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THE INDEPENDENT.
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I.'JIUIBI'-81-.HL.I I. ... "■ - 11 ' ""■
IsOOKINU KOHMIYB.
An a ftahrrroac look. out over the bay
For * ulilp that WBit* from wo,
1 look for my love from ily to iUy,
Itut iny love come* not to me.
Who in the toaid that tin- finger of fata
Han given, and where live. .be 7
llow long eliall I linger ami hope and wait
lki/ore idle will come to me V
Or have Ino lore, and aha l ! I lie blown
Like u lout lio.it uni to ana /
No I l’lemmre ao<l peace ahall lie mv own,
Anil my love nliali come to too.
And when and where ahull I know my doom 7
indoor., or where llowera crow?
Will the pear-tree* all be white with bloom?
Or will they no white with anew 7
Hava I ever heard nf your name In talk 7
Or men yon a child at play 7
Are yon twenty vet, and w here do yon wulk?
Ia it near or far away 7
Come, my love, while my heart’. in the Month,
While youth i* about ,ny way*;
I will run to meet you, and kins your mouth,
And blnaa you for all my (lava!
BELLA’S NEW YEAR.
Ilf lIFbKN LVQVUiCtt.
••O ! Bella how lovely your ilreas is.
Yon will surely outahino us all.” Anil An
nie Ansley shook out the soft, fleecy clouds
of rose-colored and white tarlctan;
•‘I have not (lie slightest desire to be en
vied. I intend to enjoy myself if possible,
and take tny slinve of ciitieisra philo opli
jcally. I liovo sahmitted to the martyr
dom of morning calls heeunse Ootta'n May
thought it, due to Oavtclt-on, just for the
reason that the entire town rushed to pay
their compliments to me and satisfy their
•uiiosity.
‘‘Bella 1 Bella !” admonished Cousin
May. “Really yon must keep your cyni
cism for those who know yon best.”
“In other words, hi idle my tongue 1”
laughed she.
“Just so, Cousin mine.”
“I appeal to yon, Annie,” said Beds.
“Is it notpleasent to run the gauntlet of
feminine tongues ? In a village like tbisev
cty one is supposed to be acquainted with
one's most private affairs, and you know
there were the Joneses, Masons, and Gauls
to call upon. 01 dear me, the very
names savor of bitterness. But I bore it
nil with fortitude. Ah! here comes Doc
tor Qrantly to prescribe for your throut,
Cousin May. Hadn't you better go down
to him ?"
Before May could disentangle lierse'f
from the ruffles she was assisting the
dressmaker to put on their party dresses,
the Doctor presented himself at the sitting
room door.
“I came right up. Miss May,” said lie,
after his morning salutation. “Your
mother told you were deep in the myste
ries of ball dresses, and could not spare
the time to oomo down. All 1 I beg par
don."
The doctor made an elephantine effoitto
avoid bringing his feet in contact with the j
delicate material strewed about the little j
room, with the usual result, uud found
himself in the very midst of it.
“Oh ! it is nothing,” laughed Bolin,
springing to the rescue. “These ruffles
were made for masculine foot to wulk upon
ami those too not half so polite or consid
erate. Just ns if, forsooth, these yards of J
snowy flimsyncss were not entitled to every :
inch of room 1 As long ns wo don’t sigh
over ruined finery, the gentlemen ought j
not to complain, since wo spread our
choicest garments under their snerod i
foot. ”
The doctor laughed, nud blushed, ns lie
accepted his release. He was half charmed,
half in doubt, mid not a little afraid of!
Miss May Hamilton's city cousin, Bella (
Omrtlund; voted her fine looking and wit
ty, but just a bit strongmindod, and be |
bated strongmindod women.
“You must not mind my cousin," said |
May apologetically. "She does not mean ;
one-half sho says. But I want to know ;
doctor, if I will bo well enough to go to ;
Mrs. Anger's ball to-morrow night. You
know .there is to be some of the elite of
New York there, and it will certainly be
the affair of the season."
“Besides, it is a New Year party,"
chimed in Annie Ansley, May’s intimate I
friend and neighbor; “and all the world,
sick or well, must keep tho holidays, you
know."
“No thin or low-necked dresses, if I con- !
sent," returned ho, consulting May’s pulse,
and glancing at the sheer clouds of soft
nothing their busy fingers were fashioning
into a garment.
“O no, doctor; she is doomed to the.
stablest of dresses,” replied Bella. “It. is
only I who eau endure this sort of thing.
Your country girls are too frngilo 1”
“And even you may live to repent such
nonsense,” and ho arose to take, his depar
ture.
"It is ns one uses themselves,” said
Bella, smiling derisively. “But I confess
to you, that were I to watch every heart- j
boat, and every passing zephyr, t should
defy them, and do, dare, and die, rather
than work so hard to live.”
The magnificent tint of her cheok, and
brightness of her eyes, and fine physique,
did not escape the not ice of Dr. Urautly as
betook his leave. Yet he argued with
himself, ns he drove away, that just such
splendid creatures ns she generally broke
down soonest, either finding an early
grave or degenerating into confirmed,
erochety invalids. That afternoon, the
dresses being finished, Bella said she was
stifling, and declared she must have a |
walk.
“What, in the teeth of this wind!” ex
claimed May, aglmst.
“Yes. love, into the jaws of hurricanes, j
if ao be, rather than sit hero and
smother, ” ,
From her youth she had loved out-of
door exercise, and had defied all weather
for a daily walk. With her splendid in
heritance of perfect health and constitu
tion, lithe of limb and strong, she loved
to roam the hills. The woodland paths,
bleak, drear, and ioy, possessed as great a
charm for her as when luxuriating in the
greenest of foliage, sunshine, and bird
song. Dump feet and night dews she had
defied thus far with splendid results. The
only child of a widowed father, who in
dulged and potted her always, from liis
constant society she lmd acquired a mas
culine dash of thought and a charming
disregard of the conventionalities of socie
ty that was unique and fascinating. I
Scores of lovers trooped in her train, un
til she had learned to acorn their protesta
tions and flattery, choosing life ns it was,
with her beloved father ns a compel i >u,
rather than the bondage of the wedding
yoke. After having finished a fine educa
tion, she had traveled with her father
through the Old World, and visited tho
most interesting portions of her own coun
try. She had climbed with the stoutest
and bravest the most formidable moun
tains, drank her glass of wine upon the
snowy heights of Mo it Blanc, all 1 wan
dered through the sunny glades of wine
clad France. Then she returned home,
splendid in health and but t wenty-three.
Mr. Courtlaml had gone West on an ex
tended tour of business, and liad consent
ed to send Bella to Costleton upon a visit
to lie; relations, of w hom the had seen
j nothing since liar childhood. Two
months of her stay had passed; and in
| that time her feet li#d become acquainted
| with every nook and path throughout the
; country for miles around, and t'astletoli
, both worshipped snd discussed lier most
' minutest word or look upon all occasions.
lAs slut wore her hair, or tied her sashes,
so did Castleton yet envied and slandered
her constantly after the manner of conn
! try places, Bella put on her seal-skill cup
j and jacket, and stout walsing-shoes, arid
| despite her cousin May’s protest, went out
'far her coveted walk. Out of town and
its dreary streets she passed swiftly into
the open country, where the wintry blasts
| nearly t<ik away her breuth and painted
• fresh roses in her cheeks. Him was, in
deed a splendid specimen of womanhood
as hli*- sped along the rugged country road.
I At length she turned aside into a wooded
j path, overarched by the Imre arms of the
: now leafless trees, and made interesting
I by frozen cascades and ice-bonnd rivulets.
ImporiouH and haughty ns she was to her
: equals, she was kindness to the suffering
poor. Not all unfortunate in that region
out knew the beautiful dark eyed lady.
“What could have become of poor old
crazy Nancy 7" she thought, as she turned
into the woodpath. “The poor old crea
ture must have censed her wanderings. I
haven’t seen her these many days. Chain
ed, no doubt, to her little, tumble-down
but by that demon of the aged, rheuma
tism.”
Down a steep hill side into a dark, lone
ly glen she passed, paused Ht a curious
little habitation, and rapped for admission.
A feeble voice, half mi an, asked who was
there. For answer Bella lifted the rude
latch, and stood within the hut.
At first objects were rather indistinct,
coming us she did from the strong light
!of day, But presently she discovered old
! Nancy huddled together in her wietched
I lied at the further side of her room. Ap
proaching lmr Bella Courtland spoke in
her own tender accents of pity.
“It is as I feared, Nancy. You are ill.”
“Miss Bella, for the love of God go
nwuv. I am very sick, and it may he
catching,” and the poor creature crept
closer beneath the tattered covering.
“The fire is out on the hearth, and who
; have you to take care of yon V” question
|cd Bella regardless of her admonitions,
and placing her soft white hand upon the
hot one of the old woman.
“None but foolish Jockey, my grand
son, ” moaned she. “But what matter?
I shall soon he at rest, thank God.”
Just at that moment the door opened,
and n dwarfed, lmlf-witted lad came in
bringiug an armful of sticks. By the
light thus admitted Bella saw how swollen
anil fevered was the visage of tho old wo
man, with little blotches over her entire
face find hands. A thought flashed
through liter brain which caused her to
retreat at once to the door, vit.lt the roses
faded from lier cheeks. Yet, upon re
flection, she turned back, and questioned
old Nancy.
“Jlow long have you been ill 1”
“O! I can’t say. Maybe a week—
maybe less. I’ve been so very sick, and
not. always knowing lightly where I was
or wlmt I wanted, mooned alto. “But you
must go now, dour. God bless you, fur
one of tlio angola of the earth.”
“I ahull not leave you, Nancy. Jockey,
build a fire, and then you must go to
town for mo.”
i The boy raked out tho half-dead cm
hers, |iliieiug upon them enough of ma-
J terinl to start a fire, und then lifting his
! shock hoad from a stooping position,
i watched tho beautiful girl us she hastily
| wrote a note. This she folded and placed
| in his hands, saving; *
“Go ns quickly as yon enn to Doctor
j Grantly and give him this paper. Do you
j understand ?”
I “Y'es'm, him that rides in ft two-wheoled
j lmgßy ?”
“Yes, yes. Make haste, child. Don’t
you see how much your poor grandmother
needs him.”
“Y’es’m. Granny is powerful sick. My
eyes, how she did cuss and yell one
and she got holt of niy hair und
“Never mind now, Jockey. Hun, that's
n good boy. When you get back, I will
give you n bright silver piece. ”
The slip of paper which the dwarf
handed to Doctor Grantly, ns ho was about
to got into his gig, run thus:
“I am at the lmt nf olil Nanev, whom I found
very sink, and should her diHeiisn prove infec
tious, 1 1 lure not return to the home or mv friend
ami imperil their safety. Wifi you not come at
once ami settle the question 7
Buli.a Couiitlasb."
Doetor Grantly hastened to comply. lie
found Bella at work in tho cottage, mnv
lighted by a choorful fire und a cleiui
swept hearth. JSho approached him with
a cheerful smile, mid extended her hands,
saying:
“Thanks for coming so soon. You see,
in what a perdieament I have placed my
self.”
“Heaven grant that you may be mis
taken in your forebodings, my dear young
1 dy, ’ and he cros ed ovt r o w here the but
half-conscious, moaning woman lay.
A hasty glance Sufficed. Almost instant
ly he was again beside Bella, who was re
plenishing the fire.
"You must leave this place at once.
This wretched creature has indeed the
small pox. You divined as much, did
you ?’’ His face pulo and anxious—hors
blanched.
“1 did, sir; but it was too late, nnd 1
dared not go back to my relatives; and
that being the case my duty is plain. I
must remain here and nurse the poor old
creature through."
“You cannot mean it!” ho replied, look
ing aghast; “and you can have no con
ception of the horrors of this frightful
disease, or the terrible task you would im
pose upon yourself. ”
“I know- all, nnd admit that at first my
coward fears prevailed, and I shrunk from
j it. But l’rovidenoo, or my evil genius led
!me here, and now my duty is too plain to
shrink from. This poor old woman shall
1 have my host attendance, aiul when my
! turn comes, ns it may, you will please see
that I also have someone to cure for me.”
Tears were glistening Upon lier long
eye-lushes; but sho smiled up at the dumb
founded physician, and he thought she
had never looked so enchanting. But
must this lovely paragon of flesh succumb
to the ravages of (he awful disease?
i “Have you been vaccinated ?" he ques
tioned.
“Y’es," and she lmred her round, white
arm. and revealed the sear. “Y’es, only
last winter. We were traveling about,
| father and I’ and constantly in danger of
this scourge.”
In vain did Doctor Grantly argue the
case. She declared her purpose to be as
fixed as the bills.
“It is only left for you, doctor,” she
said, sweetly, “to assist me in my duty.
You must tho Ilumiltons and tell
them all, and say that 1 am too grateful to
even think of endangering them.”
The doctor looked about the wretched
abode nnd at the richly clad figure before
him, with her soft, white, jeweled hands
and shuddered.
“Yes,” she said, smiling again as sho
noticed liis glance and divined his
thoughts. “Y’es, I shall need some things.
Ask Cousin May to send me a plain wrap
per and anything else she fancies I may
want some books—a lamp, a lounge, and
easy chair. Joeki y shall be my page, and
! though he may not ho permitted to go
| into the village you can send supplies that
i may bo placed in the path for him.”
“I shall not forsake you, Miss Court-
I land, believe me, and shall make this poor
I wretch the object of my professional care
jns well as yourself. Anything that is
I led I will bring.”
lie at once gave attention to the patient
i dealt out medicine, and giving directions
! bade her good-day, and was going away
j when Bella said with tremor in lier voice:
“Another message, doctor, if you please.
! Hay to May that J hope she will enjoy
Mrs Angus’ New Year party, and that she
may consign my dress to the' oblivion of
a parking ease on the garret as one of tho
useless tilings, since I cannot wear it.”
Doctor Greatly again expressed his re
grets, and promised to convey the mes
sage. But the instant lie was gone Bella
sank down upon a rickety chair and wept
bitterly. Her sobs aroused tho old wo
man, and she began to moan pitifully, and
talk of strange things and people.
There is no use of telling all poor Bella
endured until old Nancy’s sufferings were
over and forever. One dark night when
the fierce wintry' blasts rocked the little
cabin upon its frail foundations, she died,
cheered and comforted by the care of the
noble girl whom she regarded as a heaven
sent angel. The old creature had come
there friendless and alone, when Jockey
was lmt a wee todeing thing, and her
queer ways and wandering manner caused
her to be named “Crazy Nancy.” And
for all the years she laid inhabited the
miserable place, wandering off for weeks
jno one knew whither, but every farm
| house, far or near, sheltered her when she
i eliose to claim it. During one of lier
; lucid moments she told something of her
| history.
Left a widow with a lovely girl, who,
| while still a child was lured to destruction
; by a vile wretch, who called himself man.
Coming back to her mother, when forsak
en by him, to die, and leaving her poor
half-witted, deformed child a living
euise, and yet tho old grandmother’s only
comfort. With unsettled reason Nancy
wandered away from the old home and
new-made grave to the little cabin on the
hill-side, where she lay dying. In her
I last, wanderings she contracted the disease
j which ended lier poor life.
One morning Doctor Grantly came
I gently into the lmt, to find the hush of
j death there. Jockey, not half eompre
; bonding his loss, bait sobbed himself to
I sleep upon the hearth, and Bella was
j keeping her weary vigil alone. And not
| withstanding her hard tasks Bella had im-
I posed upon herself, arid all of her wutch
j ing, had wrought but little change, her
fortitude and fine constitution sustained
j her. lint this morning the physician no-
I ted a difference. Her eyes weie heavy
j with dark rings about them. She puled
j and flushed alternatively, and as she wrap
ped i i a heavy s’ a 1, occasional . hivorings
j shook her frame.
“So all ia over,” said tTie doctor coining
from the little cot where stark and stitf
and wrapped in snowy sheets lay poor old
Nancy. “1 hoped it might, happen when
I was here, but you are ill Miss Courtland I
iAhlitis as 1 feared. Yet let us hope it
: will not prove of a serious nature, only
j varioloid. I have already sent t > the city
| for professional nurse to relieve you of
the care of the poor old woman. I will
1 h'k'f, •apli that she he sent at once. Mean
; while you will be obliged to put up with
1 such care as Jockey and I can give you.
Weak, and worn, and wholly
unlike her old radiant self, she submitted
to Doctor Grantly’s dictation, and lay
down upon the lounge Unit had keen sent
for her comfort by the Huiniltons, while
tho physician covered her warmly and ad
ministered medicine. Tenderly pressing
| his hands upon her throbbing temples, he
, bade, her keep calm until his return.
Would she eve'.’ forget tho long hours
that she laid there listening to the chatter
ing* of the foolish Jockey, orin fancy liv
ing over that New Year’s Eve ? How the
wind howled and shrieked around the lit
tle cabin that night, mingling its discord
with the moans and mutterings of the dy
ing woman. In fancy, too, she saw lier
pretty cousin May, and Annie Ansley
floating in the mazy dance. Sho even
took an insane pleasure in imagining the
comments of Castleton upon her position
in the infected cabin, and May's rueful
face and red eyes, having of course, cried
for vexation at her disappointment mid
Bella’s danger. That night of pleasure :
mid happy greetings she spi nt at the posl .
of dangerous duty, and it brought its re- !
ward in the gratitude of the humble eren- 1
tnre she served uml her mvu conviction ,
of right.
The nurse came late in the day, mid
Bella received every care and comfort the !
wretched place admitted of, and in a few J
days was out of danger, convalescing I
slowly. It proved only varioloid, as Doc-!
tor Grantly hoped, and at last when sho
was permitted to return to her friends
she curried only one or two tiny marks
of tho dreaded disease, and though pale
and wan, with all the old roses gone, yet
to the doctor she looked more lovely than
over.
And the love that was born for lier in
the little hill-side cabin grew and strength
ened hourly, and when the summer flow
ers had blossomed again, nnd the more
lovely ones had long since bloomed in the
fair face of Bella Courtland, she became
the cherished wife of Doctor Grantly and
settled at Castleton.
Jockey found a good home with them;
and, though kind care has done very
much for him, yet he is still the same
half-witted, deformed creature, and often
mourns bitterly for “dear old granny.”
—* *-
—The celebrated Dr. Sydenham had a
patient whom he had long prescribed for.
At last Sydenham acknowledged that liis
skill was exhausted —that ho could not
protend to advise him any further. “But”
said he, “there is a Dr. liobinson who
lives at Inverness (in the north of Scot
land), who is much more skilled in com
plaints of this kind than I am; yon had
| better consult him. I will provide you
with a letter of introduction, nnd I liopc
| you will return much better. ” The
patient was a man of fortune, and soon
took the road; but traveling was a very
different undertaking them then to what
|it is now, and a journey from London to
: Inverness was not a trifling one. He
arrived, however, at the place of destina
tion; but no Dr. Robinson was to be
: found nor bad any one of that name ever
| been in the town. This of course enraged
i the gentleman very much, and he took
I the road back to London, raging, nnd
; vowing vengeance of the doctor. On his
i arrival he vented all his rage on the latter,
i and abused him for sending him a journey
jof so many miles for nothing. When hi*
! fury was a little abated. Well, now,”
. said Sydenham, “after all, is your health
| anv better ?” -‘Better,” said lie “yes, sir,
it is better ! lam ns well as I ever was in
iny life; but no thanks to you for that.”
; "Well,” said Sydenham, “you have still
reason to thank Dr. Robinson. 1 wanted
! to send you a journey with an object in
view. I knew it would do you good; in
i going you bad Dr Robinson in contem
plation, and iu returning you were equally
busy iu thinking of scolding me.”
A white boy met a colored boy and
I asked him what he had such a short nose
hr. “I spent so it won’t poke itself into
| other people’s business,”
HATING QUAKER*,
BY T. JOHNSON.
If there is a man In the United States
that hates Quakers more intensely than 1
do, who regrets that William l’enn did
not meet at the hands of the natives a
widely different reception from what ho
did, mid to whom the liamo “Friend” and
the address “thee” is more of an abomi
nation than to my humble self, I would
like to see him. And it was all for five
cents, fivo cents in good old Democratic
silver, though. For prior to my conceiv
ing this violent, terrible hatred of the
broad-brimmed “theos,” I must admit
that 1 lind quite a weakness for the
“Friends," and especially for the good
looking young ‘'Friendi'sues,” as the lute
lamented N. J. Willis Cnee called the de
mure Quaker maidens. But, when my
readers hear liow 1 was once treated by a
prominent “Friend,” a representative man,
a shining light in his fraternity, 1 believe
my aversion to all of them will be found a
little pardonable.
Let me then tell tny Quaker story. One
day, early in September, 1860, I took a
ride from Lafayette, Indiana, where!then
lived, into the neighboring prairie coun
try. It was a glorious morning. Bueh a
glorious, bracing breeze, the sky blue as in
Italy, and the sun as brilliant ns in the
Sunny Isuid, but more merciful. I was
mounted oil a good steed that snuffed the
fresh breeze ns tho old charger does the
battle from afar, and little did I care
whither he carried me. Thus w.® can
tered on for miles, until we finally arrived
at the Quaker settlement, about half a
mile this side of the flourishing village of
Westport. My trusty steed slacked its
pace, and, arriving in front of a neat Qua
ker farmhouse, and catching sight of u well
in the front-yard, halted outright and
neighed aloud, which, as I well understood
meant, “I want a drink.”
Thirsty horses know wells, both in the
country and in towns, just us well as thirsty
men know saloon signs.
As in duty bound, I dismounted and
opened the gate to ask for a pail, with
which, well tilled with water, to quench
my horse’s thirst. An old Quaker step
ped from the house; hut 1 saw at a glance
that something vwis the mutter w ith him.
All the habitual and proverbial bhindticss
of the “Friends” was gone, and he was as
nervous and fidgety as a boy whose first
tooth is to be pulled, or tile night editor
of a morning paper.
Asa matter of i oarse, he gave mo the
pail I asked for; but while I filled it with
water lie kept fluttering about me like a
linnet hen whose nest is being despoiled
by had boys.
Seeing the old fellow's excitement, I
said to him, kindly: “What is the matter
with you stranger? Hus anybody stolen
your favorite mare ?”
Had it been in Yunkeedom, I would
have probably asked, “has anybody rob
bed your hen-roost ?” But out in Hoosier
dom, farmers anil, least of all, Quakers —
do not allow anything to rutile their tem
pers except wTien they discover an auda
cious invasion of their private livery-sta
bles, or receive the news that their motli
er-iu-law, whom they had previously heard
to he at the point of death, are alive and
kicking. Hence my question about the
missing horse-flesh.
“No, no, ’ he answered, impatiently,
no*. fvi'g-.-Hiog, however, to cast a glance
'at his well-fastened stable door, “it is not
i that, friend. I toll thee, my daughters
fltu-hcl and Samantha were taken down
| this morning with cholera, nnd I have just
I burnt that Dr. l’aintcr, of West port, is
not at homo. What shrill Ido,” continued
Mr. Quaker, in a tone of despair. “1 uni
at home all atone, and my son fianini 1 has
gone hi fore day-break to ,Shawnee
i Mound.”
While the old Quaker w rung his hands
; piteously a loud voice from within called,
! him, uml lie flew hack into the house.
Now, I knew that Dr. Painter was the 1
only physician within miles; and, ns l
watered my horse, I pictured to myself j
two lovely Quakeresses struggling help- i
lossly with the cholera fiend, with no one
near them but their excited old father, j
My bowels of compassion were moved.
Presently the parent of the two lovely ones :
came out again.
“1 tell thee, friend,” ho cried out, I be
lieve with real tears in his eyes, “they arc :
getting worse.”
“Stranger,” I said, in a Sudden impulse
of generosity, “I have a good horse. I
will ride back to Lafayette and get Dr.
OT’ornil.”
The old (Junker’s eyes brightened won- !
derfnlly. ,
“Will thee do that ?” ho cried, “I will!
bless the—”
I cut Him short by leaping into tlic '
saddle, and turning my horse’s head home- I
ward.
Gallop w-o did, I tall you, my reader, :
as MneAlahon’s cuirassiers, poor fellows,
did when they galloped into death at
Reiehshoffen.
At last we halted panting at Dr. O'Fer- :
nil’s door. The doctor, a jolly Irishman, j
but the best physician in that part of
Hoosiordom, was yet in bed.
“Up with you," I said, “you are wanted
right away.
“Where ?” he asked.
“At the Quaker settlement.”
Ho frowned. Ho did not like to prac
tioe among Quakers. Now I know why, ;
but then 1 waxed quite wroth.
“Why, doctor,” I said reproachfully, !
“its cholera. Two young girls—
“Ah,” he said with a knowing smile, “I
thought so.”
Well, he got up, quick enough, too; but
then aroso another difficulty.
“I was out all night, ” said the doctor, |
“and my horse is quite worn out.”
I cut the Gordian knot bv telling hint i
that he might use mine, which was good !
for ten miles more, an 1 which could easily
draw me and him in his buggy to the door
of the distressed Quaker.
In a minute or two nil was ready, and
my horse sped with the buggy aud us
through the prairie. Before long we
reached the Quaker’s house.
The old fellow received mo with eestn
cies of joy. He almost embraced me, and ;
carried Dr. O’Ferrnl iu triumph into the -
bouse. I even believe he addressed him
with “you.”
While my Irish Escnlapius attended to j
the suffering Quakeresses, I watered my
panting horse again, ami then sauntered j
into the garden. By that time it had
grown very warm. I was hungry, and
very thirsty, too, and seeing a peach-tree |
full of luscious fruit, I picked some off and
; eat them with the utmost relish.
When I had quenched my thirst and
i satisfied the impatient demands of my
I tyrannous stomach, I turned round and
| saw the old Quaker standing in the door
jof his house. He looked at me, and evi
j uentlv was not pleased with me. I was
| afraid my Irish medical friend, who at
times w;s decidedly profane, might have
grated on his ears. Little did I suspect
that the old fellow was begrudging me the
few peaches I had taken from liis tree.
! But I was not long in finding out my mis
take. Without harboring any fresh
thought, I said, though, I must confess,
j by no means in earnest, “How much do
I owe you for those peaches, stranger ?”
Imagine my astonishment when the old
wretch replied, without a moment's hesi
; taiiou, and in a tone as though ho did ih -
most legitimate and honorable thing in
the world:
“I charge the only fivo cents for those
peaches, friend. They aro scarce this
season.”
The last sentence was added to show me
how generously he treated mo.
A second or two I looked in blank sur
prise ut the old villian. Then I felt like
springing at his throat, and sending him
summarily to the lower regions. But I
thought nutter of it, pulled out u silver
tip, and flung it to him.
We did not excluuigc another word.
When Dr. O’Ferrnl came out he said the
two girls laid only the cholera morbus, and
would probably be well ill a few days.
The Quaker chunked him anil paid him a
gold eagle without hesitation.
We re-entered the buggy. The doctor
was by tliis time in good spirits, while I
was as surly os a Methodist eider when
| caught kissing one of the sisters. He
wanted to know whnt was the matter w ith
me, and lie complimented me on being
the most whimsical man lie had ever seen.
To aggregate rnv indignation he beeume
enthusiastic on the loveliness of the two
Quakeresses. “Such eyes!” he said,
“and such small liuuds ! You bet I shall
practice in that house henceforth.” But
he did not succeed in cheering me up.
|On the way home I took an inward oath
! to let all Quakers and Quakeresses thence
i forth die of cholera, no matter what press
ing appeals should be made to me to help
! them.
For two long years I had to nurse my
wroth in silence, and not a elionce to get
| even with Qunkerdom presented itself un
til the summer of 1862. I was then Pro
vost-Marshal of Tippecanoe County, an
I office which, until then, hud amounted to
! very little,, and whose duties consisted al
most exclusively in getting grub for the
i voracious fellows who enlisted in the Tenth
, and Fifteenth Regiment* at Camp Tipper
| canoe. But in June, I believe it was, the
news came that that our quota had not
been quite filled by voluntary entistrifent,
and tliut there would have to lie a draft.
One of the most ludicrous reminisences
of my life in the West is still the terror
which the announcement of the impend
ing draft struck into the hearts of the very
people who had thus far preached n war of
extermination against the Itels-is. How
I they came to my office, anxiously inquir
ing about the grounds on which they
i might get exempted, how many men were
| required, and the like. I never saw such
j a crowd of young men who all of a sudden
pretended to be already beyond the prime
of life. One afternoon I received the news
| that only three rnen wore to be drafted
i from the county. As this would have at
! once quieted the trepidation of many war
patriots, I determined wickedly to keep
the new* to myself for a day or two, and
in the mean time to talk as though the
! whole able-bodied male population of town
and country would have to shoulder musk
| eta.
Well, that very afternoon came the hour
of my revenge upon old Broadbrim of the
peaches, the choleric daughters, und the
silver “figs.” I lielieve a diabolical expres
! sion was to be seen in my face when I be
held entering my office a committee of
ipinkcrs, headed, as spokesman, by the
old meanness of two years before. “Friend”
he said, with an anxious expression of
countenance, “we come to ask thee what
' we have to do about the draft.”
“WhJ, I shall send all of you that are
drafted immediately to the front,” I an
swered with the supercilious air of a Per
sian satrap.
The Quakers were in a consternation.
“Tliee knows,” said my friend—that is
to say, my enemy to me, “we Friends un
opposed to war. ”
“Cannot help that,” I said, shrugging
my shoulders. “If you arc drafted yon
will have to serve. ”
They held a consultation, nnd then
proposed to give security, so that, in ease
any of them should bo drafted, they
would have time enough to provide
substitutes.
“Well,” I said, “I will take a one
thousand dollar bond for each of your
young men.”
This was ridiculous, and I confess I had
no right to do it; but still 1 was inexora
ble, and made all the Quakers go to a
notary public and sfgu a bond of one
thousand dollars.
When this some time afterward became
known, I told tny peach and five cents
story, and the universal verdict was,
“Served them right.”
SA VANNAH .I DVERTISEMENTS.
GEORGE APPLE,
DEALER IN
CLOTII I N G ,
II A T S, CAPB,
Gent's Furnishing Goods,
BOY’S CLOTHING,
TRUNKS, VALISES,
Boots and Shoes,
No. 162 Bryan Street, Market Square,
UNDER It It ESN AN'S HOTEL,
Silt annul' Ga.
nnR;2-tf
TO THE PUBLIC!
SALOMON COHEN
Corner Hay and Jefferson Sts.,
SA VAJXJXA H\ GEORGIA,
OFFERS TO THE PUBLIC THE LARGEST
and best stock of
Two oncl Four Seated Buggies,
liockawavh, Taniagus,
Express and Plantation Wagon*,
AT PRICES TO SUIT THE TIMES.
—ALBO—
KINDS HARNESS AND WHIPS,
Terms moderate. Enquiries promptly at
tended to.
Agent for tho Stndebaker Plantation Wagon.
The same have taken the premium at the Fair at
Savannah, Ga. oct4-3m
MARSHALL HOUSE,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA
A. B. LUCE, Proprietor,
BOARD, §3 OO Per Day.
auf;l6-tf
HA VA NS A H Alt VER TISEMENTS.
(WITH LATER? IMPOVEMKNT*.)
FOli 90 YEARS THE
Standard of Excellence
THROUGHOUT THE WORLD.
Over 7.50, 000 in l sc.
If you think of tmying a Hawing Machine it will
pay you to examine the record* of those now in
him) and protit by experience. The Wheeler
tv WiUon MUndsaloiie •• the only Light
Kuiidliik Mm bine, uning the Motary Hook,
making u Lock Htltch, alike on both Hide* of
the fabric w wd. All shuttle machine* waate
power in drawing the shuttle back after the
ditch in formed, winging double wear and atrain
upon both machine ana operator, in ure, while
other machine* rapidlv wear out, the W heeler
Wilson liHkl* at Lifetime, and prove* an
economical inveatmeut. Do not behove all that
is promised hy ao-ealhtd “Cheap” machines, you
should require proof that year* of use have tested
their value. Money once thrown away cannot be
recovered.
Bend for our circulars. Machine* sold on easy
terms, or monthly payments taken. Old machines
pnt in order or received in exchange.
WHEELER A WILHON MF’G CO.*B OFFICES:
Savannah, Augusta, Macon and Columbus, Ga.
W. B. Ck£VKB, Gen. Agt., Savannah, Ga.
maySl-llm
JOHN M. COOPER 4 GO..
Savannah, Ga.
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN
BOOKS AND STATIONERY.
Keep constantly on hand a large a**ort
meiit of
MISCEIJL A \ i:OlS, STAN DA RI)
AND
SCHOOL BOOKS.
Sunday School Übrtrrie a furnished on the.
most lifitTttl terms frith the latest
tnul best English Publications,
B I B L E S,
Pocket, Family and Pulpit,
In Great Variety.
PHOTOGRAPH ALBUMS, SCRAP BOOKS.
Any book* sent by mail on receipt of price.
may24-tf
~~ HBENNAVS ~
EUROPEAN HOUSE,
Nos. 156, 158, 160 and 162, Bryan St.,
SAVANNAH, GA.
‘■jlUE PROFBIETon HAVING COMPLETED
1 the necessary additions and improvements,
can now oiler to hi* gwests
ALL THE COMFORTS TO BE OB
TAINED AT OTHER HOTELS
AT I.E3HTHAS
HALF THE EXPENSE.
A Restaurant on the EUROPEAN PLAN has
been added, where guest* can,
A t A.ll Ilom-s,
Order whatever can he obtained in the market.
Room*, witli Itaord, tj>l .50 iter day.
Determined to be
OUT DONE BY NONE
all I can ask is a TRIAL, confident that complete
satisfaction will be given.
oct4-tf JOHN BRESNAN, Proprieto
MARKET SQUARE HOUSE
VALENTINE BASLER,
- Successor to bia brother Antony Baaieri
THE WELL KNOWN
TEN I*l > AEEEY,
At the Old Stand, 174 Bryan St.,
OPPOSITE THE MARKET,
Continue# to keep on hand the best of
Brandies, Whiskies, Wines, Ales,
AND ALL OTHER LIQUORS,
My Foreign Liquor* are all of my own Impor
tation.
ugD-tf
M. FITZGERALD,
(ESTABLISHED 1850.1
Manufacturer and Wholesale and BetaU
Dealer in
CANDIE S,
CORDIALS, STROPS,
Fancy Confectionary, &c.
180 Bryan St.,
Between Barnard and Jefferson Streets,
Savannah, Ga.
aug2-tf
SA VANNAH ADVERTISEMENTS.
XiTlightfoot.
COTTON FACTOR
—AMI)
COMMISSION MERCHANT,
106 Bay St., Savannah, (ia.
Agent for the sale of
MERHYMAVS AMM 0 XIA TED BOXES.
Libers! cash advance* made on consignment*
for salt? in Savannah, ur on shipments to reliable
correspondents in Liverpool, hew York or Phila
delphia. ocl4-Sm
JAS. K. SHELDON,
COTTON FACTOR
—AMI)—
GenT Commission Merchant
No. 102 Bay Street,
Savannah, .... Georgia.-
Liberal Advances made on Consignments.
BAOQINO, IRON TlKSmtd ROPEPuminhed.
Correspondence and Consignments Solicited.
PROMPT RETURNS <1 VAR A STEED.
*ep6-.3m .
Inman, swank a to.,
COTTON FACTORS
—Ann—
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
96 Bay St, Savannah, On., nnd Cotton Exchange,
101 Feurl St, Hew York,
Will make liberal rash advances on cotton ship
ments to either our Savannah or New York house.
Will boy and sell futures on liberal terms.
w H Ini INMAN, SWANN A CO.
L. DeWITT. R. MORGAN.
T. 8. SANFORD.
DeWITT, MORGAN A GO.,
lfli) Coflgress Nt.,
SAVANNAH, - - - GEORGIA,
DEALERS IN
FOREICNAND DOMESTIC
DRY GOOPS,
IITILL, ON Ist OF SEPTEMBER. COM
V? MENCE opening their Fall and Winter
stock, and will offer the same for CASH on the
most reasonable terms.
DRESS GOODS,
SHAWLS and CLOAKS,
QUILTS and TOWELS,
EMBROIDERIES and GLOVES,
WOOLEN GOODS, for
GENT’S and BOYS,
Full stock of
PLANTER’S SUPPLIES.
auglS-tf
DR. D. COX,
LIVE STOCK, SLAUGHTERED MEATS,
PRODUCE
COMMISSION HERGBANT
—AMD—
PURCHASING AGENT,
SA VANNAH, GEORGIA.
Stock Lots,
WILLIAM AND WEST BROAD STEETS,
-o:o
Produce Depot
IN BASEMENT OF CITY MARKET
-
CONSIGNMENTS OF
BEEF CATTLE,
MILCH COWS,
SHEEP. HOGS,
GAME,
DRESSED MEATS, Ac., Ac.,
—ALSO
POULTRY, EGGS,
VEGETABLES,
FRUITS,
MELONS,
SUGAR,
SYRUP,
HONEY,
HIDES,
TALLOW, Ac,
RESPECTFULLY SOLICITED,
sugifi-tf