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HAMILTON COUITY PEESS ONE DOiLAE PEB TEAB IN ADVANCE. DEVOTED TO THE INTERESTS OP HAMILTON COUNTI. VOL. XVL HOPE, N, Y., SATUKHAY, MAECH 23, 1889. J. K ABBOWSMIXH, PiOAidMe, NO. 12. LOOK!! We have jnst received from the Metropolis a full and complete line of FAIiIi GOODS and invite you to call and see oar New Sfoclx —OF— LADIES’ & CHILDREN’S CLOAKS, • men ’ s , • women ’ s and childeen ’ s Dress Goods. IN a l l t h e l a t e a n d d e s i e a b l e U SHADES OF HENEIETTA, TEICOT a n d SEBASTOPOL. DEE88 TRIMMING8, BRAID SETS, PANELS AND GIRDLES. Foot Wear FOR GENTS, LADIES AND CHILDREN OF THE MOST DESIRABLE MAKE AND STYLES. U E K ’S, XOUTHS’ a n d CHDiDBEN’S SUITS, OVERCOATS, Hats and Caps, of great variety and stability. A complete line of RUBBHR GOODS. Do not wait, but come and be cohviViCed of the great borgalus awaiting you at the N. Y. STOEE. Northville, N. Y. Around the Corner. One day my heart was very sad, Oppressed with heavy sorrow. And not a ray of hope arose To cheer me on the morrow. I walked along the crowded street^ A dull, distracted mourner, And guessed not what awaited me As I went ’roimd the corner. There met me one whose sunny face The smile of heaven reflected; The fi-iendly greeting she bestowed Was wholly unexpected. For I had thought her hard and cold, Of lovers’ arts a scorner; But she was taken off her guard As I turned ’roimd the corner. \What cared I though the skies were dark And threatened stormy weather? \What mattered any gilef at aU If we two were together? The blushes that were on her cheek Did regally adorn her; And oh! I blest the fate that turned My steps around the corner. And thus I find it is through life— So full of wondi’ous phases— That when we walk amid the gloom, Or press through tangled mazes^ Feeling all friendl^s and alone, A hoi>eless, hapless mourner. Some blessings surely lie in wait For us around the corner. A. ROBITSHBK, Agent. MAN AND MILLINEE. Circumstances beyond the control of John Twist had prevented him from laying in an abundant stock of coal for the winter, and-it was gratifying to him that he would not be forced to econo mize. It was about 5 o’clock in the af ternoon as he stood there and he ’forgot about the weather and the coal, and je- mamad gl .hg . rn'eamRy 6 lake w'atching the shadows gather, slow ly hiding the outlines on the shore and darkening the intervening eddies until the broad, tessing expanse of water seemed to the man at the window made up of thousands of black imps fighting desperately over something—maybe for the jTossession of a dead man drifting along on the sands below. Somewhat imaginative was the man at the window, and on this occasion more than ordinari ly so. It was the room of a working man but there were books about, and one lying on a chair was open at the <Story ‘ of A. Gordon Pym”—^the worst kind of reading for twilight. He stood at the window watching the water until it became dark, and then he sat down in one of the rickety chairs the room afforded and fell to thinking again. He was mentally comparing the season -with different ones in the past, and the expression upon his face failed to indicate a satisfactory result. Trans lated, his thoughts rambled on some what in this style: “Ten years isn’t a long time, but there’s a big difference. I couldn’t rea sonably complain of the outlook 10 years ago. I liked the work on that Minne sota farm, and I liked the prospect of the time when I’d have Hetty and we’d own the little place alongside her father’s. Hot much of an ambition, but comfortable. Then the miserable quar rel with Hetty, and the railroad life, and the accident crippled me, and then thia kind of an existence— ^station w ork! It’s pretty tough! Wonder what’s become of Hetty? Married, probably, to some big- shested fellow, and settled down along side the old folks. Well, it’s been had for one and is bad yet, but I’ll face it somehow— I ’d like to know about Hetty.” He dropped off to sleep in his chair, and dreamed -with double nightmare power. He thought himself on the Minnesota farm again, on good terms with Hetty and all the rest of the world. Then various queer things happened. Hetty eloped with A. Gordon Pym in a light wagon. He started hotly in pur suit, when he was caught up by a bird and carried off, suspended by his cloth ing, to the Horth Pole, just as Uncle Sam is in the picture on the soda foun tains. After trouble with the polar bears, he got away to Tartary, where Kubla Khan’s great-great-great-grand- son, the Khan of Krueitusk, consigned him to the veiled prophet o£ Khorassan to be boiled in a caldron of ^ot pitch. He got away again, only to fall into difficulty with two Mandarins in China— ^Fou Fou and Hari-Kari. They wanted to cut his head off for a button for the cap of the great Panjandrum, but he escaped while they -were fighting for the honor of carrying the button. He fled into India, and the great Grimgraffin gobbled him instanter. Again he escaped by marvelous luck, and was chased for seven days and nights by a company of thugs riding Brahmins. He crawled into a big cannon on a big fort for a hiding-place, and then there was more trouble. They touched off the big cannon and John Twist was shot back into his own room on the lake front in a moment. It is not difficult to have fan tastic dreams, especially in a ■ chair in a room near railroad tracks. Then he got up and went to bed and slept better. H . In the small room on Clinton street whose window curtained her modest sign, Miss Hetty Parker, milliner, was engaged at Work Saturday evening. She was sewing on a baby’s garment, for Miss Parker’s millinery business, in the strict sense of the word, was, unfor tunately, not extensive, and she was glad to eke out a livelihood on work a little out of the regular line. • The world to her as she stitched, probably, didn’t seem just as it did to ihe mother for whom those pretty things were bilng made, for Miss Parker was. quite- afen: in the world, with pend on, and^ to bo all alohc is a grievous thing for a woman not strong- minded. She was not strong-minded, this patient milliner, and she felt her isolation keenly. She was not pretty, nor otherwise, perhaps, but her face had something womanly. about it, and if she had grown into some slightly old-maid ish mannerisms and ways of thinking the fact was due rather to the force of cir cumstances than to any natural bent. She was musing about it all. “How time does pass. Only 10 years ago, and tomorrow such a diffenent Sun day 1 Minnesota such a long way off— and to think of the deaths and my drift ing away down here! What happy days! But such changes, such changes! Dear me!” The milliner rubbed her eyes with an inexpensive, but neatly trimmed hand kerchief, and resunied work pensively upon the baby’s garment, all frilled and pleated and garnished, as young mothers like them, and the milliner unconscious ly became interested in her 'work a little. She held up one finished article and in spected it, “I do hope it will suit. It’s a perfect beauty. How nice the baby will look in it.” ‘T wonder where John is now! Poor fellow! How cruel and foolish I was; and how sorry afterward. I wonder if he has forgotten me, or what he would say if he could know I am alone in the world? What foolishness! He must be married somewhere and never thinking of the past. Oh dear! It’s a hard lot for a lone woman, but maybe it’s all for the best. I’ll do my work as it comes and be as brave as I can, but it’s gloomy.” The little milliner finished her work and carried it home at nightfall, and came home again. She said her prayers, and cried a little before she went to bed, and then slept as a tired woman sleeps. Scarcely up to the conventional ideal is a warm February day, but it has its advantages. People will go to church, for instance, on such a day more readily than when there are icicles at the eaves and the wind is ruthless. So when this Sunday morning came like a morning in April, and the pleasant clangor of the church bells went abroad over the idle city, people were attracted as they had not anticipated and came out upon the streets in hundreds. Into one diurch in particular, a steady throng kept pouring, a church whose bell had an especially inviting tone, and whose general smooth exterior and expansive doorway seemed to indicate a Christianity not too austere, an orthodoxy not too straightlaced for the masses. There were all sorts of people in the gathering congregation. Came the business men who, with a half regret that money making must be suspended for a day, wanted to doze away an hour of the enforced rest. Came the well dressed women who could not endure that one opportunity for display should be omitted. Came the beaux and belles, who saw each other and saw little else. Came the mu sic lovers, who delighted in the organist and choir and cared not for the preach er. Came the many whom the church belles had charmed away from their homes, they could not tell the li w nor why. Came the devout few, wno in their hearts were thankful for the past and prayerful for the future. Came a rugged man with a twisted\ leg, who limped and whose w’ays were rather awk ward, but whose face was not without its interest. Came a neat little woman of about 30, clad plainly but attractive ly, quietly decorus in all her . ways, fol lowing the hymns, and not unmindful of the sermon. The exercises of the day went on in the church, the organ’s notes and, the voices of the singers filled the air. with pleasant sounds, and then the preacher talked. He talked tolerably well, too. It was a discourse full of earnestnesi^ less listened befoio Ke closed TO < . ^ the efid came the ‘congregation—at least the impressible—felt a little as if start ing out on a new’journey with new im pulses, and added hopes and better in tentions. The closing exercises past, and again the deep notes of the organ sounded, and keeping involuntary time with the steady measure,’ the congregation surged slowly out upon fhe street and into the world again. There were many people and the walk was full. A mass is always unwieldy, and ’ careless, and in the great crowd the weaker drifted with the pressure rather than walked. What wonder, then, that a slight figure in a trim, plain garb should | be carried close to the gutter, so close as to be in imminent danger of being forced quite off the pavement, and what more natural than that a rough man 'mth a twisted leg and jjlaia clothes, but a gentleman’s instinct, should reach oiit an arm to rescue her. ‘ ‘Beg pardon, ihiss, you’d better take my arm till the crowd lessens a little. The slim woman in plain garb looks up into the face of the rough man in ^ plain ditto as she takes his arm. Then she turns pale for a moment, after wMch a flush comes over her face. At the same time he looks down upon her, and he too becomes as pale as death, but he doesn’t blush afterward as she does. The paleness dies away gradually. “Hetty!” “ Oh, John!” There is a momentary timidity and in decision about each of them, then he draws more closely the arm she has taken. She comes nearer with a kind of flutter, and they go on with the people. But they do not separate when the crowd lessens. They break the silence between them again after a time, and they have a. great deal to talk about. They explain, much and fcogive much and regreti much. Then they consider the present.. A laboring man with a lame leg and small pay and a milliner with little custom can scarcely establish a sumptu ous household. “Well somethifif^may bring them better fortune. They can do more where each has sympathy. They think they can Hve comfortably—happi- ly, anyhow. And that same April breeze which has got into February fans their cheeks; and it does seem to them that no frigid, frosty, Winter’s day, such as the old songs tell of, could compare with this.^JStar-/3ayinffs.
