The Atlanta constitution. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, April 18, 1893, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Textlif Wioi VOL.XXH i A SUMMER VACATION A MOUNTAIN SKETCH, $ BY ROBERT L. ADAMSON. For The Constitution. We Were trying to decide where we would spend oar summer vacation, Tom Sanderson and I. Tom lirst suggested Cumberland and after 1 had ottered several pertinent reasons why Cumberland would not suit, he tentatively mentioned Asheville, N. I ~ us a good place. 1 told him about the crowds there, the steep rates and a host ot other things and he gave up Asheville. After proposing every summer resort known to the railroad agents and finding that not one of them suited our ideas, lorn finally said he guess' l -! the only solinmn of the question would be to go to the r.ast Tennessee resort Where we had passed me previous summer. I positively refused to entertain the sug gestion. I pointed out to him how merci lessly we were bored the year before. There was a sameness, a dullness, a. still ness, a barrenness about the place mat was conducive to ennui. Each day the same dull programme of the day previous had to be gone through with. Me xxeie expected to say tender things to the same uninteresting females every day in the week, and to contend with the ambitious mamma’s of these very sonyentional young ladies. And we Were required to be etern ally on dress parade and good behaviour. The place lacked the freedom and uucom en tionality that belonged to my ideal summer resort. I told Tom all this, and added: "I have an idea’. We'll go to North Ce°r gia for six weeks. 1 know an old fellow way up in the mountains Whom I met in the United States court last fall, lie got pret ty chummy with me and asked me to come up and see him some time and he would treat me like a lord. That's the place lor rest and freedom. It has the charm of nox elty, we both like novelty and originality, and we can have all the tun xve xxant climbing up the mountains and fishing in the mountain streams. And then, 'lorn, y u can make love to some buxom mountain lass and come away just when the climax is ready to come in, and break het little lieart. Ain’t that the kind of summer fun you’re after? Eh?” . 1 think the reference to flirting with the pretty mountain girl won lorn. 1 hat s his weak point, flirting. Any way he was in ecstasies over my suggestion, and said that he bad always wanted an opportunity to study the moonshiners and the quaintly romantic section of the state which they inhabited. . T , Three weeks later a Richmond and Dan ville northbound passenger tram pin down two dusty young male travelers at a. very remote and wooded little mountain station, nml snorted off a minute later, left teem * ,',75X igaiust fheir four trunks, gazing ' their new environments. was Tom and 1. and we were not at all discouraged although only one store, two residences. a blacksmith shop, a ginhousc. a half dozen grazing, lazy b’-'kmg !l of' blue mountain tops imaginable. Ii» couldn’t repress an exclamation ol delight at the rugged beauty of he V.. nUS'lml fcd I, AS Wltil ’ll- ' • » A!., our iournev earh the mxt morning. AL. M received its xvi'-’a unfetgmd joy and . .scorned us in the very best room m his uonmain mansion ol four rooms Mis gj’X.T.mr'kS.!. U„. redo! ..r b■r.-mlnts- Ce Two‘ eventful, ami rather davs passed, during wei. h.om s • ntn 1 i ■ *.,.,! nwiv distressingly, "he Inst m.’y we spent in decorating our room and r.e m'xt'in an eighteen mile walk Jo < rows F<.ot mountain, from which excursion xx e r e turned sore and sad. but wis: r men. lorn JFUfe.-U <» 1 ~„.i ™>-- DA 23 ssr Al., - by the cordial but not pr po.-s >. i „ . • i- r’..s.i .” d lanky w!la 111 . . 2 blank J* -■’ • ' ..'I.! jn;ilKVX<' ■nt « In-coming .B-rnity. wtta good um ranks among the 'I ne dance. I f-• • ' u ’ t'rit s-ason. was <i r.hgiot.s <• . t ;i U in E SKS SwW* rib the spie ,i, rni > times as many homely n.»y™'b,. Hr. A-gJ'J K„i ‘ In. n. b- ST'™ "w. "SfriTt™ '-I.o’it the mountain country . 1 i om h 'em.v-rw.q...,. » ever believed Susie R eL- etta to be the belle <> Dam parts ’’ Ibr remarks about .diss >-nsi< amused Tem’s interest and she led him f.emss the room to present him to the alk„ ed belle. . , . , Susie was a shy little creature, but tae one of all the othm- that would attract at toiiti.m S’ ewas simtdy ana behttingly <lau in a plain white frock, tin t altlmughJoose lv made. r.<. Xeub d the grace ,d b •• tmure. Tie:- gobl-1 >row;i hair was <aug.it at the back and fauem-d by a ribbmi and men al lowed to fall in a wavy mass upon her shoulders. Her face was whiter than me faces of the others, and ! wo bright crimson patches burm-d on either cheek. Jler words, her manner, her general appearance wore those of tie- mountain, hut there was u subtle charm about her for all that. All ’l:i ■ I noticed from my post across flic mom from her. and I notico-i. too that Tom bad grown quite animated and was telii.iz he: s' iust as he world have .bio - if she ' ad lu-hi of hi '- own <irc;e. Tom da'<■ d with ti ''. n-- om-v. but many times. !’•• missed two d-.nees. the iwo I dr.-.-e, I with h r. I’- erib-l mo over and ru-osetitetl uif in a very formal manner. S’.,, am’. Tom were alma- .• o ■ go--'! forms. <l.- !.i -I- 1 inr::--:;—:tt<’v at ev-ry- ■j, ■ ' ■ ••• i' ; frmny ,rIX t. St- ■ looked m> into his j-Ur f.-u • wi ,; > an express! >n of cotitide - and trust. Hnnl Hester camo over to m-‘ with a mizzled look •‘He’s a-makiii’ love to bu io fit to kill,” said he "ami she seems to like it. kinder. It ’u’d be awful tough if he was to cut Sim Ridgely outen her. They re engaged, you kU |'le pointed out a very miserable and dis consolate looking young man " ho was nar rowly watching Susie and lorn wijh the re mark that "Sim to be a-takm it put ty hard already.’ . When the dance was over, 1 heard lorn whisper to Susie and ask it he might valk home with her. A look of pleasure swept over her earnest fact. "I came with Sim —I mean Sim Rii.ge ly,” she said, half apologetically, "and hod be mad if I left him. Next time you may go, and won't you come ’round.' 1 i,e live about half way ’tween the Hesters and the station.” Tom promised that he would be around, and as we walked home that night he was in jubilant spirits and told me that be would have n picnic now, that he had found his mountain maiden. The next day we saw Susie at. church, looking even more charming than on the night before; and Tom walked home with her, much to the evident discomfort of Sim Ridgely. After making Susie’s neipuiintiince the days seemed to pass easier for Tom. He was with her nearly every day. manag ing in his ingenins way to find an oppor tunity to call or to meet her somewhere. Toni has the happy faculty of making him self the friend of nearly everybody with ■whom be is thrown and )>e was soon a friend of the Ricketts family and a wel come ami privileged visitor at their home. Every night Tom would tell me of the pro gress he was making in his suit for Susie's favor. “I haven’t got to the point of proposing yet,” he told me. “But you just give me time and I’ll do it. I'll just make Mr. Simeon Ridgely sorry be ever was born, am! then we'll go quietly away, and soon after we are gone she'll forget me and mar ry Simeon and live happy ever afterward. It's some diversion, anyway.” The picnic at Haunts Bend was the event of our summer's stay in that, section. Peo ple gossiped a good ileal when Tom appear ed with Susie and I heard many such re marks as “that dudis blown feller hov laid Sim Ridgely in the shade with Susie. Tom didn’t give the wretched Ridgely a single moment, at Susie’s side during the entire day. ami the poor fellow could not conceal his jealousy ami disappointment. That night he called on Susie am! began to chide her for her fickleness. She flushed up ami made a sharp reply. Simeon, very much hurt and quite heartbroken said: "All. right. Susie, go an' marry the feller from town. You’re lir"d of me, an' I kin see it. Don't b-t me stand in the way,.Su sie. You ain't mine, an’ haint been since you seed" him. but I’ll be always your friend.” Ami so they parted. Susie was so hap py to sheil n single tear, bat poor Siineon wept copiously on his pillow that night, and after dropping into a fitful sleep, dream ed that it was not so nt all. and that Su sie was the same to him as she had been before she saw Tom Sanderson. Susie told Tom. and the night after that he came in rather late laughing. t> “I’ve done the grand act. old boy. ' he said beaming. at me as happily as a fellow might who had made a love contract which he intended to keep. “I’ve proposed to Su sie. ami sjie wilted right away and fell into my arms. She told me afterwards that she knew 1 loved her ti e first time f saw her. It’s funny, ain’t it. how little it takes to fool a woman.” We had many a hearty laugh over Tom’s engagement, and roared when wo thought of the rare stories we would have to tel! the boys about it. A few dayp later 1 fell twinges of re mmse of conscience when T saw Susie and Tom together and noticed her absolute faith in him. I saw then that Tom's diversion, as he culled it. would have lasting results so far as Susie was concerned. She Jovod Tom. That night T cautioned Tom of the seriousness of his position and advised h’ni to give it up. “I thought it was very funny like you," 1 said to him. "but with Susie it is fright fully real. You'd better slop, Tom.” "i’.shawl" laughed Tom, “you are foolish; sin- -ill soon forget when 1 am gone. Women are quick to forget. Anyway, you - ■■ d the joke ami since I have buguu it I am going to carry it through." 1 told him it would be a sad thing to break a girl's heart just for idle pastime, ami painted a very graphic picture of Susie all alone weeping her very eyes out for him. Ills face grew a shade more seri ous. “It. would be bad. mean, wicked to really break her heart." he staid. "Susie is a good little girl. She’s not like the rest of them up here she's different. If 1 thought she really cared I would leave here tomor row. But 1 will wait and hope that she will get over it all right.” A day or so later he repeated to me a conversation he had had with Susie. She told him that her friends feared that be was only fooling her and did not intend to marry her at all. “1 don’t think that at all,” she said. "I never doubted you, Tom. But I wanted to ask you since we’ve set a day for our wedding and all has been fixed, that you buy the marriage li cense so I can tell them and they won’t doubt you any more.” “Like a fool to humor her I bought the license. There can’t be any harm, can there?” Tom went on. “People are not obliged to use license when they buy them, are they?” The joke had indeed grown serious. Tom had not only appointed a day for the wed ding, but had purchased the license, ami we had not .vet been in the mountains five weeks. Ami the worst of it was that the wedding was to occur on the following Wednesday evening at 7 o’clock. It took but little argument from me to convince Tom th it he would have to leave the moun tains before that time. "Os course, we’ll slip out quietly on that very day. Susie will soon forgi't.” Tom’s wedding day came around re markably quick, it appeared to me. I mad? ail Hu- a'rangementti with Hank Hester for our baggage to be carried to the station late that afternoon and cautioned him to say nothing of our intended depnruire. Tom went over to see Susie the hist time, while 1 was packing the trunks.” "I’hii" said lie coming in just at twi light, “it's tougher than I had any idea that it could be. Susie is thinking of noth ing else but the—tonight. She has al! her things ready and would put on her dress for me to see. It gave'mp the cold chills. I kissed the little girl an I left with some thing like a tear in my eye. Poor little thing -she didn't think it was flic last kiss." Darkness settled over the mountains and the vicinity of Haunts Bend was wrapped in a dreamy stilbics.-i. Our train passed the station at a quarter before 8 o’clock. ATLANTA, GA., TUESDAY. APRiL 18, 1893. Hester had gone ahead with our trunks and we followed on foot. We walked very rapidly along the mountain road, talking as we went of the uovel experiences of our five weeks' stay in the mountains. Just oil the road a bit was the home of Susie Ricketts. Its dim outline was faintly visible through the trees, and from its two windows gleamed cheerful lights. A pathetic silence born of solicitude and night brooded about the little mountain home. The lights shone brighter than us ual tonight. Tom stopped and gazed mutely through tile shadowy trees. His eyes were fixed upon the lights and I could see that his face had grown very serious. 'J here was that regretful look upon his face that. I remembered having seen when a buy when sorrv for something he had done. While he looked a shadow that I fancied must have been Susie’s crossed the light. The figure stood an instant at the window silhouetted against the brilliance behind, anxiously watching for Tom, I fancied, and then disappeared. “Do vou see that?” asked Tom huskily. “Do yon see that? That was Susie, and she is wondering why 1 am late. It’s just past 7 now. Poor girl, I am very sorry I did it. I could kill myself for it." He stopped an instant and then went on; “It was cowardly and mean. It was contemptible. She never once doubted me, and I (went on deceiving her like a villain. I’hil. I never did anything half so mean in all my life before.” His voice had grown tremulous. He pressed his hand to his forehead as if to ease a pain. It was growing late. “Tom.” 1 said, “it's bad enough, I know, but let's not stand here holding funeral exercises or we’ll miss our train. Come along.” Just as I spoke the shadow—it was Su sie’s—again appeared at the window. She was leaning out, listening for his footsteps. She had never dreamed the truth and was waiting for him even then. "Let the train go,” he said vehemently; “let it go. I would be a murderer to leave hero like this. He took a step resolutely toward the distant, beckoning light, and stopping, looked back at me standing in the rugged mountain path. “Tell Hester to bring my trunk back, he said at length. “How Did You Kost L»«t Night?” For The Constitution. , “How did you rest last night?”— I’ve heard my gran’pap say Them words a thousand limes—that’s right— Jes’ them words thataway! As punctchui- like as mornin' dast To ever heave in sight Gran’pap ’ud alius half to ast — “How did you rest, last night?” T’s young-uns used to grin. At breakfast, on the sly, And mock the wobble of his chin And eyebrows holt so high And kind. "How did you rest last night?” We’d mumble an’ let on Our voices trimbled, and our sight Was dim, and bearin’ gone. Bad as I used to be, Al! I'm a-wantin' is As puore and ca'm a sleep fer me And sweet a sleep as his! And so I pray, on Jedgement Day To wake, and with its light See his face dawn, and hear him say— “ How did you rest, last night?” -JAMES WHITCOMB KILEY. Atlanta, Ga., April 11th. STORIES ABOUT To Be Seen, Not Heard, From The Detroit Free Press. Very many stories are told of the forty-boss talking power of Senator Blackburn, or Kentucky, and most of them have some foundation in fact, for the senator's best friends will admit, when cornered, that Joe Blackburn is a talker from Talkville. How ever, it is interesting talk, and then-fore ,ie is excusable. Coming east in a Columbus and Ohio sleeper not long ago the senator made the acquaintance of a bright small boy, wmeti later led to an acquaintance with the young ster's father and mother. The senator was sitting with them ehatting along in bls best st vie, and the boy frequently interrupted him. Finally the mother put her liaml on her son's shoulder. "Little boys," she said reprovingly, "are to be seen, not heard." That quieted him for a time, but later the mother had to tell him the same tiling again. He quieted down for a half hour longer and nt the lirst break in the senator's talk be looked up al him inquiringly. “What ‘it Is?’’ asked rhe senator. “1 was womb-ring.’’ replied the rid, “It you wns ever a little boy like me, bow you out growed it so ” ■ •!)e senator looked at the mother, tae mother looked at tite senator, they both looked al tin- father and then everybody laughed and the kid was given a chance. Each to His Own. The story Is told that the late K. K. Hayes bad for a neighbor in Ohio a testy old fellow who ran a small truck farm. He was honest and upright and Mr. Mayes held him in high esteem, notwithstanding his lack ot Hie social amenities and respect for persons. Or. one of his visits to Ohio during the pres idency he passed Ute old man's farm ana found him planting potatoes in a patch near tin- road The president, being tome what ol a fai-mer himself, noticed some peculiarity m bis neighbor’s style of planting, and after a few minutes' ehat he called his attention to it and tiie old man argued the point a "“AH or nil.” concluded the presi lent, "i don't think you are doing, it as it should be done for the best results.” qhe old farmer rested his anus on Uie fetiee and looked steadily at Mr. Hayes. “ I’hev ain’t neither one of us," lie caul, “•ibove - havin’ fault fffmtd with us, but er vou iest go on ptesid.-ntin’ the I nited States vourway, an’ 1 .go on plantin' pertaters my way. 1 guess we won't be no wuss oil in the eI Mr. Hayes accepted the suggestion pleas antly and moved on. Ono dav 'luring the period when Henry Cabot Lodge, now Senator Lodge, was a member of the house, a countryman and his wife were watching the proceedings on Hie floor from the gallery, one ol the features be ing a speech by -Mr. Lodge. The old fellow bail his eve on -Mr. Lodge in evident admira tion and at last he turned to the man next to him for information. ••Who is that down there in the aisle talk ing to the boys?” he asked. "Congressman Lodge,” was the reply. “Where’s he from?” “Xtassachusetts Boston.” “Boston, did you say?” queried the country man. “Yes. Boston. ... , The old chap turned to bis wife, who had he exclaimed, “just see wlmt bc’’HS and brains will <!<• b»r a man that am t half as Mg as a haystack.” M/hat Some F«iopl<> Want. From The World Almanac. The area and cubic contents of the earth according to the datta of Clarke are: Sm-f.-o-e, Ipc- P7l,‘.r 1 miles; < übic contents, 259,951,- 035.515 cubic miles. I.xpeets to t ilt n s!<>i-tg>»ge Soon. From The Chit ago Herald. The greatest living strong man is Sullivan of Lordoil. One of ills daily feats is to lift an elephant with his teeth. AkTEI( THE SPOILS. k h BILL ARP Xur.KES A FBWREMARKS ADOIfTv|FFJC2f SEEKERS. General Young's Appointment, he Thinks, is One That Will do Credit so the Ad-* ministr^*ion—Other Matters. te .e t That man is to be pitied who is con strained to seek an office for a living. And yet there are some good men who do it. I know some whom oilice fits and adorns. General Young for instance—for he is a courtly gentleman and will represent our government in a courtly and gracious man ner. He will keep the peace without humb ling our national pride. He would have kept it with Chile if he had been there, instead of Egan. I have great admiration for such men and am glad to see them get oilice. Office that exercises their grace and gentility —office that does not require much work, but is a kind of genteel sine cure with abundant perquisites. We re gret to lose him from Cartersville, to miss the genial welcome with which he greets his friends, but if he wants the office we want him to have it. He deserves any thing that he will ask for, ami Mr. Cleve land has made no mistake in this case. Now. if he will keep up his reputation for sagacity and appoint Bascom Myrick and John Temple Graves and Camilla Under wood to the places they seek, the goo<l peo ple of Georgia will approve it. 1 am no politician, but I know our prominent citi zens aud what they are worth. Suppose Mr. Myrick was for Hill. He was not an offensive partisan, and if every Hill man is to be boycotted, then Mr. Cleveland will have to build up a party of his own, and a good many of us will be left out. Mr. Cleveland said that a public office is a public trust, which means that the presi dent should have no revenges—no friends to reward or enemies to punish. If Mr. Cleveland refuses to nominate Air. Myrick simply because he was a Hill man it will mortify his friends in Georgia, of whom I was one —not the first one, perhaps, but one from the beginning. It already mor tifies me that Air. Cleveland has required Air. Myrick to bring t!;e files of his paper for inspection. It is said, too, that John Temple Graves’s application hangs fire be cause General Gordon is mad with Graves for supporting I’at Calhoun for the sen ate. 1 do not believe it. Gen eral Gordon is not that kind of a man unless he him greatly changed, lie used to be large-hearted and liberal in his charity to all of Ills" fellow citizens. He luui no petty animosities and never nursed his revenge to keep it xvarm. News paper reporters hunt tip sensations aml write many things from rumor that » re not true and their victims arc kept busy denying their false accusations. May the good Lord deliver us all from their gim lets ami augers ami insinuations, and heny ■ 1 do not believe that General Gordon is fiaJrti'ig'Graves beet Use Graves prefer, ed Calhoun. We would .rejoice to see John Temple sent to Switzerland ami I wish that I could go, too. and xvith him climb the Alaterhorn ami hear him apostrophize that historic and beautiful country in one of bis . üblimest flights of eloquence. 'lTieu there is my friend Underwood, who is the best all round man 1 ever knew, and I believe could fill any place respectably. He has filled many from the chaplain of a teginient down to the editor of a country newspaper and did it well. He is the loving husband of one wife, the father of eleven children —most girls—the best Bap tist preacher I ever heard, the best farm er and gardener, and with all a most genial companion—and yet he wants to go to Havana for what I don't know unless he needs the money' that is in it or wants to convert its sunburnt peoplo to Christianity' and immerse the whole island to make sure of their salvation. 1 don't know whether he was a Hill man or a Cleve land man nor do I care. I do know that he is fit for the office. Neither of these men are professional politicians. They never degraded themselves by cavorting around and laying plans and scheming for their own personal advantage. What a pitiful spectacle it is to see some of o ur Georgians wrangling in rhe filth of crimination and recrimination, in order to get office at Washington. The Atlanta papers are full of the strife that goes on from day to day and if 1 were Mr. tlevelaud J would say “Gentlemen you are not the men I am looking for." and 1 would select some good men who have made no noise and kicked up no dust about this business. There are plenty of good men in Atlanta who would till those offi ces but whose modesty and conservatism forbid their asking for them. As a general tiling it is the loud-mouthed, noisy politi cians who seek the otiiees and get them l was glad to read that. Air. Cleveland was going to break up the slates and take a hand in the appointments. Os course In can t <]o it all, but he can find out wlu-re the rings are and break them. Thesg political rings that parcel out, the offices in secret conclave are the curse of our Georgia politics. It is said that tin- ring is alr.-adv formed, that is to fill ;l || OUI . governor down, and it includes the suc cessor to Senator Colquitt. It was these rings that became so odious to the people tluxt they’ rose up and established independentism in north Georgia for eight years. It was these rings that aliented Alexander Slejihens from the democratic party and that party had to offer him the gubernatorial chair to keep him from run ning as an independent. It was these rjngs that made possible the success of the peo ple’s party on the basis of the Ocala plat form. It was one of these rings (hat made machine politics so odious in New York. Now it is no comfort to know that in a citv like Atlanta there are several rings and one ring can fight another and that the longest pole will knock down the persimmon. The trouble is that the best men -the most deserving men—are in no ring at all. They have got no pole and therefore will not reach the persimmon. A common citizei? like myself lias no more idea of the small machinations that are going on to fix the Rome postoilice or the Carterville posfeflice or any other little office than if 1 had no choice or voice in the mat ter. The rings will fix it upon the principle of “I have tickled you now you tickle me." AVe outsiders are as helpless as a painted ship upon a painted ocean. And yet. I know, or think that I know, who would be appoint ed. if the quiet, conservative citizens had their choice. I’olities is a hard road to travel. It is a mighty big tiling to be president of this great nation, and to be chosen by honorabk meihods. but it must certainly belittle a noble mind to have to descend into the very slums and schemes ot tin- small politicians to gel into office. The wrangle, the hypoera cy. the broker promises, the small revenges licit arc tu'cess.iry will certainly lower J.is seil'-i«‘spect and b-.-ive him clouded in his old age with unhappy memories. If his con science does not ger sear'd, how must a sensitive nature writhe under the cards that thi- disappointed publish card? that accuse him of fais hood or a betrayal of trust or of iugratitii'lo a-.id broken uledgos. Sherjl -’t sai'i that “conscience has no mor-? t.. do with seduction than it has with politics,” ami Shakespeare said “a politician is one jvho would circumvent God if he could. So. I reckon it is now just like it was a century or two ago—no worse —no better. And yet there art* many good men in politics —-men whose very virtues have exalted them —mon like Lamar and Black and Blount and '1 ur ner, who have never been constrained to stoop that they might win- There are such men in every state and they' are the leaven that give character to the whole body and make our national and state assemblies respectable. . . , , , . , But the average politician s bod is a hard one. Ho makes it himself and must lie ou It. But still, he has our sympathy. Bill Aitr. April 9th, 1805-1893* Eight and twenty years have faded From the calendars of life. Since that day when we paraded To lay down the flags of strife; Since the day that Uncle Robert On the Appomattox field, Keil himself his shatter’d legions To obey their lot and yield! I shall never lose the picture Os that grand old chieftain gray. As ho sadly led the column Os his hero-knights that day, For his face was like the visage Os a man who quits a tomb, Leaving there his heart’s best treasure- Bringing out a life-long gloom! Oil, ’twas such a burning passion Os chagrin and helpless shame That was surging through and through us, Though our souls were free from blame. We hail fought them, and the wide world Knew our faith that we were right. And that every man among us Risk’d his honor xvith his tight! But the days have been ten thousand .Since that fateful April morn, Anil the oil of peace hath conquer’d— It hath heal’d the hearts once torn; So I place a wreath of honor On the grave of our “Lost Cause,” While I boast my better portion— A nexv union's light and laws! —SAM W. SMALL. RESTITUTION: A Story. By Francois Coppee. Translated from the French. After the close of the parliamentary ses sion of the Hon. Al. Gramleadet, deputy' from Deux-Garonues, takes the express— gratis, be it understood, with his pass—and goes to feel the pulse of public opinion in his own little city. Comfortably Installed in a corner of the coach, Alonsicur Gramleadet unfolds an immense evening journal, a very thoughtful ministerial journal, set forth in a prose as heavy and lugubrious as virtue herself, and whose very typography’ has a grave and puritanical air. The panama episode—in significant, as we well know, and exaggerat ed so malevolently by the enemies of the republic—is disdainfully relegated to the third page, and all ’hat rc-lat.-.? to it set. up In small type ami is almost illegible. I’er contra, the columns of the austere organ are burdened with foreign polities, with articles of palpitating interest, which be gin in these terms: “Things are going to the bad in Venezuela,” or “Can it be that tlie days of the Tricoupls ministry are num bered?” To keep himself in countenance before the gentleman xvith the white mustaches of a re tired colonel, who sits opposite him and quietly' reads Ln Cocarde, Monsieur (»rand eadet does not take his eyes off the official slieet, but appears to feel a passionate inter est in the Hellenic crisis :<nd in the latest dispatches from Caracas. In reality, lioxv ever, AL Grandcadet has been gri atly shaken up by' late events, and a dark inquietude lives in his soul- His name has not yet been uttered, (rood. He has xvritten or put his name to nothing. Capital. But who can for it as the times go, that some compromising paper concerning him xvill not be brought to light one of these fine days? For,in fine, he, like his com rade, the honorable man, has received his gratuity and has not thought he xvas doing any' harm. Look at it: 1 xx’ill let you. judge for yourself. He had no opinion of his oxvn in regard to the last call for funds; he was liesitating. A man of considerable import ance, a rich banker, xvhoiu he frequently' met in political circles, with whom he main tained the most agreeable relations almost a friend —opened his eyes, shoxved him hoxx appropriate —what shall I say?—bow patriot ic it xvas to vote in favor of utterance. This man, xvho knows the polite xvorld, who is_a perfect gentleman, proposes to him—oh! in terms of the utmost delicacy!— to associate him with the financial operations xxfliieh are so naturally preparing in connection xvith this huge affair, and assures to him, even pays him in advance, to quiet his scruples, a profit, not an enormous one, bless you! but a wretched trifle of 25,000 francs, iou need not speak a word in protest! You woifid have accepted yourself, just as did Al. Grandeadet- I knoxx- xvhat you are going to say; ‘And ! xvhat about, the subscribers’.' ’ Let us rea i son together. In ease of success they I xvould have said nothing at all, because they' I xvould have made an excellent investment. I They were gamblers, ami that is all there is about it. Would you knoxx' my xvay of looking at it? They are of no consequence xvhatever —the subscribers. Had Grand eadet any- means of predicting that the fa mous canal xvould never be opened ? \\ by already’ several times, he had realized pos its trifles —in affairs of the kind, xvhich had more or less of success. Nobody had conmlained. Well then, frankly, xvit his hand on his conscience, he reproached himself for noth ing. And shall xve tel] the xvliole truth? He had no faith whatever in this explosion of public anger. It xvas entirely' factious. It was easy’ to recognize, behind all this ready-made indignation, a conspiracy' of the old parties, the hand of the count of Paris and of the Botdangists. The president of the counsel had told them so to their face. Ah! but!—fortunately, he, Grandcadet, had been there to defend Hie jeopardized republic. At the peril of his life, if you please! You xvould scarcely have believed him capable of it with his round paunch, • his xvhiskers in the shape of a hare’s foot, I and his mein of a rakish notary' posing in readiness to pierce a hole through the moon. ' But xvhen the mustard got up into his nose! Yes. had it been absolutely necessary, he xvould have offered himself to be slain on a barricade, and xvould have cri 'd, like the heroic Buiidin; “Come mid see hoxv a man can die —for 25.01 M) fram-s!” And yet. in spite of all this clear reason ing. the honorable deputy- from Deux-Gar ronm's xvas not happy. “I might as xvell try to rest axvhile,” he j said to him'ioH. i He pulled Ills traveling cap xvell doxvu I fixer his bald pate, drew his rug about his i kgs. stretched himself out on the seat, and soon '.xas sleeping nrof mildly. i But then h<- had a nightmare. “Was he 1 epm-ossi'd bv remorse? b'or my part I I should be readier to believe that he had done I xvi-ong Io cat jugged hare in dining at the ■ Iml'fct of th" railway station. He should , have been more cautious. The bare xvas ! not a success with b’ni. i ,T is dreams were absurd. I Jf(> s;nv himself first, returning to his i own house, opening his strong box, per- PRICE 5 CENTS ceiving that he had been robbed, and that . in place of 4he big green morocco pocket book in xvhich he kept all his papers, there xvas nothing l>ut an old xvoolen stocking ab solutely’ empty. Next, he xvas suddenly, transported to the chamber of deputies, but he xvas_alone on his scat, in the empty hall xxhick xvas hardly lighted by the faint All the desks xvere shut, all the doors xvere closed. There xvas no trace of a human being left, except an enormous, high hat, as large as a garden reservoir, standing on the president’s desk. Grand cadet xvas looking stupidly at it, xvhen lie monstrous head covering exploded and be gan to pour forth an innumerable quantity of little squares of xvhite paper, and on them all the unfortunate deputy, endoxved of a sudden xvith a supernatural poxver of x’is ion. was able to rypd the name of his rival in the last election. But all at once the hat shut down itself, like a limp, empty bag; the ceiling sank, the walls drew together and Grandeadet at the highest pitch of sur prise and horror, found himself before tha court of assizes, betxvecn two gendarmes, and recognized under the redsleeved robes and gold-laced toques of the president and two assessors, his porter, his hair dresser and his housekeeper from Baris, all three ruined in the Panama affair. And the presi dent stood up and read in a cavernous voice, an extraordinary sentence xvhich condemned the Sieur Grandcadet, an ex-deputy, to gild the Eiffel toxver at his own expense within six month, and afterwards to be impaled on the lightning rod of that edifice. This was too frightful. The member of parliament axvoke with a start- It was early day. Al. Gramleadet recognized the hillsides and vineyards of his electoral native land. “Jugged hare decidedly' does not suit me,” he thought, “I have had very stupid dreams. But let me dismiss these forebodings. I am sure of my constituency. There are no socialists, aud the only’ possible candidate of the monarchists, the Marquis La Tour-Preud- Garde Den Jaime’s partisan, is not to l>q feared. Besides nobody knoxvs the history of my 25,00 francs. I must take heart!” A carriage awaited the deputy at the station. The perfect tranquillity of his native city seemed an excellent omen- As be drove by the xvhite horse painted on the sign ot the inn where the Bonlangists assembled did not begin to whinny: “Stop thief!” and the cast-iron cock perched on the church steeple did not crow: “Panama,” as a morn ing greeting. As soon as he arrived hfs servant There sine, who was expecting him, served cafa an la it. "Monsieur Grandcadet,” said the young peasant xvith an air of constraint, as ho was tasting his coffee voluptuously, “I have a very' difficult confession to make.” “And xvhat is it, my girl?” “To begin with, I am going to be mar ried.” "To Pierre, the harness-maker over the way’. That xvas decided two years ago. I knew all about that. Is it still appointed for next xveek?” "Yes, but this is what I wanted to say: Before being married I had to go to con fession and had to tell AL the cure, oi a wrong I had done you.” “A xvrong? Done to "me?” “Forgive me. Alonsieur,” cried There sino, bursting into fears, “f have robbed you—yes, have been robbing yon for two years. I told the cure of it and he bade me give back what I had taken, and here is vour money, oh! to the last sou, I swear it!” And the poor girl drew her hand from her pocket, full of gold and small change which she spread out on the table beforo her master. ‘\\hat! You hax'e been robbing me?” exclaimed M. Grandeadet, filled xvith aston ishment and xvrath. "Alas! sir, do not cause my’ ruin! Do not tell anybody’ of it. I beseech you! You can see I xvas not altogether dishonest at heart, since 1 have given back everything.” “So be it. That is enough; leave me,” replied the master impatiently. When left alone AL Grandeadet falls into a reverie. But do not go to the length ol imagining that he, in his turn, has a notion of making restitution of his gratuitx’ of 25.1 W francs. Once for all he regards the profit as gained, legitimately gained. No in connection xvith the act of this poor girlj to whom the priest hud recalled her for gotten catechism, it is the reflection of a sociologist, of a salesman, that occurs to AL Gnindcadet’s mind. lie ponders a mo ment. Then he picks up the money' laid down by' Theresine. thrusts it into his pocket, and then—can you believe it?—he, the ardent free-thinker, he who has voted for all tiie anti-clerical laws, he mutters be tween his teeth: “There is no.use in talk ing. There is need of a religion—for tha people.” Convicts as Road Builders. From The Chicago News-Record. The suggestions that the convicts In th# state prisons make public roads has been brought forxvard many times before. The work might be beneficial to the convicts and it would not be lu competition xvith honest free labor. The work of convicts is expected to make them self-sustaining. If they' are put at road making, xvho xvill pay for the roads the.n make? Or, suppose they merely prepare the material to put on roads, xx-ho will bur it and pay for it? J To raise mouey by the general taxation to pay tor convict-made mads might meet with objection. Die tax xvould extend over the whole state, while the first roads to be bull* xvould be m a fexv counties. Who xvould de termine these favored localities? And If not paid for by general taxation under a general road-improvement lax\' hoxx- could their labor or Its product be used on the roads? It xvould then depend ou comities or towns voting to improve their roads and paying convicts to do the work. Would they do this iu sufiieieui numbers to employ all the convicts? Simpson’s Plea for the Fretorians. From The St. Louis Republic. Our esteemed though sockless friend, Hon. Jeremiah Simpson, says that if the south had uot tried to secede from the union some thlry odd years ago we would not noxv be paying pensions to a million jieople. xvith another halt a milliou waiting to get on tUe rolls That may be more or less true, but io has nothing to do with the ease. If nensiona xxere a war indemnity levied against ‘ the south, that might be an argument to justify them; but actually and legally they are noth ing of the kind. The south pays its share of them, but as a matter of fact they are paid by the workers of the country, wherever they are found. There Is many a negro in the south going barefoot because his net earnings must go to meet such enormous burdens as this of pensions. And in the north and west there is many a workingman's xvife and many a farmer’s wife deprived of proper cloth ing to support this million dependents who claim the right to live at public expense. He Should Know. From The Chicago Inter Ocean. Colonel T. W. Higginson says that The Cen tury doos not, as a rule, print good poetry. The colonel is one of The Century’s most fre quent poetical contributors. Or Because They Nest Out of Reach. From The Now York Herald. Wool—Why did they name ton-dollar gold pieces eagles? Van Pelt— Possibly on account of their ablh Ity to fly. Feelile Shadows of Them. From Vogue. Mr. .Tournalist—Are you familiar with th# witty things said by Sydney Smith, Mies Percy ? Miss Percy—Very aHghtlyj onlx your jokes in the funny pajpM.

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The Atlanta constitution. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, April 18, 1893, Image 1