The people. (Barnwell C.H., S.C.) 1877-1884, September 27, 1883, Image 1
2, BntioMi Wtlna ud
Uom tobepubikM akmld b« writUn
«■ Mnant* abMl
olearly indicated
icqnirad. __T
S. Articica (or paUkalkM aboold bo
written ia a dear, legible hand, aad on
only one side of the page.
4, All ebaagea in advertisementi mart
rack asoa Priadr.
WE ARE SEVEN.
A. simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its Kfe la every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage girl:
She was eight yean old she said)
Her hair was thick with many a carl
Hut clustered round her head.
'f - ■ a .
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
tier eyes were fair, and very fair;
Her beauty made me glad,
“Sisters and brothers, little auid.
How man; may you be?"
“How many ? Seven in all,’' she said,
And, wondering, looked at me. ,
‘And where are they ? I pray you telL"
She answered, “Seven are we; -
And two of us at Conway dweS,"'
And two are gone to sea.
“Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage,
Dwell near them with my mother."
•
“Von say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Vet ye arc seven!—I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be.”
Thru did the little maid reply,
“Seven boys and girls ere we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
‘ You run about, my little maid.
Your limbs they »re ,live;
If two are in the chnrch-yard laid,
tn ye are only five."
“Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little maid rep ied,
“Twelve step* or more from my mother’s door,
A.id they are side by side._
“My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit—
I sit and sing to them.
“And often after rnnset. sir,
When it is light and fair,
1 take my little [sirringer,
And eat my supper there.
“The first that died was little Jane:
In bed she moaning lay,
“Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
‘do in Uicchurch-yard she was laid,
And, when the grass was dry.
Together ipund her grate we played,
My brother John and 1.
“And when the gn und was white with snow
And I could run and slide,
Xly brother John was forced to gc,
- And he lies by her side."
“How many are you, then,” said I,
• If they two are in heaven?”
The little maiden did reply,
•‘0 master! we are seven."
- But they are dead; thoeetwo are dead !
Their spirita are in heaven 1"
twas throwing words away; for stilt
The little maid would have her iHU,
-And say, “Nay, w* a e seven !"
— WordtworUi.
MY INVALID SISTER/
A STORY OF DOMESTIC LIFE.
My sister Margaret-had been a aad
suflerer for many years. All that broth-
nly love could do to restore her shat-'
b red health ftfid spirits was faithfully
and cheerfully done. For the last eight-
^\cen months Margaret had been my only
l^ortre, for my wife End child had died in
one week, leaving-ma dependent on this bow we torn away from
truly Christian sister for the sympathy
and consolation Which her own sorrows
taugbt.her so well how to bestow.
We both longed for quiet and repose,
for neither could mingle with the gaye-
tle.i of the town, and Margaret's health own; we do not suffer less
BARNWELL. C. H., S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 27. 1883.
•2 a Year.
imi>eratively pointed to the country. To
the country, therefore, we went and had
the good fortune to get settled in a pretty
and wplbfnnvUhed ootlage, - near a rail-
way station south of the Thames.
a dearly beloved schoolmate of my own,
and who had once touched and inter
ested the sensitive heart of Margaret,
but that was long, long ago; and after
many struggles with her affection, Mar
garet had given him up, from the con
viction that her life was so precarious
that the ha l no right to throw its frsil
burden on one who was just starting in
the battle with the world.
I now learned that this feeble child
had lived for him—ehe had lived; but
what a life ! It wae like shutting oat
every ray of sunlight from her heart
yyhen she gave him up. And Albert,
his bright, glad face, beaming all
over with health And animation, and giv
ing promiae of a long ''life, had gone
down to the grave, and this poor girl,
struggling with weakness and pain, waa
left
“ I trail frightened that night at the in
tensity of her grief. She was so weak
that I feared that any additional trouble
would soon deprive her of reason.
Gradually I soothed Iber by talking of
him, and leading her to relate her re
newed connection with him. She told
me that although she bad refused to
marry him, she had yielded to his ear
nest wish of corresponding with him,
and that she hud thus kept up that cor
respondence through the many years
that separated them. There was linger
ing hope in bis heart that they would
yet aee brighter days; but in -her, never,
until this summer had so invigorated
her in health and spirits. Albert had
eagerly noticed this, and in the letter
which she had last received, had de-
elared his intention of coming to see oa.
“Why did you not tell me?” I asked,
almost reproachfully.
“Because I knew that, although you
would have disguised your feelings
for my sake, yon would have dreaded
the separation; and, beside, I could not
have the heart to anticipate any happi
ness for myself when you were so deso
late.”
“Dear sister,” I exclaimed, struck at
her self-sacrificing spirit, “It would have
been my highest joy to have seen you
Albert Thornton’s wife; and as to the
separation, I am not so wedded to Eng
land that I could not have followed yon
elsewhere."
I knew that Margaret often had re
ceived letters from France, bat supposed
them to be from a lady whose marriage
had compelled her residence there, and
who, I supposed, still kept np her cor
respondence. Once I had even said,
when handing her a letter, “How much
Mary Raymond’s husband writes like
Albert Thornton t” It was a passing re
mark, and she went out of the room to
read her letter, and I never thought of
H again. In onr young days Margaret
wished me to love Mary Raymond; and
now we rarely spoke of her, because I
felt that I-hstf disappointed my sister in
not fancying her favorite.
I did not attempt to console Margaret
I knew too well, from my own experi
ence, how little even the dearest friend
can do, except to utter the common
place and stereotyped words of conso
lation, and how little those words avail
to reach the mourner’s heart; how cold
ly come the voices of sympathy while
that heart is bleeding inwardly, and
all, with the
feeling that it “knoweth its ojrn bitter-
ness,'” and must not be intermeddled
with, by even..a brother or sister.
That sorrow has pressed heavily upon
other hearts before, does not lighten onr
because an
other has also suffered; and, feeling this,
I would not bring np to my suiter’s
We liked the pretty, quiet collage; rat's grief subsided;
and as it had been newly furnished the
year before, we had nothing to do but
literally walk in and take poesession,
tnd soon we felt as mnch at home as
they who had “loet the poetry of life”
coaid be expected to feel. To Margaret,
it was my doty, as well as my privilege,
- to supply the place of other relatives;
and from her I received all the kind offi
ces which the enfeebled state of her
health permitted her to bestow upon me.
It was delightful to watch her improve-
nent She did not regain her youthful
appearance, for the roses were feone for
ever; bat she grew stronger and better,
which neither of us ever knew before.
We were very peaceful Happiness
was oat of the question—at least, happi
ness in the most comprehensive mean
ing of the word. The mourning for the
departed had not yeit gone from onr
hearts, although time had softened and
meJlawvxl it down to pensive melancholy,
as sweet as it waa aad,
I returned one evening earlier than
was my wont, and found all things await
ing my oomfort as usual; but Margaret
was weeping over a newspaper in the
parlor, away from her aoonstomed seat
I knew of no intelligence -that could
affect her in Oat way. ^ Our
with the, outer warid’ were very
md tbey^rEoclaimed relationship with
os w«n already amaoved by deaths or by
aipott hn—rantila distance;/and at
these last we had lost nearly
’laaid, “what is it? What
; yon thus?”
to a paragraph in the
I covered bar pale face
I followed the diraatfc*
the dinth af Albart Thornton.
elation.
In a few days, the violence, of Marga-
bnt her former lan
guor had returned. I expected to see
her dreop and fade away daily before
my eyes, and almost dreaded to return
home at night, leet I should find her ly
ing upon the bed from which she might
never arise. , It was altogether a sad ep
isode in our peaceful summer.
There was one thing which uncon
sciously cheered me in thu| boor of trial.
Our near neighbors, the Leightons, con
trary to our intention of making ac
quaintances, had forced themselves upon
os, although in a perfectly delicate way.
They had noticed my sister’s feebleness
wbed we first came, and had watched
from the sense of the delightful freedom her through the slight opening in the
trees, as she passed from the door to her
favorite seat; and they had begun the
acquaintance by sending her baskets of
delicious fruit, the first of their splendid
flowers, and choice vegetables of every
kind.
Margaret ooulcL-only accept and ac
knowledge, and the result was an in
timacy with Flora Leighton, the only
daughter of the family, whose manners
completed the attraction which her
beanty began; ao at least thought Mar
garat, I haard much of Flora Leighton,
and had some curiosity to see the being
who had ao won upon Margaret, but the
waa always out of sight before I came
home, and I never, by any chance, had
seen the bright eyea and pleasant smile
which my sister had described to me.
spiled bar the invisible; but I saw all her
fairy gifts, which Margaret always left
untouched until I came home .the;
I might aee the perfect elegance
her friend’* teste. It waa qatfe a study
the artistic arrangamant of thoae i
nlhripfi; and thtr
jtargaiatwas fMrnlly «h«M hy ita tj>-
propete* Mi
fashioned the gift, remained, to me, in
visible. . _ t , . ~
Margaret rose np from that great sol
fering sooner than I had hoped or im
agined. If she still mourned for A1
bert, it was in silence; and on her cheek
there was no trace of tears when I camt
'home. _ I was engrossed with the carer
of business throngh the day; but atil
found time to think of her, and to rdjoic*
that she had a companion such as sh«
described Flora Leighton. She had
told Flora all, and was startled, and
pethaps gladdened by finding that she
the daughter of Mrs. Thornton’s
sister. Albert Thornton was therefore
he playmate of Flora’s childhood, and
befriend of her girlhood’s days. She
too mourned his death with tfre sorrow
of a tender heart that resembles those
dear ones with an added love, “when
ove is joined to deeth.”
It was near the dose of summer.
People were flocking home from the
country, frightened at the first cool
morning breeze; but Margaret begged
for a longer stay, and I gladly consented.
We had learned to love this qniet re
treat, and any change struck us un
pleasantly. The whole neighborhood
around ns, too, had assumed a less star
ing and comfortless appearance. • It had
mellowed into an older and more snb-
dned look; and others had followed onr
example in beautifying and adorning
their homes. The house occupied by
Hr. Leighton wasprecisely like our own,
and separated only by a slender fence,
which the girls had not long suffered to
remain. At least, Margaret told me that
it was Flora Leightonls superior strength
which had taken down the barrier; bnt
remember, Flora Leighton was still s
mere fabulous person to 1 did not
believe in her, and endeav^Td to make
Margaret confess that she whose praises
isd been so long sounding in my ears
lad really no existence at all except in
her own brain. Something like a pres
ence, a spirit in human form had ap-
leared to Margaret’s vision, and she
called it Flora Leighton. I bantered
her so much that she declared that I
should not see her.
I did not care to see her. If Mar
garet was soothed or comforted, or # her
time lightened by anything like a com
biner, I cared not who the comforter
was. My sister was my only object of
solicitude; and to save her an hour's
oneliness or grief, I wonld sacrifice any
thing on earth. They only, whose
affections are narrowed flown to a
single object, can appreciate my de
votion to my sister. A mother could
not be -more tenderly careful of her
ban I was, subduing my stern man’s
nature to - feminine watchfulness*
averting from her every shadow of evil,
or even annoyance. And not less deep
and strong was her affection for me.
We were bnt two 1” One of our little
tome baud had found a grave beneath
the waters; another, a bright, rosy,
anghing girl, radiant with life and
health, had sunk suddenly beneath acute
and sadden fever, and then our father
md mother departed to the land of
shadows. What wonder if we olnng to
eash-etber ?
That year, October was brighter than
that bright month usually seems. I
uaed_generally to get home sometimes
the'ahortened twilight, and per
haps once or twiOe a week I was able to
reach it time enough to enjoy the sight
of the gorgepua Antnmn sunset One
afternoon I eame quite early, intending
to take Margaret oat in the chaise to
witness the glory of the brightening
woods, , ..
I came softly into the room, and wit
Margaret a lady was sitting by the win
dow, reading aloud. Her voice was
clear and musical; her intonation per
fect, I stepped forward, after listening
to the silvery chime for^a while, and
Margaret introduced me to Miss Leigh
ton. j
She had scarcely acknowledged [my
awkward bbti before she was gone. I
did not see how, nor when she went,
but I knew that, in the brief glimpse I
took of “her, I thought her 'the ugliest
woman I ever saw. As I turned round
from depositing my hat and ooat, there
was no one there bnt Margaret
I told yon so,” I said gravely.
Told me what ?” said Margaret *
That your friend was only a creature
of yodr imagination,^ 1 replied; T ‘n
shadow, an ignut faluwt—and could
never be identified. How otherwise
{lorious harvest moon—as sh6 sailed
hrongh the magnificent blue arch over-
isad. We talkad long of the Bring and
he dead—of those whom distance had
•eparated from ns, and of those whose
memory was still move sacred because
death had set its seal there.
We talked of Albert Thornton; and
then Margaret told me, for the firet time,
what peace and resignation had come
into her heart; and how patiently she
waited for the hoar which should unite
them again.
Thin she talked of Albert’s cousin,
Flora, and told me how earnestly she
had hoped, ail throngh the summer,
that I should see and become interested in
her; that it would have been ao pleasant
to her to feel that, shouM she leave me,
as she sometimes thooglt ah* should be
called to do, she shouM not leave me
comfortless. I was fbuohed by her
tender care of me, which thus pointed
to my welfare, even when she should be
no more. '
It might have been ten o’clook, when
some one knocked at the front door, and
•aked if that was Mrs. Leighton's house.
Hannah directed them, and we heard
footetepson Mrs. Leighton’s gravelled
walk, then a joyful cry of recognition,
and the low hum of oouveroation suc
ceeding. ^ :
We were both silent—I, from estrange
curiosity to know who waa this stranger;
Margaret, because something, as she
afterward told me, straok her as strangely
familiar in the voice that aaked for Mrs.
Leighton. Then came a step to the
onr garden window, and Flora’s voice
called us quickly and impatiently.
“Gome in, come in. Miss Leighton,”
I said.- “Margaret must not face this
eight air.”
8he came in, and seemed to hesitate
as to what she should say or do. Woman
like, she only bnrst into tears and sob-
biag.
Margaret was trembling on my arm,
bnt she did not weep, A voice said :
“Have you told her, Flora? May 1
come now?” “ _
“It is Albert!” said my sister, in s
whisper.
“ Hush, Margaret!”—L answered.
"What folly is this ? You are mad to
think of such a thing 1”
“It is Albert,” she eaid, calmly and
very slowly. \
He heard the words, and the impru-
THE OOIONEL’S RACE.
HOW HI FAIO HM HOTEL BILL.
Wa UtUaAi
atm
Before Colonel W. became comfort
ably settled in life he had many ups and
downs of fortune. Once ha carried a
number of slaves to New Orleans and
made a very successful sale. Heunder-
took, however, to in man his supply of
money by methods which involved more
elements of chance than were connected
with' his regular business. It Was an un
lucky venture, and in a very short time
he found hhnetM with oufy money
enough to pay hie passage oa e boat as
far up the river ae Natehea. Although
he had not a dollar ia his pocket,.when
he reached Natehea he put up at the
best public house. He wore a broad
cloth suit and a silk hat, and sported a
gold-beaded cane with which he would
not have parted for many times its value.
He bore himself with an easy dignity,
calculated to impress ell who saw him
with the belief that he wee a capitalist
with abundant resources, who might be
induced to invest some thousands in the
property of the town.
A week had®early peaeed, and he had
not succeeded in patting enough money
in his pane to pay his landlord. One
Sunday afternoon, when he was serious
ly thinking of making s stealthy exit at
bight, he learned that the roughs and
gamblers, who at that time formed a
considerable part of the population of
Natehea, had assembled on a public
road not fax from the town to witm
some foot races. He at once started
thitherward, and reecVdd the place juat
as an athletic and fk>ree looking fslleW,
who waa exulting over his victories, of
fered in a load voice to bet $60 that he
could beat anybody on the ground in e
race of 100 yard*. The Colonel reme
bered that hqb«I himself been fleet of
foot in his*yYr r \.T days, and, pressed
by dire necessity, he reeolved to try hie
luck on this occasion, go in the pease
which followed the ohempkA’l chal
lenge he stepped forward, and making *
stately bow, said, quietly, “I will tekd^
him a few momenta in contemptuous
surprise; wndsaid, “Well, put up your
as
dent fellow, imagining all was explained
rushed forward and elaapbd Maigaitf ini. With a courtly wave of the hand the
’«is arms. The surprise had well, nigh
killed my poor sitter, and Flora re
pented too late her indiscretion in not
preparing her better. Her sorrow was
so real and genuine, that I undertook to
console her, much as I disliked her
way of oommunioating the surprise to
Margaret. — ;
We were all happier In hour after-
ward, when Margaret was recovered
from her temporary fainting, and was
sitting with herliand clasped in Albert’s
while he recounted the rircumstenoea
coding to the mistake that had been
made. He had been ill for many days
—apparently dying; bnt could not ac
count for the announcement of his death
in the papers. As. soon as he saw it, it
Without further parley the Colonel
was contradicted, but w* did not see the divested himself of ooat, vest and hat,
contradiction, for our hearts were too
heavy for consulting the newspaper.
Margaret's life received a new growth
the happiness that had come to
her. She 'would not renew her objec
tions to many Albert^ because now she
felt that it was better to make the moet
of life while it lasts. She might, per
haps ontlive him, even with her feeble
health, and, at any rate, Ms eonstency
reward.
could she have disappeared^"
“Naturally enough,” said Margaret,
‘out of the window.”
“And this ia the woman yon have been
calling handsome pll. the summer
said L
Margaret fairly cried at my badinage
and my contempt for the beauty she bad
been praising. I ooujd not tell her what
particular feature I thought ugly, in the
brief glimpse I bad taken. It was the
general impression of the whole face.
“Why, she looks, beside yon, Mar.
garet, like—like—forgive me—like *
tiger lily by the beautiful pale thing
that we drag, with its long, slender
stem, from the deep ponds where it
hides.” T-
“She was Albert Thornton’s friend,’
laid Margaret softly.
“So she was,” I responded, “and!
will never tesca you again about her
She shall, henoefortb, be as beadtifal ai
you choose to think her. Can I say any
thing merer
• That night Margaret and I tat up long
wofeliinf the Jovely Orfota WWMho
the hands to come in oouteot with butter
during the pro of wacMag it
butter oaa ho
worked with the hi
the ordinary
the query why the
briefly *■
ICI&.S.G.
AN OLD TIKE SUTTER.
pared, but
who, by an
a fright (Ml
feigned sleep. The
open and admitted a
your bet, thir.” The bully looked af- escape of the
Colonel replied, depreoatingly, ‘There
ith no need, thir, of tint fonaality be
tween gentlemen. I am a gentleman,
and I take you to be one. If I looth
the rathe I will pay you the fifty dollarth;
if you looth it, I do not doubt that you
will act with equal honor."
The rough and desperate men present
seemed to regard this as a very remark
able proposition, and for a time the
challenger waa nonplussed. He steadily
and suspiciously eyed the polite and
well-dressed stranger, end Anally said,
with significant emphasis, “AD right,
old boy; but if there’s any flteksrin*
in this thing, yon may know what to ex
pect”
further
chares one day,
putting th* butter into balls or
the next day an&ffih>B *"*y prices foe
the product ia BosUP- The smoqnt of
■alt used by |Kx. BertW* *
peeiaUyss they do sol
nature of the Abjistious to
ti. F. Bowditok,
in answer to
hand injures the butter,
a masting sf
County Institute. They
follows: “There an
in th# akiB which
The cleaner the h >rw V
the lam obstruction to this process, and
the eastor the wfhae matter of the'body,
or the insensible perspirations, are dis
posed. AD such matter injuriously ef
fect the purify of (he butter, to say
nothing of the ill-effects of tiie beat
temtolnsd in the MU as fpited to
butter.” In addition to these objections rap and speeteolu aiiiff
he might also have added the
danger of injuring the grain of the butter
by over-manipulation.
When the grain of butter ia injured
the butter spreads like grease aad the
more it resembles grease the more
is &e grain in j«Md. Good butter that
has a perfect grain will not stick to the
knife that euta it It is, of course, im
portant that the grain should not be
spoiled by orer-worUng. Wash out the
buttermilk with as Utile working as pos
sible end avoid grinding batter down
against the trey.
Many butter makers do not attempt to
work out all the buttermilk at one time,
and the majority of them wash the but
ter with fresh spring water.
Mr. Bowditoh mea a butter-washer,
and finally to get out all the moisture
employes large sponges, with which he
rolls up the batter rfter it has been
rolled out in the worker, eoathmally
mopping the flattened butter. The
•pongee are kept in tee water. Hd rolls
the hatter three or four Hum, accord-
ing to judgment Half an euaea of
■alt ia used to the pound of butter. He
keeps the butter covered to pwrefft the
it held aloft in a
The poor ashooi-
master thought Us time had eoms, sad
dosed his eyas to say a prayer, i
apparition dfeappearad ia the
to eat savory slieee of ham
aad links of sausage from the provirions
there, and than as stealtlfly retraced Ms
and
Jsst htip yosrvtiL *»y
The good
ogles about notexpeetiag
being washing day,
eat, whieh, fat i
ty of her heart she literally
bettor the corner htootet to than any oth
er, as h baa erect all sroand; and eae of
the fraternity has iamotid a tin to hake
an svub number, fear, so that every oaf
wffl be a corner bheoit. With* “better
dons” baked potato and corner biscuit
the teaehsr is again prompted:
“Now try a HMtemataas; ws <
- IVHistissi ws’rs "
Aad Is year tsa mtysabls?
won’t ym take
eferaaer
and placing them with fate osne upon
the grass, stepped out upon the road,
and put himself in position by the side
of the champion. The spectators
evinced the liveliest interest in the race,
and ranged themselves alcng each ride
of the road. Bets were freely offered
at enormous ^iddr against the rash
stranger, who certainly did
pound,
ounee to the more usual amount
Butter-makers who handle large quan
tities of milk and employ butter-worker*
often use a sprinkler for wml
The water la applied bom a
■mall water-pot provi
sle, so as to dtotribute the water ever the
butter as it Has upon the butter-worker
in numberless small streams. The
water-pot is held ia the left hand aad
the butter-worker with the right. When
the water flow* from the mass without
Iming discolored the process of washing
to completed. It to claimed by advocates
of this process that the water falling in
a spsay over the whole sutfnee of tbs
butter,~oooto it sad gives the proper de
gree of hsriurm I* the westing of the
match for his stalwart competitor; but
The wedding was performed in the lit
tle village church, for so Margaret willed
it, and Flora Leighton was her only
bridesmaid.
He went-bhek to town in November,
and Flora went with us. Albert had
consented to stay in England, and we
made one family. Margaret, still pale,
but beautiful from the soft light of hap
piness that beamed in her countenance,
was onr stay and dependenoe ia house
keeping, and Flora and myaalf bad leis
ure to become acquainted. I saw her as
■he was—noble, affectionate and true.
I believed that, while ehe waa uncon
scious of her own feelings, she really
liked me, whom she had so avoided
throughout the summer. I had looked
at her on the night of Albert’s return,
by the softening light* of the harvest
moon, and thought she was not so ugly
after all 1 And every day afterward I
made some progress in tbs belief that
she was growing pretty. To-night,
ss she site here in our snug par
lor, I think her the handsomest woman
that I ever saw, os I knffw her to be the
beet. We are “very happy now —I and
my wife—for yonder to a cradle which
Flora will not allow to be carried out of
the room, although people tell her it to
an old-fashioned ornament, jmd should
be banished to a nursery. Aid in the
next room to Margaret’s pretty, delicate
girl, in a cloud of long, white drapery,
sinking to her evening slumbers.
a given signal the men darted off amidst
the yells of the delighted crowd. For
nearly the whole distance the two .con
testants, who seemed to be straining
every nerve, kept aide by side, but when
within about twenty yards of the goal,
the Colonel by dint of extraordinary ef
fort, shot ahead, and wen the raoe. He
was now the hero of the hour, and fa he
walked back to the starting-point ex
hausted and almost hresthless, he was
I heartily cheered by the excited specta
| tore. His opponent cams up promptly
and paid him the fifty dollars, end r
the same time challenged him for an
other trial
^o, thank you, thir.” said the (ML
pocketed
wMekat its best to to he
r
Airies to
The Public Ledger says: “Whan the
bride oBherhridal journey to a sensible
not look ■ young pereoB, ate will kefp her silk
suit in her trunk for 4 suitable
sad bed wesrfr on the railway train. A
In the spring we shall take them both
to the beloved cottage, wherp our happi
ness commenced, and where the dead
seemed to be restored to Die, and under
the shadow of the broad chestnut tree
onr tittle Margaret aad Blanch*
drink ia health and beauty with
hreese that plays with their brows hair,
while Margaret afld Floss will aaoaD the
money;
than
on el, as he
xaake H a rule never to nya
one rathe in a day.” '
He then carefully put oh bto vest,
cost, aad hat, placed hie cane under his
arm, made one of his profoundest bows,
and with a pleasant “Good afternoon,
gentleman, ” strutted ooeapkeently away.
That evening he paid hte bill at the
hotel aad took a boat for Nashville.
Colonel W used to relate this in
cident with a relish, mid.when asked
what he intended to do in case he lost
the nee, he would say:
“Well, to tell you ths truth, H wath a
dethperste cathe; but I had mads np
my mind that If I didn’t win, I would
ke«p on running, and never look be
hind until I reached
Harper » Magazine.
»nx was in the dimly lighted raoeptios
room of a dty dry-goodsstetn, aad walk
ing to stall mirror ptoesd against the
wall, remarked : “Why, how eeans ytu
here?” then, observing tores
not to say amusement, on the
tbs other oosupsate of tfc
oow her ntisteks and sqqpkiMi to
itoBfast*. “I fe«gt»ilWPI9
pretty young girl the other day making
an expedition to the Catskills, and leav
ing New York on a rather cool morning,
wore a black tolk dress hut a white
Spanish lace fichu, with a broad Gains
borough hat and nodding plumes. It
got quite cool in the oars on the northern
journey, but there w* no wrap availa
ble. If alto bed a shawl it was pecked
sway in her trank. The groom, who
had given no advice efidseitiy lb Ms
spouse, or, perhaps, didn’t $now,liad a
•tout cheviot suit, and moat have been,
as he looked, quite comfortable. Arriv
ing at the railway terminus and
the stage for the further puD
chatter to see how eonfldsntly the little
bride climbed into the vehicle, still in
the airy fichu, not a scrap of
her shouldm, and her face white with
the cold. Probably in her modest outfit
for
ora woolen ftuff of
ed for the house. If she
on for the journey, and saved
black silk tor home uses, ak
more nearly hare been, eu
the city perepue, who had toft tfcpir
moods at thdbaak, aad had tpfcsa
woolen suits and one oottan **
fortnight’s journey
tains. Hemp, and net
aq£, least of fB, the parlor esn, is
plqee to wear one’s pretty, airy atothaa.
In a public dyowd, oo a journey, all del
icate wear to fare to
rafts, er chilling cold; the
suits ere tbs best tor
lounging.
had pat that
titt lsrel of
quart or more of the thtok yellow
This Injoa psddin’! Voi, ’two*
Ts tabs to eat—toss tl ain't
I altos put’«m is
Ml
One of the old
hold was a sort of
rate to
These eookiee have |ot awful Reid sad dty.
The earaway seed’s like little Mis of wood; '
tat aebbe rea eaa eat eue: now do try;
The ohlMren altos thtok they’re proper
goof."
It would hove broken the good wom
an’s heart to hare seen her cookies go
utouehsd or to hare Md anyons alsa
•ay they wore hard or dry—a tittle fic
tion other own to gira them
of a surj
good thinjp, she atom of
her guests:
“Ces you mobs ream tor flep-Jaeke as year
piste?
Therm steed so kmc I
Itew, don't yea think ea? Ideetera this pie
How many “white ties" the flood
ays of s foamy, tight eake
‘This sweet oaks, sew. It rta
Asd then It fed. Fw Berry,