Newspaper Page Text
Hnocc Itanrous.
ml Ii"
fed 1 would have di
worM lor liim
■EMJ
■ir
IK*
o
ed
g,
te
and
enty, rosy-cheeked, handsome
1 full of health ; the other was
Byears older, and evidently an
Blue of thi' boulevards and
Safes of Paris. His pale face,
■c paler by a thin black mils
Ic and jet black hair, his hoi
, sunken eyes, spoke of the
Ri\of late hours and pleasures.
b face was cold and repulsive,
file that of the other was open
and frank.
"What ft wretched occupation
r so pretty a girl," said the
ung man, riding quickly on. so
to speak first; “surely, nm
ftre, you might put your taper
Ungers to h bettor us>. Hero'*
what will Inly von firewood for
months.”
And he cast a double Napoleon
jit her feet.
'The girl raised her angelic face
to his, sadly and reproachfully. -
She was about eighteen. Her
while skin, her blue eyes, her
curly gulden hair, her simple,
child-like manner, was something
he had never seen before. Her
expression was timid and vet
proud, and, looking into her eyes.
young man was not surprised
at the reply he received.
t “Monsieur,! have done noth
ing to give you a right to insult
gue. What you have done may
liavo been meant kindly, but I
Lsk alms of no one.”
| "Pardon, mademoiselle,'' ex
Edaimcd the other eonfu-ed and
Ptainmerhig, -l meant no in-nit.
I’ardon me. mademoiselle. I pray
Lou. I thought you poor, ahd
fey impulse was to aid you."
■ ‘•Thank you, monsieur, for the
prst kind word 1 have hoard those
Meen years, except from my
wit mother," -aid the young
KrL "But go your way. or el-e
feenhole country will shun you."
Ktlßegone, wretch!" exclaimed
■ sjgther, riding up aud raising
menacingly ; "begone,
Kr, and dare not speak to an
man."
HTlie youug man listened in a
maxoment.
“1 did not speak to monsieur;
t.isieuiyon'ke to me," -aid the
It iientjkrefLb, however, a -mile
.
:Auii go.in-ed lips to
“What! you dare answer me.”
and hejfcifewJ his hand again.
•\.<r " mild not
k> the story of this girl,”
ml man, gravely.
;r 'V other told it: <•*Fifteen
•ill ,irs he lore, the lather ol Made
iiV-iue de I'ierrepont, and a Mon
fsienr Dubois, a rich proprietor,
had heen intimate friends. I)e
Pierre pout was coin fort ahly oil,
from the fact ol his having sever
al oecupation>. He was collect
or of Hie rent of u rich member of
~jhje family; he was lax
‘, n and ihljoiitt to th<“
c M<nn M. Du
iM.i.i. I•• i • -..meu !i.t
B 1; .i 11 j m i
■•V i1 lei!ii i! I'i i ■
he ■■ i ■ 111 i 11. •ii = * . v. i'li
h.d I" pi'. a hod \ "I
n "ii puidir
and other expenses inctirr
111 in (he building of a eliurcl*
find siliaolroom. Dubois fell
safer with a coinpauioii. It was
afterwards proved that they re
ceived the money, dined togeth
er at the Soleil d’Or, drank rath
er more than they were used to,
and then, despite every re pro
sent at ion, set out to walk home,
though De I'ierrepont wished to
hire a gig. Next morning the
body of Dubois was found about
a hundred yards beyond the house
of De I'ierrepont, which was at
the foot of a hill that led up to
the village. All his money was
gone as well as his watch and
rings.
“A search took place instantly,
and Do I'ierrepont, as Ids com
panion, was visited by the police
agent. Do I'ierrepont deposed
that Dubois, on his reaching his
house, bade him go in, for he
could go the hill safely alone;
but still he ret|uesled him to keep
a bag of 1,000 francs in silver, be
cause it was so heavy. until the
morning. This 1,000 francs lie
gave up to the police. Of 10,
000 francs in notes lie solemnly
declared he knew nothing. On
this he was arrested as the assas
sin, tried, found guilty and sent
to the galleys for life. His wife
solemnly declared that she heard
Dubois wish her husband good
. night, and say, laughingly, "I'll
send a cart for the silver in the
i morning," Hut instei.dof bene
|i |,: '"
1 niul.
A*
B : .
K 1,1
K 'ur
( ‘ •
liting him in the eyes of the
world -he became hi- accomplice.
To avoid being hooted at in the
streets she left the village, and
every penny being spent ere her
husband's trial was over, she ob
taiiied reluctant permission to
dwell in the charcoal burner's
deserted hut. But all shunned
her and her child as they would
lepers, and to live she was oblig
ed to walk nine miles in search
of work of the coarsest descrip
tion. Leave the country she
would not. because -he was born
there, and she felt convinced that
her husband would be ultimate
ly pardoned."
•• And you join, Edward, in the
infamous persecution. Suppos
ing the father guilty (which to
me is not clearly proved and
you know I am a lawyer), why
should this poor child sutler for
the sins of her father ( Why, the
savages ol*North America where
1 have just come from, are more
civilized than you. 1 see in this
heroic couple subject of wonder
and admiration, but not of hate.
Poor creatures! Fifteen years
of misery have not satisfied you
all, but you must still treat them
as outcasts."
••My dear Arthur: you have
just come from America, where
it appear- to me you pick up
very singular notions. For my
part the wife and daughter of an
assassin, and the assassin of my
uncle, are detestable wretches
whom I must hate." said the oth
;ii(l ~coward.''
iieaiT*' 'i 0 an
L ' suite
Tll E FT E LI) AM) FI B E SIDE.
? < all Mad
rw child of
clc Dubois,
r. a fiend,”
: .
’ - w
ly," lie
mounted his
I him, and
9HH ■ Vi .
/a*,
K
th s 'flight
"hi pp' - opriating the
took it up, wrap
■ ace of paper with
V of returning it to
Bribe then lifted up
' and walked slowly to
hut.
er in his usual cool way. Ilis lit
of anger was passed.
"Injustice, infamous injustice!
Poor girl! I think I see her meek
face now. looking at me so proud
ly and yet so sweetly. I never
saw anything _pt lovely in my
lile.
sfHial s in love!” ex
/or Dubois, the heir
man'- property.
and
Jjou know Id*marry that
if -he'd have lie-.
B^^^HFw-he
faith," said Edward,
"you amaze me; and I am not
easily amazed. <>l course you
are joking."
"Time will show. But now,
my dear fellow, adieu; you fol
low that path in search of pleas
ure, 1 this on business."
••Adieu, a t/amuln."
"Y es. You breakfast with me
at the little inn, you know."
•‘Agreed, my philosopher.
Ad ue."
And Edward Dubois galloped
down a narrow path leading to
the chateau of a certain Count de
•lesson, who that day gave a
grand dinner and evening party.
As soon as Arthur saw that he
was out of sight, he turned his
horse’s steps and galloped hard
toward the charcoal-burner's hut.
When Madeleine returned to
the hut and began making a lire
she told her mother what had
passed and showed her the gold
piece. They were used to this
kind of treatment, and the moth
or did not feel it much now. The
scorn of fifteen years had made
her despise the world. But Mad
oleine seemed hurt.
"1 do not care," she exclaimed
aloud, at last, “for what yoi og
Monsieur Dubois said; but lam
vexed that the good-looking
stranger should have said that I
was not a woman.''
"You are not a woman, hut an
angel," exclaimed Arthur, sol
cninly. lie had approached on
foot and had heard a portion of
their conyer-ation.
The mother and daughter
stood still in dumb amazement.
"You seem surprised,madam,*'
said the young man, addressing
the mother. ‘‘You will be still
more so when I add that 1 have
ret timed with the deliberate in
tention of imploring you to give
me your daughter's hand in mar
liage; not now. instantly, but
when you know me better."
‘•Monsieur!" exclaimed the
mother, indignantly, “this is too
much. Go. The felon's da ugh
ter is still too good for insult."
••Madam," said Arthur. respect
fully, "perhaps your astonish
ment will cease when 1 add that
vour husband is innocent, and
that I have come sixteen thous
and miles to prove it."
••You are—speaking—-serious
ly !" gasped the poor woman.
••On my soul and conscience,"
said Arthur, solemnly.
••Oh joy! oh joy!" shrieked the
girl, clasping the stranger round
the neck: “the savior has come
at last."
•■Becalm, my dear young lady,
and 1 will tell you my story in a
few words. You will then un
derstand my motives in coming
here. I scarcely expected to
find you at kSolenthal, but at last
determined to try. I came yes
terday night, and l soon heard of
your heroic resignation and cour
age. Be seated, dear girl, and
listen t tidings that will be joy
ful indeed to your filial heart."
Madeleine blushing, her color
going and coming, obeyed, ad
seated herself on a log near the
young stranger.
••I am a young Frenchman, and
about seven .years ago 1 emigra
ted to l’eru in search of fortune.
1 started as a lawyer, and found
business plentiful enough. 1
knew many Frenchmen in the
place, but a merchant of the
name of Gail lard was my most
intimate friend, lie was twice
my age, grave, even sullen and
saturnine, but he had quaint
ways, was very charitable, and 1
liked him. Besides, the other
were married, had families, and
he was alone. Wo used to meet
of an evening at a cafe, play
piquet, drink sherbet, aud then
walk home together. He was
rich, and lived in great style, hut
not in any way up to his income.
People wondered he never mar
t ied: but Ue said he had been
married, and was not inclined to
try the experiment again, lie
looked with alarm at the prospect
of my settling in life, and did all
he could to preserve unto himself
one bachelor friend.
"About a year ago he fell ill,
and the doctor at once intimated
to him that he would not recov
er. Apart from disease, it was a
general break-up of nature.
••YVhen he found there was no
hope he sent for me.
"Versan,” said he, "listen a
dying man, and inturrupt me
not. Vou see on this bed an a
sassin, a thief, a murderer. Four
teen vears ago, sitting in a hotel,
I saw two men dining, one of
whom had ju.-t received sixteen
or seventeen thousand francs.
A dreadful thought came into my
head, I was not poor, hut 1 was
wicked. I followed these two
men. They walked on their way
to Silent lull together. I dared
not attack both, and once or
twice 1 thought of giving up my
fearful design. But at the house
of one I)e I'ierrepont they purled,
and m.v victim. Dubois, advanced
alone.
••I was monster enough to
think that heaven gave him up
tome, i bounded after him; I
gave myself no time for thought;
I stabbed him in the neck; killed
him ; took his money and lied.—
I spare you my thoughts and my
fifteen years of suffering. 1 lied
my country; I became a mer
chant—rich—respected; but I
have never had one happy mo
ment. Not only had I murdered
him, but I’ierrepont was suspect
ed, and sentenced for my crime,
only not to death, because the
jury hesitated. I thus ruined an
honest man, and sent his family
to beg their bread !"
‘‘He paused. 1 spoke not; too
absorbed in my horror.
‘•De Versan, listen to me, my
friend. Do not turn against me,
1 have left you my sole heir."
"Never will 1"——•
"Hark ! you.must and you will.
Take my property, and think
when you enjoy it w ith pity on
its guilty present owner, and I
will make a public confession,
pay the heirs of Dubois their 10
000 francs, and, by proving my
own guilt, obtain the pardon of
the innocent De i'ierrepont. Re
fuse and I will die impenitent,
for my only friend will have de
serted me."
“1 accepted."
••And may heaven bless you !"
said the weeping and sobbing
mother, while Madeleine hid her
head in her mother's lap.
••An hour later, in presence of
the French and English consuls—
four Englishmen and four French
men, two priests and the alcalde
—Gaillard, or rather Mesnard,
made his solemn confession,
w hich was signed by all present,
sealed, and one of two copies
given to me. That copy is now
in the hands of the Minister of
Justice, and here." drawing forth
a letter, “is a copy of your fath
er's free pardon."
A wild shriek from both wo
men was his reply.
“And now, Madeleine,” said
he, taking the girl's hand, “be
fore I have the chance of rivals
may I senew my request for
your hand and heart T*
“Monsieur, no man on earth
can evjcr do for me what you have
done. ‘ in an hour 1 have lived
years of joy; that joy I owe to
you. Give me my father, and tlie
love of my whole life, if you val
ue it, shall be your poor reward."
This sudden resolution of the
young girl, so natural under the
circumstances, was approved of
heartily by the mother. Next
morning there sat in a small inn
in Solenthal. waiting for break
fast, a man, not old, but bowed
by years of woe, gray-haired and
pale. On each side of him sat a
woman—one his wife, the other
his daughter. They had been
talking for hours, and were not
wearied yet. A young man sat
opposite, his face beaming with
delight. Several times tlie wait
er had announced breakfast, but
the young man had always bade
him be quiet and wait a while.
At length a hurried step was
heard, and the young Edward
Dubois entered. He started as
if bit by a snake, and would
have left the room.
••Stop !" said Arthur, sternly, as
he caught him by the wrist,—
••Rather kneel and ask for par
don, than llv. Read this, man,"
and he put in his hand the print
ed bill proclaiming the injustice
of I’iorrepont's sentence, liis free
pardon, and containing the eerti
tied confession of Mesnard.
Edward Dubois read it in -i
lenee. When he had finished he
turned and grasped the ex-con
vict's hand.
••Noapology can make up for
my conduct," he said, “but what
l can do l w ill. This bill will sat
isfv the whole country."
••Monsieur," replied De Pierre
pout, in husky tones, "vou did
but as the world did. Appearan
ces were against me and all con
demned me."
••Edward, my friend." said Ar
thur, ".von see the danger of
judging from appearances. Had
De I'ierrepont been truly guilty,
his wife and child would have
been pitied, not -corned. As it
is. a vile prejudice lias made
these two women for fifteen year
outcast- and pariahs."
Edward made no reply, a- the
breakfast came in. He, like all
the country round, was horrified
now they found how unjust they
had been ; and never was a wed
ding more tumultuously hailed
and feted than that of Arthur de
Versan and Madeleine de I'ierre
pont. Still I have not heard that
one man, woman or child in Hie
forest of Ardennes has been cured
of the evil habit of judging al
ways from appearances, and vis
iting on the innocent the sins of
the guilty.
The Clock of Clocks.
la Mengel's building is nowon
exhibition in all probability the
most wonderful clock in the world.
It was built by Stephen D. Eagle,
a watchmaker, at Hazleton. He
is about forty-five years of age,
and was about twenty years in
perfecting the clock. A Mr.
Reid paid Engle $5,000 for it.
Engle never saw the Strasburg
clock. In fact, he has not traveled
more than two hundred miles from
home at any time. This clock
stands eleven feet high* At its
base it is about four feet wide and
at the top about two. It is about
three feet deep at the base, grad
ually less towards the top. Its
colors are brown and gold. The
Strasburg clock is thirty feet high,
yet its mechanism is not so intri
cate nor has it as many figures
as the Hazleton clock. The Stras
burg clock's figures are about
three feet high and the American
clock about nine inches. Three
minutes before the hour a pipe
organ inside the clock plays an
anthem. It has five tunes. Bells
are then rung, and when the hour
js struck double-doors in an al
cove opens and a figure of Jesus
appears. Double doors to the left
then open, and the apostles ap
pear slowly, one by one, in pro
cession. As they appear and
pass Jesus they turn towards him.
Jesus bows, the apostle turns a
gain and proceeds through the don
ble-doors in an alcove on the ;
right. As Peter approaches
Satan looks out of a window a
bove and temps him. Five times i
the devil appears, and when Pet
er passes denying'Christ, the cock
flaps its wings and crows. When
judas appears Satan comes down
ffom his window and follows Jn
das out in the procession,and then
goes back up to his place to watch
Judas, appearing on both sides.
As the procession has passed, Ju
das and the three Marys disap
pear, and the doors are closed.
The scene can be repeated seven
times in an hour if necessary, and
the natural motion of the clock
produces it four times per hour,
whereas the Strasburg procession
is made but once a day at 12 o’-
clock. Below the plaza is the
main dial, and about thirteen in
ches in diameter. To its right is
a figure of time with an hour
glass. Above this is a window,
at which appear figures repre
seating youth, manhood and old
age. To the left ofthe dial is a
skeleton representing Death.
YVhen the hour-hand approaches
the first quarter Time reverses
his hour glass and strikes one on
a bell with his scythe, when ano
ther bell inside responds; then
Childhood appears instantly;
when the hour-hand approaches
; the second quarter, or half hour.
| there are heard the strokes of
i two hells. Then Youth appear-,
and the organ plays a hymn.
After this Time strikes two, and
reverses his hour-glass,when two
bells respond inside. One min
ute after this a chime of hells is
heard; when a folding-door opens
in the upper porch, atidone at the
right of the court, when the Sa
viour comes walking out. Then
the apostles appear in procession.
The clock also tells of the moon’s
changes, the tides, the seasons,
days, and day of the month and
year and the signs of the zodiac;
and on top a soldier i< constantly
on guard, walking back and for
ward. As the hours advance,
Manhood, Old Age and Death
take part in the panorama.
Fi'ostcd T’t'f/. -Tor irosted teet
take pure flax seed oil. bathe your
feet well, and heat the oil well
before going to bed ; wrap some
old clothes around the feet to
keep the oil from rubbing off, and
bathe again in the morning. A
few applications will remove all
soreness and itching.
Tllf FIELD 1M) FIRESIDE.
B< ><>K AND JOB
Printing EMU!
I’OWDKK SIMMX(i STREET
MARIETTA, GEO,,
BKIXU FI’LEV PREPARED
with
\E\U IMPROVED PRESSES,
Also, with the latest styles of
Cpe, Sorters,
ORNAMENTS.
Is prepared l|^Q'ecte
EVERY DESCRIPTION
or
Hook & Job Printing,
IX A MEAT MANNER :
Sueli as
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Programmes, Drug Tickets,,
Picnic and Ball Tickets,
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AND
EVERY VARIETY OF BLANKS!
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AM)
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warded, on application to
E.OOK HERE!
LAND BUYERS.
I AM ottering for sale, a neat little
Farm, containing 70 acres of gooj
red land, newly settled, with a good
framed dwelling, kitchen, stables,cribs,
and all necessary out-houses, all built in
the last three years; a young orchard of
150 choice frui. trees. This land pro
duces everything raised in this country.
There will be no repairing needed for
several years: twenty-live acres of open
land, nearly half fresh land, none worn
out. For further particulars, applv to
the undersigned on the place, six miles
west of Marietta, on the Sandtown road.
_ nor lil-lt ASA DARBY.
~ GREEN
Manning & Barker.
sqgirx BLACK- jggQM*
| gSfeSss M I
AND REPAIRERS.
MARIETTA, GEORGIA,
4 BE now prepared to do all kinds of
w ork in their line of business as
eheap and as w ell as it can be done any
w here. Buggies and Wagons made or
repaired in the be-t stvle-of workman
ship, of the best material and oti the
most reasonable terms. Plantation work
and repairing done cheaply and at short
notice, and in a satisfactory manner.—
Blaeksmithing executed with despatch,
i Call and see us at our Shops on Atlane.
street, near the Ci t House, and givs
us a trial, and we guarantee porfet-t
satisfation. ap 3-ly
LAW BLANKS, neatly
printed, for -ale al this Office.—
Call and get a supply.
g'<T*“ We are prepared, with
new type, new presses, and good
workmen, to do all kinds of Job
Work, at short notice, and at pri
ces lower than the lowest.