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VOL. X, LAKE PROVIDENCE, EAST CARROLL PARISH, LA., SATURDAY, JUNE 19, 189. NO, 1.
r CHAPTER X'-Contlnued.
Once in her room, Margaret did not go
to bed, but changing her dress to a
light wrapper she ran to Miss Hilton's
"Are you asleep?" she called, softly.
l Being answered in the negative, she
opened the door and entered.
"Dear Miss Hilton," she cried, going
to the side of the bed and placing her
hand with caressing gentlenn-s on the
hot, throbbing brow. "Are yu better?
You should have let me stay with you."
"No, dear, I'm glad I didn't. I really
feel much better. Your bathing had a
magical eff, ct. " I have been asleep ever
so long, and I feel wakeful now. Did
you have a pleasant evening?"
"Yes, so pleasant. The Colonel was
really quite charming. I forget to feel
unhappy even a moldent."
"I hope you will aiways know such
forgetfulness, Margaret. You have so
much to make you happy, so many who
love you dearly. My brave little woman
must not give way to this despondency.
Bit here for a while, if you are not too
tired, and we will talk. Was Alice quite
r "Yes, perfectly. And so happy, Miss
r The note of pain in the low-spoken
words tilled Miss Hilton with vague
sadness, but she answered very quietly:
"Naturally she would be happy. I
should be sorry to see her otherwise.
Margaret, child, are you doing quite
I There was a moment's silence after
this abrupt question. Margaret buried
her face in her hands, while a hundre I
doubts and questions rushed through
her mind. Then, looking up with a new
determination upon her face, she said
"Yes, Miss Hilton. I have gone over
,that old catechism with myself so many,
many times. The trouble lies with my
views of life. I guess I started out with
ideas of ideal love. I have found real
ity, and it is disappointing. I have
sach a capacity for happiness, or pain,
that I almost frighten myself. All these
awrcdi ae actine within me now."
Miss Hilton sighed. "I am sorry to
hear you talk so," she said. "I want to
leave you happy and contented."
"Leave me?" repeated Margaret, look
ing up in pathed surprise. "You cannot
"Yes, dearest, I do. I thought you
might understand it. I've been think
ng of it lying here, and I intended tell
ang you to-morrow; but it's just as well
Margaret allowed her hand to rest on
Miss Hilton's brow with a new gentle
ness in its touch.
"Only duty takes me from you," con
.inued the old lady, with much feeling.
'In leaving you, I feel that I ani part
ing from a daughter; but toy sister is in
great trouble over the recent death of
er husband, and in her affliction my
place is by her side. I am sure you un
derstand this, Margaret. Dear child.
my heart will always be with you, and
you will not need me when you are
"I think I shall always need you, Miss
Hliton," returned Margaret, with an
effort to speak bravely; "but, of course,
I would not be the one to keep you
while duty calls you. Ah, how I hate
duty! It is So hard-so cruelly hard."
SWith these passlounat words, Mar
garet buried her face in the pillow, and
Miss Hilton, drawing the brown head
clove beside her, satoked it with an
infinitely tender caress.
"Has duty been so hard for you?" she
"I have no right to complain," was
the self-reproachful answer; "no right
at all. I am low-spiriteod and nervous
to-night, and the thought of your leav
ing me.makes me feel that I am really
and trul giving up my old life, and it is
I am 'orry you feel such regret, Mar
garet. I wish I ,ight lay it solely to
your low spirits, but I fear there is a
Sdeeper reason than that. I wish I coulti
make you see your new life in its true
light, and teach you that, with all its
aided duties and responsibilities, it
holds the sweet hopes and tender possi
blllties which complete and crown a
woman's life. You understand me,
, "Yes: I am so anxious to learn, Miss
Hilton, while you are here to help me.
I wish I did not grow so attacbed to old
. friends and old eustoms. I wish I could
-love half way, but I can't. I love with
- all my soul, and I hate in proportion. I
:5 should like to change my nature, if that
were possible. I want to do better; I
,.wanmt to help myself and helj Brian, and
I am iso weak, Miss Hilton.
I :he paused, with a half sigh.
, Your desire will make you strong,"
tworn the quiet reply. "I don't think you
have a weak will, Margaret."
I Margaret caught the suspicion of a
smile on the old lady's face.
., "No," she answered, half-smiling in
: h turn, "but it is a very unreasonable
wr3i,'Mles Hilton. Always wanting to
p what it shouldn't. I find it very
: mubbIeome. You see, I have depended
. you so long, I have found so much
ort in your sympathy and advice,
J shall mise you more than I can
But I am paining you. I will
any more. I would not have
tk hat I am placing my selfish
4 before your manifest duty. I
be tempted todo so in my present
, i4~ftnid, so I had better go to bed.
S' su$ there is.nothing I can do
will be a real pleasure." i
. drew the anxious face
, stllo and kissed it with a linger
happy." she said, "that
wi tre above all things; andI
*tt- i rmuch qf Brian at thst.
presssed hope, Margaret lay awake for
many hours, thinking of ?4iss Hilton's
words, and making many resolutions
for the future.
CHAPTER XI .
From the beginning it had been agreed
that Margaret and Alice should be mar
ried upon the same day, and the double
wedding, bath from the circumstanc:es
connected with it and the social prom
inence of the principals, created no lit
tie sensation in the society of S-.
The interest communicated itself to
all classes, and the fortunate few who
were present on the o.!casion were se
cretly envied by the less privileged out
The latter contented themselves with
specuiat.ons and prophecies;and the wed
ding journey was accomplished and the
two young matrons had settled down to
their new duties, before they ceased to
a:r their opinions.
Margaret had laid aside her mourn
ing, and for the first time since her un
cle's death Elmwood was the scene of
festivities. But otherwise her life was
much the same as it had been for the
last twelve months.
Her attitude toward Brian was un
changed. She was kind and consider
ate, but no warmer feeling marked their
intercourse. Any demonstration of af
fection on his part called forth anger on
hers. She might scold herself in the
secrecy of her own heart; ehe might
a'one for it by a hundred extra atten
tions, but the feeling was there, wait
ing but the occasion to show itself.
And Brian saw it. As time went on he
learned to repress his natural desire and
approach Margaret with only friezplyI
It was all wrong. Margaret was forced
to admit, in her moments of self re
pr,,ach. Yet who was to blame, Brian
or she? Marriag', had wrought a greater
change in her life than even she had
anticipated. With Miss Hilton's de
parture went the helpful companionship
and cheerful influence which meant so
much to her.
Even Brian seemed to miss their com
mon friend. He certainly missed some
thing; though what was not very clear
to his own mind. He felt it in a grow
ing dissatisfaction. The restlessness
which constituted such a large portion
of his make-up began to assert itself
with unresisting force. He found his
days monotonous, and the ennui, which
he laid to the dullness of country life,
Margaret ascribed to lack of definite
purpose and settled employment.
"It is nothing in the world but lazi
ness," she asserted for her own con
viction. "He knows it, too; so I sha'n't
tell him. I'm tired of everlasting
preaching, and I dare say he'll soon
grow to think I married him for nothing
in, the world but to play the shrew. I
hate it. Nevertheless, he sha'n't keep
on this way. That I'm determined on."
In spite of this resolution, Brian did
not display any fresh industry, unless it
was in going to the city, where he was
fond of spending his time.
At first lie returned home every even
lng, like many of his neighitors who were
regular commuters, and went to busi
ness every day; but in time he failed to
recognize even this duty, and his visits
to New York lengthened themselves into
days, and occasionally a whole week
passed without Margaret seeing him.
lie always had an excuse--the thea
ter, his club, the importunities of a
Margaret received all in silence.
"Whether I go or stay matters little to
her," decided Brian. But he was mis
His indifference pained his young wife
more than she would have admitted per
haps. She had really started out with
the determined purpose to make up in
emunest endeavor what she lacked in
warmth of feeling, and her sense of
failure was very keen. She could not
bring herself to reproach him because
she doubted her right to do so.
But the right to feel was certainly
She was learning some bitter lessons
during these early days of her married
life; and not least among them was the
contrast which Alice's life offered to
She would return from her visits to
The Cedars. from the atmosphere of per
fect happiness which seemed to reign
there, to feel her heart overcome by a
rush of feeling and filled with a vague
and Indefinable homesickness.
Unusually heavy-hearted she came
one evening from a day spent with Alice
and the Colonel. It was growing late,
and the Colonel had wanted to come
I withher as far as Elmwood, rut this
'Margaret had opposed, declaring that
she would not be either lonely or afraid.
Yet, after she had started, she did feel
lonely, and she began to wish for a
companion in her long, cold walk. The
winter twilight was beginning to fall,
and through the indescribable melan
choly of the darkening scene, the trees
waved their bare branches like spectral
arms. The wind soughed dismally
among the dead leaves, and even the
faint red in the sky had a chill effect
against the low line of gray hills. It
was all unutterably dreary, and Mar
garet gave a sigh of relief when she
reached her cheerful sitting-room, with
its glowing fire and comfortable, luxur
She was somewhat surprised to see
Brian standing before the mantel. He
hadl been in New York for several days
and she (lid not know of his return.
"I am glad you have come at last," he
said, looking up at her entrance. "I got
here about four o'olock to find you gone
and the place as lonely as the deuce.
Did you en.oy your ride?"
"I didn't ride," returned Margaret,
extending her hands over the rosy coals,
"I've been walking."
'Walking! At this time! Not.alone,
"Why, certainly. Who would I have
with me. The Colonel did insist on
coming, but I wouldn't allow it, of
course. I was not afraid. Only the
least bit lonely, and-I believe I am
Brian did not notice the almost imper
ceptible break in her voice, but he did
notice her pale face and wearied air.
Without a word he drew a chair to the
fire, and seated her in it. Then bend
ing over her, he said 'with much anxiety:
"I'wlsh you wouldn't try our strength
so far, Mararet. The walk *as too
long for you,
"I don't think so, Brian, I am-not
bl i .t wlk ltal, I ~ tor d s'm
"I'd have some say in that," responded
Brian, Ignoring her closing words.
"Walking for the purpose of dropping,
would be a very sensible performance,.
wouldn't it? I wish you wouldn't walk
without me after this."
Margaret elevated her eyebrows
rather expressively. "What an unself
r ish man," she returned. "How many
wa:ks do you think I could take under
those circumstances. For the last
month, yoi:'ve been home only at night,
and not every night by any means. I
have a prejudice in favor of sleeping at
night. I think I shall still continue to
I take my walks alone Your mind is
above such simple delights."
With these words, Margaret bent her
I head and watched the p nk lines between
her fingers. Brian walked to the otner
side of the room, and played a tattoo
on the window.
"It is so dull here," he remarked, after
a moment of this performance; "and as
you don't care whether I stay or not, I
don't see the use of spoiling my pleas
"Don't spoil your pleasure for worlds.
If taking some interest in your home is
likely to do so, you need only forget you
have a home."
"My home!" he reneated, with a bit
terness raised by her half-concealed
sarcasm. "When I consider my posi
tion here, do you think I can call this a
: A change passed over her face, ani
for a mnoment she could not answer,
though when she did it was in a tone
whose lightness belied any deeper feel
"I always gave you credit for a fair
share of sens', Brian, but now I lind
you sadly wanting. If you think I am
going to humor your bad temper you
a e mistaken."
Brian was not mollified at these
"It is no use in turning it off that
way, Margaret," he said. "Your actions
tell me plainly that you married me be
cause you felt under obligation to do so.
You blame the one who marries for
money, but I think marrying for pride
is just as bad."
"How dare you!" broke in Margaret,
when anger permitted her to speai. "I
I wonder you have the effrontery to say
such things to me, and I wonder how I
can sit here and let you say them. Now,
don't excuse yourself. You are forever
insulting me and then begging my par
don. I'm tired of it. Sometimes I wish
you would stay in the city. That is-I
don't wish anything of the kind. I'm a
" goose. Please go and fix yourself for
Sdinner. I will soon be ready, and I
i hope you don't intend to go to the table
r that way."
3 Brian acted upon this hint to make
1 himself more presentable, and during
, dinner he tried to make his peace with
Margaret. In this he was successful,
as usual, for her ill-temper was short
lived. At the same time, he noticed
that she was paler and thinner than she
t had been a few weeks before. I\hat
was the cause, and why had he not no
1 ticoe the change?
"Don't you ever grow tired of Elm
wood?" he asked her, with a rather sharp
"Never!" was the deQided answer. "I
I love Elmwuod too well. I believe it
t would break my heart to leave it."
"It is strange," he added with a sigh;
"a differ n-'e in disposition, I suppose.
The life which brings you happiness is
all emptiness and disappoitnitent to :me.
- The shadow of a seeming reality."
"I think you make it only a shadow,
5 Brian. It could be better, 1 know. You
have the talents and advantages to make
t a great nman."
"In theory, Margaret, but not in
practice. My laziness, if you will, is
1 too thoroughly ingrained for that. You
don't like lazy people, do you?"
"Indeed I don't. I wish you'd find
some other role just for novelty."
"Thanks; I'm afraid my nature is too
conservative; though I don't know but
what I may try my skill in medicine for
y- our benefit. I don't like your pale
! cheeks and heavy eyes."
"That isn't complimentary," laughed
Margaret, avoiding his glance. "I as
sure you these signs of decline may be
t attributed to nothing more alarming
than a consumption of midnight o 1 over
the latest of Ouida's novels. You see
r I am learning bad habits in my old age."
Brian was not satisfied with this ex
u planation, but he did not pursue the
I subject further then.
ITO BE CONTINUEr.I
Bull Beats Lion
"The lion has been called the king
of beasts, but I will back a bull of
Sgood fighting stock against anything
I that wears hair," said C. W. Court
right. "I was traveling in Mexico a
few years ago and at Monterey a little
one-ring circus with menagerie at
tachment was exhibiting. In the
outfit was a large and ferocious-look
ing lion, which was proclaimed as the
Sterror of the animal creation. A
Mexican cattleman was an interested
I spectator, and while the tent was full
he mounted a seat and offered to bet
the proprietor of the show $1,000
that he had a bull that could whip
Sthe lionin ten minutes. The wager
I was accepted and the next day set for
r the battle in th3 local bull pen. The
lion was turned loose in the inclosure
and a young lamb thrown to him.
IHe killed and ate it, and the taste of
Sblood seemed to make him frantic.
1 Then a black, wiry, Spanish bull was
- turned in. Without a moment'shes
itition the lion sprang at him, but
taurus caught him on his needle-like
lhorns and tk'rew him thirty feet. The
lion did not appear anxious to renew
ihostilities, but the bull was in for a
tight to a finish. He rushed at his
enemy and gave him another savago
toss. Thelion retired to the farthest
corner of the inclbsure and tried to
scramble out, but was clubbed back.
The bull made another rush, and this
time he drove a horn into his antago
nist and nearly disemboweled him.
Every bit of fight in the lion was
gone. The bull stood. in the center
of the inclosure, pawing and bellow
ing, and the terror of the animal
ikingdom was dragged out and an at
tempt made to save his life. The
I bull was boss from the moment he
entered the area"---St. Louis Globe.
THE price of anthracite coal is to
Sbe raised again. The gentlemen as
sociated in the Beading combine
assert, this is putely in order to get
the busines on a stable basis, but it
-roo muoh as tWbaLsh th would hfit.
l .&± ir stamf y-W ir WkW o t te
GREEK AND TURK.
WHIIY THE FORMER BITTERLY
HATES THEI LATTEIL.
Awful Devastation of the Greelab
Island of Scio by the Turks
How the Greeks Avenged
HERE are passages in modern
SGreek history which explain
the unquenchable hatred of
the Greek for the Moslem.
Some injuries may be forgiven, others
leave behind them a running sore
which hever heals. Such a wrong is
the massacre of Soio.
Over against the reaboard of Asia
Minor, within seven miles of the beach
on which the surf breaks and in full
sight of the old Pagus Lange, with the
town of Smyrna nestling at its base,
the Island of Scio or Chios wooes the
Western breeze with her oils and
wines. Like most of the Aegean is
lahlds it was born of fire and sulphur
and lava, but after a time generous
nature swathed the rugged rooks of
the southern extremity with a cover
ing of alluvium, on which the citron
blooms and the lentisk lends its frag
rant bark to the knife, so that the
gum mastic which the girls of the
Orient love shall flow.
From the remotest antiquity a race
of islanders were grown to fit so sweet
a landscape. The men were tall, sin
ewy, brave, trained to handle their
small craft in the stormy seas when
the hurricane blows; they led .quiet
lives, at peace with all the world, and
kept out of wars when war was every
where else. Nowhere, even in Lesbos,
were such beautiful girls raised. They
were taller than the Greeks generally,
with exquisitely rounded forms, flash
ing black eyes and rippling hair, which
hung loose over their shoulders.
For a thousand years Scio was the
happiest of the gems of the Eastern
sea. Its chief city, basking on the
eastern beach, with its face to the ris
ing sun, was rich and quiet when the
gutters of the other cities of that re
gion flowed periodically with blood.
When the time came that the 'lurk
swooped down upon it, the people ac
quiesced, lot the Moslem set up his
mosques and went on chanting "Ave
Maria" as devoutly as ever. Chance
favored it. It'was made the demosne
of the Sultana dowager, and a wild
rage for chewing gum having broken
out in the seraglio at Constantinople
it was discovered that the precious ar
ticle could be best manufactured:from
the gum mastic of Chios. Thus the
owners of lentisk groves grew rich.
In the times of the later crusades
the Genoese wrested Chios out of the
hands of the Turks,held it for a couple
of centuries, and left their marks all
over the island in the shape of con
vents, churches, colleges, hospitals,
libraries and palaces. Then the Turks
reconquered it. But the softness of
the air mitigated the ferocity of the
temper of the Moslem; the cres
cent floated over the castle of Scio;
bat the Christians cultivated their
fields without molestation, and at the
beginning of this century they num
bered 90,003 of the hundred and odd
thousand of inhabitants. When the
Greek war of independence broke out,
the Chians did not at first see that
they were called upon to take part.
They read the papers in their quiet,
easy-going way ant kept their passions
well under control. But when news
came that Greek blood was flowing on
the mainland they rose in arms and
locked up the Governor in the castle
without doing him any harm. He
dispatched a swift messenger to Con
stantinople to say that he had fallen
into the hands of the Philistines and
that he was prepared to endure what
ever Allah might send.
The missive reached the hand of
Kara Ali, the capondan pasha, or lord
high admiral, who was just then start
ing from the Golden Horn with his
fleet to chastise the Greek rebels. It
occurred to the capondan pasha'that
it might be a good idea to drop in at
Scio on the way. He brought his
fleet to an anchor in the roads and
landed 15,000 troops, chiefly janisar
ies. These were joined by robbers
and adventurers from Smyrna, who
were ferried across the narrow strait.
The islanders were taken by sur
prise. They had no military organ
ization and were unprepared to fight.
They offered submission at once and
protested that they did not propose
to dispute the Sultan's authority.
The capondon pasha pointed to the
castle where the Governor had been
imprisoned and quickly observed that
he proposed to give Soio a lesson. He
let loose his soldiers, bidding them
treat the island like a scaptured city
which had been given up to sack.
The Turks went about the work de
liberately. They took two months to
accomplish it. They began by hang
ing the archbishop, the heads of the
clergy and the principal citizens; their
bodies were thrown into the sea and
floated round the Turkish ships until
they were eaten by fish. The capital
city, a score or more of flourishing
villages and the splendid churches and
convents built by the Genoeae were
then burned to the ground. The peo
ple were penned up in corrals, the
males being separated from the fe
males. The former were killed to a
man ; the latter after a judicious se
lection had been made by the Turkish
army and n-vy officers, were sent to
Constantinople to lbe disposed o[ in
the slave market.Gordon seasve that
the men who were slaughtered num
bered 25,000 and that 45,000 girls and
children were sold as slaves. Certain
it is that the price of comely young
women deolined fifty-per cent. in the
slave markets of the Levant during the
year 1822, wlach was the year of the
Several thousand Chiau, men and
wome, took retgp is the olefts of
*b. b4i and ,la4ed lialkatL O thest
taken off at night in boats by sympa.
thizers from other islands. Quite a
number were bought or ransomed by
citizens of Smynaa. Of those who ex
patriated themselves, the balk wan
dered through the Mediterranean cities
in a state of destitution, and for many
years Chian beggars invested the
streets of Genoa, Marseilles sad Bar
celona. Among them were women
whose countenances showed remains
of marvelous beauty, destroyed by
hunger, coldand privation.
Gordon says that there was a time
at the close of 1822 when of the80,000
Christian inhabitants of Solo in 1821,
only 2000 remained. • This appears to
be an exaggeration, but there is no
question but so far as in them lay the
work of depopulation Which the Turks
understood was thoroughly done.
At the appalling newi', the blood of
Greece boiled. Even the tepid fluid t
which jog.trotted through the veins of r
European statesmen was slightly
stirred. Remonstrances couched in t
decorous diplomatic phrases were ad- t
dressed to Constantinople. Mean. E
while a secret council of Greek leaders
resolved to strike back. The Turkish
fleet lay at its anchorage in the roade I
of Scio, the officers toastingtheir dark
eyed captives in goblets of Chian
wine, and trying to divert their griefs I
with song and dance. Under cover of 1
a moonless night there crept out of I
the northern darknesstwo small Greek -t
brigs, outfitted as fireships, filled with
gunpowder, pitch, tow, tar and Greek
fire, and manuel by Constantine Ca
naris of Pseara and thirty-three sailors I
who were ready to give away their 1
lives. They had taken the sacrament,
and had been blessed by the priest. 1
Canaris had seen to it that a barrel of
powder stood handy to blow up the
craft with all on board, in case he
failed. When the black night fell, he
sailed in noiselessly, steering by the 1
lights of the Turkish vessels, and
aimed straight at the bow of the
Turkish flagship. When he struck
the chains, he grappled them and
made fast, driving his brig under the
counter of the flagstip as far as he 1
could; then he set fire to his craft,
and sheered off rapidly in a rowboat
shouting "Victory to the Cro4h I"
The fire crept swiftly up the tarred
sides of the man-of-war, leaped the
bulwarks, licked up the rigging, ran
along the deck and probed its way
down the hatches. In a few minutes
it enveloped the magazine. There
were over 2000 men on board, sailors
and soldiers. They were demoralized
by the looting in which they had en
gaged. Discipline had been relaxed;
the officers found it impossible to tight
the fre with vigor and method.
Presently the flames gnawed the base
of one of the masts, and it fell with a
crash. Foreseeing what must come
I next, the Capondan Pasha, whose arms
and hands had been burned in a vain
attempt to check the oonflagrati0,
leaped overboard into his gig and -
dered the sailors to row to. the shore.
Bumt just as they were shovi ý off an
other mast toppled and fell athwart 1
the Admiral's boat, striking him a
blow on the head whiold broke his
skull. He lived to be landed on the
beach of the island he had devastated;
then hvdied, just as the chant of the
Ramadan rose in the night air, and the 1
explosion of the magazine on board I
his vessel sent 2000 of his countrymen 1
Six months afterward the Greek 4
fleet lay off the island of Tenedos 1
awai tin; an attack, which much prove
fatal, for the Turkish fleet, over- 4
whelming in numbers, encircled it on
every side. Again it was a dark,
moonless night, and the watch oh the
Turkish ships slumbered in security.
Through the glcw, over the dark
waves, as eight bells sounded, the
same Constantine Canaris sailed silent
ly, every man in his little craft hold
ing his breath and awaiting the grat
ing sound of the scraping of the Greek
sloop against the sides of the Turkish
flag ship. It did not take long, when
the jar came, for Canaris and his brave
men to fasten their grapnels to' the
Tnurk and set fire to the combustibles,
with which their deck was loades. As
the flames darted up the side, Canaris
pushed off in the dark and shouted:
"Turks you are burned as af Solo!
God save the crossl"--San Francisco
Ifow iIe Lost a Frlcn.
"'I had a friend once who had a
horror of lending money." said a well
known sporting man last night. "He
knew me. and knew me to be perfectly
good for any debt I might contract.
He and 1 were in Chicago pnce, and I
got broke, cold broke. I needed $100
badly and had no one to turn to ex
cept this friend. I went to him and
told him that I knew his prejudice
against loaning money, but said I need
ed a hundred so badly that I was will
ing to take the ehanoe. 'I know you
to be good for a $100,' said my friend,
'but I warn you right now that if you
borrow that amount or a knhundred
cents from me I will never speak to
you again as long as I live.' 'To per
dition with your friendship,' said I;
'what I want is a hundred.' Ho pulled
out his wad and gave me five twenty
dollar bills. The next day I tried to
talk to him and he would have nothing
todo with me. After several other
rebuffs I stopped trying to force my
company on him. I paid the money
back when I said I would, but even
alter the-debt was canceled he would
have ,othing to do with me. That
was ten years ago. I have seen him
every day or so in alt 4hat tihe, and
he has never made the slightest re
sponse to my overtuar. I don't be
lieve his own father could borrow $2
from him and expect to retain his
friendship. He is oedrtainly. a funny
maa."-New Orleans Timel-Democrat.
SNevada for many years has had but
one Baptist Charo~ This is st Rono,
,nd nor a aenond has beeu establiahed
SWat dswortb, t 4Ae miles di
.)Iowr h mo O u&.
BILL ARP'S WEEKLY LETTER.
PhIesopb~r Talks of he Old Tim Postal
NE IS BESIESED WITH QUESTIONS.
CorirWondenee With Old Friends a
Great Pleasure to the Sage of Bar.
tow-The First Nuptials of His Re
There is perhaps no invention or
contrivance that has brought more
comfort to mankind than that af let
ters and their easy transmission by
modern postal service. How wonder
fully cheap they are and how swiftly
they come and go! Only 2 cents to
the utmost limit of the United States,
say 4,000 miles,. and only 5 cents to be
carried across the ocean. It takes only
2 cents to carry a letter to the City of
Mexico, but it takes 5 cents to bring
My wife says that it is hard on Carl, I
for besideq his weekly letter to us, he
has many friends, and the girl he left
behind him, and his postage is quite a a
-tax. She thinks I ought to write to t
President Diaz and Mr. McKinley and
demaild reciprocity, just for Carl's
sake, but I compromised with her by
promising to inclose a dime in every
letter I wrote to the boy. In almost
every mail that comes she is on the
lookout for a letter from some of the
absent ones, and when she gets one
she reads it two or three times and
files it away on her side of the room.
The morning and the evening mail has
become as important an event in the
routine of our daily life as our daily
meals. It is an event that has grown
on us and become indispensable. Time
was when neither she nor I received a
letter a month, for she I ad no lover
but me, and I had none but her and
our postal pystem was a darkey boy.
It was like that of Zeb Vance, who
received a note from some fashionable
woman in Washington with the Iyste
rious letters, "R. S. V. P."endorsed on
it, and when he answered it he put on
one corner "S. B. A. N.," just to keep
up with society, he said. When she
asterwards asked for an explanation he
smiled and said: "Oh, they stood for
'Sent by a nigger.' "
I remember when the postage had to
be paid at the last end of the line by
the person who received it, and it was
23 cents if it came 500 miles. If less
than that, but from out the state, it
was 18 cents, and if within the state,
it was 12) cents. We had no decimal
currency then, but we had the seven
pence (12i cents) and the thrip (61
cents) and they were worn to the quick
from constant use. Nothing told their
value except their size. We received
the great United States mail twice a
week and the tooting of the stage dri
ver's horn as he rose to the brow of
the distant hill aroused all the people
of the little village, and most of them
gathered at the postoffice to hear the
news. Perhaps there were as manyas
twenty weekly papers taken in the
town, but none of them made mention
of murders or suicides or lynchings or
elopements or baseball or football or
bicycle races or the fashions or re- I
wards for guessing or advertisements
of celery compound or photographs of
men or women or babies or the arrival
of anybody less than a president or a
governor. But in our state papers
there were some little pictures or outs
of hasty departures-runawas--and
all were uniformly advertised: "Ban
away from the subscriber, my boy
Dick, etc., and I will give $10 reward
for his apprehension."
But now the letters-ab, the letters
that come every day! Besides the
family letters from kith and kin, there
are scores from good people who are
working for church or charity, or want
information, about Florida or Mexioo.
Very often am I comforted with com
pliments which I love to receive, and
very oftedf I get 4 good, long letter
from some old-time Georgian who for
half a century has been living in
Texas or Arkansas, or somewhere- in
the great west. It pleases me to re
ply to all and make the best answer
that I can. But perhaps I had better 1
say just here that I have long since
ceased to write compositions for the
school girls or to assist the boys in
their debating societies. I wish sin
cerely thqt I had time to help them,
'out I have not. I know how it is, for
I used to get help myself.
But some of these letters are smus
ing. One received a few days ago Is
very aurgent to have my opinion upon
the propriety or impropriety of a chris
tian man digging a storm pit and get
ting in it when the cyclone gives its
warning. Is it sinful or not to show
such lack of faith in God? He says
they are making a church question of
it in his community. I have had ser
eral :etters asking for assistance in
guessing the missing word that The
Constitution offers a thousand dollars
for. These letters, of course, are econ
fidential, and some beg me nob to
mention it even to Mrs. Arp. But the
delicious humor in one of them is fhe
offer to give me half the reward if I
will disclose to her the word. That
is very like the generous fellow who
5ild the boy that if he would furnish
his own hooks and lines and bait he
would give him half the fish he eaught.
Since my last letter about how to
raise children was published I have
had several very comforting epistles
from friends and some from strangers.
Rev. William I. Stricklald makes
mention of several families from old
Gwinnett whose yidren areall grow
andare esteeme b. all who knmw
Ithem as good pe.ple--hone . tbW'
the thre.o~ lopee v dkw ol
one of whom now ivesm is Amants, and
has ive sons and rive laghtera, all
grown up and all good men and wo
men. John and Mary B. SammenS,
his wife. had thirteen togrow to mea
turit, and they were all good. How
rich these parents werel-richer than
Vanderbiltor Astor. And so were the
children of D. W. Spence and Wash
Allen. One had eight and the other
Well, now, one of the reasoq is that
all of those families came from old
Jwinnett, bnd most of the children
were from that old Sanmons stock
that lived on Aloovy creek when I was
a boy. The first couple I ever saw ,
married outside of my father's homse F
was Jim Dunlap and Rebecoa Sam
mons, and Jim outmarried himself
when he got her. That was an old
fashioned, country wedding, and it
was a big one. They had turkeys and
roast pigs and pound oake amazing,
and they had thousand-dollar candle
sticks all about, for every likely negro
boy had a torch. But my wife and I
left there forty-six, years ago, and did
not know that these good people had
had so mane children. May all such
be perpetuated. And I have a good
letter from Buena Vista, telling of old
Dr. Reese, who has raised seven boys
and two girls, and they are all good,
sober, industrious, Christian children,
and had a gentle, kind, loving, Chris
tian mother, who ip now among the
angels. That is it, after all-the
mother-the mother-the gentle,kind,
loving, Christian mother.
So I am encouraged to recall my ap
prehension concerning the black sheep
being in all large flocks of children.
-Br.z Aar in Atlanta Constitution.
"I am hopeful that you will pay me
that $10 before the end of the week,
Smithson." "That's right, old man.
Be hopeful, but dop't be sanguine."
"I believe you men think more of
your wheels than you do of your
wives." "Why not? We can get an
improved make every year."-Chicago
"I love to have you come and see si- ,
ter, Mr. Tompkins." "Why, Dickle?
"'Cause she never likes that candy you
bring her, an' gives it to me."-Chlcago
Fisher-Do you believe in heredity?
Mann-Sure. Many a time I have ne
ticed that when a man was rich his
son had the sane trait.-Cincinnati
Miss Wabash-So you come from
Boston, do you? That's where every
body is so cultured, isn't it? Miss Bea
constreete--No; cultivated.-Somerville -
Blynkins-That fellow, De Soaque,
says some very dry things, doesn't he?
Wynkins-Yes, I've heard him say
"Don't care if I do" repeatedly,
"If poker is our national game, then
the American beauty rose ought to be
the national flower." "Why?" "Be.
cause it has such a royal flush."-Chi
M:nnie-Gcorge said I ought to go on
the stage. He said that he had no doubt
I would be a peach. Mamie-Are ynu
sure he didn't say a Cherry?-Indian
"Do you think your son will get
thropgh ctege?" "Yes, I have every
reason to believe he will. fe passed
his first foot-ball game splendidly."
Tommy-Paw, what is a designlng
villain? Mr. Figg-Oh, 0m depgp
tion would apply to one of these poster
artists About as well as sahaing.
He-Have you heard my new sapg,
"The Proposal?" She-No; what key is
it in? He-Be mine-er. She-I will.
(And now.you can tranpose it to the
key of "A fiat."-Life.
"'Tain' alias dem es hab de Aloes, .
said Uncle Eben, "dat manages ter ohe
onto it de longe'. De cuilud gPmam
don' git bald nigh es quick es d4 white
Reed-All the origial Jkesr werem
written 2000 years ago. Wright-ba -
nonseme! I'll leave it to you, new. Pr
I look as if I could be more thanu00
years old--Clncllnatl Inquimre,.
"You do not go put often+ to dimer,
Mrs. Waddington?' "No. I don't think
the best dinner on atth ' tdmiM~
compensastion fir maklpg gaqpV i
agreeable for three hourns St & s tre..
Bugby-Our landlady Is ode ao th
most expert calculatei in town. W-i
klins-Is she? Rugby-Yap. .We as
beans for dinner tds~y, ad sIie ased
me how many I woUld have.-Clve'
land Plain Dealer.
Professor-Say, Anna, couLdn't ire
just as-ell postpone aor adlhAE uw
ding-au celebrate it at th s~ame Uti a -
as thd golden weddtig? I don't like to
be interrupted in my work so ofte.e
"Poor Dick is gonel He was a 4'
voted cyclist~ wasn't be?" "Ye, In
ded! He left a will stating that he
was to be cremated and used to held
out on oar new cinder path."-Loat s
Old Lady-Poor fellowl I suppoe.
your blindness is incurable. Have yeoa
ever been treated? J.Blcia Man-es,
mum, but not often. "'ata't man -: -
likes to be seen going late a baxri
with a blind beggar--arrtforstJtfT4
Mrs. Spooner--ChariS , -o yis kak
you would ever Le.a,'l. 41gt Mr
Spooner-What, after Vltig In w.ith
you fortenyears? Nevtrl ])StlSpofl
er would gite somethle hdmee V
she only knew jaust what be meant be
JudgeAre you awqre ofa p2g '
Cramin-Yes, yeor Henort thIy
fitteth tiUe I have beeseee