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Written specially for the Southern World.
“JIIDOE MOT.”
BY HELEN HABCOUBT.
•• Judge ye not,” oil, Christian brother,
Tlx the rock o'er which we fall;
Itatlier, “Cove ye one another,"
Ulve a liel|ilng hand to all.
If you knew the cares and losses
Lying In your neighbor's path.
Would you add unto Ills crosses,
One sharp word or scornful laugh r
Who shall know the weight of sorrow
l'resslng on Ids uching brow;
Who shall say Hint you to-morrow
May not bo as lie is now?
Who Khali know what stress of tempting,
Jlrought your erring neighbor low;
Owe you not your own exempting.
That you were not tempted so?
Could you knuw how sore and weary
Are his footsteps and his heart;
You wuuld make them sure, less dreary,
You would nobly “take his part.”
Klseyou'd fall, oh,Christian brother.
In the golden rule of all—
Haiti) our Savior, “Love each other;
Seek und comfort those who fall."
J udge not, therefore, lest your censure,
Hliould return upon your head;
Man In Judgment shall not venture—
Thus the laird our Clod hath said.
Written specially for the Southern World.
niMroifniilfCY.
IIY DAISY HTAK.
I was huppy once,
Hut ah, ah me,
It wnx In the never again to lie;
In the merry days
That are far back,
O'er years of sorrow, a measureless track
Of care and woe, ah me I
It was spring-time then,
It Is autumn now;
No summer brcer.es e'er kissed my brow;
My budding llowers
Nipped by the frost,
Untimely died; my sunshine was lost
III sullen clouds, ah met
My heart la broken,
Yet day by day
With a smiling face, I go on my way,
And school my voico to
A laugh or song,
As I lake my place In thv world's gay throng,
And act my part, all me I
This weary song to myself I sung,
And liellovcd It true. No mortal longue
Could tell how I suffered In those dark days.
Till my feet strayed Into pleasanter ways.
Tbesuiislilue then crept through thedark,dark cloud
That wrapt my life like a burial shroud;
And happiness came when I sought It least,
And Joy and gladness nxumpluotia feast
To my hungry heart, was given to me
lly the All-Father's hand so kind and free.
I deservisl It not; I cherished my grief
As a precious thing—yes, beyond belief;
lfow murtulx will hide themselves from tlio light
And sigh, with pleasure-fields Just In sight.
DOT'S HUSBAND.
I)ot was married. Of that there could be
do doubt, however incredible it seemed, for
nurse Moore, promoted now to housekeeper
mid head factotum up at “the Hall,” waved
the letter triumphantly aloft ossheexplained
to the crowd of villagers who had gathered
to hear the news.
Any other girl in Millfield might have
married and nothing been thought of it,
but Dot Maync, the little elfish sprite whom
all remembered in her christening robes,
when the long name Dorothy, so solemnly
pronounced by the minister, seemed so ab
surdly inappropriate to the short baby,
that by common consent it was at once
shortened to Dot; and after the death of
the pale mother, who had seemed only lin
gering for her baby’s christening, the moth
erless babe of Squire Mayne, although the
only child of a rich man, was adopted at
once into every motherly breast in the vil
lage, and many were the startling sugges
tions as to the best manner of taking the
child safely through whooping cough and
measles, to which tbe Squire listened pa
tiently. When Dot Mayne had numbered
a half dosen years, the little fairy with her
nimble feet and short bobbing curls, had
danced her way into every heart and home
In the village, and from that time on, she
hod been the pet of every man, woman and
child, unless some months before onr story
opens, when the pretty willful ways had
somewhat penetrated still deeper, even into
tbe hiddeu corners of Borne hearts, as Nat
Smith, the young telegraph operator could
testify if he chose. But he apparently
had no such intention as he paused a mo
ment to see what the unusual commotion
could mean.
“I say, Nat, Dot Mayne’s married,” said
Ben White, the raggedest and most unman
ageable street urchin in tbe village, “why
■he ain’t a bit bigger*n I am,” he added
confidentially.
“Dot is nineteen," briefly replied Nat.
“Pshaw, now, you don’t say, why it was
only last summer she chased me clean
around tbe square and catched me too by
jingo, and shook me because I stoned Wid-
der Thomas’ lame cow. I tell you Nat,
she’s a rcg’lar brick, and its too bad slip up
and married, but then I ’spo.se she found
that tall, slim, young feller with black hair
and eyes, that she use to be tellin’ about,
an’ then of course she couldn’t help it,” he
added apologetically, “you ain’t sick be
you?” he continued, for Nat’s usually florid
complexion had taken on a chalky hue, and
he was grinding his heels in the unoffend
ing gravel, while his teeth bit savagely at
the stump of a cigar.
“No," he answered gruffly, and crushing
his hat over his eyes he stalked on, not
waiting to hear the closing clause of Dot’s
letter, which nurse Moore was reading aloud
and which ran thusly;
“Our wedding trip is postponed indefi
nitely on account of papa’s failing health,
for although he insisted on seeing me hap
pily married, I shall not leave him until
there is sompimprovement, but you all will
have an opportunity of seeing my dear Her
bert, for imperative business summons him
to Boston next week, and ns he must pass
through Millfield, we have decided that, al
though I cannot accompany him, he will
stop a day or two and see about having some
improvements begun on the house, and as I
told you if they are complete in season, we
will como down before Christmas and re
main through the winter, ns pnpn fears the
ocean breeze through the cold months. You
will of course receive dear Herbert in a
manner befitting my husband."
“And that’s all,” said nurse Moore, fold
ing the letter, “exceptin’ some directions
about airin’ the rooms and beddin’, just ns
if he might he weakly and take cold. I
shouldn’t wonder now if he was weakly,"
she added, “for tall slim, young men with
black hair and eyes mostly is consumptive,
and you know Dot always said she wouldn’t
marry any other,” (a fact no one disputed,
for Dot’s Ideal was too well known,) “and
he’s a southerner too and rich, one of the
Do Longs of Virginny,” she continued,
“and she says he’ll be here on the noon
train Wednesday. Now what I want to say
is this, that of course if Dot herself came
we should ring the bells and strew flowers
and have a big weddin’ feast, and she says,”
opening the letter with another flourish,
"of course you will welcome dear Herbert
in a manner befitting my husband,” and so
why we shouldn’t have the weddin’ feast
anyway, and we might have a committee
to meet him at the depot and give him u
sort of welcome.”
There was an assenting murmur among
the crowd, and nurse Moore’s suggestions
were adopted on the spot, and a committee
of citizens selected to welcome the stranger
in a befitting manner.
When Nat Smith with a dispairing groan
plunged so rapidly up the street, he came
near running directly over a plump brown
eyed maiden, who was coming almost as
rapidly from the opposite direction, but
Lottie Howard stepped swiftly on one side,
and put out a plump brown hand on Nat’s
sleeve.
“Oh, Nat, have you heard?”
"Heard what?” he replied moodily.
“Of Dot’s marriage; yes, I see you have,”
she said, “I am sorry for you Nat,” her
voice quivered a little over the lost words.
Nat looked inquiringly into the soft blue
eyes, now almost swimming in tears, and
his own voice grew softer as he said:
“Why are you sorry for me, Lottie?”
“Because I knew, Dot told me—about—
last summer.”
“She told, did she?" he replied savagely,
“just like a woman; bragging of her con
quest.”
“Oh no, Nat, don’t think that, Dot never
bragged, only—only—she could never look
at anything seriously you know. She was
a sweet girl and I never blamed you, but
I wouldn’t let it trouble me too much if I
were you,” and as the womanly little figure
flitted on down the street, the man stood
looking after her thinking of the tearful
brown eyes and wondering that he never
noticed they were pretty before; and he
thought with a little sigh of the day be told
Dot Mayne of his love for her and begged
her to be his wife.
Little more than half a year before our
story opens, Nat Smith, sole operator in the
dingy little office, with only tbe promise of
an increase to his meagre salary, bad, with
many inward misgivings and an uneasy
consciousness of tbe short comings in the
matter of personal looks and lack of suita
ble wealth, laid his heart and hand at the
feet of the lovely and wilful little mistress
of "The Hall,” which offer was received
first with an incredible stare, then a merry
laugh so loud and long and hearty that tbe
canary in the gilded edge cage overhead
took up tbe refrain and piped in a shrill
treble until the room rang again. All the
while Nat stood humbly and nervously
twirling his hat, with his naturally florid
face several shades redder than usual.
“I don’t see why you should langh at a
true and honest love, Dot,” he said, when
she and tbe canary paused for breath, “you
may have offers from richer men, I know,
but none can love you better than I.”
“It is not that, Nat, do forgive me for
laughing. I don’t care about tbe money,
but the idea was so funny. Why you and
I have grown up together, and—and—you
are thick and large and have got red hair,
and yon know I always said I should wed
one who was tall and slender, with black
hair and eyes and high pale "
“Spare me Dot from hearing that again,”
broke in Nat passionately, "if brains go for
nothing with you, and all you care for is
looks, then I suppose my hopes are in
vain.”
“And,” continued Dot unheeded the in
terruption, “your name is Smith, Nathan
Smith, of all names, I should die with such
a name, now when your folks christened
you why couldn’t they have given you a
Christian name?”
“And so you refuse me for the looks and
the name?” replied Nat, “well I only hope
you may not marry a bald-headed man with
a cross temper that would break your heart,”
here Nat broke down utterly, and with the
red of his face, changed to deadly white,’
turned to leave the room when Dot sprang
to him and seized his hand in both her
small white ones.
“Now don’t be a foolish boy, Nat, or I
shall be wretched. I shan’t marry for years
and years yet, of course, and I don’t think
you would care so much, tio and woo Lot
tie Howard, she likes you and she is good ns
gold.”
And now that Dot was married and that
dream ended for all time, Nat thought of
her parting words, for he had never dared
trust himself in her presence again, not
even when she started on that memorable
visit to the sea shore, and now the whole
seemed to come back to Nat, and all the
afternoon two pair of eyes, one pair of
heavenly blue, the other a tender brown,
seemed dancing through the shadows of the
dingy office, and the wires seem to click over
and over again “as good os gold.”
"Pshaw!” said Nat angrily to himself,
“why should I be thinking all day of Dot’s
foolish words when they never entered my
mind before. Lottie Howard is good enough
but I shall never love again, never.”
Wednesday came and with it the noon ex
press Irom W , and a committee of
three leading citizens of Millfield waited
in solemn dignity on the platform until
with sundry snorts and angry puftlng the
train stopped, and just as the brakesman
called out "Millfield, twenty minutes for
dinner,” a tall elegant young gentleman,
with black hair and eyes and diamond pin,
stepped out of the car door and was instant
ly saluted by the three committee men as
Mr. De Long, and in a polite little address
cordially welcomed to Millfield, and invited
to repair then and there to his future resi
dence, “The Hall,” to partake of a dinner
gotten up for his special benefit.
The handsome visitor looked for an in
stant curiously from one to another of his
invitors, and seemed for a moment just a
bit nonplussed, but when he met on every
side with smiles of recognition and little
bobbing curtsy’s of welcome from the
children,-he appeared to “take in” the sit
uation, and in a happy and graceful manner
thanked them and accepted the invitation.
While this was taking place the other
passengers Hied out into the depot dining
hall. There were the usual number of
drummers, a fat man and a lean one, a lame
boy and two or three elderly business men,
old and young women, and back In the car
by the window, a man with eye glasses and
slightly bald sat reading, but not one among
them all who could be possibly mistaken for
Dot’s husband.
“You see, sir,” said one of the committee
waving his band towards the group, “that
we needed no introduction to you, for there
is not a child in Millfield but could have
picked out Dot’s husband, knowing so well
her taste, without her flattering description
of you,” to all of which tbe gentleman gave
such pleasant and smiling replies as to quite
win the heartsof the committee before they
reached “The Hall,” where nuise Moore
presided in fluttering state.
“And how is my darling child?” she asked
with a flutter of gratified pride at the friend
ly pressure of the aristocratic hand.
“I Bee you have got her diamond, sir,”
she continued, “many’s the time sir, Dot
has tolled me none should ever wear that
ring but ber future husband; I should have
knowed you by that alone, sir.”
The stranger gave the least perceptible
start when she began, then glancing at the
ring in question, a large and handsome sol
itaire, replied with emotion:
“Yes, my dear little wife insisted that I
should wear it, and bade me by that token
to give her best love to her kind and good
friends here,” bowing gracefully around.
The day passed pleasantly, and before
night the conviction was gaining ground
in the minds of all that Dot bad done well,
that is, all but Nat Smith wbo held grimly
aloof and viewed the aristocratic stranger
from a distance with an air of disdain, and
when tbe next day the gentleman sauntered
into Nat’s office and requested a little busi
ness sent, Nat accepted his explanation that
“Our house always dispatches in cypher,”
in silence, but after the stranger had gone
be eagerly copied the strange words of the
dispatch and locked them in his private
drawer.
The second night of the stay of Dot’s hus
band in his wife’s home, marked an epoch
in the history of Millfield, and it lind en
joyed an honor (?) not often vouchsafed to
small towns, it having been visited by bur
glars, and several houses plundered of money
and jewelry.
Two of tbe houses belonged to two of our
committee men, one of which had suffered
a loss of five hundred dollars and the other
one thousand, it being the habit of the Mill-
field folks to keep their money at home in
default of a bank, until occasional visits to
the city made it convenient to deposit it.
“The Hall" was also entered, and Dot’s
husband missed his diamond ring, valuable
gold watch, and pocket-book containing two
hundred dollars. He had entered the break
fast-room at an unusually early hour, with
a harrassed air and asked nurse Moore if
she had heard anything in the night. Nurse
Moore remembered hearing his door open
or close but supposed he was restless nnd
bad risen.
“No, I slept very soundly," he replied,
"and did not waken at all, and this morning
my pocket-book is missing, also my watch
and ring which I left lying on the table
when I retired. It is incredible,” he con
tinued, “that the bouse should be burglar
ized and I not hear anything; do such things
often happen here?”
But nurse Moore had sank helpless on her
seat when he began and could only stare in
an idiotic way at the narrator, until the door
bell rang violently and a boy rushed in with
the alarmingnews that the villageliad "been
robbed and all of Lawyer Dean’s money
taken, and would Mr. De Long please to come
down and see if he could assist them any in
gittin a clue to the robbers?” at which point
of the errand tbe messenger sank into a
chair as breathless as nurse Moore.
Tbe village was in a state of unusual ex
citement all day, and before night, a detec
tive from the city had been sent for, but as
he could not arrive before the next day, it
was suggested that a watch be kept to pro
vent a repetition of last night’s doings, but
Dot’s husband, who had been the most active
all day in trying to discover a clue, an
nounced that “under existing circumstances
his approaching departure should be post
poned, as he could not think of leaving un
til the daring thieves were caught, a result
he felt sure would be very soon, and in the
meantime,” he said, “let every one go
quietly to bed, for burglars were never
known to raid so small a town two nights in
succession,” and he positively forbade nurse
Moore writing to Dot, as she proposed, lest
she should be unnecessarily alarmed; direc
tions in which the head men heartily con
curred, for it was already tacitly acknowl
edged in the village, that tbe ruling spirit
was that of the new proprietor of “The
Hall."
Nat Smith, who had listened carelessly to
the foregoing, sauntered back to his office
and for lack of other employment, fell to
studying over again the curious message
sent the day before, when the object of his
speculations entered the office again, and af
ter carelessly explaining that owing to his
"lengthened slay his business would need
fresh attention,” wrote another curious dis
patch, with the request that it be sent im
mediately.
The message contained but half a dozen
words, among which were "four bells,” and
these words Nat fell to studying as he had
the other, when suddenly, with a muttered