De Queen bee. [volume], September 03, 1897, Image 7

About De Queen bee. [volume] (De Queen, Ark.) 1897-current

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QUEEN BEE.
■ EVANS & WINFORD, Proprietors.
a the« ~
ctioJnE QUEEN. • • • ARKANSAS.
‘kJ
—
epref THE NEW CUPID.
J —
■ He gazed at nie wlthoilt surprise,
| g f J calmly and collectedly.
■ A ■ I scarcely could believe my eyes,
' \y c met so unexpectedly.
Iu Vet he It was beyond a doubt,
■ A visible reality,
For little wings were sprouting out
TrJ Not granted to mortality.
o S
T r »■ jsut where the arrows, where the bow,
11 111 Employed with such dexterity?
l> 3B quiver, too?—1 did not know.
And asked in all sincerity.
TrasS A frown appeared upon Ids brow,
u J He answered fne with chilliness;
MB •‘Ttey’re antiquated weapons now,
To use them would be silliness.
0/1
tblrl "For mortals grow, from year to year,
'■ More highly intellectual;
■ j‘ haVeS ome little missiles here
ar «B That always prove effectual.
allyl j sling them forth—they’re sterling
-’oq-B gold
■ A few may miss, conceivably,
■ gut any heart that’s hard or cold
*’■ They damage irretrievably."
ted. I
■ **jty force of gold! O. Cupid, think
a ‘l The foul, debasing force it Is!
t(J f| j g this your boost?” He gave a wink,
tutl And answered; Why, of course it is;
the I 1 saw in) chance when Cupid died,
I And seized it with avidity.”
I 'Then who on earth are you?" 1 cried
P*> I He smih-tl and said: ‘'Cupidity ”
(10-l —London World
hIT-llli GLOSE
<*F, ■
■ BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING.
'd, I 'Copyright, 1894, by J. B. Lippincott Co.)
R I
| XL
I At ten o'clock that dark and gloomy
?'BSuntiav night Mr. Lambert stood in
‘ ■(runt of his tent, leaning on his sword
. liuid listening in silence to the confer-
■ mce going on between his commander
, land the civil officers of the law. ( lose
■ had come home in high dtnlgeon, and
tl" a '- as llsUll l' ,u, d cautions, but
■ more than usually reluctant and suspi-
Icious. Euming over the failure of the
. | mission on which he had started so
■ confidently, believing himself "tricked
.| bv the en mv." ami now offered ample
| revenge ami assured of success through
| the informalion tender* d him. lit never
| their- , faltered. Lambert, returning
| from the round of his sentries, was
| taken unawares by the sudden question •
| “This gentleman says the old lady
| J.new just where we had gone and just
I vvhet we would get back W hat do von
I think of 11 '?”
| ‘‘lt -a matter I know not hing about.
I nir," was the answer, “except that she
I ’■! av she was writing a letter to be
I n you on your return this evening,
| and in- tantlv corrected herself by say-
I ing < n y out return."
I "A i's. Here's the letter, by Jov> , nnd
■ it's worse puzzle than before. And
| here's the deputy marshal back with
■ increased powers, new orders, search
| variants, and God knows what all.
I I’m w illing enough to back you in deal
| ing with men. Mr. Parmelee." said the
I captain, turning again to the eager
| civilian, “but the lieutenant has had
I these sentries posted 40 minutes ami
I there hasn’t been a sound. I don’t
| wart any searching of a house that
I hold nothing but women, because you
I think some of your jail birds are
I there
I "I te]| you. captain, there’s no room
■ for doubt. The negroes have seen
I them. They told Mr. Jarvis, here, and
I told him th,- mult s were to be there be-
I fore ten o'clock to carry 'em off out of
■ harm's way . Your man Murphy admits
I he saw one last night one of the
I Seroggsf ... sure, by the description, and
I his brother is with him there. I'll bet
I a hat."
I "I don't believe it." sturdily answered
I Close. “Only last August she turned
H Walton Scroggs awav from her door
I with such a tongue-lashing as I never
| heard; an' that's saying a good deal.
I She forbade him ever -et t ing foot wit li
| in her gates again. I heard her; so
I did half the men in this company."
I "1 know all about that, lie has been
n in love with his cousin, the elder of the
Waltor. girls, as long as 1 can retnein
} her. and because of his shiftless habits
the old lady wouldn't listen to it. 1 hen
they took to meeting by stealth, and
she found it out. She discharged old
i Rasmus for no other reason than that
he carried letters for them. Ive tried
to bribe him twice to toll where Wai
Scroggs w as hilling, but the old nigger s
a damn fool with a starving wife. too.
They tell me he was seen round here
a day or two since, asking for Riggs,
fl nd he's been carrying letters again.
I old lady wouldn’t have him there
before, perhaps, but she would shelter
him now, when the government de
mands his surrender. But. even if she
wouldn't, Esther W’alton would. 1 tell
, v, »u they’re there, captain, and they 11
be off ami ( ,||| () f n)ir peach this night if
you fai] to take them now."
< lost- w as pulling on a soldier’s over
coat nt the moment, and stopped to
listen to some sound down the dark re
cessp H o f tj,,. “bottom" along the wind
ing st ream.
“It’s the mules now!" began Parme-
R’**. excitedly, but ('lose held up a warn
ing hand.
it is, my men will nab 'em, that s
fi i*. Now you’ve been the means of mV
hikin’ the men on morflfn one long " Htl-
goose eha.se afoot-that telegram of
yours was enough to give the whole
scheme away— and of my bein' invited to
be damn fool enough to fight two duels
this afternoon. Both Col. Scroggs and
Mr. Barton Potts, by thunder, want me
w) go out and be shot because 1 pre
ferred to satisfy myself Mr. Wai
Scroggs wasn’t in the old Gibson place,
stead of fakin' their word of honor for
it. 1 here s a sick lady there who was
scared of Yankee uniforms; but I'd
rather search all Tugaloo and Quitman
and hell together than rout out old Mis'
Walton to-night. They can’t get out
past my sentries. They’re sure to be
nabbed if they try. Let ’em try, I say.
It’s the easiest way to settle the whole
business. Then they tan be arrested
without disturbin’ anybody in the
house,”
But Parmelee was dissatisfied. Be
had been chaffed, jeered at, maddened
over the escajx* of his prisoners. Two
of them the worst of the lot, so far as
he could judge—were here now, within
his grasp, if he could but persuade Close
to act. He had still a card to play, and
it was a trump lead.
“I did send you a telegram steering
you to Gibson’s, and I did it because
the marshal himself so directed; for it
was he who was sure that was where
they had taken refuge. Scroggs and
his precious kinsman. Potts, probably
got warning in time to send their two
refugees away, and now they’ve had the
cheek to hide them here, right under
your nose. Talk about the record
you've made as a preserver of the peace
down here; how'll it read all over the
north that, after being released from
jail in the presence of ( apt. Close's com
pany, the worst of the gang men un
der indictment for murderous assault
on United Stall's officers in discharge of
their duties came and took up their
residences across the road from (apt.
Close's camp and dared him to take
them. That’s the way it’ll read,by God,
if you don’t act to-night."
For a moment Close simply stared at
the man. Parmelee was no fighter, man
Io man, steel to steel; that the war vet
eran knew well; but the A ankee school
master of ante-bellum days had learned
to use his wits and his tongue. He
could argue, if he couldn't face a bullet.
The stalwart soldier who. single-hand
ed. had captured a squad of astonished
trench defenders before A'icksburg and
had faced the blazing buttle line with
dauntless front a score of times, looked
helph -sly a moment into the face of
this keen fencer, then turned appeal
ing!) to the young West Pointer, us
though to ask: "Isn’t there something
in your education to answer this?” But
Lambert was silent. From first to last
the lesson taught him at the national
iif..ulemy vv subordination of the mili
tary to th? civil authority.
"W i ll go ahead. You’re boss. I s’pose.
I can only follow. What d’you want me
to do?" said Close.
"1 want you to search that house and
get those men." was Parmelee’s answer.
\nd then there was another moment
of oppressive silence; then sudden start
and alarm.
Down the Tugaloo road to the south,
at the farthest corner of the fence
which surrounded the Walton place,
there was ;i pathway leading through
the brush to the level "bottom" below.
Somewhere in this direction, but be
yond the corner, only a few seconds be
fore. had Iwen heard a sound like that
of a brav nipped suddenly in the bud —
of a mule’s essay at vocalism checked
summarily with a club. At this point
wlu r< road and pathway came together
Lambert had posted Private Green, a
reliable soldier of many years’ expe
rience, and when Green challenged
there was reus n for it. Ixivv and stern
his voice was heard distinctly at the
listening camp: "Who comes there,
followed almost immediately by the
sharp order: "Halt! Hall, or 1 the.
Waiting for no order, Lambert was
off like a dart, Burns following w ith a
lantern. Again came the cry: "Halt!"
but the promised shot was not heard.
Even when running al speed past the
gate of the Walton place, the young
oflu-cr could not resist a quick glance
at the dark facade of the old homestead.
Already a light was dancing along the
porticii, another gleaming at tin upper
window.
"What's the matter, sentry?" he
panted, as he came upon the dark figure
at the turn of the road. <■ reen. with his
rifle at "ready," was peering into the
gap in the tangle of shrubbery.
"Some one was coming up there, sir,
and ran the instant I challenged. I
ought to have let him get up to me and
then halted him. but I had regiilations
instead of sense in my ’head," said
Green, a New Englander with a propen
sity for talk. "He's out o’ harm’s
way—”
But Lambert waited to hear no more.
With Burns at his heels he sprang down
the dim pathway, ami had not gone 30
yards Iwfore he came upon some strug
gling object, crashing into the brush
towards ' the stream. "Halt!" he
shouted, and. while something halted,
other somethings, w ith muttered oaths,
went plunging on. He heard a splash,
hoofs clattering over gravel, the lash
ing of a whip, and then all was still
across the dark open space through
which flowed the sluggish "branch.
But here among the bushes were two
wondering quadrupeds, one a mule
with broken britllc-rein. the other, as
Burns’ lantern speedily showed, a
Cherokee |M>ny—both saddled. A cor
poral came running to join them.and in
a moment the beasts were led back to
the road way,where Close and Parmelee
by thistimestood ready to receive them.
One glance was all the latter needed.
“What did I tell you, captain?” said
he, in triumph. “That is Wal Scroggs’
own pony, and t he master’s hiding t here
at the Walton place."
I en minutes more and a strange, sol
emn scene was being enacted at the
head of the steps leading- up to that
'road, vine-covered old porch, whose
dingy white columns loomed dim ami
ghostly in the glare of lantern nndian
dle. The door was thrown wide open,
and on the worn coping-stone, calm,
dignified, erect, even though leaning
heavily upon her cane, a lighted candle
held high over the shimmering gray of
her well-poised head, her stately, slen
der form garlved in some dark clinging
robe. stood the mistress of the house,
the clear-cut, pallid face standing forth
against the. black Ixiekground of the
hallway like some exquisite cameo, the
thin, sensitive lips quivering just a
1 rifle at the drooping corners of her
firmly-set, almost colorless mouth. In
front of her, his brown head bared, his
burly form nearly concealed in his light
blue overcoat, an almost pleading
look in his soft brown eyes, was Giese,
the hero of a score of battles. On his
right, folded and formidable-looking
documents extended in an unsteady
hand, also with uncovered head, stood
Parmelee, representing the majesty of
the law. To the left of the commander
ami a pace retired, buttoned to rhe
throat in the uniform of his rank and
girt with sash and belt, stood young
Lambert, obedient to orders. Behind
them, and almost at the top of 1 he steos,
armed and equipped, a sergeant ami two
soldiers of the guard. Baek, farther
down tlw steps, still others were
grouped, the fixed bayonets gleaming
in the light of the two lamps, one held
by the amazed w oman at the threshold,
the other swinging from the gloved
hand of the sergeant of the guard.
“What you say, sir, is absurd —impos-
tlble. At no time, under no circum
stances." Mrs. Walton was saying,
“could the gentleman you name be se
creted in that room."
“Madam," replied Close, his deep
voice trembling, "nobody can feel more
! .l/'’ rjg i
mW
Os
otlolgl
•‘I reckon, trentlemen. I'm the man you want.’ -
sorry about this than 1 do. I'd rather
go through the whole war over again
than be here on such an errand to
night, but a soldier must obey his or
ders. I saw him. madam, at, that win
dow. Tiie.se gentlemen saw—”
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen, sir. never
would connive at such an out rage. 1 “at
is my daughter's room —Miss Esther
Walton’s."
Dead silence for a moment, solemn
and impressive indeed, for Close turned
helplessly to the supporters on his
rigiit. unable to face such majesty of
confidence and conviction, unable to
say the words that could sound only
like insult intensified. It was I’arn elee
whose sense of duty rose superior to
exalted sentiment.
“Madam,” he began, stepp’ng for
ward, “these papers are full warrant
for my notion. I know two men to be
secreted hen'. T, too, saw one at that
window, ami the law must take its
course.”
“Stop!" she cried. "1 have said that
was my daughter's room. One of your
party, at least, has the Appearance of
a gentleman. Lieut. Lambert, is H
possible that you-that any graduate
of West Point can stand here and per
mit such outrage as this? Would you
allow your sister’s room to be searched
for—o'h, my God! nothing we have had
to bear was comparable to this. T rive
you my word of honor no such man is,
or has been—”
But she got no further. Out from the
dark hallway, with bounding step, tall
slender and athletic, sprang a young
fellow with the warning cry: “Mother!
not another word."
She strove to check him as he pushed
his impetuous way past. her. Willi a
wail of anguish unspeakable she threw
aside her enne and seized him by the
arm. Down went tbe candle sputter
ing to the floor. “Floyd-Floyd! Oh,
my l>oy, what have you done?” she
moaned, and bowed her gray head upon
the broad young shoulder.
And then, with just »i touch of the
melodramatic in his bearing, the youth
folded his arms and stood erect be
the astonished group of officials.
"I reckon, gentlemen, l‘m the man
you want.”
Close looked at him in bewilderment,
then turned to Parmelee, whose I'aee,
whetllier through fear or excitement,
was twitching nervously, and who
stood staring blankly at the stranger.
From the hallway came creeping hur
riedly forth a girlish form, misery in
the streaming eyes and disht veled hair,
and Katherine Walton threw herself
upon her brother’s arm, sobbing con
vulsively. * Hush. Kate," he whispered,
in almost stern reproach. “Hush, child.
Go back to your room;” and though
now he enfolded his mother in the em
brace of his left arm, he strove io free
the right. But Katherine would not go.
And still, though here apparently was
the sought-for prisoner, no man stepped
forward to claim him. Officersandmen,
the nocturnal visitors looked blankly at
one another, at the stricken group upon
the threshold, and were silent. Then
with sudden gesture, as though he
could no longer l>ear the strain, the
young man broke loose from Kath
erine’s clinging arms, and. gently un
clasping his mother’s hands, once again
addressed himself to Close:
"I say, suh, 1 reckon you’ve come I
for me. I’m ready to go with you at
once.”
And then, with wonder and relief in
their faces, with sudden check to sobs
and tears, mother and sister lifted up
their heads and stared at the embar
rassed officer. Lambert gave vent to an
audible gasp of delight, for Close, turn
ing slowlv upon the silent and aston
ished deputy, and with a world of sup
pressed w rat h in his deep tones, growled
fort h:
“A’ou’ve i»ot no w arrant for this gen
tleman. I never saw him before in my
life, and never heard of him as lieing
mixed up in any trouble. This is young
Mr. Walton, isn’t it?" he suddenly in
quired of th" stranger, over whose pale
face a look of bewilderment was creep
ing, and who for a moment seemed un
able to reply. It was Mme. Walton
who, with quivering, ashen lips and
with hope, fear, yearning, anguish in
her eyes, found voice to say:
"This i<s my youngest son, suh—
Floyd Walton.
“You say," she continued tremulous
ly, “you have no warrant, no cause
for his arrest. Then in God's name go,
and leave us in peace. I am not well;
ami on my word of honor, no other
man is hidden—”
“Mother! Hush!"
A door hastily opened within — the
door leading to the room to the left
of the entrance, the room at whose
window Close and Pannalec could swear
they saw the dim figure of a man peer
ing forth as they entered the gate. A
heavy footfall resounded through the
hall. A light streamed forth from the
open room, and a woman’s wailing,
shuddering cry followed the tall power
ful form that came striding to the
front. With a look of horror in her
eyes, Mrs. Walton staggered, would
have fallen, but for the clasping arm
of her son, upon whose breast she now
leaned, pant ng for breath and glaring
at the newcomer, to whose side now
sprang- Esther, her long black hair
streaming down the white wrapper in
which her tall figure was enveloped —Es-
ther, who strove to drag the stranger
back from before her mother's eyes.
“You here? You?" was Mrs. Walton's
gasping cry. “And in—that room?”
“Mother!" wailed the elder daughter,
throwing herself upon her knees be
fore the fainting form-—“mother, lis
ten. Oh. make her hear me, Floyd!
Mother, 1 am AValton’s wife.”
But the words fell on senseless ears.
The lady of Walton hall slipped swoon
ing, till they caught and bore her with
in the open doorway.
“Well." said Close, a m unent later,
“what, do vou want done with your
man Walton Scroggs? One’s enough
for this night. I suppose."
"One's enough for me, as things have
turned out. Now. what are you going
to do with the other?”
"Leave him here, with his mother,
where he ought to be. of course. A’ou ve
got no cause to arrest him."
“But you have, anyhow.”
“I! What. I'd like to know?"
“Becans*' he’s a deserter from the
United States army."
[TO be continued,]
Very Trne.
An excellent reproof once given by
Gen. Robert E. Lee to two members of
his staff i*printed in the “Life,” w ritten
bv John Esten Cooke. On one occasion
two members of his staff >sat up late at
night discussing a keg of whisky and a
problem in algebra. Upon meeting one
of them in the morning Gen. Lee in
quired as usual after his health, and
learned in reply that he was suffering
from a headache. “Ah, colonel,” re
marked the old man, “I have often ob
served that when the unknown quanti
ties x and y are represented by a keg
of whisky and a tin cup, the solution of
the question is usually a headache!"—
Youth’s Companion.
Unprepared.
Mary —Please, mum, the castors un
der master's armchair creak most ter
rible. Hadn't they betiter be oiled?
Mrs. Moffat (newly married) —Cer-
tainly; but I am afraid we have no castor
oil in the house. —Answers.
—A French autograph collector says
the signature of Christopher Colum
bus can always find u buyer at £BOO.
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL.
Intci-:<ntlonnl l.cMxon for September
5, IS!»T—Gentile* Ciivinu for Jewish
th rist i;< ns-11 < orlnt !i InnH t>: I-1 1.
[Arranged from Pcloubet’s Notes.]
Gi-LUEN TEXT— Fur ye know tho
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that,
though He was rich, yet for your sakes
He became poor, that ye through His pov
erty might be rich.—2 Cor. 8:9.
THE SECTION includes the passages re
ferred to below in connection with alms
for Jewish Christians, ami the whole of 2
Corinthians, especially chapters 8 and 9.
TIME. —The second Epistle to the Cor
inthians was written in the autumn of A.
I’. 67, or nearly In 68, a few months after
the first Epistle.
PLACE.—Written to the church in Cor
inth, from one of the churches of Mace
donia, probably Philippi.
EXPLANATORY.
I. The Need of Liberal Giving.—Vs.
1, 2. 1. "As touching the ministering
to the saints:” Paul refers to the col
lection he was taking up in Macedonia
and Greece for the poor at Jerusalem.
The Jewish Christians were, as a rule,
from the poorer classes. The opposi
tion to them as Christians made it dif
ficult for them to obtain work for their
support. A large number of the Jew
ish Christians were proselytes from va
rious distant countries, and without
their natural means of support. “It is
superfluous for me to write to you:”
I do not need to press upon you a duty
you are so well performing (v. 2). But
there were brief remarks and sugges
tions to be made concerning it.
11. The Power of Example in Giving.
—Vs. 2-4. 2. "1 boast * * * that
Achala,” Greece, of which Corinth was
the chief city, and where was the prin
cipal church, "was ready a year ago:”
(2 Cor. 8:10). They decided to raise the
money, and began with great enthusi
asm, but apparently their zeal had
cooled a little, and the collection had
moved slowly. "Your zeal hath pro
voked:’’ lu a good sense, “stirred up,”
awakened similar interest in other
churches.
3. “Have I sent the brethren:’’ Titus
and his two companions mentioned in
chapter 8:6, 16, 22, who were about to
proceed to Corinth to attend to this
matter. “Lest our boasting:” Our
glorying, our praise of your generosity.
“Should be in vain:” What a slur upon
them, what an evil example to others,
what humiliation to himself, if their
generosity should be but wind and
clouds of promise, without the rain of
good deeds! “That * * * ye may
be ready:" Prepared with the money,
collected from week to week, as the
Lord had prospered them.
4. “If they of Macedonia come with
me:” Paul was attended from city to
city by traveling companions, who con
ducted him on his way. As he was
now in Macedonia, it wan in accordance
with the usual custom that Macedoni
ans should attend him to Corinth.
111. Liberal Giving will be System
atic.—V. 5. "Necessary to exhort:" to
entreat, “the brethren:’’ Titus and his
companions. It was work they did not
like. They would rather preach the
Gospel and aid Paul than to go about
raising money from those who should
have given it freely. "Make up before
hand:” Put fully in order, complete.
“Your bounty:” Literally,"your bless
ing," expressed in your gifts. "Ye had
notice before:” Not announced to
them, but announced concerning them.
IV. Sowing and Reaping. One Great
Principle in Giving.—V. 6. “Be which
soweth sparingly:” This is the uni
versal law, observed on every hand.
“Bountifully,” “with blessings. The
plural denotes a variety of blessings."
—Beet. The two laws of sowing are,
first, we shall reap what we sow, or
what naturally grows from the seed.
If we sow to righteousness, we shall
reap righteousness; if we sow to the
happiness of others, we shall reap that
happiness.
The second law is: That we shall reap
in proportion to the. sowing, only more
abundantly. If we do little for others,
if we give little for the progress of the
world, if we spend little time or effort
in growing good, or doing good, the
results will be small.
V. The Cheerful Giver. —A T . 7. “As he
purposeth in his heart:" As his heart
decides that he should give. "Not
grudgingly:” Literally, out of sorrow,
constrained to give when he. would
rather not, as he would taken disagree
able. medicine, or have a tooth pulled.
“God loveth a cheerful giver.” There
is no mistaking its import. God loves
a whole-souled giver—one who is not
ashamed of the cause for which he.
gives—one who. with a strong, buoy
ant, joyous confidence in the cause, in
the men who are working with him for
it, and, above all, in the God wluo di
rects the work, gives freely, heartily
and with a swing.
VI. The Divine Rewards of Liber
ality.—A’s. 8-11. 8. “God is able to make
all grai'e abound:” Grace —favor, gift.,
whether temporal or spiritual, tho
means of giving, as well as cheerfulness
in the act. “That ye * * * having all
sufficiency:" It. is the state of mind
w hich, needing nothing but the barest
necessaries, regards all other things as
superfluities, to be parted with when
ever the needs of others require them.
“That, ye * * * may abound to every
good work:” God has dealt bounti
fully with us that we. may be able to
be bountiful in helping others.
10. “Now he. that, ministereth." i. e.,
God. “Both ministers:” This is not a
prayer, but a statement of fact. “Bread
for your food:” He will take care that
your own wants are cared for. “Mul
tiply your seed sow n:” Your means of
liberality, of doing good to others, and
the results and harvest.