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Consnmpllon
To the Edit' >p :—I have an absolute
remedy f r Consumption. By its timely use
th , eamb. <>f h' >pel. •, cases have been already
I ■in;:.- ire > proof-positive am I
' i i’. )■ .t th.it I consider it my duty to
nc'i 'l tw i cl. ■ fr, •to those of your readers
v. ; - h.r.-e C urumptkfli,Throat, Bronchial or
1 in Iron! It, if they will write me their
•’ ' " w >fiice address. Sincerely,
T. A. SLOCUM, Iff. C., 183 Pearl St., flew York.
n f
t I r Guuru.Mcc tbin tfeucruua I’rupvaiUon.
1000 WAYS TO CURE A COLD I
<; t '.ip n< ' <<“. hot '< t on o.i •yrtlp. whhkey and
k ■ , Ir \ it ’ -v.i I” I •ttr-
v <i. ' r:i;-| u.y .»«» It'*** MOiiirl ) 1 ir neck.
« i rruil nti'l ohi li'ii. i ■ Is << ».;,• h ( ur»* th' -«• nnd
< ■ i .* ii <ith#r v ■’ * h\ the li'imun rao f'» cure
! i L<* l « -l a wl* »o Lia, r II ■»|| M •. X> Rf \TIIOh
IMIUIX your daily n and you will never
catch col«i
• „ A o.'ui iiui-t be ml* ruble Indeed
f • who h I i I np v, jtli n I.R/i (. old, Ca-
i m y , » Vt, |f< unable to l<r« r»tl-e
l I without paiti, lii«ti'Tu;il M»»e uu<l liis
f -' h< < I lit to -lii. I. • n <>»«<■ llt He pro
*<’•/ » it. tl.r t :k-’ ■ all. 't< i nSIMC’S
J IMKLIU v,H; five Lt/a in-tant re-
RELIEF EASY TO GET !
!’<■ r-.av p'i on ;'ii<l on. snc r e b't
I • ’ - f'T I t i *n I” :ih I sy ~-\x • j
► I <. - ! v'i - ■ ' 1 ); ~ 2
■ I >1 ’•••• i. t ' • I 's :I • nod, ( *1 M- rJ'
I. '.-in! - :i ■ : I ■ ;Upl 1,-tl.H.i.t ’ // p-\
ha. tly • 11l A. Ia- P"'(
t ■ i,■■ i I. •«, . ~■!■ -|t all üb« n \ \ \
I I :. I !i ‘.I «»>- \ > /
TJIUL iNHU.IUt nn I / ’ ; hl:n-«lf /
tu I. iw.iui.de million. '
Cushman’s Menthol Inhaler a Jewel!
C'> r . X woman will t around pro«trnt-
I ' J'-, . < 1 iti i;« r>.f-. Ih.g *h -peinte ovwr
•' ’/ I of «l*' p, hi :t<! and ryri racked
*l* with pain, cold settled In every
I V J !. -•'> »•!»•-• iil h thnt life Hf'-n.i
I '*•• < a blank, but if yhe woiild make the
l._ I $ .V* in is * I jki ‘ liltlt- instrument know ti
J* C . ((SliJilXS MKKTfiOL IMH I Kit
her .I dly < ompfinlou. bet bcntliudn-i
would' ■' ■■ . f ‘ qij. 111, '.l* '"I ; never hr. v< a cold,
and ot Um d and ctit.mb would have no terrors.
NEVER NEGLECT A COLD OR COUGH
JOglet t :l < d I nr ( ■ Uffh nod If I. I J
(i <•-. ti ■ ’ \','l (on ui.ipt
v (l‘il>KX IXJHI.M'. I) - P.-H
t.nd • i Hi. I.rw.if'iv
I •' ■)
t' l !■ I‘ ,o O'd I. < plng < I b.U3KX’S , t“/ L\
IMHI.J K • J.wlv I I , oft i . o'd V’
\ X
th t ftj pro.tch.
The Greatest Authority in the World.
J)n. J Lrxxnx Bitov, ne. F. R. C.
\ H. I’d. K nii't Sm ;'eon to the Cen
-11 '* 1 "" : a ’ ‘“ ! d lar H .s-
I ’d ' ii.vv.'ipoi of Menthol
v7 ! i*<‘ 1 < in‘« I'M iii a n i n. . l.ardly le«»H than
” 'I V' loih ... o». (’ol |M in the bead.
4 • of i,a>-il <li.-eases,caii9«
**Kl2l2dL'■ Tok“l’ tni. iion to the natural
v ’ / ’.\4 I re ith\v:i . . I pu s : ibe ( VMIIMA.VH
f 5 :l>\k / i A ” 1 Mn«H IMI ti tlt to the extent of
• » L ‘ hundreds per annum.”
[I« re t thl* r. mi. ■ . !■• ti.m r.iflt. but that *ll
I»IC. BROWNE. w, '« r ’’ n ’ l J T“lit by It ? ]
Brings *d •« p to the Bleeph Cures Insomnia
and /« ’ia.i.is l'r"btration. Don't be fool' d with worth
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wW
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AND
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lickot Agent, ticket Agent,
I i.iou Depot. No. 8 Kimball Hoi te
ATLANTA, GA.
C UTit. J. I. LDMONDSON, T.P.A.,
! <!v -i Agent, Chattanooga,
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,!GS. ■ CHAS. f. HARMAN,
hu. v A-an.ieer, Ve,- t ’ass. Aqt.,
AU AN I A, GA.
wl K y
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MARS
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I
TWO RUNAWAYS
By HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS.
[Copyright, IV I, 1 y Th< C ntnry company.
A:, rights r< -irv. d. J
CHAPTER I.
I have lit IT? doubt but many rf-oplc
in middle Gc.'nria y< t r< m r nib< r Cravr
ford Worthington, who in antebellum
days k< pt opr n house in Baldwin coun
ty. MajorWi rthingt' n, a«h' v.uls called
b-eau-a- of some fancied a : d la had <x
tended to h: • country during the difli- '
culty xvith Mexico, v,;i- not a type—un- ’
less to l-eoue of many singular characters
in a region whose peculiar institutions
admitted of the wildest jcc< ntricit:- s
can constitute a type. lie lived in the ;
midst of peace and plenty upon his plan
tation not many miles from Millcdpo- j
ville, surrounded bv several hundred
. w-w If
UelvbiiJ
“I'ou un firing to run away, ham!”
slaves with whom he was uimn singu
lar but easy terms. His broad, rolling
fields, his almost boundless pastures,
his sob mn fronted anti tall eolumned
house, his comfortable “epuirtcrs, ”
where dwelt the negroes, all bespoke '
prosperity and independence. Inclcpcnd- 1
ent he was. No prince ever ruled with |
, stray more potent than this bachelor
I planter, surround, d by his blacks and 1
acknowkelging none other than his owu
I will.
This mark) el character was a man bc
i low medium lieight. His figure incline d
: vciy decielcelly to portliness, and beyond
a long, narrow mustache and thin im
! pciial e,f black mid gray his face was
clean shaven. Iron gray hair in abund
ance crept out from under the white
felt hat he generally wore, and his mix
; cd suit of gray was illumined 1 y a ruf
-1 fled shirt ami broad spreading cutis c.f
the finest linen.
Self willed and eccentric arc weak
' words with which to e.tmnp tl.i ; g< ntlc
| man’s actions. In the long days of his
idleness, v, h< n the legislature' was not
I in sessie.n, the negro was an unfailing
I source of amusoment and studs' to him,
I and his solo diversion, for lie despised
books from the day he 1< ft college, and
beyond a sporting journal and a papci
from a neighboring city be had no p< ri
odical. Os cewse he was a Whig.
Upon the' day which I have .selected
to open a page in the experience e.f Ma
jor Crawford Worthington he was sit
ting upon bis broad veranda, which
| swept back from the front around to the
shady eastern exp, sure and overlooked
| the spacious back yard. Twoscore
> pickaninnies iu short shirts had .-cram
bled in front of him for small silver
coins as ho. scattered them upon the
ground beneath. The tears wrung from
bun by their contortions ami funny pos
tures had dried upon his che e ks, ami
weary of the sport he had turned away
the black athletes by means of a few
gourds of cold water skillfully applied
to their half clad form.;. had settled back
to enjoy the afternoon ami fe ll a-dreaiu
ing.
He remembered, in that easy method
common to dreams, Low years be fore he'
had sat upon that same porch watching
a favorite old negro catching chicks ns in
( the yard. “Isam!” lie' had said, and
moving with jerky little motions that
see nied always to attune themselves to
his master’s moods as expressed in his
tones Isam hael minced up the' stops.
“Isam, ” he had continued, “you are
fixing to run away!”
He' re inembereel the startled look that
I sxvept over the funny little man’s coun
tenance and his answer:
“Lord mnssy, Mass’ Craffud, whoev’r I
hyah de like er dat?”
“Ye's, sire and you are' fixing to start !
' right away.”
Then' had been genuine grief in the |
negro's voice as he replied:
“ ’Fo’ Gawd, Mass’ Craffud, you dun
got de wrong nigger dis time. Isam is
nigh outer 50 year ole, en he ain’ nev’r
I lef’ de' place- on er run yet. No, sail!”
Isam, however, spurred on by the sug
gestion, had really run off, and the over
seer hael scoureel the country for him in
vain. The black was enjoying freedom
beyond recall, but one morning while i
the' major was breakfasting alone, and
his two servants who attended (lie table
were busy with flybrush and waffles, :
Isam suddenly stood in the doorway. !
His clothes were torn and soiled, and
his face wore a hangdog look that was i
[[ in truth comical. Since that day old
• i Isam hael run away annually about the
I same time' of the year, and this without
; I any apparent cau-o.
Evidently this was what the major
i was thinking of, for smiles came anti |
■ went upon his fact' like' shadows under i
; I the swaying mimosa. And when at last
his eyes fell again upon the old negro:
’ i “Isam!” he said, just as he had spo-
J ken years age).
“Yes, sir,” anti the jerky little tones
’ ■ were tin' same.
‘‘You are fixing to run away. Isam!”
“Me!” ami again that reproachful,
I pretesting voice.
| “Y, s. yon: just as yon have for years.
You are getting rea.dy to start. I have
had my eye on you for a week. But,”
said the major, fixing his lips after the
Worthington, fashion, “I am g -ing to
know this time where you go mid why
■ you go. ”
There was silence a full minute; then
the negro spoke:
“Mass' Craffud, 'deed cn I dunno
’■actly how er is. Hit jes‘ sorter strikes
I me, en I'm gone ‘fo’ I know’t. Eudae’s
er solium fac', sho. ”
“Well,” said the major, “then go
when it strikes you. It is a relief to get
rid < f you occasionally. But if you get
‘ off this time without letting me know
when you start I'll cut your ears off
I when you come back—if I don’t”—
Ami Isam believed him.
CHAPTER H.
Isatn’s annual runaway freak had
, worried Major Worthington more than
I anvthing of like importance he had ever
1 I
’ confronted, up cared not gn iota tor tii»
i lost time, nor for his bad example, but
it galled him to think that there was
: anything in connection with a negro
that he could not fathom. In this old
negro he had at la c t found a cunning
and a mystery that evaded his ]h n< tra
tion. Study as lie might, no satisfactory
! explanation could evt r be secured. Yc ar
after year about the 1-t of July his fac
totum failed to appear, and the place
that had known him long so knew him
no more for a fortnight.
It was seldom that the major ever
threatenc-1 a servant. Never licfore in
hi ; life had a threat been leveled at
Isam, who was a privileged character
about the house. It was not snr;-r:si?-g
then fore that just be fore elaybre ak next
morning a knock was heard at the ma
jor’s trindow. That individual under
ste-od it and quietly.donning his clothes
went outside, a sured that he would finel
i Isam on linnet He was not mistaken.
“It’s dun struck me, Mass’Craffud,
I en I’s ’blig'-d t< r go,” said Isam.
“Ah!” said the major, “then we’ll
talk it over first.”
Isam sat upon the steps, the major in
his old rocker, anti talk it over they did, i
until a pale glimmer trembled in the
[ east. What passeel between them no one I
| ever learned, but finally the major rose,
• and preceded by Isam, who bore a pack
that gave him the appearance c>f a sable
Kris Kringle, struck out straight across
the fence and the fields, disappearing in j
the woods beyond. Only the hounds
knew when they left, and these tugged
at their chains with noisy pleadings, \
but in vain. When day finally rolled in ■
with streaming banners, Woodhave n was
without its master, and the overseer, too
much accustomed to tlie eccentricities of
that absent power to worry over his sud
den departure, rcignt d in his stead.
The path of the runaways led first di
rectly past a growth of plum bushes, an
acre in extent, that stood out in the
open field, a small forest in itself. This 1
was the burial ground, where without,
regard to erdt r or system the graves of
.departed negro; s, covered with bits of
. glass, Itroken cups, abandoned cans and
other treasures of the trash heap, dotted !
j the shadowy depths. These, glimmered
| faintly in the gray half light, and Isam
shivered slightly as ho passed. The I
movement did not escape the notice of I
the major, who smiled grimly as he said:
“You don’t como this way, Isam,
when you run off by yourself. ”■
The sound of a human voice was re
assuring, and the negro answered cheer
ily :
“Yessir. Ain’ nuthin go’n ter tech
ole Isam. All dem ’n dore is dun boun
cn sot. ’ ’
“And what the deuce is‘bound and
sot?’ ” The major’s inquiry betrayed im
patience rather than curiosity. He knew
well how secretive is the negro of any
class when interrogated in connection
with his superstitions. Isam shook his
head.
“Lor sakes, Mass’ Craffud, don’ you
know’ all ’bout dat?”
“No,” said the major testily; “if I :
did ! wouldn't be wasting breath asking
a fool nigger. ”
“Well,” said Isam, willing to com
promise in the interest of peace, “w’en
er sperrit gits out’n de flesh, do only
way hit can be boun cn sot es ter plug
er tree. ” He stepped iu front of a brok
en pine near the path and examined it
critically. “Here’s er plug round hyah
fur nii’ty nigh cv’y wun dem graves,
cf yer knows whe re t< r look. ”
“What do you mean by this nonsense, !
Isam? Do you expect me te> swallow such I
stuff?”
“Hit 's er fac’, Mass’ Craffud. Dcre
now, dire’s er plug, sho’ miff.”
Years be fore—Majoi - Weirtlrington re
membered it then—he had come across
a split pine' from which a half dozen of
these plugs had fallen and was surprised
by the scare it had caused on the planta
tion. They we re made up of old nails,
bits of glass, red pepper and tar and
sprinkled with the blood of a chicken.
Each plug contained a few* hairs from
the head of the deceased and a piece es |
“Don’, Mass’ Craffud, don’ do it!”
a garment that had been worn next the :
skin. Each ingredient had an important
j significance but exactly what it was no
one knew er knows to this day unless
pome aged voodoo lingers in the lanel
tnd he,lds the secret.
The major examined the signs pointed
I out. Only a practiced eye in broad day
light would have been apt to discover
them. He deliberately took out his knife
and began to pick at a plug. The
change that came over Isam was ludi
, crous. He clutched the major’s arm and
’ chattered out:
“Don’, Mass’ Craffud, don’ do it,
1 honey! You mout let de mcancs’ nigg’r
on de place git loose, en derc ain’ no
tellin w’at’d happ’n. You git de chill
’n fev’ ’n cat’pilhr ’n bad craps, sho’s
yer born. Oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy!
De re, now, t’ank de Lord!”
The major hud calmly persisted in his
efforts to extract a plug until his knife
blade snappcck With a great pretense of
rage he pt rsisted with rhe broken blade
: until finally, sure enough, out fell the
plug. Inan instant them grohad seized
it and thrust it in place again, and with
his back to the tree was begging so pite
ously the major could not resist.
“All right, idiot,” he said laughing
ly. “Lead the way. I won’t trouble it. ”
Isam moved off without much ado.
and tlie major, who was not built f r
running races and climbing fences, bad
as much as lie could do to keep up. The
negro wagged his head ominously as he
hurried along.
“I> re ain’ nn tollin but w’at dat nig
g’r dun g * 1 os'in ’gun his curv’oniii
roun 'fo' row. One time lightnin bust
ed er tree ov'r dvre. < n p tyn er firm
plugs dra? out. En dat summer de ty
phoid fev’r srruck s i- n nigg’rs, en de
las’ one nv ’m died spaug dead. Ain’
m v'r had dat fev’r ’fo’ er since on de
pla? But <!•y do say.” continued
Isam. now anxious to communicate his
extensive knowledge cf the subject, “cf
dem folks had n’ bum de light stun dat
tree nuthinM happ’n. Bet you can’t
git er nigg’r 'n Baldwin county te.
bum enynw' uvdc lightnin's light ’ud,
cn mi’ty few go’u ter rake pine gtitw j
'bout dcre. ”
CHAPTER 111
The human race has certainly been
cvolvi d from a barbaric into a partly
civilized state. At odd seasons the old
, instinct crops out and regains control of
us. Major Worthington ha 1 enter' <: up
on his brief lapse into savagery, though
he did not realize it. 11l adapt 'd as he
was for foot journeys of considerable
length, the flush of new freedom sus
tain! d him.
But t he unwonted exercise told at last.
A halt must perforce soon have been or- i
dcred, when Isam plunged over a sharp I
decline and indicating a long line of
'paler green and a denser growth in
front exclaimed:
“ ’Mos’ dere now!”
The major knew the place. It was
the line of the Oconee river mapped in
‘‘Lor bless my soul, cf he ain’ dun gone
ter sleep!”
. verdure. Reaching the welcome shade,
. he dropped down where Isam had al- ■
ready pitched his bundle.
Mumbling after the fashion of old
darkies, a meaning smile upon his lips, ;
which, after all, is merely thinking i
aloud, Isam brought from the well filled
■ depths of his kit a small stone jug. j
i Soon, after certain rites and ceremonies ■
appropriate to the occasion, he approach- !
! cd the major, and witli a triumphant '
' flourish extendcel a large tumbler of red
liquid from which gracefully arose a
small forest of mint.
“Dun foun er noo spring,” he said,
but the man propped against the cypress
was motionless, and his hands were
folded peacefully in his lap.
Stooping down, Isam peered cautious
ly under the broad hat brim, with the
whispered ejaculation: “Lor bless my
soul, cf he ain’ dun gone ter sleep! I
reckon dat las’ ten railer was pow’fuE
wurrin ter ’r man ’r his fat. Mass’ |
Craffud, Mass’ Craffud!” No answer ■
came.
Getting down on his knees, ho care- !
fully inserted with a spoon a few drops j
of the beverage between the lips of the i
sleeper mid allowed them to percolate '
downward. As the “apple” c.f the !
tightened throat darted up and glided
down again into place he whispered:
“Mass’ Craffud, cs yer dun fainted?” '
The eyes opened, and the. major sat
bolt upright. The next minute he drain- i
cd off the eb.’ink and sat contemplating ;
the honest face, in whose eye s was a pe
culiar look.
“T’ank de goodness!” exclaimed ;
Isam. “I bin er holdin dis hyah julup
i hyah fur half er hour. Ain’ nev’r
I known yer ter balk at er julup ’fo’ cn
i 40 yeaurs!”
“That camo in the right time, Isam,
and it’s good whisky, ” said the major
heartily. “Where did you get it?”
“Yessir, ” chuckled the negro, “hit’s
good, but hit ain’ good ter ask er stray
lien w’at’s layin cn yer orehnd whar
she belong er how many tees sho got. ”
The major realized that he had be
come a guest. He laughed, sank back
against the tree and soon again was lost
in slumber. When he awoke, there had
been a decided change in his surround- !
j ings. A low fire burned a few yards !
i away, and sundry flips of bacon were |
, browning in a frying pan set jauntily
thereon, while from the ashes In-neath
: the brown cuds of hoccakes protruded.
“'Tain’ but er bite,” said Isam •
1 apologetically, “but des wait t 11 de fish :
I git mixed up wid dem sum < r d( re days,
len den you see w’at hit is t .r be loos’ i
J cn free. ’ ’
To be loose and free! The major fixed
I fiis eyes upon the old negro as he pro
! duced tin platters from his kit and trans-
I ferrod the smoking viands, humble but
I savory, from the frying pan. The words
haunted him, and as the smoke arose
there floated upon his vision pictures
cf boyhood’s escapades. Isam had be
longed to him from his own infancy,
■ though for the first 15 years the question
:of ownership seemed altogether unset
tled, for the negro was five or six years
the senior. How they had hunted and
strayed off ar.d set gums for rabbits and
snares for birds and robbed nests! Loose
and free! Old Isam surveyed with proud
; satisfaction the major’s fierce attack ,
upon the morning meal.
“Dcre ain’ no spring chick’n cn dcr
pan,” ho said sortentiovsly, “but er
fuss rate app’titc kin git des’ cs good er
grip on cr flip er bacon cs hit kin on er •
yaller leg chicken. ’ ’
“There is something in that,” said j
the major. “Get your flip, you black |
rascal, and go to eating. ’ ’ But Isam j
shook his head.
“No, sail. W’en er nigg’r feeds, he |
don’ wan’ now’ite folks roun. Ho wan’ ,
ter git off en mop de pan ’thout ’tract’ll j
’tention ter hisse’f. ”
j “It seems to me,” said the major, as j
he transferred another flip of bacon to |
his platter, “that it must be mighty :
hard for an honest nigger to live com- ;
fortably out hi re. ’ ’
Isam’S face took on a look of personal i
injury.
“Er hones’nigg’r, ” he said, stirring j
up the ashes and inserting fresh cake, :
“don’ eat no mo’ out hyah den he do at I
home. I’/ t a bit. Rashuns cs rashuns i
ennywhar you fine 'em. En I hearsay. ” (
he coiiUnv.ed significantly, “w’en folks
goes er vis’tin dey don’ ’quire cs ter de .
year marks uv de p’g, w’en backbone
en spar’ ribs en chine cs sot out. ”
“Your idea of etiquette is perfectly
sound, Isam.”
“En dcr only time w’en folks w’at’s
vis’tln g~ t cr right t -r git dor barks up
es w’en do gem’man feed ’essef high en
feed t’ctb». ro-low. ”
With an air of dignity the old negro )
gathered up the remnants of the spread, i
the major having finished, and retired to
allay the pangs of an increased appetite,
but li v. ::.s doomed to further delay. A
m jst profane ejaculation fell from the
major’s lips and came to his ears.
“Des : cs I said, dere ’tis ergin—ter
backer now.” He put aside the repast
and gramblingly investigated the kit j
ence more. “En I reck'n w’en gu m,u
, dis yer bagcr tcrbacjtcr lie go'u ter want
I hits ped’gree all way back. ”
Nevertheless he produced it, with a
handful cf corncob pipes, and cutting a
reed stem handed to the major the finest
smoking outfit in the world. As Isam
skillfully balanced a glowing coal upon
the l.ttle heap i f tobacco ho concluded:
“tomeb.i tv nuthcr sump’n said ’bout
time de luuaway noslmn struck in,
‘lsam. you go’n ter see com’r.y terday,
cn h t’s g< 'n t r 1 e Miss’ Craffud,’ so
Id< s l:t ; d ii cr bag sy : li'ly fur m. ”
Ti e mejcr merely drew in and cx-
I polled a cloud of smoke. He contented
■ himself with saying, “You arc very
thoughtful,” and laughing softly to
! himself Ist.m retired to l.is meal. As he
: finished and stuffed h ; s own cob pipe
: full cf “natural leaf” and perique—
brought along cspgaiitlly for his master
—lsam cast his eye skyward.
“Mos’ 10 cr’clc'ck. Mus’ be movin
out cr hyah. Biiucby overseer cn houn
be 'long in er hurry. Got ter git whar
meat cs thicker too. Dat bacon en hoe
cake hard ter beat, but dey don’ half fill
de bill wider run’way nigg’r. Des wait
t well we git cr mess er redbelly en brim,
cn I rcek’n sho’ null de fun go’n ter
b’g’n ter start. Time we uz go’n, Mass’
Craffud. ”
The major rose and followed cheerily.
Ekirting the swamp, Isam soon found a
hog path, anil presently the runaways
came, in sight of the river. A batteau
was tied up in a little branch near by,
and in it lay an ax and a paddle.
“Isam,” said the major as he clam
bered in, “how does it happen that you
find a boat and ax all ready here, and
the runaway notion only struck you just
before day this morning?”
Isam shook his head as he chuckled:
“Hit ain’ de rite time cr day tor
splain t’ings, Mass’ Craffud. Dere ain’
no tellin w’at time il :a L ;un’s go’n ter
■ strike, cr hot trail, cn tie tree dat yer kin
! clime ain’ go’n t r It’ yer out’n reach
uv a dog. ” The little bout, propelled
by vigorous strokes, shot out into the
river, and gliding under the willows
bore its passengers stv iftly down stream.
CHAPTER IV.
Shut out from sight of the stream
stretched a Ikrmudu sward berimed in
by gigaut.c trees, in whose boughs tlie
cicadas were singing. The old boyish
enthusiasm rose strong within the ma
jor.
“This is the camp,” lie said, “and
there’’—pointing to the log jammed
creek behind him, slowly mingling its ,
clear waters with the river’s mud—“is
the place for bream and redbellics. ’ ’
Isam fairly shouted:
“Dere, now, dey ain’ nev’r no use
tellin cr man wot knows how ter fish
whar to drap cr line. Do two go Tong
tergether. Des yer tek dose hyar lines,
Mass’ Craffud, cn git reddy fer supper,
i w’ile I ’ten ter de res’. ”
i Throwing open his pack, Isam dis
played his simple tackle, hurried
around and cut a pole from a neighbor
ing brake, and peeling the bark from a
fallen tree picked out a handful of flat-
■ heads. Adjusting himself to a log, the
’ major cast his line and began to draw
in the bream.
“Dcre, now,” chuckled Isam, “I ain’
seen yer do elat seiice yer was er-court
: in Miss ’Mandy Bullard cn wc all wuz
! down ter Sykes’ fishpond.”
i But the n ajor was landing fish and
: did not have time to listen to Isam, ob
serving which that individual, casting
an inquiring glance at the sun, seized
I his ax and tvent to work in the cane
brake. In an incredibly short space of
time lie had cut down and dragged up
enough poles to construct a rude lint,
and soon after completed the shanty.
Then, with one happy glance at the fu
gitive perched upon the log contentedly„
warring with the bream, lie glided off
into the woods and disappeared from
view.
Despite the popular notion concern
ing the runaway negro, he never got
| very far from civilization in his wan-
■ derings. ' -
The swamp was to him merely a re
treat. His smokehouse was elsewhere.
When Isam glided away, leaving the
major pleasantly engaged, he followed
hog paths with unerring instinct and
recalled landmarks with surprising ac
curacy. But where he was going and
i what for are matters that can wait.
; The major must not be left alone.
Isam had not been long gone before
the fisherman began to suffer from the
perversity cf the piscatorial god. The
bream and redbelly ceased to bite. The
colony had been exhausted or driven
away, and in its place settled a tribe of
shining cats. These. b< gan to give the
major occupation. His float would go
under handsomely. There would be a
strong pull, and resisting steadily a
catfish would break into view.
The major stood this persecution, it
may be, for 15 minutes, then the pa
tience of the fisherman was exhausted.
As the hour wore away I regret to say
that the swearing became almost contin
i nous, and the major reached what is
generally termed a “state of mind.”
Isam was approaching the camp when
the language of the fisher attracted his
attention.
“Oomhoo, ” he said, stopping to lis
ten. “Sum’ll dun gone wron wid Mass’
I Craffud. ”
Creeping to the edge of the brake, he
I beheld his companion engaged in his
; unequal conflict with the fate that at
■ times overtakes all fishers. Isam ducked
; back and held his sides.
“Es dere’s anyt’n go’n ter upset dat
! kind er man quick, hit'scats. Des liss’n
I now!”
The negro peeped out again. The ma
! jer was lashing the water with an un
fortunate victim; then he saw the irate
I fisherman drop a huge cat upon the bank
j and with the paddle dash him to pieces,
! and again grind another beneath his
i he el, and end by kicking the remains far
i out into the stream.
Isam reveled in this display of pas
! sion until wearied out and then prepare
i cd to make his presence known. Going
beck a hundred yards into the cane
' brake, he shouldered his well stuffed
sack and lifted his voice in song:
“Sum folks say nigg’r won’ steak
I caught one in my co’nUcl. ”
to this suggestive nfrain when he
br-ke in upon the scene and pretended
to stumble over a gasping cat. Down
came his bag.
“Dote, now, es I coed pick'd de ve’y
! fi h I want'd fur ter met dat chowd’r,
j hit ’ud cr been dis same cat ’’ Isam’s
tn th shone, and his eyes glistened. As
h. looked about and saw the other un
v.clcome captives he threw up his
hands.
“ ohere you catch ’m, Mass’ Craf
fud?’ ’
l “Right here, “said the major, regard-
ing him suspiciously, “am! I haven’t
letn catching anything else for an
hour. ’'
“Den don' yer stop now. Yer des go
rite Tong kctchin ’em. cn wo go’n ter
hav’ <r chowd’r sum way back. Spec'
we’ll want ’bout six more big ones
How long cs hit bin scnce yer had a
cattish chowd’r, Mass’ Craffud?”
The major’s passion was vanishing
“About 20 years, I reckon, Isam.”
“Well, dm, hit a : n’ go’n ter be 20
years ’fo’ yer git ernnther. I'm go’n
ter git cv'n wi’ dose hyah big moufs in
bout cr minit. Lor, Lor! Es I wuz cum
min long luck I kop’ a-sayin. ‘Now
Mass’Craffud ain’ go’n ter ketch nuthin
but brim cr yalli rkclly v. 'at ain’ good
fer chowd’r meat, cn all dis co'n cn yin
guns gutter be cat cs dry so.' En, bless
goodness, hyah’s de chowd’r dun ha’f
made en lyin reddy. ” And Isam began
to shake his own prizes from the bag.
“Where did you git that corn?” The
maji>r fixed liis eye sternly upon the non
chalant babbler.
“Disco'n, ” said Isam, shucking an
ear, “cs w’at dey calls ‘vol’ntcrry co’n.'
Hit cs co’n w’at cum up sum las’ year
J ; \ J?/-'>.''7^'3-S
\-w/
WZ,s9-
Preparing the chowder.
seed w’at de river en de hog scatter.
En dcse yinguns cs uv de wile kino w’at
cs always up en er-doin. ” The major
made no reply, but fixing a new flathead
on his hook cast it far into the stream.
Above a blazing fire Isam soon had
his kettle swinging, and within its
depths sputtered great chunks of fish_as
» they rose and sank in a lake of green
com and onions. With the earnestness
of a wizard preparing his strange con
coctions he hung over the boiling mix
■ ture, adding here :t pinch of popper and
there a dash of salt. As he stirred the
savory mess he sang a cheerful planta
tion ditty. The dusk of evening had
fallen, and the red light of the flames
brought out his figure in bold relief. He
seemed a veritable genius of the swamp,
and lured from his sport by the cheer
ful picture and the odor of the meal the
major cast h’s line down and strode in
to the lighted circle.
CHAPTER V.
To other pens must be left the record
of the runaways’ everyday life. These
pages would not hold the true chroni
cle of this novel expedition. Here only
is spaqe enough to deal with the promi
nent features and string them upon a
particolored thread. Day after day the
fishermen plied their rods. Day after
day the kettle, and the skillet, and the
coals gave forth their dainties. Fish
fii s decked the table one day; a split
rabbit, snared in the canebrake, broiled
t j a turn, served for the next; even a
tender shote yielded up his innocent
young life, and chowders came thick
and fast.
But Isam was no longer the chief fac
tor in the daily sins committed. Pain
ful as the truth may seem, it must be
told. The portly major became accessory
before the fact as well as after. And,
worse, he became actively particeps
criminis. Ho learned to creep into the
spreading field of ‘H’oluntary corn”—
which, by the way, invaded the swamp
lands and rose in columns of surprising
regularity—and to load a bag with the
juicy cars. He renewed his early skill
and crawled behind snake fences to ab
stract dew christened watermelons. In
short, be gave way to savagery. For the
time being civilization knew him not.
No especial time for breaking camp
had been set, but the time was approach
ing, and the signs were evident. The
whisky had long since vanished, and
the tobacco was threatening to follow
the whisky, when an event occurred
which left a tradition that old folks in
middle Georgia yet tell with tear dim
med eyes and straining sides.
The worthy pair had been foraging
for dinner and were returning heavily
laden. The major bore a sack of corn,
and Isam led the way with three water
melons. Unless the reader has attempt
ed to carry three w*atermelons he will
i never know the labor that Isam had im
: posed upon himself. The two had just
i reached the edge of the canebrake, bc-
I yond which lay the camp, and were en
tering the. narrow path when a magnifi
cent buck came sweeping through and
collided with Isam with such force and
suddenness as to crush and spatter his
watermelons into a pitiful ruin and
i throw the negro violently to the ground.
Instantly the frightened man seized the
threatening antlers and held on, yelling
lustily for help. The deer made several
ineffectual efforts to free himself, dur
ing which he dragged the negro right
and left without difficulty, but finding
escape impossible turned fiercely upon
his unwilling captor and tried to drive
| the terrible horns through his writhing
i body.
“O Lor, O Lor!” screamed Isam. “O
Lor, Mass’ Craffud, cum holp me tu’n
-els buck loos’. ”
(C n luded next wi e c.)
Her Cruel Treat 'lent.
Tho Piano Stool—Didn't you love
to have that fluffy haired beauty
run her little white Ungers up and
down your keyboard?
Tho Piano—l did until she played
me false.
The Stool—Wretched coquette! I
eball never forget bow sho sat down
cn me!—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
Didn't Tell Etes.
Mr. Wiggles—Didn’t! tell you not
: to tell Waggles that we were going
ito move? J didn't want him to
know, and today he asked me when
we were going to make the change.
Mrs. Wiggles (indignantly) I
didn't say a word to him about it. I
didn't tell anybody but his wife.—
i Somerville Journal.
THE CURE OF
PARALYSIS
The Case of a Veteran Cited Whose
Paralysis Came from Ex
posure in the Army.
The Equally Interesting Method of His Cure, and
His Enthusiastic Endorsement.
the Otsego Farmer, Cooperstown, A r . J*.
In the town "f Oneonta, in Otsego County, !
New York, for a groat many years there has i
lived a man whose life has been overshad-|
owed by that terrible disease, paralysis. ;
Recently it was rumored that a miracle had i
been performed—flint this man had been re
stored to his normal health and strength and
to ascertain the truth or falsity of such a ;
rumor your correspondent visited Oneonta
to-day and being directed to the man sought
an interview with him, which was readily
and cheerfully granted. The man told his
own story as follows:
“My name is Edward Haswell. You |
would not think from my appearance, but I
was born 77 years ago, in New Scotland,
Albany County. I was reared on a farm
and blessed by Nature with a strong con
stitution and good health. Early iu Ti'» I
removed to Albany, thence to Schenevus, in
this county, and finally settled down in On
eonta, where I have lived a great many years.
“ When the war broke out I was strong
and active, being nearly six feet tall and
weighing 225 pounds. I enlisted in the
Third New York Cavalry and served three
years. Os the long, weary mar 'lies, especi
ally in North Carolina of the days and nights
of exposure I will not speak, for it was in
the barracks at Washington that my misery
began. While there heavy rains fell and
not having sufficient protection ofl.timeS we
awoke in the morning drenched with the
I rain. At this time I contracted a cold and
along with it came that, dread disease, rheu
matism. I rapidly grew worse and was re
moved to the hospital where [. was attended
by Dr. Leonard, now of Worcester in this
county. He in ide me as comfort ihie as any
man could, but I could not shake off the
disease. It was in my- system and after my
return home with impaired health an I
strength reduced, my nerves gav • out and
additional sufferin'' ensued. I could move
around and was able to do soma work—at
length I went to work in the c :r shops here,
inside work wholly—but th" least exposure
would bring on terrible pains and life was
made miserable for me. After a few years
my strength gave out and 1 wis unable to
fight against my pains. In ad lition to the
rheumatism extreme nervousness took pos
session of me—then h’art disease set in; I
could not lie down to sleep and was brought
very low by this complication of diseases.
My wrists and ankles became swollen, my
legs distorted and my hips sunken, now you
can f'rl the cavities, also thrust your hand
into my back —such were the ravage.-; of
rheum itism.
“But this was not all. About six years
ago Ihid a stroke of paralysis iviii -h a'!• t-d
my left sid —but by extra care 1 reeovere I
somewhat, from this. Three years ago I ba I
a second stroke which rendered mo entirely
helpless. My left side wis wh ill .' in-less
and I could not feel it when a pin wi; thrust
full length into my log or :irm. Before
paralysis set in I thought ! was nigh to death,
but now came the horror of a living death.
On account of my heart trouble which was
aggravated by this new disease, I could not.
sleep and could be placed only in one posi
tion—bolstered up in a chair reclining
slightly on my right, sid". Now the paral
ysis aff'et 'l ray head and I would remain in
that, position adeep in the chair Ar weeks .nt
a time without awakening. Words cannot
express the misery 1 was in and the suffer
ing I endured. All this time I consult'd
doctors and tried ail kinds cf patent medi
cines without receiving any benefit. 1 was
doomed to a lingering death and was in
despair. One day a paper was handed me
Local Schedule,
Chattanooga, Rome & Columbus railroad.
Eugene E. Jones, Receiver.
Passenger Schedule in effect May 3, 1896.
BOUTHBOVNI, Stations. NOUTHPmUNf).
Sunday only Daily No 2. Daily No. 1. Sunday only.
4 I’. M. A. M, P . M .
I’ 01 ? Chattanooga 6 40 0 50
‘ Shops 6 35 •
4 I "7 Battleiiield Oil <> ■?>
1 o- 5 ••■•Chickamauga ’ o Mio"
*> a ‘ • Lahayette o 34 e w
*>•”’* • • Trion 5 hi \
•> H M ll • •.. Stunmorviije jr < ..
V Lyer’v I • L
" •• • •10 Home •«» ,'• 1-
I- Buchanan 2 0;
Bi emeu I 45
J- ■’ ,l ..Cairolton 1 15
fonneetions are made at Chattanoogs, Romo. Cedartown, Bremen ami 1'.,,-.
r< ; 'on with other hues at the e points Trains 3 mid I, >uml:iv .n v ofl r
splendid opportunity for those desiring to visit Chmkamr.m i id 1 i
Hilary Park, or to spend tlm day at <-hatlanoo J ■l,) 7'‘ t ° "j''" 1
therrnmnnationapply to C. 11. Wjlbukn, Tr.Ullc Ma. ag<n- Ro or W \
V i JtDJEu, Agent, Summerville, Ga. ‘-agm , i vO mt, 01 .A.
C. B. WILBURN W. A. VEKDIER, • <0 , :
1 rathe M g r. Summerville, da.
" ‘ - " - T—
PIEDMONT
STOCK FARM.
1 Green Bush, Ga.
J/VGKS A’ND JENNETS.
A large rm:-orlment < n l. : ml. I’> :cm , < r-rllc. Steck *
e ; ented. Or<h r.« filled for ,m y cla«-fr Om six months to six years old.
M. K. f+ORNE, FTop.
OGWEWSs
Ac'LEL/ specifics, etc., when I will i*en<l FREK the prescription of a new
for flic prompt, cure of Font
HraliMliona, A'ervoua Weakness in old or
y 2 11 n ” a rl<xx*ele. Impoteney, and to enlaree weak, stunted
BIFOBE. after. ?I gatlg ' t ur l e * in Two Weeks, I send tf»«*» preweript ion Free of
•rrd dmum-nf rkvi-ion r,r rm? 1 !'’ a "/ tlicro is no humbui?or advertising catch about it. Any
good druggist or physician can put it up for you, as everything is plain and simple. Ail I ask in return
is that you will buy a small quantity of the remedy from me direct, or advise your friends to do 00 after
you receive the recipe ana see that there is no humbug or deception. But you can do as you pleas®
about this. Correspondence strictly confidential, and all letters scut in plain sealed envelope. En
close stamp if convenient. Address K. H. HCWGERIWD, Box M 2, Albion, JJicb.
1
Ito read. In the paper I saw nn account of
Hhe healing es a paralytic who used Dr. Wtl
i Hams’ Pink Pills for Pule People. 1 had no
! faith in patent medieines, 1 had spent over
$200.00 in them, all to no purpose. Enable
. to work I had no income save n pension of
SB.OO per month. But some way 1 was im
i pressed with what Pink Pills had done and
detenilined to give them a fair trial. 1 did
' not stop with one box but used three boxes
before I noticed any effect. After taking
three boxes I felt a change coming over me.
1 kept on taking Pink Pillsand kept, on feel
ing better. Gradually my pain left me, 1 be
gan to feel new life course through my body
and to my surprise and delight, feeling bc-
5 gan to come into my side and life and
I strength into my leg and arm. After taking
fourteen boxes 1 had recovered full use of
my limbs, my rheumatism was gone and my
heart trouble relieved. During my sickness
my weight had decreased from 225 pounds
to 11 1 pounds, but to-day 1 weigh 170 pounds,
am strong and active and you would not, take
me to he 77 years old.”
While speaking. Mr. Haswell showed con
siderable emotion and when questioned he
added : “ 1 cannot say too much in praise
of Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills and ( cannot ex
press my gratitude to the Dr. \\ illiam.s’
Medicine Company, they saved my life and
gave me back health 1 had not enjoyed for
over 30 years.”
When told that people might not believe
such a story in print, he said: “1 am will
ing to go before a Justice of Pence and xweftf
to its truth, if you wish, and I shall be only
too glad to answer inquiries anyone may
wish to make.”
Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People
are an unfailing renn dy for all diseases aris
ing from a poor and watery condition of the
blood, such as pi le and sallow complexion,
general muscular weakness, loss of appetite,
depression of spirits, lack of ambition, ante
nna, chlorosis or green sickness, palpitation
of the heart, shortness of breath on slight ex
ertion, coldness of hands or feet, swelling oi
the feet and limbs, pain in tin- back, nervous
headache, dizziness, loss of memory, feeble
ness of will, ringing in the inrs, <al ly decay,
all forms of female weakness, leueorrhu a,
tardy or irregular periods, suppre.-sion id
menses, hysteria, paralysis, locomotor ataxia,
rhetirnatism, reiatiea, all diseases depending
on vitiated humors in the blood, causing
scrofula, swelled glands, fever sores, rickets,
hip-joint diseases, hunchback, acquired de
formities, decayed bonis, chronic erysipelas,
catarrh, consumption of the bowels and lungs,
and also forinvigoratingthe blood and system
when broken down bv overwork, worry, dis
ease, cxccrsi s and indiscretions of living, re
covery from m ute diseases, sueh as fevers-, etc.,
loss of vital powers-, spermaterrho'!',, early de
cay, preniature old ago. These pills are nut a
purgative medicine. They contain nothing
that could injure the most delicate system.
They act directly on the blood, supplying to
the blood its life-giving qualities by assisting
it to absorb oxygen, that great supporter of al]
organic life. In this way the blood, becom
ing “ built up ” r.nd being supplied wi'h its
lacking constituents, becomes rich and red,
nourishes the various organs, stimulating
; them to activity in the performance of their
functions, and thus to eliminate diseases fi om
the system.
These “ills are manufactured by the Jr,
Williams' Medicine
N. V., und-SWTsnldpuh- i"Jmxcs hearing the
firm’s trade mark and ". rapper, at 50 cents a
box, or six boxes for $2.50, and are never sold
,in bulk. They may be had of all druggists,
or direct by mail from Dr. Williams’
■ j Medicine Company. The price at which
; 1 these pills arc sold makes a course of treat
i i went inexpensive us compared with other
) j remedies.