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10 am sotjamittt world, jure is, W om $ l&Hdfr 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