws newly shaven. You ain’t
got the pluck of a mouse.”
Shelah looked dreamily at the pur¬
ple-feathered arrows aud silvery
spear-tipped shafts of cloud over the
sea, but gave no contradiction.
“AVi’ wimen, I mean,” pursued
Reeks. “There ain’t a man in the
whole village, Shelah, that could put
you on your back. But wi’ women!”
He snorted. “AVhy, man alive, the
bolder you are with a woman tho bet¬
ter she likes ye. See how they run
after a soger’s coat. Now I ha’ got a
SPRING PLACE, MURRAY COUNTY, GA. SATURDAY, JULY S. 1893.
bit ana yon na’ gwt a boat ot your
own, and what’s to prevent you two
a settlin’ down together? Pluck up,
Shelah, says I, ha’ no more shilly
shallyin’.”
“I’ll think on it,” said Shelah,
slowly.
“Do,” said Recks, refilling his pipe.
“But to act upon it would be better.’’
Shelah’8 suspended oars fell splash
upon the sea, and for a moment the
boat seemed to raise up and fly bodily
over tho top of a wave, so hard did lie
pull.
“Master,” he said deliberately, “can
you read writin’?”
“No,” said Reeks. “Ican’t. AA r hy?”
“Because, if you could, I wanted
you to read this.” He held out a sheet
of pink note paper. It was soiled
fish scales and tobacco dust, but even
now retained a sweet and subtile per¬
fume.
Reoks took it gingerly, held it in
three diflerent ways and narrowly
scanned it. “Alt 1 can make out,
lad,” ho said, “is these here.”
“AVIiat ara they?” cried Shelah,
eagerly.
•‘Kisses!” said Reeks, solemnly—
“ten on ’em.”
“Kisses?” repeated Shelah, vacant¬
ly. In sudden fury he suatched the
paper, and, doubling it in a ball,
threw it far over the waves. Oppo¬
site the lookout, Shelah rowed ashore.
“Now,” said Reeks, as ho jumped
out, “I’ll stow away, lad. Go you up
to the ‘Ship.’ It’s about time you an’
Jen came to an onderstandin’. Pluck
tip, Shelah, and remember there’s
alius ways an’ means of winnin’ a
woman.” Ho winked and nodded.
Shelah drew his feet out of tho wet
sand aud with a sad smile moved up
tho beach. As he strode between the
lifeboat and the yawl his face settled
into glootn. There .was a big sandhill
on his left; he turned aside and
mounted it. “Ten kisses,” he groaned,
and looked vacantly around him.
He slowly descended the mound and
walked toward the inn. The “Ship’s”
sign could be seen long before the inn.
Within a few pacos of the sign Shelah
halted. lie could hoar a horse’s hoofs
pawing the ground. He was soon
regaled with a little whistling, then
the softly hummed verse of a song.
There next sounded some loud laugh¬
ter,a step on the tiled path of the inn,
then tho singer spoke. “I drink your
health, my charmer,” he said, “in the
Rivington brew.” Alter that he spoke
lower, but the words reached Shelah’s
car: “Yon got my note, Jennie, but
you never came. Why was that?”
“I was afraid. And, oh,what would
father say if he knew that you sent me
that note with all those -those—” The
musical voice ended suddenly.
“Kisses, Jennie,” finished the horse¬
man. “Well, I don’t know; I don’t
particularly care. Love is altogether
reckless. Aud for you, my gypsy, I
would risk anything. Now tell me,
Jennie, when can you meet me alone?
It is a small favor for a lover to ask.
When shall it be?”
Jennie was silent.
“Jennie,” said the rider, seriously,
“do you love me?”
Holding his breath Shelah waited for
the answer. It was inaudible.
“Come a little closer, Jennie,” said
Ihe horseman gayly; “kisses on paper
are nothing to kisses in-”
“Hush!” cried Jennie; “some one
is coming!”
“It was Shelah. He rounded the
corner in time to see Mr. Cyril Riv
ington riding away.
With his head bowed Shelah crossed
the threshold of the itm door; he was
met inside by a pretty, brown-cheeked
girl, whose face had a heightened aud
rather unusual bloom. At sight of
Shelah she looked disconcerted.
“Jen, lass,” he said, “I want to
speak to you; I want to aBk you some¬
thin’.”
Jennie started, and there was a
sensible diminution of the color in her
checks, “Not now, Shelah,” she said
nervously. “I’m busy now. Wait
till father comes in.”
“No,” said Shelah, “I can’t wait.
If I don’t speak now I shall never
speak. I won’t stop you long.”
“AVell, then, said Jennie, “say it
quick. AVhat is it?” She seated her¬
self with her face to the window and
her foot nervously tapping the sanded
floor.
“It’s this,” said Shelah, and liis
voice shook a little: “we lia’ been
sweetheartin’ for a long time, aud I
want to know when we arc going to
get married, Jen?
“ TELL THE TRUTH.”
“Wever,” she said softly.
“Never?” ho repeated, huskily.
“I should only make you wretched.
I want you to give me up, to forget
me, Shelah.”
“Give yon up, Jen? Give you'up,
lass! Give up my life—ask me for
that, Jen, but don’t ask me to give
you up, sweetheart, for I do so love
you, my dear.”
Jennie’s lips quivered and her eyes
began to fill with tears, but she kept
her face to ihe window.
“It would break my heart to marry
you,” she said, “for I love someone
else.”
“You love some one cleo?” said
Shelah, mechanically.
“Yes, and he is going to marry me.
So yon sco, Shelah, it would be wrong
for me to marry you. I should be
always miserable and wretched aud I
should make you miserable and
wretched, too; so please, dear Shelah,
iet me go and—and forget me.” She
cuded witu a sob.
AVhile and still sat Shelah; then
heavily and wearily he rose. Jennie
uncovered her faco for a moment. At
the sight of his she hid it again. “For¬
get you lass,” ho said, “I never can.”
Moved perhaps by tho thought of wiiat
might have been, he leaned down and
gently pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Blit if giving you up, lass,” lie pro¬
ceeded huskily,“will make you happy,
Jen”—there was an agonizing ring iu
his voice—why, I give you up.”
When she looked around again he
was gone.
Ail that night it froze hard and tho
calm sea lay moaning like a dog on
his chain. Shelah heard it as he stood
in the lonely sentry-box of the life¬
boat lookout. In tho morning the
frost-bowed blades of the sea-grass
had changed the dunes into a great
glistening bed of white choral.
As usual,Shelah called at the “Ship”
for Tom Reeks. He had barely cn
tcrod when he heard a horse’s hoofs
on the hard road, a horseman reigned
up at tho inn aud Shelah drew back
into the shadow. “Shelah I” it was
Jennie who spoke. She stood white
and trembling on the cellar tseps.
“AVill—will von take him this?”
Strangely fascinated at being called
upon for such an act, Shelah took
from her the measure of ale,’and,
like a man in a dream, carried it to
the door. A loud “Hem I” caused
him to start and look up. Instead of
tho young brewer, lie was facing tho
old one. The elder Kivington looked
at the ale as a doctor might look at
his own medicine. “No, my man,”
ho said, I don’t care for anything so
early as this. If you’ll have the
goodnosB to hold my horse while I
dismount. Thank’ee. Tether him
there—will you? I want to eeo the
landlord. Is he in?”
Before Shelah eonld answer Reeks
gave evidence of his bodily presence
by appearing at the doorway. The
brewer walked iu, followed by
Shelah. Rivington, senior, was a
'pleasant, chatty old gentleman, and
he soon disclosed the object of his
visit. A ball was going to be held at
Herringbourne town hall, and lie was
distributing invitations to such of liis
tenants as choso to attend. As he
was passing—qrtitc by accident, he
assured them—ho felt he ought not to
miss the landlord of the “Ship.”
There were the tickets and ho hoped
that Reeks and his daughter would
attend.
forgot to mention,” he said
blandly, as Reeks, after expressing
his thanks, took them up, “that this
ball is to bo held in honor of my son
Cyril’s marriage. lie is to be married
this week to the daughter of a very
old friend of mine—-a man of Kent.”
As he finished, a low, sobbing cry
startled all but Shelah. A tea-kettle
b,°d rattled to the floor, and Jenny
stood vacantly staring into a little
lake of the spilt liquid at her feet.
“Why, what’s the matter, lass?”
said Reeks, “you look as white as a
gll06t.”
“Nothing, father,” she answered,
faintly, “nothing only the heat of the
tire.”
“That is what it was,” said old
Rivington, “the heat of the fire, no
doubt. I havo experienced the same
sensation myself. AVell, good day,
Reeks. I hope you will find it con¬
venient to attend.”
He nodded pleasanily, untethered
his horse from the palings and mounted
it. As he rode away he smiled softly
aud patted his horse’s mane. Shelah
Baxter came out of the “Ship” and
walked aimlessly down to his
boat. The snrf was boiling
on the Scroby and great
rollers with foaming crests were rac¬
ing in and tumbling upon tho sunlit
beach. Ho stood awhile absently
watching the little salt fountains
which their recoil left bubbling in the
sand, then mounted the hillock to look
for Reeks.
On the top he started and his tan
cheeks grew pale. At the baso of the
mound by a dwarfed clump of furze
sat a girl, sobbing violently. It was
Jenny Reeks. lie descended the side
she was on and gently touched her
shoulder. “You’ll catch cold, lass,”
he said sadly, “if you sit here.”
Through her tear-brimmed eyes sh«
looked into his face. Not a word of
reproach. Ouly in his eyes was the
love that had been so constant and
true. AVith a little catching of he*
breath Jennie rose and drew back;
then, with a convulsive cry, she flung
her arms wildly around his neck, and
there she sobbed until she could sob
no more. When they went back to
the “Ship” Reeks met them at tho
door. Something in their altitude
made him softly whistle. A nearer
view of their faces made him chuckle.
It seemed as if Shelah had taken his
advice and plucked up at last — [Cham¬
bers’s Journal.
Street Scenes in Nicaragua.
Pictures are everywhere: women
bearing burdens on their heads, their
draperies blown into action, and their
usually strong aud beautiful figures
accentuated by the gentle trade winds;
bathers or washerwomen on the beach,
the sunlight glancing from their wet
bronzed bodies and coal-black hair,
relieved against the deop blue of tlft
sky, aud reflected in the waters of the
lake aud the white of the incoming
waves; the market places; the ham¬
mocks full of naked and sleeping ba¬
bies; tho beautiful young girls; the
withered and wrinkled crone sucking
her cigarette as she crouches over her
spark of charcoal fire, surrounded by
her pots and pans; the islands of the
lake; the volcanoes; tho tropical rich¬
ness of the cultivated country,with its
feathery palms and orchids; or tho
weird, lonesome, gloomy jungle, with
its majestic trees and festooned vines.
Here is a young boy selling pine¬
apples. Here comes a girl who is a
perfect sebemo of color, hor bronze
face, black hair, rod rebozo full of
quality,and her brown skirt and sand¬
als covered with dust. You watch her
until she turns the corner, and you
have half a mind to follow for one
more glance; but look in another di¬
rection, and behold! something equal¬
ly fine is before you. Maybe it is a
young sonor, with a mane of black
hair about his forehead and sticking
out from under his hat brim, his mus¬
tache twisted into Baucy curls, a gay
sash about his waist, a short sword at
his side, aud Ms game-cock under his
arm. The soldiers, too, are piotur
esque. They are always expecting a
revolution, when life is eventful; but
in times of peace, the arresting of
stray pigs, goats, etc., is about all they
have to do. They are small men, but
look like good material, and, I have
no doubt, fight bravely. They wear
hardly any uniform, and remind one
of I'alstaff’s men; but in the larger
towns they are on their mettle,and are
as spruce as can bo.
Face Paint of the Egyptians.
Professor Baer, of the University
of Munich, recently published the re¬
sult of his investigation of the use of
face paints by the ancient Egyptians.
Tho studies were made through tjjp
medium of mummies found in graves
near Achmim. The Egyptian belies,
it appears, were adepts in the art of
enhancing their beauty and deceiving
their admirers as to their ago. The
main ingredient of the paint was a
lead preparation. As there are no lead
ores in all Egypt, the Professor says
that they must have been brought to
the country from India and sold at
very high prices to the Egyptian
women. The women also were ad¬
dicted to the use of a green paint to
give an emgrahl hue to tho whites of
the eyes. Particles of this paint were
found in the tomb of a Princess Ast,
who lived about 3600 years ago. A
similar custom, the Professor writes,
is still prevalent among tiie Tauric
Tartars and in some parts of Arabia.
$1.00 a Year in Advance.
NO. 18 .
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CHEROKEE FDRNITDfiE CO.
E. «*M6THEHX. W.M. CAS3- J. H. KINS.
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MANUFACTURERS of
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W. W. WOODRUFF, ESTABLISHED W. E. QIEBINS,
1865.
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