The Atlanta constitution. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, August 22, 1893, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Textsows VOL. XXII SCOTISH TALES. Andrew Lang Tells Some Thrilling, True Tales of Long Ago in Old Scotland. <C -; 5 righted. 1893, by Andrew Lang.) St. Andrews. Scotland, August C. —Wo have had a drought for three weeks. During a whole week this northern strath Ims been as sunny as the Riviera is expected to be. 'Die streams can lie crossed dry-shod, kells are plunging iti the pools, but even kells will not look at a fly. Now. byway of a pleasant change, an icy north wind is blowing, with gusts of snow, not snow enough Io swell t*ie loch that feeds the river, but just en High snow, as tile tourist said of the water of the river Styx, “to swear by." or at. '1 lie Field announces that a duke, who rents three rods on a neighboring river, has not caught one salmon yet. The acrimonious democratic mind may take comfort in that intelligence, but. if the weather wdl not im prove for a duke, it K not likely to change for a mere person of letters, thus tile de votee of the muses is driven back, by stress of climate, upon literature, and as then* is notiiing in the lodge *lo read lie is com pelled to write. Now, certainly one would not lack mateil.il. if only one were capable of the art of fic tion. The genesis of novels and stories is a topic little studied, le.it I am inclined to be •lievc that, like the pearls in the mussels of the river, fiction is a beantifui disease of the brain. Something, an incident or an expe rience. -r i reflection, gets imbedded, in crusted. in the properly constructed mind, and the nucleus of a pearl of ro- mance. Marion Crawford, in a recent work, describes his hero, who is a novelist, at work. This young gentleman, by a series of faults or misfortunes, has himself become a center of harrowing emotion. Two young 7?;. -'."'j’ A')'’ j W I ill 11 " 1 ' ; L. ' ! ' , " '■ !ir '-I ’“r m* vh.i.4 u. ladies, to each of whom he has been be trothed. are weeping out their eyes for biui. or are kneeling to heaven with despairing cries, or hardening their hearts to marry men for whom they do not care a bawbee. Tile hero's aunt has committed a crime; ev erybody. in fact is in despair, when an idea •k-i-nrs to tiie hero. Indifferent to the sorrows of his near-st and dearest, lie .-its down with ins notion and writes a novel ■writes like a person possessed. He has the proper kind of brain, the nucleus has been dropped into it. the pearl begins to grow ami to assume prismatic hues. He is so happy, .and even the frozen-out angler might be happy if lie could write a novel in the absence of -almon. I nluekily. ntj brain is not capable of this aesthetic malady, ami to save tuv life, or to "milk a tine warm cow rain," is the Zulus say. 1 couid not write a novel, nor even a short story. About the short story, as tlmy call it. with capital let ter.-. our critical American cousins have much to say. Its germs, one fancies, is its* iially incident, or a mere anecdote. accoru ing to the nature of the authors brain, this germ Imeomes either tiie pearl of a brief route. or the seed of a stately tree, ill three volumes. An author of experience soon finds out how lie should treat bis material. One writer informs me that, given the idea, the germinal idea, it is as easy lor him to make a novel out of It as a tab- as easy, and much more satisfactory and remunerative, others, like tiny de Maupassant, tor exam ple ,1. to I 1 their strength in br wily, in cutting down, not in amplifying; in se lecting and reducing, not in allowing other iiiens to group themselves round tiie first, other characters to assemble about those Who essential. That seems really tw be the 1. .ole philosophy of this matter, concern ing which so many words are expended, 'flu growth of the germinal idea, depends on tie nature of an authors taient lie may excel in expansion or in redm lion, lie mat be e. .nominal and out of an anecdote may spin tile Whole cocoon of a romance, or lie ma.i be extravagant and give a capable idea Hwuy in the br.efcst form possible. Tl’i. -e ideas may come to a man in many way-, as we -aid. from a dream, from a frtu military experience (as most experiences in life are fragmentary!, from' a bint in a newspaper, from a tale told in conversation. No, long ago. for example, 1 heard an anec dote out of which M. Guy Maupassant could have made the most ghastly, tiie most squalid and ie most siipeniatiirally moving of all hi tiles. Indeed, that is not saying much, as In- docs m>t ox. ■> I in the supernatural. Were i. written in french, it might lie in my lady's <-imm‘ -r. ami. as time go. no body would be shocked. But by our curious British conventions, tins tale cannot lie told bo >k or magazine. It wits lint, in it- tendency, immoral; those terrible t;ib s never are. The event was rather cal culated to frighten tiie hearer into the paths of virtue. Winn Richard Cameron. the founder of tii • Cameroniav.s, and Hie god father of Hie Cameronian regiment, was sent to Ills parish, lie was bidden by Mr. Peden to "put hell-fi-e to the tails’ of his congre gation. Tliis vigorous expression was will lilted to describe the conte which I have in my mind i.I rather wish 1 had it not), and which is not to lie narrated here, nor in English. For a combination of pity and terror, it seemed to me unmatched in the works of modern fancy. or in tiie horrors of modern experience; whether in experience or imagination, it had its original source. But even tiie English authors, who illume themselves on their audacity, or their real ism. or their contempt for “the young per son.” would not venture this romance, much less, then, is a timidly-correct penman likely lo tempt Mr. Mttdie with the conte. It is one of two tales, both told as true, which one would like to be able to narrate iu the language of Moliere. 1 lie other is also very good, and has a wonderful scene with a eornse ami a i-hapell’e ardente, and a young lad. ; it is historical, and of the last genera tion but one. Even our frozen strath here has its modern legend, which may be told in Eng lish. and out of which. I am sure, a novelist could make a good short story, or a pleasant opening chapter of a romance. VCltat is the mysterious art by which those things are done? '.' hat makes Hie well-told story seem real, rich witli life, actual. engrossing? It is the secret of genius, of the novelist s art, and the writer who cannot practice the art might ns well try to discover the philoso pher’s stone, or tv “harp fish out of the water.” However, let me tell the legend as simply as may be, and as it was told to me. The strath runs due north, the river flow ing from a great loch to the Northern sea. All mound are low. undulating hills, brown with heather, and ns lonely almost as the Sahara. On the horizon to the south rise the mountains, Ben tills and Ben that, teal mountains of beautiful outline, though no higher than some .’I.tHNI feet. Before the country was divided into moors of patent soap, bi fore the rivers were distributed into beats, marked off by white ami red posts, Here lived over to the south, under the mountains, a sportsman of athletic frame and adventurous disposition. His name I have forgotten, but we may call hiti. Dick Lindsay. It is told of him that lie once found a poacher in tile forest and. being un able to catch tlie intruder, tired his rille, not at him but in iiis neighborhood, where upon the poacher, deliberately kneeling down, took a long shot at Dick. How the due) end ed, and whether either party flew a flag of truce, history does not record. At till events, one stormy day in late September, Dick had stalked and wounded a stag on the hills to the southwest of the strath. Here, if only one were a novelist, one could weave several pages of valuable copy out of the st.it. Tlie stag made for the strath here ami Dick, who hail no gillie but an indepenid’iit sports man Os the old school, pursued on foot . Dunging down the low. birch-dad bills, the slag found Hie flooded river I.fore him black and swollen with rain. He took tiie water, crossing by the Idg pool, which looked almost like a little loch. tempestuous under a north wind blowing up stream, and covered with small, white, vicious crests. I’lie stag cross ed and staggered up the bank, where he stood panting, it is not a humane thing to leave a deer to die slowly of a rifle bullet, ami Hick reaching tiie pool, hesitated not, but tb’ew off his . lollies, took his skenc between his teeth, plunged iu, and swam the river. Ail naked as he was he cut tlm stag's throat in the usual manner ami gral- Joi-hed him witli all the skill of Bueklaw. This was very well, and very well it would be to add a description of the stag at. bay but as I never happened to see a stag at bay I omit all that. Hick had achieved success, but his clothes were on one side of a roar ing river, ami lie had the dead stag on Hie other. There was no ehanee of fording Hie stream, and there was then no bridge. He did not care to swim back, lor Hie excite ment was out of him. He was trembling witli cold and afraid of cram]). "A mother naked" man in a wilderness, witli a flood between him and his raiment, was in a pitiable position. It did not occur to him to play the stag and dress in Hie hide, and indeed be would have been frozen before lie could have accomplished that task. So lie reconnoitred. There was nobody within sight but one girl who was herding cows. Now for a naked man, with a knife and be dabbled with blood from the gralloching. to aduress a young woman on a lonely moor is a delieale business. Tile chances were that the girl would flee like a startled fawn, and leave Dick to walk, just as be was. to the nearest farm house, about a mile awn/, However. Dick had to risk it; he lay down so that only his face appeared above Hie bank, and he shouted to the maiden. When he had caught her attention lie briefly ex plained Hie unusual situation. Then the young woman behaved like a trump, or like a Highland Nnusieaa. for students of the Odyssey will remember how Odysseus, simply clad in a leafy bough of a tree, made suppli cation to the sea king's daughter, and how she befriended him. Even if Dick had been a reader of Homer, which is not probable, there were no trees within convenient reach, am! lie couid not adopt the leafy covering of Odysseus. “You sit still; if you move an before I give you the word. I'll leave you where you are!” said Miss Mary. She then cast her plaid over her face, marched up to Hie batik where Dick was crouching ami shiver ing, dropped her ample plaid over him. ami then sped away towards Hie farm house. When she had reached its shelter, and was - ' -r. ' . " *> . ' -\ y \ I, /V ■ I'h 1 " DltOl’i'ED HER AMPLE PLAID OVER HJM AND THEN FLED AWAY. giving an account of the adventure, Dick set forth, like a primeval highlander, tiie covering doing duly both for plaid and kill. Clothes of some kind were provided for him a<. the collage, a rickety old boat was fetch-* cd, and he and bis stag were rowed across the river where h's clothes layr That is all, but if one were a dealer in romance much play might be made with Hie future loiiums <>£ th;* sportsman and the maiden, happy fortunes or unhappy. In real life tbiv lassi,- “drew up with” a shepherd bid. as Jenny Di nison has it, married him. and helped to populate the stra'tli. As for ATLANTA. GA., TUESDAY. AUGUST 22. *1893. Dick, history tells no more of his .fllvent tires, nor is it alleged that he ever again visited the distant valley or beheld the face of his High land Nausicmt. Now. if one were a romancer, this mere anecdote probably would “rest lovely pearl in the brain, and slowly mature in the oys ter," till it became a novel. Properly han dled, the incident would make a very agree able first 'chapter, with tlie aid of scenerv, botany, climate, and remarks on tile man ners and customs of the red deer out of St. John. Then, probably, one would reflect on the characters of Mary and of Richard. Mary must have parents, of course, and one would make them talk in Scotch. Probably she al ready had a lover; bow should she behave to that lover? There is plenty of room for speenhition lit that problem. As to Dick, is lie Io be a Lothario, or a lover pour Ie bon motif? Wbat are ids distinguished family to think of tlie love affair, which would cer tainly ensue in tielion, though in real' life nobody thought of it at all? Are we to end happily, with a marriage or marriages, or are we to wind all up in the pleasant, pessi mistic. Te.inslie, fashionable modern way? Is Mary to drown the baoy in the muckle pool? Is she to suffer the penalty of her crime at Inverness? Or. happy thought, shall we not make lier discarded rttiti lover meet Dick in the hills on a sunny iiiir are they flaking a hint from facts) to tight a duel with rifles? 1 see Dick lying, with a bullet in Ids brow, on the side of a corrie; Jus blood crimsons tlie snow, an eagle stoops from the sky. That makes a pretty pictur esque conclusion to the unwritten romance of the strath. Another anecdote occurs to me; good, I think, for a short story, but capable, also, of being dumped down in tile middle of a long novel, it was in the old coaching days. A border squire was going north in the coach alone. At a village he was joined by a man and a young lady; their purpose was manifest they were a runaway couple, bound ifor Gretna. Green. They had not trav eled long together before tlie young lady, turning to the squire, said: “Tons par’ez Francais, monsieur?” He did speak French -—it was plain that tlie bridegroom did not— and, to the end of the journey that remark able lady conducted a lively ami affectionate coiilpfi sation with the squir<» in French. Manif' stly. he had only to ask and receive, but. alas! he was an nd vent (irons, plain gen tleman; he alighted at his own village; he drove home in his own dogcart; the fugitive pair went forward .and the Gretna blacksmith united them in holy matrimony. Tile rest is silence. 1 would give much to know what that young person's previous history and adventures had been, to learn what befell her after her widding, to understand, in brief, lier con duct and her motiv s. Were 1 a novelist, a Maupassant, or a .Meredith, tlie muse, “from whatsoev quarter she elms.*," would en lighten me about all. and 1 would enlighten you But I can only marvel, only throw out the hint, only deposit tlie grain of sand, the nucleus of runiiin,-?. in some fertile brain. Indcid, tlie topic is mui'lj more puzzling than tlie conclusion c.f my Highland romance. In that case fancy could- find certain :>lty me. cluiiinels into one or th- o’!;''r -if ■ •im-i n.. ■- Hu r !->• no . *■••*'*, livis of tl’i-e three pieeri.v n.et pe. "-> v pjpj coach. As a rule, fancies are capable” oT being arranged in but a few familiar pat terns, so that it seems hardly worth while to make tlie arrangement. But lie wiio looks at things thus will never be a writer of stories. Nay, even of the slowly unfolding tale of his own existence lie miy weary, for the combinations therein have all occurred be fore. It is a hackneyed old story that he is living, and you, and 1. Vet to act on this knowledge is to make a bad affair of our lit tie life; we must try our best to take it se riously. And so of story-writing. As .Mr. Stevenson says, a man must view “his very trifling enterprise witli a gravity that would belli the cares of empire, and think tlie small est improvement worth any expense of time and industry. 'Die book, tiie statue, tlie sonata, must be gone upon with the unreason ing good faith and tlie unflagging spirit of children at their play.” 1 That is true, that is tlie worst of it. Tlie man, the writer, over whom the irresistible desire to limck at himself, his work, his pup pels amt their fortunes, has power, will never be a novelist. The novelist must “make be lieve very much;” lie must be in earnest with his characters. But how to be in earnest, how to keep tlie note o"f disbelief and derision “out of tlie memorial.'” Ah, there is the dii lieulty. but it is u difficulty of which many am hors appear to be insensible. Perhaps they suffer from no such temptiU Lons * —— - The Hatidpress in Die Rain. The old hamlpri'ss in tlie rain Rusting there by the road. in tile dank, rank grass where tlie ox-teams A si range and a sad abode! But daisies whiten its rust, and stain And bloom o'er tiie handpress in the rain! Little tlie teamsters know As their whips ciaek loud in the air, The story linked to the long ago, That speaks from tlie handpress tiiere; And to tell tii.it story were only vain As the handpress rots in tlie woodland rain! And yet, ’tis a story fraught Willi life and its joy and woe, And one that rings in tlie House of Thought Where tiie lilies of Memory How; A story of labor ami love and pain That leads to tlie handpress in Hie rain. So. it rusts and rots liy tiie road, Where tlie woodland dews are chill; 'The owl hoots over its wild abode, And sweet sings tile whippoorwill; O. the story of labor, an-i loss ami gain. Wfth the handpress there in tiie woodland rain! FRANK I.- STANTON. Ingersooli on i’etry. From America. I asked < olonel Ingersoll what true poetry was, in U.s tiupcelic Nassau street law of fice yesterday, and lie replied: “’the poetry l.i.rn* of experience. Let a man who Ims never lost a child, who has never dropped tears on the cairn covering a loved one, lead a poem written by a man who lias never kt own beieavement, and lie will think it a poor poem.. But v.lien lie shall lose .1 child or a dear one, that poem will not satisfy- turn. Tien let him read :i poem o.v one vHio has suti.-red as lie has sullered, ami no X, ill ci-im T ,U ! 1 *^‘t Zi Vm^en’s" } Aft<“e BurhtL' written 'after the death of bis child. , r-, in tue heart, rot trom the head; !,ml. coming from the heart, it reaches the heart.” Au A in ions J ndt:e. Mr Oswald lias the reputation of being tlie "hardest tighter” at tlie liar, says Tiie ! oudon Truth. Various stories illustrative of his persistency have recently appeared in Hie papers, but I have not seen Hie fol lowing. which is, perhaps, the best: .Mr. Oswald was arguing a case in tlie court of appeals at great length. Already the court had intimated pretty clearlj 11 heard enough, but Mr. Oswald had treated these intima I ions in his usual manner, and uent on raising point after point. ■ ■i.'i..|llv ' at last one of Hi■ • lord Justices remonstrated “really. Mr. Oswald, if you intend to relv on [Jg points yon .should have raised them in tlie court below. ; ••So 1 did, my lord.” replied Mr. Oswald, “■bin tlieir lordships stopped me.” . "Tliev stopped von, did they? inquired I,ord Esher, eagerly. "Mow did they do it?” SURRENDERED. By Niitlioninl Stevenson, It happened in Joe Nelson’s “store.” at a “settlement” of but five houses, perched high up among tnc mountains of tlie south and girt about by the forest primeval. There were several of us in tlie store, and tlie sheriff and I were the groat al tractions. The sher iff was great because he was Hie sheriff and because ol his abilities at cards. 1 was in teresting because I did not belong to the “mountings.” but was more or less of a ten derfoot. We had got. to talking about a noted outlaw by the mime of Cae.-str Stack, ami I had just asked Hie sheriff why it was that he could never pukjiis hands upon him. “Wai. jo’ see.” said the sheriff, in his queer dialect that defies tlie reproducer. “C.-ieStir Stack is a custired cute ole man. He jes’ dodges in an’ out o’ these liyar mountings so custired quick yo never ken ketch him nohow.” I might, indeed, have surmised till that, but I had patience and tried again. “Do you ever see him, nowadays?” The sheriff chuckled to himself. Ho ap peared to lie amused hugely at my question. Did lie ever see Caesar Stack? Well, rather. He would see him in about live minutes. In fact, he was waiting at tile store to meet him. At that I opined my eyes wide. I asked whether Caesar would be arrested. But the sheriff smOic me on the shoulder and laughed a! >ud. 7>k .'. "I haint got the papers agin him,” lie ex plained. “They be over in tother county. But jes’ so soon as over I hyeerd thet Cae sar was no to ole man Stuart’s I sot black Jim yo’ knows black Jim, my leetle niggur— wal, I sot Jim on a hoss and says I, ’Jim, yo’ cusfired. leetle. black varmint of a dogone, fool niggur, yo’ jes’ run thet Hiar ole boss cvey foot o' tlie way till yo’ hit ole Jerry Williams's, wlm’s the sheriff over thar, and bring me back them papers that’s out agin Caesar Stack.' “Wal. Jim lie started and then I sent up right away to ole man Stuart's and tole Cae sar to come down to this hyar ole nubbins of a store aud hev a drink afore Hie papers git liyar.” 'The room exploded into laughter, and in the midst of it the doer was thrown open. Out of the while moonshine, that wire heavy with Hie mist, a huge, gaunt man with gray hair stalked across tlie threshold. It was Caesar Stack. But Im had been dodging war rants so long that lie was prepared for any thing. He paused beside tlie doorway and showed his cocked revolver. “'Pon honor,” said lie to tlie sheriff, “hain t yo’ got them papers?” “'Pon honor, Caesar, we jess wanted yo’ to come di.wn and hev a drink. Yo’ ken git out o’ liyar and git half way across the j ae I siart after yo’.** Tin- o*S.- bf however, kept ids place for a niomij, if *'* he \ He looked carefully from f;-. -‘t”" , "y’ttswi he put his pistol into ids ’ 'Z - ' 1 | S i ’ -'s all round. Tlie sher- 1 atm) J”"*’ I’, , - . . ■ . .s-.-s; '.lie sIHi-i.,, . <v .y' ~,l|'ii'i iL.o’.'s * L.Lry man in Caes;i r I '*D'l> l ’ <: l he guest of honor, the stone jug of moonshine whisky was handed to him first. But he, in ids rough courctsy, recogniz ed my strangeness in Hie land and handed it to me. I knew what was expected of me and was determined to play the man. “Well, gentlemen,” said 1. "here's luck.” I pulled out the corn cob stopper and drank from the mouth of tire jug. Tlie liquor went down like a stream of molten lava Hint scorch ed and maddened me within. The other men, however, drank greedily, in tlie same way, the jug passing from hand to hand. Bur 1 have since thought that Caesar siis pe.eted my distaste for the liquor and was v. olii at me on that account as Weil as many others. Tlie latter wiil appear, pres ent ly. Meantime. th<> sheriff had produced a deck of cards. 1 protested that I did not play, and the others liad enough rude chivalry toward the stranger not to ’press me. The game, however, was soon under way. It was like ali such games tlie world over. Most ot it as played in a tense silence. But tiiere were two leaiui’i's which were interesting, and tno first Os these was tin- face of ( aD'ii’ Stack. As Hie liquor Legau to tell on him Hie out law showed his real nature. The mask of circtmistanee slipped down trom before his face. Lioin bihind it tiiere appeared a gioomy -pirit fee-lmg Itself upon the sense of wrong. Then it was Hmt 1 repeated to myse. t Hie story .if tins m.ill's crime, it was ; qi due to a lauds ha :k from tit'' north, one ot my peopio had persuaded Caesar Stack to mortgage tiie few lands wh.cli lie possessed, 'tiie stranger foreclosed at his lir.st oppor tunity and Caesar became a landless man. For a' time he struggled ..n Hying to take care of iiis family and paying an intolerable rent. Meanwhile he brooded s.lenlly upon iiis wrongs. At last the time eaim' when tie could put up with them no longer; one of iiis children sickened and died of sheer mis ery. Then the mountaineer waylaid his ty rant in the hollow of a glen and shot him. As a lonseqm nee, of course, < acsar Slack became an outlaw. Nevertheless. Hie whole country side was witli him, and to arrest Hie man, since that could not lie done except by a sheriff in his own county with Hie warrant in his hands was next door to Im possible. II was not strange, however, that Caesar hated northerners. They were Hie people who bail come down witli tire mid sword and conquered iiis own years before. Like Hie rest of tlie mountaineers, he counted time from Hie hour when i-ee bowed iiis head to the storm. That was in tlie year of •*liie surreiuder.” Anything Hint happened about then was so many years before or after “the surrender." But, as 1 say. the liquor was beginning to tel' upon Caesar. While 1 sat there watch ing him a scowl gathered in Lis ejes. It was a thundercloud Hint burst when Hie sheriff imppened to rider to tlie year before t.m surrender. Caesar turned square upon me and dashed his list upon Hie table. “1 tell yo'.” tie thundered, “tliar wa'nt no surrender. 1 haint surrenuenl yit. None of us never stirrenderd. an’ we never v ill. There was silence for a moment. It it had not been for the sheriff there might have been trouble. But he was equal to tiie occa sion. “Wal, Caesar, Hint's Jes* es yo’ like to call hit. 1 rlisremember mostly what we done with our weepons. But es yo' don't watch tliis liyar game I'll git all yo' money afore we’re done.” , . Caesar was fierce and quarrelsome, lint lie was not yet drunk. He submitted sullenly to lite wisdom of the sheritl. lie turned again to his steady drinking ami silent play. In such fashion tlie night wore on. As 1 said, however, tiiere wore two features of interest in that nu morab e g nue. The second was the coniiin-:. latterly, of tlie .sher iff. He was a liuge, unwieldy, good-humored but vindictive old reprobate, with a beard like a small bush. He went into tlie game witli as much zest as did tlie others, but be fore long his inn rest began to dag. I’resentiy Hie sheriff plucked ('aesar llty the sieeve. The outlaw, however, shook him off impatiently. That was Hie beginning of a running aitef- • cation between the two. The sheriff was urging Caesar continually to mike his es cape in good season. But the liquor, or something else, had got into Caesar’s head, and he was doggedly defiant. He would not go until lie could hear Black Jim's horsehoofs. He had never surrendered and he never would. He was not afraid of any man north or south. As he said that he glanced at me witli a look of exultation. But the sheriff lost his temper completely, ivnd in a storm of furious profanity bade Caesar take iiis own way to the devil. After that there was silence again, while every man in Hie room listened breathlessly for tlie hoofbeats. it was during the intense silence Hiat I ■went out into tlie moonlight. I uanted to escape from Hie tragedy within doors, and tlie change of scene was great enough to work wonders. Below me was a tangle of mountain glens witli th" wind raging among them. it was like the roaring ot many streams hidden in banks of mist. Tlie m >on iight glimmered upon the surface of Hie mist an I lined rhe glens with silver. Out of that glistening world, in long black fins, rose up the higher ridges. But even they were touched aud softened by the mystery of the moonlight. They had become vast dreamy things that were half akin to man. Oyer them ami among them swept Hie breathing wind, wilile the moonshine was tlieir robe of splendor. Upon glen ami forest and tow ering mountain wall was the peace that pass .-Hi all understanding. A reflection of Hie nature of God lay upon that world to whiy-h lie has not given the power to contradict Dim. Nevertheless, In spite of al', the snen dor and mystery ot' the night, I could not get mv mind away from Hie gaming table, trom C.u-sar hot. with liquor and the sheriff su. en with wrath. There I was in the heart of tlie strifi'iess moonlight, listening seerct.x for the clatter of Black Jim’s horsehoofs. Be hind me were the gamesters. They, also, were doing the same tiring. As Hmt occurred to me, I turned about and went back into tlie store. For mere idleness 1 lit a cigarette and began to smoke. A moment after ward, how ever I regretted it. Uaeser’s eye had rested me. and I eopld see that there was a sneer ill it. 1 began to feel that the sound of hoofbeats would be a blessed relief, lint, also, that it would never come. At last, however, it did. Faint and far along tile mountain rang tiiat echo of destiny. Witli terrible swlftmss it became louder and more distinct. Nearer and nearer came the galloping hoofbeats. They seemed to be riding on the wind, which strove in vain to get ahead of them. They came ringing up the street of the hamlet, ihey weie almost in front of the store. Then came the heavy, jolting footfalls, as the gallop slowed into tlie trot, followed by the sound of a horse pawing angrily and by Black Jims stentorian voice bellowing, “Who!_ <la..J'o_ole_delibiH2 Tn another moment the door burst open. The low moon threw its light into the room and last over ns tlie mighty shadow of :i standing horse. It was ail so sudden and so unexpected that my heart leaped into my mouth. Even the bold mountaineers shrank back to right aud left as if fearful of witch or warlock. But. Black Jim rushed to the -.::l>!e and ill. .v, tin p'ip:r = a;, m it. ' Da. dev a’ bos.- !” he shouted, “do de.t The sheriff clutched at them. “Caesar Stack, yo’ my pris’ner!” But had the impossible really happened? Was Caesar caught at last? What could be the matter with him as he stood there silent by the table? These questions and a host of others flashed through me in a silence as of death. While Black Jim gaped breathless, as he stared up into tlie sheriff's lace, the rest of us were like so many statues under the shadow of that giant horse, beneath tiie dying moon. God knows what men were weighed in tlie balance that instant. But I Cannot think Hint all of them were found wanting. Along with the questions that had flashed into my consciousness ther.' came Hie solution of Hie whole matter. It was spoken by Caesar's eyes. They had turned again upon me and burned tlieir rev elation into my soul during half an instant. In a flash of light tlie scales fell from before me and I understood it all. It flamed upon me like a baptism of fire out of tlie depths of those hopeless eyes. “You know who is to blame for all this.” Caesar's spirit was crying to me in spite of himself, saying things that he could not say in words. "Il is you who have undone me you and your cigarette. Why do you smoke cigareTii'S? it Is because you ti~ !r~r rm I Weil fed, and live in a rich country. You arc- Olsu of our masters. You and your peo ple hold us all in your hands. You con quered us first, ami now you have bought us. body and soul. These very wastes, w; ■■*” no man lias ever yet felled u tree, belong to tlie stranger. "We are landless in our own land, and yet you sit there at your ease, smoking your cigarettes and care nothing about it. Yon are a type of the new tyrant. It is the spell of your wicked presence Unit lias held me here, as the eye ot a snake holds a bird. 1 have lingered tonight because of Hie burn lug fascination of old memories that have paralyzed my power of action. You are what started them. Tlie sight of you has chained me here, dreaming of the time before tlie surrender. You have ruined me.” Such was the message which was flashed into niy soul by a single look. It was, in deed, but dimly grasped I’s' tlie man who felt it within him’. It could not express itself. It came from a soul that was dumb, l.nt the spirit had made me wise and 1 under stood. Then it was that I moved toward Caesar and looked straight into his tkiee. He, how ever. thought I had done after the manner of my kind. He supposed that I was exult ing in his fall. That, I am sure, was why lie lifted iiis eyes to mine with an air of de fiant scorn. The next instant he had drawn ids revolver and flung it into the water bar rel by the door. His eyes moved slowly from mo to Hie sheriff. He included both of us in his defiance. I saw that the end had come. Tiiere was but one way out of the dilliculty. The sher iff's hand still rested upon the warrant on tlie table, and I laid 1115 hand on his. As I did so my cigarette dropped upon tlie war rant. At the same instant, with my left hand. 1 poured out upon it tiie last of Hie jug of whisky. You can imagine what fol lowed. 1 snatched my hands away, and the sheriff gave a smart of pain. There was a swill flare of blue flame, a smell of burning alcohol, and then tiie warrant was no more. Os just what happened next I am not sure. .Mr eves were fixed upon Caesar. I knew, however, that Uie siterifi stared at me for a moment as it stupefied. *\.tiei tliar lie dropped into a chair and laughed uproriously. lint 1 was watching Caesar. At first lie had flushed angrily. Then lie hesitated. At last he looked at me and our eyes met. Tie next instant lie strode across Hie room and stretched out his hand. "i’ardiier." said lie. “I'm surrendered.” N ATI! AN IE I. ST EI ’ll ENSt >N. - - Tbo Curfew. From Tlie St. LoTis Globe-Democrat. Good stories go witli some of tiie tilings in tlie state buildings at the world's fair. 'J'ne picture of tlie school girl wiio cadi ari d iter memory Io til" recitationists by writing “Cmifew Must Not Ring Tonight” hangs iu H:e .Michigan building. A faded copy of tlie weeklj' paper In which the first publi cation of Hie pi-.'m was mad' is shown. Rose Hartwick Thorpe wrote "Tlie Curfew.” Her home Hwn was in the village of l.itelr field. One afterii“on at school this girl of PRICE 5 CENT A fifteen years composed the vigorous verses and carried them to her teacher. The lat» ter said they xvere good enough to print, and so the copy was sent to the editor of the local paper. He inserted the poem to please the Thorpes, xvlio were subscribers, putting over it “by request” to relieve him self of any responsibiiit.v for the encourage ment of school girl rhymes. Tiie Litchfield minister read “The Curfew” in the next week's issue, cut it out and sent it to Hor ace Greeley, asking an examination of it on its merits. The Michigan girl's effort wont into Tlie New York Weekly Tribune and was started on its road to fame. There are few “pieces” which have had so long a life as “'Die Curfew.” It is in every “reader,” and no amateur elocutionist misses it. Wiioii Hie fair was coming on the Litch field folks bethought themselves how they might, impress the world witli their exist ence. They 'thought of Rose Hartwick Thorpe, now living at Pacific Beach, Cal. They’ churned buttw, picked chickens, sold eggs and raised $250 with which they made this “Curfew” exhibit in the Aiiehigan build ing. WOULD THE KAJAH FIB? If Not, Here Indeed Is a Most Wonderfn Tale. I 1 row iho New York Advertiser. I hat tin visit the semi-duskv sovereign, Jajatjit Sittgi the Rajah fiajagan of Kapur timla, possesses an ui'i’sual amount of interest t" believers in that latest form of mysticism, theosophy, is evident from tiie following story told by the Maharajah to a Sundav Advertiser reporter just Monday evening. it was after supper and ids royal highness was luxuriously reposing on a soft divan tn the .Moorish i< tinging room of the Waidorl liot.'l 0:1 Fifth avenue. Although dressed is iitoder'i European fashion, iiis picturesque purple turban and aiistocratic Indian face and head, silhouetted against the rich eastern tapestries, gave a dec.'utdiy oriental coloring to the picture. 'Die Maharajah !:< Id between his jeweled fingers an Egyptian cigarette, winch h ■ lazily puffed at intervals v.li le teeing the reporter iiis remarkable story illci t' titing the weirdness of occultism in (lie east. His sonorous voir?, the fragrance of bis ciga'ette, the strange sub), cl of his story nn.i Hie general environ ment made a picture that was en hi’iiHugly harmonious in tveiy detail. It. was 'ike a page from the “A’al-ian Nights.” The conversation turned on tlie occultism or oriental prilosophy. Tlie scion of tiie ancient royalty of northwestern India show ed himself to have a complete mastery of English, and he spoke with a deep sense of conviction. “I'll tell you' an occult story based on pos Itive fact.” said the Rajah Rajagaii. "I was an eye witness ot jt myself. The story is true and undoubtedly it will seem strange, pei'hops weird, to your Western mind.” lie then told Hie reporter the following re markable story; “At tlie present day there is living in tlie Ullage of Chibanwala, in one of the Punjab states in northwestern India, an individual with tile characteristic name of Ram Sing pah. About two years ago this man iiad an •‘Xperleuce that is lb." ebief ’.po'-ct es this story. While cholera was raging in that se tion of India. Ram Singpah fell a victim to the plague and died in a (few hours. Ac cording to the customs of the country he was taken to Ihe funeral pyro to be cre mated. Tiie disease stricken body was close ly wrapped in white muslin and laid on the pile. Tlie torch was then applied. Tlie instant tlie first red tongue of fire licked the death wriq pings tlie corpse began to show symptoms of life. Another flame, the muslin caught lira ami, to the horror of tlie spectators, the corpsa sat bolt, upright! Ram Singpah uas alive, for the light of lit" was in iiis eyes. II" stood up on tlie pyre like a white specter. The specta tors were struck dumb by a superstitious dread. 'Die heat became intense, and ns soon as tlie re> vi reel oil Singpah realized tlie peri! cf iiis position, he leaped to the ground. The beholders became panic stricken and fled shrieking to tin ir homes. Ram Singpah also i-'-turned to his In me, and when the supersti tious ilrcild thar tilled the people had worn away lie told a remarkable storv of his ex periences. iie declared that hi- had really u dead aud 1-ad been conscious when his soul left his I'jdv "I could see my is-dv lying on the ground dead.” lie said. was also conscious that iiis soul was whirled :iwav through Infinite space. He had an .'seort-another spirit led nttn Away through measurcli ss distances tlie two si trits moved witli tlie velocity of llmi'glt. Suddenly Singpah became aware of a great lii'lancy that was dazzling. Through tlie liimin >i>s space it - could .•■ -.::i 'ly outline a figure of transcend.’nt radiam-'. Tlie lignre ‘.'it behind an immense r-gistir l-ook The tue spirits appeared b'f.’re '-.lm. When lie looked al Singpah a frown over si r< ml his features and lie turned to tl’. es cort and said: “You have brought tlie wrong -oiil. I want another Bam Singpah lie liv< s in Jlielam.” 'Die messenger of deatii had made a mistake am! Hie spirit of Ram Singpah. of <'bibaiiwala. was 1 'turned to its moital teneim'iil just as it was on the point of being destroyed on Hie funeral pyre. “Bit here Is th" strangest, part of the story,” said the Maharajah, as lie knocked the ashes from his cigarette. “The moment Bam Singpah returned to life iiis namesakt . who lived in neighboring Jhelani. died. 'lbis might have been a coin-jdetiee. but investiga tion lias proven the truth of ail I have loid 5 on." He Locked Wales l'p. From a I‘aris Letter. General tlie Marquis de Gallifet enjoys the unique distinction of benig tiie only man in Europe who has ever kept the prince of Wales locked up and a prisoner. it was during the palmy days of the empire. Tiie prim e made ids appearance late one night at the Gallifet mansion in tlie Rue Rabelais, in a condition wiiicli can only be described as frisky in the last degree. Tlie marquis was entertaining a number of friends and a s<*andal was on the eve of taking place. Ga.iifet, seeing this, enticed the royal youth away from th" crowded drawing room to a distant boudoir and then li.ivitig induce 1 him to enter, ioeked the door on him. Tin- prince, when he discovered tne trick, became very angry, and made a most, awful im'se. Finding al last that no one paid any, attention to him, he .settled down 011 the sofa to sleep. Next morning Gallifet ftnloeked the door and received the prince's pardon aud even tlmnk= for what, he had don . thanks which received their expression a few days later on in the shape of a ruby and diamond pin which tlie general still oftenjvears. A Little Off l iorally- From Tlie New York Life. <'hii-a;'’••nsis: “1 w: nt a boutonniere. Florist: "Yes. miss. W tat colors'?' Ct.ea goensis; “White oniy. It's for my grand- From The Buti'nlo Courier. Can't we get up a small war with Andorra, or Dahoinev. or r' u •jaimbia. ju-d to employ ~nr 1 e.v erttisers .in-i battle ships tn a lew, pra< Hi -al si-rlmmagi's? I roof Coactusix e. From Tit-Bits. “One of you boys has neen stealing ru.sin: m ain; 1 have fotti’ l tiie seeds on Hie II" n - YVhi<-li one of yon was it? ’ Tommy: “1 wasn't me; 1 swallowed the seeds in mine.

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The Atlanta constitution. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, August 22, 1893, Image 1