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VOL. I.
DON'T WORRY.
Don't worry—though above your head
The threatening storm clouds meet,
Tbe rainbow as of yore shall spread
Its sign of promise sweet.
The flowers fled when winter gray
Proclaimed again his cruel sway.
Yet early blossoms smile and say,
••Don’t worry.”
Don't worry—though the noon-tide find
Your footsteps faltering.
The morn’s glad hopes left far behind;
The day its joy shall bring.
When sunset's radiant curtains fall.
Sleep’s night, angel, ready to the call
Of shall whisper low to all.
•’Don’t worry.”
Don’t worr.%-though with little good
Your eager quest seem fraugut.
He that hath striven as he could
Has striven as he ought.
Ask not how destiny was planned.
The little that we understand
Is eloquent with the command,
•'Don't worry.”
Nobody’s Papa * a
A somore-looking , ... man wandered
gloomily from picture to picture. He
Inui no catalogue, some people prefer
to go without and gaze untrammelled
by prejudice. He was not perhaps the
only man m the room without a cata-
logue, but there was teat about him
wlneh distinguished hun effectually
from evei y othe: Unman being in that
crowd. No one else looked so utterly
minimised and indifferent as he, though
many were less critical. He knew a
good picture at once, and gave it a
quick, appreciative scrutiny, while
the worthless specimens he passed by
with a glance ot couteiiipt. 1 resentiv
he turned listlesslyfcway and sat down
on the ottoman in the centre of the
room. Folding his arms, lie sank
into a brown study. What was he
thinking of? A woman of course!
Yes; but not a woman that he loved.
He thorgut of her as the beautiful
heiress a l.o .* h . had wooed and won.
hhe was courted as only such women
are courted and from all the host of
him-ah! she must have loved him
then. How beautiful she was, aucl
saar-sx. sweeti
she was made of muriatic acid He
himself to be sure was not all hoimy
and anu su-ar sii„ai. Men men are aie not-but ot on a a
neen soinie , genueness sue
,
GeSrude had been accustomed linL to
homage nomage. She »ue lia naci not not bee Deen wi wining to to
shouh have KceW man-ied auothei “ee™ mau than lovi
he % Thev ■/ seaiceiy a a weeb rf m io\e
and , happiness, and in six months he
had left her.
“You married me for my money!
was the last i’utal insult she hurled at
him in her passion.
t Very well, madam. I will leave
vou your money and relieve you ot the
presence of a despised husband-tor-
ev ® l ’ !
I hose the . last . words , . he had .
were
ever spoken to her—the last words he
ever should speak. He had left
then and there, to her grand house,
with her grand servants and her grand
friends, and he had gone to Australia
vo begin life anew with only his brains
for capital. I lie capital,however, was
a good one. He had made his fortune,
and he had come home, yielding to a
strange longing to see not her —oh,
no. nor any man or woman alive, but
to tread Ins native soil, to revisit the
scenes where he had spent a happy
boyhood—and then—he should return
to Australia. 1 here he had friends;
there lie had land. It was his home
now. No one knew of his arrival in
England; no one should know. From
his wife his separation had been com- I
plete. There had been no letters—no I
inquiries. To each other they were as
dead.
It was seven years since they bad
met and married and parted, and he
did not know if she were living or
dead. Of course he did not want to
know. She perhaps was anxious to
hear of his death in order that she
might many somebody else. Perhaps
in time she would assume his death.
He started up. The heat was in¬
tolerable, the pictures odious, the
people detestable, their cackle unen¬
durable. He would go straight out.
He would not look at another daub.
That one was not so bad, though! In
spite of himself he stopped to look at
it. It was the portrait of a little girl
—a dear, little girl in hat and fur tip¬
pet aud muff, standing in the porch of
THE
“Don’t Give Up tlio Sttip.”
BUC HANAN. GA., FRIDAY, JUNE 10. 1898,
a country house. It was evidently a
stormy winter’s day. Her feet stood
in. the snow, but she was standing quite
still in an attitude of eager expectancy.
It fascinated him; he looked long and
earnestly. It was a good picture, but
! it was not altogether its artistic merits
i ! that captivated him. The child’s face
seemed to awake some far-off memory
— a memory that kept on eluding him
in a perplexing manner. Then at last
it came to him. The likeness was a
little sister of his own who had died
in early childhood; she had been his
boyhood’s companion. He had loved
her deeply: he had mourned her long,
j Poor Nellie! Her name had excited
' the first disagreement between his
wife and himself. He had said that it
they should have a daughter he would
wish her to be called Ellen after this
sister of his. His wife had declared
with heat that she hated the name.
Was it possible that she could be jeal¬
ous even of a dead child? Or was it
I simply that lovfe of opposition which
ended by making tlieir life together
impossible? Ah, if Nellie had lived,
he would have had some one to love—
j lSOIlle olle to turn to in his desolation,
( The likeness was extraordinary.
“Do you like my picture?”
j He turned round and saw J,the orig-
j lla { 0 f the portrait standing at his
elbow. What a pretty little girl she
j wa s! And how much prettier than her
j picture! The artist had done his best,
I hut lie could not adequately render the
' light which danced in the dark eyes,
! llor Hie dimples that cameand went iu
the round, rosy cheeks.
j “It is very nice, but you yourself
ave nicer still,” he said with a smile.
, Row that smile became him!
“What is your name?” he pursued.
I “Nellie.”
He started.
“It is a curious coincidence,” he
sa jd, “that you remind me of a NeHie
i w h 0 died lone aeo ”
; The child looked up with sympatke-
‘
He, wondering eyes.
j “You weren’t her papa, were you?”
“No; 1 am no little ffiri’s ram ”
nni » • T scutes v , ,
No ' 1 *“•*
She stood for a moment irresolute;
then made as if she would go. He
i sir •*“ ‘ ,et * ** "* h “
1 Tell n u»e-oh, , do . tell , ,, me! .,, he . said, ..
i ( V s fret-wliy that picture
“ was
, painted—why ■ I come here every day,
; you . Good-bye, nobody s papa!
: SLe f "h * li,,le e T!°
bei , ' “ other s sule ’ opposed she
was be [ mother—a . 1 tall woman dressed
m black, who stood with her back to
“ He sa y« be ».“<> ht «e girl's papa,”
T he lady hushed bi i her, ’“t , took l her 3 hand a
an q ] ec | her quickly from the room.
“Excuse me, but will yon hand me
your catalogue for a moment?”
The old gentleman addressed started,
dropped his double eyeglasses, looked
somewhat annoyed, but nevertheless
pn t the catalogue into the eager hand
Ue ld out for it.
“No. 179. ‘Waiting for Papa. ’
Portrait of Ellen, daughter of Hugh
Marston, Esq.”
“Thank you. ” His hand trembled
S o as lie handed back the catalogue
that it fell to the ground.
“Drunk or mad?” muttered the old
gentleman, as he stooped, much dis-
composed, to pick it up again.
Our friend meantime,passed through
the crowd and hurried breathlessly on,
through the turnstile, down the steps,
j us t in time to see an open carriage
two horses, and a footman in
livery, drive off. Iu it were the lady
iu mourning and little Nellie.
Nellie waved her hand to him, but
the lady averted her gaze.
“Is your mistress at home?”
The gentleman who asked this ques-
tiou of a stately butler at the door of
a house iu Belgrave square was our
friend of the Royal academy, but he
was no longer gloomy and morose. He
was eager and excited.. So great was
the difference .which this change of ex-’
pression made in his countenance that
he seemed another man.
“Mrs. Alarston is at home, sir.
What name?”
The butler looked at him a little
askance.
“Never mind my name; show me
in.”
There was an imperiousness about
his manner which conquered the but¬
ler, in spite of the deepening mystery.
The visitor was shown in silence
into the drawingroom, where a lady-
dressed in black, a still young and
beautiful lady, but pale and thin, sat
with her head on her hand, Nellie
played at her feet, hut the mother was
not paying any attention to the child.
“Gertrude!”
She sprang to her feet, ami for a
moment a look of the most intense joy
came into her face. She seemed as if
she would have fallen into the arms
stretched out to her,but then suddenly
she recoiled, saying, with bitterness: bus-'
“I will not acknowledge for a
band the man who disowns my child.”
“Perhaps he can’t help being no
little girl’s papa,” interceded Nellie.
“Disown her! Never! Did I dis¬
own her when I found out?”
“You did a few hours ago, and you
must have known. You said it to iu-
sultme. ” •
“Gertrude! Gertrude! How could
I even imagine?”
He caught up the child and kissed
her wildly, passionately.
“You might very easily, and if you
had ever troubled yourself even to
inquire whether I was alive or dead—
oh! to abandon me like that for one
word—one hasty word—it was cruel—
cruel and brutal!”
“No, no,” said Nellie, “he’s sorry
now. I am sure he’s sorry now.”
She patted his cheek, down which
the tears were running,
“Oh, run away, child—run away!”
cried the mother. “No, I can’t i’or-
give you, Hugh, not even now you are
here, though the picture did bring you
: —I can’t, 1 >
.
, kneeUnVat^hei^knees^imp’loring ‘ her
j forgiveness with broken sobs.
Nellie ran to tell the servants that
| her papa had come home at last, but
; mamma was angry with him because
he said he was not her Nellie*!”' tmua
! “Oh, hush, Miss cried the
nurse.
“I thought who it was when he
wouldn’t e-ive his name ’ ” ssid the but-
ler.
“Suppose they won’t want no din-
ner,” observed the cook sarcastically,
No ’ thev wanted a e 1 no no dinner * mez ’ “° nor one oue
,. . ,,
sric&susr* ' to, “~
- ___________- -
Prince of Wales’ Dinner Table.
langements. «»i': s s ,e ic°& Him the tablecloths
are severely p ain,though of the finest
quality, and simply worked with the
royal arms—the rose, the thistle, and
kins ave invariably folded into a small
TT to \ oldbt “ d '“f "°T iu
the fancy shapes in vogue elsewhere,
To each guest two forks, and no more
are provided, and these are placed ■
are one large tablespoon and one large
k ^ fe ’ tor 1 “ no °. ircumstance ave U o
knives together given to any guest.
A great many reasons have been as-
signed for this rule, but apparently
no one has summoned up the courage
to ask their royal host and hostess,
It has been asserted that his dislike Royal
Highness has the old-fashioned
of seeingkuives inadvertently crossed.
Small water bottles are used, but the
Princess holds to the Hanoverian hab-
it of never having finger bowls. !
At Marlborough house dinner be-
gins at 8.45 o’clock, and is never al-
lowed to last much more than an hour,
Occasionally during dinner soft music
is played. The menu is always served
a la Russe—that is to say. nothing is
carved iu the dining-room
__________ ________
Instruction for Doctors. :
There is a movement on foot in
Berlin to provide free courses to physi-
cians in which thev shall be instructed
in all the laws hearing upon the pro-
fessiou and its practices There, as
here, the young man fresh from the
university does not know much and is
in great need of a post-graduate
course to acquaint him with branches
ct bis profession of which he will i
some day stand in urgent need. Ac- j
cording to the plan proposed, those
who have taken degrees and dqnlomas
are to be sujiplied with further in-
struction, receiving clear explanation
of the laws concerning accidents, and’the in-
surance, judiciary functions !
like, so far as possible perfecting |
their equipment for the arduous and
responsible duties of their profession. I
Formerly as‘they theypicked up this informa- J
tion went along, with the
chance of possessing some sort of mas-
terv of it late in life; now it is to bo 1
imparted practically as a part of the ,
regular course of study.—New York 1
Tribune.
It takes eight times the strength to
go upstairs that is required to accom- j
plish the same distance on a level. ,
ODDITIES OF FALCON ISLAND.
It Is Always (lotting llinroviwril ami \|»-
propiiatctl by Soma Nation.
Far away out iu the deep Pacific
ocean exists a small strip of land
whieh shows that it lias decided spirit
and sweet little will of its own, for it
will not undergo allegiance to any
Governments often experi-
ence considerable trouble in preserv-
iug the allegiance of people they have
conquered, but as a rule a piece of
property or real estate has been looked
upon us likely to remain in the same
place for a considerable period of
ti me.
Tbis little island, which has received
the name of Falcon island, proves an
exception to the rule, however. No
sooner has it been annexed than it
disappears of! the face of the globe,
leaving only a dangerous reef to iudi-
cate its former whereabouts and com-
iug up in a few years’ time, when the
country which lias performed the an-
nexatiou has given up all claim.
Our old friend John Bull,always on
the watch to increase his imperial em-
pire, was the first to encounter it. Iu
1889 the British corvette Egeria, was
sent on a cruise among the South Sea
islands, with orders from the British
admiralty to seize upon any islands or
coral reefs that had hitherto been
. unclaimed and to take possession in
the name of the queen. Cruising
, around she noted from afar off a prom-
incut island, toward which she sailed,
Tall palm trees were growing on its
1? d ° Wnfi^riSn^i-O bluff, using loO M feet “ above 1 °"*'
u L tll „ voun1fa Ivt , /
t „ •' '.‘V
' °
t] they sent t out a tiauspoit ship, . ■ with
lepoit.. ‘St vvnat “ was r i h )I?Z™v tlie dismay eS ot f l || the Ml
J" ° J he Egeria, on anmng at
^ be place ^lieie he had the year be-
fore left the island sporting the Uniou
Insteadof the beautiful
!. j 1 ] ‘ stauain^ slautin, g oul out so piommeutlv nromineutl v
from the ocean was a low and danger- hJh
'*
with the inordinate cWe of annexing
stt'nif 111 01 v ’ l seu 1 uls '’; ; lu *'
>
u‘»i, p ..ts
There, instead of finding a sunken
reef, whitened with the foam of the
breakel . s , the vessel's crew discovere.l
an i s ], in( l the exact shanp of the island
w.„.d Scarcclv two years had t iZZeiZl missed nw »v
ig „» t o » t
visit her possessions found her way to
Fu i CO n island. It had again disap-
.. q i t brine simnlvuiwf
, V as obliged to give up all rights of
possession.-Ban Francisco Chronicle.
fugitive , c,.io.«of Gems.
A ’’ emal e ta ^‘ ls re P 01 ’fed by
Journal , tur , . Goldschimedekunst,
viz., . that-the colors of precious stones
aye not permanent m the light. Io
£. lve i, 1 cb eunc:il and physical explaua-
tlou for thls 18 ‘Idhcult; for, although
chemical reactions in solid bodies have
been proved, one would not presume
tbem to occar 111 tbe exceedingly hard
m ^®rals concerned. A ruby which
had been left tor two years m a light
sb "' v 7 nu ,°'"’ " a,s ^ onn ‘ 1 to be cou :
S1<b ' r:l ’ 1 > v Hghter after this , time had
elapsed than , r stone, previously of
exactly the same color, which had been
kept m the dark. Similar results
were observed with emeralds and sap-
l jbbes ’ kthl more hasty than with i
th e s e valuable colored gems is the i
“ tlon of,bgllt ° U tbe less e ’^ e usn : ft !
f. to “ e ®’ Gainet aud , topa/ dlbe tt . ‘' 111
tba tb f fo , rlaer . be f aies dl “ al ! d <lul1 ’ I
" 1,lie the Iatter ] onl v tll! ' ns ,1 « hter '
-
'
Fro * en *"»•
Spitsbergen is not an unbroken ice- ]
sheet, as many persons supposed it to ; !
^ e - Glaciers there are in plenty, but
there is much open ground and fine
mountain lent, aud Mr. seeaery. Garwood Fogs described are preva- J i
a
peculiar effect due to this condition of
the atmosphere, which does not seem
to have been ever noted by Alpine
climbers. He has seen the face of a
mountain covered with spicules of ice
—a kind of exaggerated hoarfrost—
some of the icicles standing out hori-
zoutally from the wall of rock, and
measuring as much as eighteen inches
in length. They ave evidently gener-
ate d t^’ the action of fog—and grow
t>y the constant addition of moist par¬
ticles. Fogs will often continue for
many days together, and they are so
dense that one cannot see a companion
away.—Chambers’# "ho is more than two Journal. or three yards | j
NO. ‘27.
STARTLINC PILL STATISTICS,
Sonia lilru of till* Consumption of Mftll*
«'»l I’allats by tita laiglisli.
* The British appetite for pills can
only be gauged from the revenue re-
ceipts relating to the stamp duties
paid for proprietory medicines (which
, last year in the aggregate amounted to
almost a quarter of a million pounds)
and by making allowances for tke pills,
dispensed by doctors and chemists,
which are not dutiable,
An allow ance of a trifle over half an
ounce of pills for each inhabitant of
the United Kingdom for the year can-
not be said to be an extravagant esti-
mate; indeed,such an allowance means
but thirty-two doses a year, or one
and a half pounds of pills to last a
lifetime of sixty years,
j Bits, Placed the pills iu a of straight lifetime line, would says Tit
u ex-
i tend through some forty feet, and
there would be some 1920 of them,
The latter figure may seem rather
large, but if sixty years of pills were
combined into one sphere, it would
have a diameter of less thun font
inches and a circumference of under
I one foot,
It is not until we make calculations
regarding the pill as a national deli-
eacv that we arrive at any figures ol
magnitude, and then we find flint
something like 1,280,000,000 pills are
, swallowed annually. If these British
pills were put iu a straight line they
would extend from Loudon to Luck-
now.
The P laciug of tlie P ills >« a lengthy
line of o(h0 miles would afford occn-
pahonfor a pair of idle hands during
el 6'Uy-one - vears ’ at Uie eml ,,f wbi ? h
hme the owner of the hands would
probably find tlie task of laying ‘during down
,bl f pills * ver v second an
' eight , hours’ day . something
monotou-
; 0 us. If in place of putting them into
: a „ extended line we placed the pills
| in roWf4 G f 1085 pills, aud having ar-
^ T- “ Umber ° f r ° WS HH
tbel .® " ele P llls ln al ° w a ? a base , ’ " e
could use the rest oi the pills in mak-
; n , r 1085 similar lavers the resultant
could -EffssiML proceed stir 14 .*.. in
to np the lot a
gigantic mortar,and kaviug thorough-
* m,M< ’ *• «»*•«
mixture it would be!—roll the mass
into one splendid spherical pill weigh¬
ing 637 tons, and posesssing a diame¬
ter of over 28 feet, and a circa infer-
, QO , , . ,
g V ' I 8 /, f auotUei s
SnSw Lc , £ , -S ”° P 3 , , ei” “ tie™e™ s“
f 3 be
vi ce of a 11 hoy to t0 crown cl 0" u the
* ^ t0P of ^ monstei pill.
When a Woman Should Keftige m Wan-
She should refuse him (writes a lady-
correspondent) when she knows his
habits to be intemperate, for there can
hetio unhappier fate than marriage
w ith a drunkard. She should refuse
him when there is any heriditary dis-
ease i u the family, such as consump-
,iou or insanity, which would in all
probability show itself and cause in-
finite misery in after years. She
should refuse him when she sees he is
iu the habit of associating with bad
companions, who may lead him into a
gambling, drinking and card-playing
Hf e . She should refuse him when she
kn0 ws him to be that despicable
thing—a male flirt; she should reflect
that as he has treated other girls so he
inay treat herself, and no woman
cares to lay herself open to such treat-
raent . She should refuse him when
she feels she has no love to give him
and not marry, as muny girls do,for a
home; no marriage can be truly happy
without love to sweeten the bonds.
*'’ be should refuse him when he is pro¬
jiosing to her for her money or from
pique. A girl can generally distin¬
guish real love from feigned and even
if she cares for him should uot accept
him unless convinced his motives are
disinterested. She should not refuse
him when she really cares for him and
knows him to be a steady, faithful man,
who will make her happy and not
cause her heartbreaks,which,perhaps,
one of her more brilliant lovers might
have done.—The Ledger,
Telegraph Foies.
The number of poles used for tele-
graph wires per mile varies from
twenty to twenty-two on minor lines
to twenty-six 16 thirty on main lines,
A Truism.
“What is a truism?”
“It is a truth which is so true that
it makes everybody tired.”— Chicago
Record.
4 -