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friends.
Oh, give me friends!
Though other wants may wear my life away.
Though all the days seem cold and dark aud
gray,
I shall not question that which fortune sends
If round me press a host of kindly friends.
I ask not wealth,
Nor from the ever open hand of Fat&
I crave no robe of grace, nor place of state,
For in the hope which fickle longing lends
I seek no gift of fate, but countless friends.
And thus through life,
Though round me falls the shadow and the
care
Of bitter sorrows that I scarce can bear,
I shall not heed them if my faith but rends
The mist that shrouds me from my host of
friends.
—Madelon Grantlen.
.EM’hlNE'S SUKKENDEK.
l V'
BY WILLIAM PEI1IIY BTiOWK.
The early rains had supplemented the
•thawing big of the February snows upon the
the Citico mountains, and the three forks of
River thundered down the
wild gorges of the Unakas with au in
creasing of the power that cheered the spirits
loggers in Eagle’s Basin.
A ta’l young mountaineer, with flow
ing hair tossed roughly back, stood
•playfully the holding a struggling girl over
verge of the precipice called the
Buzzard Roost, that towered over a
whirl of waters surging through the
; gorge the lower side of the basin. The
girl was robust and muscular, yet this
son of anak held her easily with one
hand, while he saucily shook a Anger of
the other as he said laughingly:
“Ef you’lows ter fool me ez ye hev
some of the yuther hoys in the basin,
you’ve jist gone ’nd treed the wrong coon,
Hit air a fact, Em’line.”
she “You, Curt Cable!" she screamed, for
was more alarmed than her rude ad
mirer thought her; “turn me loose—
turn me loose, I say!”
“My, Em’line, if I turns ye loose, ye’ll
fall, shore.”
He still held her, as gently as he
‘ could, while she clung to his extended
arm, her usually ruddy face now pale
with anger and fear. At length, with a
laugh, he pulled her her toward him, half
embracing with one arm. But, as
she felt herself rudely pressed,she struck
him a stinging blow on the face and re
leased herself with a supreme effort, then
sank down with her hands over her
face, sobbing violently. Though the
blow mibt have hurt, he smiled good
humorsdly, bent over her and said:
“Thar now, Em’line, tit fer tat.
You’ve paid me back; now I want ter
know ef you really air tryin’ to sarve me
like ye do the rest of the boys ez makes
out like they wants ter marry ye. Ye
know I love ye, Em’line. I’ve be’n a
courtin’ of ye monster time,’ an I’re jest
■ erblig’d he ierhev a answer. ” .
As spoke, she crushed back the
sobs, and now looked up with red eys,
angrily flaming. *
“Hev ye!” I—I’d see you in yore
grave afore I’d marry ye, after the way
you’ve treated me.”
“Why, Em’line-"
“Don’t ye Em’line me nary bit more.
Thar’s no endurin’ of ye, ’nd from this
yer day on, I wants ye ter keep ter yer
self ’nd lemme erlone. Ef some yuther
boys wants ter talk ter me taint nary
bizness 0 ’yourn, Curt Cable.”
She rose and confronted him—a
breathing statue of feminine resentment
—a Katharine in homespun, crushing
this would-be Petruc.hio. As he slowly
comprehended her meaning his smile
meited into an expression of sadness, as
he replied: ’
“That’s all right, Em’line. You kin
let on jist ez much ez you pleases; but
I knows that you know how much I’ve
loved ye, ’nd waited for ye; aud ef yore
agoin’ ter let my foolin’ ’nd giabbin’
change ye, I’ll b’lieve what the boys sez
of ye air true. You don’t keer fur
nuthin eep'n ter make fools on us, but
after this ye. caiut hev yore way long o’
me, Em Rymer, for I’m done with ye.”
Em’line stood motionless while the hot
flush of anger slowly receded before a
pallor her of words. after-riging Tho dismay at the result
of lashing of the tor¬
rent below fell shiveringly upon her ear,
like an audible echo of coming trouble.
The whistle of a mocking bird singing
from the fox grape vines over the
foaming abyss, sounded the like a rasping
counter irritant to thunders below.
Yet and overhead, the through the March air
sunshine, clear sky basked in the
most restful and soothing of colors. Re
Ceding from the basin on every side the
green and saffron slopes rose, browning
with distance, until they kissed the
heavens, apparently far above all terres¬
trial care and passion.
Yet here she was—the queen of hearts
among these mountain wilds—balked
and tortured by the only man out of a
half score of suitors she had ever owned
to herself that she really cared for. He
had accused her of trifling, of heartless¬
ness, of insincerity. Had he not spoken
with some degree of truth? Without
knowing the name, she felt herself to be
ing a coquette, with the realizing hearts the delight of toy¬
of others while her
own remained untouched.
A et, was her own heart really invul¬
nerable? Standing there, with the
beauty and turmoil of that wild scene
enveloping things her, she began to feel that
seemed were be. not altogether as they had
to Nature was somehow be¬
reft of its usual charm. Without the
sense of Curt Cable’s devotion—on which
she had leaned, even while she tortured
him—her small atom of the world was
growing very cheerless.
But Em’line, as we have seen, had a
healthy fund of resentment to fall back
upon, and resentment loves to pick
flaws. After her first flood of dejection
had passed, she found some sad satisfac
tion in multiplying Curt’s foibles. His
rough humor, his careless pride, the
masterfulness and persistence that had
characteried his devotion, all these, hav¬
her ing whetted lier irritation, now bolstered
luctant pride. Yet she knew, though re
crudities to acknowledge, foils that these
were as to some nobler
attributes of character.
An hour later found her busy over the
raftsmen’s dinner in the low, long cabin,
planted centrally in Eagle’s basin before
the broadest sweep of the river above
herded Gripp’s Gorge, Bill Rymer, her father,
cattle in summer and logged on
the Citico in winter, while his wife and
hands. daughter cooked for more or less of the
A boom was here stretched across the
river against which thousands of logs
number were pushing, by the now floods hourly increased in
in the upper
ranges, when the three prongs that here
united came raging.
A score or more of mountaineers were
lounging and in to dinner from the woods
river. Curt Cable was with them,
but his usually cheery voice was now
strangely his silent. lie shuffled awkwardly
about, gait and manner contrasting
oddly with his really handsome figure
and face.
“V\ al, Em’line,” said Dow Axley, an
oft-rejected yet ever good natured visi
tor of the girl’s; what wur you adoin’
eround the Boost this mornin’ ? ’nd what’s
the matter long o’ Curt ennyhow?”
The men were eating and Em’line set
down a plate of “cooked greens” before
Axley with a thump, sayiDg:
“Thar’s what I wuz adoin’. Ef hit
wern’t for me a projeckin’ eround hyu
’nd yander, hit air prashus little biled
poke ’ncl mustard ez you alls 'ud git. Ez
fer Curl, ef yore so cu’rous ter know what
yails him, you’d better ax him; I’m not
a mindin’Curt Cable’s bizness, myself.”
Curt said nothing,, though his brow
contracted, while Em’line gloried in her
independence of speech at the expense of
an additional heartache as she noted his
increasing “Yet,” gloom. thought,
she reassuringly, “if
he wern’t a keerin’ he w’n’df’t skorely
look so mad.”
After dinner the men lounged before
( h e door awhile. Over the basin the sky
was clear, yet afar off the Unakas still
wore the gray garb of mist and storm,
The thunder of the rising river echoed
woodman. ominously to the practiced ear of the
“That thar roarin’means more failin’
weather, ’nd the fraish jist a cornin’ on.
A fraish air a good thing, but too much
puddin’ hid make a dog sick. I’m afeard,
boys, ez that thar boom ’ll go afore
night.”
So said Rymer, after a long look
at the rising vapors gathering over the
Yiiakas.
“Ef them thar thunder heads burst up
yander, thar’ll be a jam in Gripp’s Gt*rge
—shore.”
Gripp’s Gorge extends for nearly a
mile between two irregular lines of cliff,
in a manner not unlikely a rocky moun¬
tain canyon. The river sweeping fiercely
through, debouches into a more open
valiey below. The “thunder heads” on
the “bigmountain” did burst; the floods
again descended, and about four o’clock
that afternoon the boom broke.
In less than an hour a jam was discov¬
ered near the lower end of the gorge.
The waters kept rising, while more logs
from above came thumping down by
the hundred. All swept through the
basin into the insatiable maw of Gripp’s
Gorge, and were hurled against the
shape masses already piled in every conceivable
between the jagged walls. Some¬
thing must be at once done, or the jam
would soon assume such proportions as
to defeat all efforts at dislodging it.
Curt Cable, with two others, entered
the gorge from above in a “dug out”
canoe to see what could be done. It was
a forlorn hope, and the danger so great
that Curt, who called for volunteers,
was about to go alone, despite all
dissuasive efforts on the part of others,
when these two came forward.
Em’line sat in the front porch of her
father’s cabin and saw the canoe leave
the shore.
goin’ “Pap,” she ashed, “who air them a
ter risk thur lives fer a passel of
old logs?"
Mr. Rymer was approaching at a half
run from the riverside.
that “You, Em’line,” he cried, “get out
thar long inch rope we’uns uses ter
windlass the rafts with. Curt Cable,
’nd Jim Spratt, ’nd Doak Slover hev
gone down the gorge ter the jam. We
—why don’t yer git that thar rope,
gal!”
Em’line was standing speechless and
staring. impatiently, Her father stamped his foot
and she turned to look for
the rope like one in a dream, muttering
to herself:
“What ef Curt—never—comes back?”
Ten minutes later Bill Rymer and
several others were standing on the
Black C'lilf, a huge priecipice that over¬
hung round a ltrge rock midway of the gorge,
which the waters boiled and
where the jam had formed. Em’line
had followed them, regardless of the
supper she was to prepare—regardless of
all, save that Curt Cable had, perhaps,
gone to his death, aud—that she loved
him.
How the results of her own pretty re
sentment now mocked her as she remem
bered his last attempt causelessly at reconciliation
which she had so repulsed.
She recalled his better traits-his geu
erosity, frankness and daring. She
owned to herself that if he had been
rough and rude, she had been guilty of
many where shortcomings, he? And now-now
was
How she climbed the?cliffs, up the cluing rugged,
perilous trail among
to vines and bushes, tearing her clothes
unheeded, she hardly knew. Now she
stood beside her father on the Black
Cliff. Below was a savage roar and
white dash of spray, and the grinding
and thunder of descending logs. Her
ears, half deafened by the noise. were
strained for the sound of voices that
might, even now, be forever silenced.
Thesunwassinking; enveloping chilling shadows
were the gorge, though the
eastern mountains were ye: bright with a
tender glow. The men were lowering "
the rope. Her father, lying upon th e
rock, abyss/ peered down into the seething
At last lie raised his head and
oa y. ’
. Thar , two that thar
ler ez 1 km s make men out. on Hit rock,, like cz
seems
they ve bruk loose a part of the jam.”
‘Only two men, pap; ’ cried Em’line.
She threw herself down, and peered
® v ® r - “bat “ the absent one was Curt
Cable For the first time since the “big
meetin s down m the valley last fall she
prayed prayed silently, yet with her
m;na m an incoherent maze of fear and
suspense. hit,
“That’s boys,” she heard her
father say. “A leetle lowerdown—thar!
He liev kitched it. He’s got it yunder
his arms. Now—pull stiddy, hoys, ’nd
don’t frazzle the rope.”
A human form was dangling over tho
cauldron below, drenched with spray
and swinging wildly. Was it Curt? If
the rope should break—she shuddered
and drew back from a sight that sickened
her. She hid her face, and stil! heard
the horrible rasp of the rope over the
ing smooth edge the of the cliff, the hard breath¬
of men—then, after a while, a
heavy scraping voice. of feet, aud Doak Slover’s
“Hit were a hard squeeze, boys, ’nd
a leetle the tightest place I wur ever
in.
“Who uns on the rock ’sices you?”
she heard lier father ask. His voice
was as the voice of one afar off.
“That thar is Jim Spratt.”
Her heart gave a fearful leap—she
gasped for breath.
“Wall, Doak, whar’s Curt?”
Oh! the sickening suspense of that
supreme instant of dread. It was mad¬
dening. She sprang to her feet as
Slover’s slow tones came like an echo of
doom.
“Why, Curt—he—wal, jist afore the
jam bruk loose, the eend of a log hit the
dug-out, down kerbimf it.” ’Nd Curt, he went
long with
She waited to hear no more, but with¬
out ing a word, passed behind the that unheed¬
group, conscious only Curt’s
body she was somewhere below the gorge,
that would find it—and then die.
“Lower away, boys,” Bill Rymer
shouted again, but the words and the
safety of Jim Pratt were an indifferent
affair to her now. Was there ever misery
so poignant as hers? Would any who
knew her have called her a coquette
now?
“He hev gone ter his death,” she
groaned, “’thout ever a forgivin’ me. 1
don’t keer how sune I goes ter mine—
p’raps The Pll meet him thar.” Where?
dilated despairing and woman, who with
eyes torn garments, with
gasping struggled breath and trembling hands,
the along that the perilous trail above
gorge led to calmer waters be¬
low, found the above query unexpec
edly answered.
The form of Curt Cable, drenched,
bruised, his clothing half torn away, his
face unnaturally pale, suddenly glided
ronnd a sharp bend of the path and con¬
fronted her. Her Limbs sunk beneath
her weight; she hid her eyes, exclaim¬
ing:
“Lawd hev pity! Hit—air—his—
haunt. ”
She would have fallen down the slope,
but strong arms grasped her; a warm
breath fanned her brow, and as her eyes
responded, she saw the “haunt” ap¬
parently working its will with her. But
the hands felt lifelike and the voice she
now heard made her heart throb anew'.
“No, Em’line, I haiut quite a haant
yet, tho’ I corn’d tolerable nur a gittin’
tur be one.”
“Why—why—” she whimpered,
“Doak. he said ez a log hit ye ’nd ye
went down—”
a11 thro \ ,’ nd
kl ^ w la f be a sa vl u ’ J
7^ -
, 3ut 1 . W .
dugout “V when ,°“ log J T’ struck it,
a
ZlZ T 3 T T i 7®
“ split herself on a rock, r I le’pt on
a lo 2 cz w f a P^in’. ’nd got whirled
yund ® r , " d S°t kno cked about
considerable. But I r got ashore some
h ° w i nd b ? ur | ls ; No *- El u | me ’
S^tUhyVXe?”^ 77, 7 - ^ ,
There 7 3 110 answer : }f x- l , , lier f faCa
wa an , J “estled^warmly e f V-. against his . ragged
,, Aow,. v JISt Em line, tln air ye still mad, or
a 'J ,u oa ‘
St ’, n ° !'fP ly: VCt f earm stole , , softly ,,
round Curt s neck, f who, fee ing that his
time had at W’ mm V ho be3t ~
^se u “Xj o'f hi ponmr ^ ^ tb ° vont ~
r v 5 e c ever ev a a S "oin’ ter git that tnnt wav 3 a v
, lon . -
^ 0 , me
blS a™ slightly tightened i its -i clasp 1 of 1
,iTif 1 '' fo !L a “ ans ' sv ® r -
me right ^ smak E ? 111 In ?; the 1 mouth.” "’ an i S ,? e ter kiss .
But this last humiliation was post
p° nl ; ( i by the appearance of Bill Rymer
and the other men. The father stared
his at friends, Curt and his daughter, then said to
with a knowing grin:
“He a'r a right peart kind of a corpse,
boys-, jist erbout peart enuffi ter cause a
weddin’ about hyur afore long, I reckon.”
Rip was right. Em’line had finally
surrendered, and when the affair thus
prophesied came off, as it did in due
time, half of her old beaux were there to
dance and congratulate with such heart
as this resuit had left them .—Nashville
American.
A Queer Scene in Morocco.
Shortly after, there passed us a jet
black fellow on the move to some distant
town, and from the size of his outfit he
must have been of considerable import¬
ance. First came his servants witli his
goods and and chattels camels, picturesquely while followed loaded
on mules he
a s'iglit distance in the rear, jealously
guarding ten dusky wives who rode
astride their mules, two upon each, with
their faces carefully covered from the
contaminating gaze of wicked, wicked
men. Old Alladan, or whatever his
name was, rode in such a position that
he could keep lm jealous eye fastened 011
eight of his wives, but the ninth and
tenth had managed to get in the rear,
and I have an idea that ten women dis¬
tributed au nature! among five mules,
made me smile audibly; any way, no
sooner had old Bluebeard got where he
could not see, than number ten dropped
her face covering white long enough teeth amply to show dis¬
me a row of very
played, a roguish face with an indescrib¬
able smile upon it, and a pair of big,
brown eyes with an unspoken challenge,
in them ,—Boston Transcript, —