{ title: 'The Seneca County journal. (Seneca Falls, N.Y.) 1885-1902, December 25, 1889, Page 1, Image 1', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn90066128/1889-12-25/ed-1/seq-1/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn90066128/1889-12-25/ed-1/seq-1.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn90066128/1889-12-25/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn90066128/1889-12-25/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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SEMECA COUNTY JOURNAL. D Z y O T I V TO TJTE S E 3 T IX T E '^E B T B OF TJTE FEOFLE ITT CJTITFiCJT A K F S T jlT E . VOLUME 5 . SENECA FALLS , N Y ., WEDNESDAY , DECEMBER 25 , 1889 . NUMBER 43 S c i c c c i C o i n t i j J o j r p a l . THE JOURNAL PUBLISHIIW CO, | ^:ti^4ECA FA L L b . U. Y. F R A N K N . S T E V E N S , ' B-usiiifira u.nd r. TEKOVXS! r m NTV S i i i.- j,ill .■ lU ( 'A.k!:i;.K. - - S i ., , W fit'll [ u i'l i . .I.lvilliri . m m t m m fl, 11 , iiiMffliim CUSTOM TAILOR T H E F I N E S T I M P O R T E D A N D D O M E S T I C G O O D S M A D E T O Q R D E F i A T T H E L O W E S T O F P R I C E S , A N D A m m A S s s o l i L S t e f y P u r e « (lUlTEllilAl'N’S WIFE. Ey H. E ID E E HAGGAHD. iPl Qi'aritch, V. C„\ \Mr. \.1 Tale nf Three Quilter»uthi 13\ etc. Ai'thiii Ilf \I '\tnnel Mi-is.;’i \ Win: l.iiiii'i.\ \.iltaii \Jess ('H A P r a R I. ) T MAY 1)0 re- ^ nicinbi-n'il t h a t in till- last pages of h isiliary, w rit ten just before ; his ileatli, Allan y u a 11- r 1)1 a i n makes allusion to his lull;,' (le a d w iff. vtatin^? lliat Ilf h.is uT’itton of h e r full\ o N p - wluTP. Wlii-uhlisilealh iv i';!;;- I v V T iiiH 4’u .ui'i VT.<U-uiMi-iM Ms. More PiSFECT FIT GOARANTEEB lit >U t* UtSIMASH CAKl»S—\t« t •• U li;; I'l.i'MiifTj’far. I»l si>FSs Norn Ls- 1 h li.i • . i L . i OR MONEY EEFmEB. 9 ! F A L L S T R E E T , 3£)ITECA FALL3, - If. Y . ^ ^ u j s . s « : a e 2 p i : C i i 4 l ’^ i 2 r i t a s 5 » I L. FOSTER CEuVvELL, | Q .w iG i 1. > ' '■ ' 1 v*^ 1 ra-i 'lii\ '!• i'l ■ t *1 .!. 1 - i . 1 I ■ . . i t>‘» *’n f i‘i' 'i\i ! t’L I JOHN E. hiOKAIT'^CN, A 1 l» .1 M- j \ Vi. « ' ' . • ••. M I AU / \ M- i M ' M, V .1- 1 M . t JOHN F. OKUoBY. M. 0 . T3UY\U i.‘ \ \ M> -I » '. I ■ ‘V • .iL . . X Y l*uliNT., lUi.i ..'•itf I t 1 )!. ii-t «>a.i u A 1 ' i - . . 1 • ' ‘ 7 V. M. l<> ' 1 M. vvi ' * • 1 - •’ ■ ■ » G I - >t. vV.M. FOLLFiT) H. D. j j m i i l l l f i ' i ' i ' s \M - -I i: ,*.'***'' ' ' '■ I ' ' SELUiRAKF A T V T l O r ‘ p - ‘1 1, ,■ I'.l '»■; 1 ^ . ; . ' . . ' ' 'Sim-:-'i:''-.--i-T.i 'll. ' o c v L M c: pvK 'U .U ^ IN El -1 1 M. ■ i l.< II ' A i' ' .......... . Ffi£D W, Dr. LIU IT, A fT*»UNK\ \S!» ..I V - I I '- ' \« i .V < I'uv* y »I ‘ ^ I- ' ' I •, 1 11* I ‘ aiu-' , 1- ti . AM lilt'.'ll. - - M 1 • • ' .. , . |M aUriUloi.. oi! = . pr U . ^ I. . ii i' - - ••i P MiU.-i iilfU . - n- ■ r . ! ’-, s \ A. J, COOLLY, Q I Li I- I o n j 1 .1 s M / , Ml .11 ’ ' luu-r «*t < .U J 1 : -4. ' • ’ I » 1> - . ’ • r.U»iTiii;i :a..l I* > M un it. • nvM, . I ‘ « uuf'i. N. T I N W A R E . ( (i,N .-> I 's T I V , tiF H i t e l i P i boston “| ” store F O R P U R e T e A , c o f f e e O R B A K I N G P O W D E R A N D S P I C E S . tVr eive JlulleUi-eksv. itli 1 1'oamlof liakiiig pi.I.I ll • <*. i It* fnll'.win.i,; arc auums our r ri/cs } •«;i- . J m ftt« 1> t 1 I ( nvi-rcd ( I'ltinGcr I* L» moo otoGoiaBdUseMArtlclES KnItlSS, RK e V s TARCH, SOAP .saU-'l. rfi«»]i. BOSTOfl TEA STORE C. f1. BACKftlAN, A g t. iOl F all St., Seneca F alls. CTAfil I’as'’asse^e'., 67 1'A l I. I a '.i i i i s in<F lillia M l i i a t l 'U i s . T- I..: W r.:. l SJic C J ii ir v i iC H , T i Z p u . ' 1 n ; i - l u ! I lit I’, M , '.iinL\\ i'« '«M, I - H e r v i c c s ^ J l * > 1 \ . I - 1- -*» .I• o ’ I I •V. M , iUi'i I »■• 'V-. '1“.’' *> I’. c. i.. ■ I \ I t . . ' ) i.f • ' I. I ai.ju \ -1 ' I i-1 '•• <» * 1 1 II. I. I \Mt»l I I - • f I lU ... M , < ill. OF:), Siaateii Htitv:;, Utaiti Fulls. ffesTto] f f e s i l .5 r v T I - c-jr. ■ \ I :« ti G I- .ipp ml into «\irh iniHtriil :oul ' ■ » '1. r*i • .*• I ««its .It Ornjor^'Ht, hy ' ' . • 1. • ' ^ ..O M ,1. I . c is 1 l..i t IP * 1 n .>» u iOiri* >»t.,\|M\ ^ ork. '( t o o d m /\ n & H o c k T '- ’ S C L r r & T r^ C & T riE L S A B L E i ' ' . ' ■' u ...SM,. )M.: I' u Vi , i r I . I . '• 1 i'-- h l T Z i : Z N - : : , A ' - U p : ■i vV\ n 1 1( i A'll I 1 .'I i ’ i . li ' i 1 o v r r ) - i ‘ 'u l; n 1 .j ,u,. ■ l a fi« .1 1 o . o \ ,1 .I t Sjiu*| I . >■ 1.1 . J. ' ■ I.* . i \> ^ r . ' t 1 i. 1 .. . I. 1 > 4 i > - -tt_I . ■ , I'l ■> ■ 1 I..' . ' i • . in .. n i S' ■ I tla\ n . «\'< li Mil*! 111. 1 1 ' I'l >•' I>;i\ \ - •I- 11 1 I . F* ti. i,' t . ‘ “ j . I l f i - .I'tii *. - u . 1.1 I ■' ’ I raiuiuM. .it t r. V.. 1 i i U K \ . U . -V \l. !• <N A r.i*. a Z ^ O T H S ! i G A P L I E K T S M A I L T O v ^ L L h . A T R E D U C E D P R I C E S j ' ' ' ■ ' ) i : 1 ' ■: ' I ’1 .4 C l Met., i:.H> m \ I ' I ■ ■' ' h' 1 . r I. I . • 1,1 J 4 .1' . 11 - ! . I ‘ ■t.k ' t -iv «.* vn l c.xll. ' ' ‘W' i (I .,t il i ’.- 'i.G-' all till- !imt\ l«a^ f.%. '■ ] l.i -i. ‘li j;> < t ‘*11. -last ( »M A M5. fntrrh iii5 , III*'. \\hii I iiy ului l*chc\C J ■' j C l . ii lltL Him / ' We N . , t-'i ' 1 uli 'i* ■1,1 . ]. I'.v 1 juic-*- ' ■ i.M -i. ' . It I ll ,ii n at-l 11 I ji J._4ll \ \ « li.lu.IIi'.hlp --- ‘‘’1- k I' n» i.M ti.i'K-an«l IsLcps it, them I fi 'iiiil two ; the fiillii\viii'£ is on handed i kiionii. his I e utor. Aiuoiig n:uuiscrii)ts, of whieli e. The o tlier is siun>ly ill whieh Mr. Qnuter- t iii-rsonally cimeerned—a le story of whieh was told s after the w ith this Zuluiiotiil. till to him I).' ih e h e r o m any year tragedy ii id oeeurred. But WeWe iiaveave nothingothing too doo a t h n t d .at present. I have often thought (Mr. Quater- mairi's mam iseript tiegins) tlnit I would set dewn on [>ap--r the evenis connected, witli my marriage, uiid the libs of my most d e ar wife Many years have now passed siuee that e vent, a n d to some e x tent tim e has softened tile old grief, tlumgii lii avi n knows it is still keen enough. On two or three oee.asions I h a \e I'Veii liegun the reeord. (Jnce I it n|i heean-e the w riting of it de- ■1 me beyond bearing, once because 1 -n ldeiil> was ealled jonrn n , ;ind the third K.iliir b louiiil my i venieiii fill-Us liting tlie But i.i.w that I am at aw ay upon : ime liecause t i script con ■ story may serve to in terest s .:ne one in after year.s when I am d' id iiii'l ei,|i,,. It is a wild tale enou ;Ii, an<l -ugge^ts some curious re- llectiolls. I am the son of a missioiiary. My father w a , originally cunito in ehargo of a sni ill pai i-.li ill O xforil-hire. IL-liad alre.elv 1) • •11 some y,-ars niarried to my d'Mi- iiiotb.'r when he w ent tilere, and hi- ha t I'.iir eliiMi-eii, of whom I wa.s youngest. I n-meiuber faintly tlie •' w lien- we lived. It was a n ancient, i\ li->ns,‘. fai-ing the road. There VI .is a Very large tree of .sum ■ so rt in the gar-ieii. It wa-; hollow, : iis.-il t-> play about in.- kiiuek kiiot-i of wood i*urk. V/f all in ami iny nioih-r alway.s came up ...e. , Us, u l |i ‘M \v«» \\i-n* in bml. I usml ■ ti» \\ al;c up ilM'l si-t* luT o w r 11U\ a cainll'* i'4 lu*r luiial. Th»*r«> was u . I • 1 .• 1 ■ . ' 1» .1 ' ■No, *>U, lUH lUH lliUl. JL/L*iUII vuuirs BUUH . - - f ; B u t i w m le a v e t U U a v i H ^ lullv irigbliii d b.....iuse mv eldest . If-I 1'VinkW btolli. r made .m- li.mg to ii bv mv . n g '- t away into the v v i l d ^ l...'„.'s. T I..I 1 iiiir old home, long ag->. V f o r i had. liiiniiiiily spi.aking, saved the life of her who was destiu.-l to be my The iie.Kt event whieh; 1 eaii recall clearly is that my m itlier ami three brotlier.s all fell ill o f fever, owing, as I afterw a rds learned, to the poisoning of our well by some evil minded per.son, who threw a dead .sheep into it. It m u st liave lieen while they were ill that .Siptire Carson came one day to the vi(?!ir:ige. The w eather was still colil, for there was a fire in the study, a n d I sat hefore the lire w riting letters on a piece o f jiaper with a pencil, while my \ ■ alked up and down o himself. Afterwjird g for the li' the room, •ds I knew' was p rayin g fo r the lives of liis id ehildren. Presently a servant came to the door and said wanted to see him. \ I t is the squire, sir,’’ said the m aid, “ a n d he says he partieularly wishes to see you.\ --\'ery well,\ answered luy fatlier, wearily, and presently Squii'e Carson i-ame in. His face was whit-- and hag gard. a n d hi.s eye.s shone si liereoly that t w.ts .tfi.iid of him. \Forgive me for intruding on you a t sueh a tim e, C^uatermain,'’ he said, in a hoarse voice, \ b u t to-morrow I leave this place forever, a n d I wish to speak to you before I go—indeed, I m u st speak to you.\ ‘‘Shall I send Allan awayT' said my father, pointing to me. “ No, let him bide. He will n ot under stand.” Nor, indeed, did I at the tim e, but I remembered every word, a n d in after year.s their meaning grew on me. “ F irst tell me,” he w ent on, “ how are and he pointed upw ards w ith his theyl'-R “ My wife and tw o of the boys a re bo- ” my father answered, w ith a know how it will go Lord's will be clone!” “ T he Lord's will be done,’’ the squire echoed, solemnly. “ A n d now, Qiiater- raain, li.sten—my w ife's gone.” “ Gone!\ my father answered. “ Who “ W ith that foreign cousin of h ers. It seems from a letter slie left th a t she al ways cared for liim, not for me. She m arried me becau.se she thought me a rich Englisli milord. NoW she has run through my property, or most of it, and gone. I don't know where. Luckily, she dill not care to encum b e r lier new career w ith the child: .Stella is left to •‘That is w h at comes of m a rrying ,a papi-.t, Carson,\ said m y father. T h a t was his fault; he was a.s good and charitable a man a.s ever lived, b u t he was bigoted. “ W h at are von going to -fo l lo w her'r\ Ee laughed bit •Follow her!” 1 low her? If I m e t h e r I : or him. or both of them , because shame they liave b rought u] should I [m ight kill her b o f the ipon m y child's to look :-ai-y of iny life.\ ‘ly, Carson, sui father, --you do not meai “ no: not tha t. Death eome.s soon son, su rely,\ no t m e an ”— ^ . siYo no w hitp Ijicps. no smooth, eduoated It has* li 'Cii ii'iie-'i iiowii I would journey there to A htile I uvthi-r down tin-road was a lar.;e li.iu-.i-with h i ' iron g ites to it, a n d , on lle-ti'p Ilf tie- gate pillars sat tw o V V 'V,' .st,.n.. li.m .,.uhi.-l.vvei-esohide..usthatI | b e a man. a n d I will hve it uusali-.ud 1.1 them One eonl.l .see he ' down, but n o t here, Q u atermain. Edu- li.-iis- by p •epiii4 hrough the bars ot the sh e - t h a r woman who “ Y'ou a re mad, Carson,” m y f a ther an- wered. “ How will you live? How will i? Bo a mail and live IU.IS U luii-t huve been the t lin.-itnitis Good-by, old friend, good-by for bell,re mv ather emigra ed. or I should . hcncc- li.it rememl. -i- it-v v e eluldrei. w ent to a j ( l,n-t iia - tree at tin- Hall 1 lu-re was a .^i j j,e ,,.^3 ,one. giv.it p .i l y th e r -. and lootnieii w earing -jia d ,\ said mv father, w ith a heavy n - l vv.ii-t-.at- Sto ,d at the door In the dining room, whieh was paneled w ith Bm he will think better of it.” biu. k 0.1s, wu- t.ie Uu-istiuas tree. A t th a t m o m e nt the uuf.sc came huf- S im r - ( iison -too.l in front ol it. He i whispered something in his w ..-a,tall. d u k ..nil, v.-.v .,11. t m ins Mv father's face turned dcadlv pale. nUiTwar.is 1■ariiei'l, hi-- vimili. ill a then staggered from the room. My ler was dying. I It was some days a fterw a rds, I do not know exactly lioiu long, that m y father took me hy the hand and led .me u p stairs into the big room th a t had been m y mo- I tiler's bedroom. There she lav, dead in ‘ , , ,, ' h e r coffin, w ith flowers in her hand. I c.in 11-111'in i-r h.-r \y ll. ..lie was ; Along the wall of the room were ar- v. rv pi-..,. V. w ith a rounded ' ^ Biree little white beds, a n d on ‘'Nl'i 'e a c h of the beds lay one of my brothers. bi li.ie thi-- d a t\ Iiad iiiarrieil a lady who was hah aS p .ini.ird—.1 p a pist, iiiy father ..i.,M f> 1 > >k at. and I 1 my head ligm e, I.U't tv'-th. Mill- it funny ebil'l t-> 1 > >k that my h.iir stun 1 up a - it d ii.i.v, f.ir t -till h ive a skete iif iiiv-• If l.iat niy iiiollier made of me, in wlii'-ii this iiei-uUarity is strongly marked. <>:i this occasion of the Clirist- lii.is tree [ leiiieuiber tluit Mrs. Car.soii tu r n . 'I t ', a t.ill.fureignlookinggentle- tiiaii w II.)-til l 1 ll ^s^tle her. and tapping Tii'ii atl'eeii .iiati ly-I'll the shoulder w ith , , i asleep, a n d they a ll had fi i l^Uien father told m s in their II pr-.-fvt i her g.'M eyegl.is-es said: Ha- .111- I “ L,.,ik. e.)usm—In ik a t th a t droll little ii i- .iviu.il i„,y iq,, i,j^ hr.iwn eye.-; his hair is lik- a —vvli.it you call him?—scrubbii E. F. GtdODEIAM & HOOK, li'l-u-li. Oh. vvluit a di-.ill little The tall gentlem an p ulled at his mas- aii'l. l.iki'ig )[rs. Ciir.son's h a n d in FARMER!) ARD KORSLMLK: A t 9 1 F a l l g i r . r - . , u i, i i , li- E a r u i C u l l a i b . WLip«, B ot.s. B n i.-ht ,s, G n n y Camb>', Ko'n:,s,vii:c. ,r H i .1 t:,che, aii'l. l.iki'ig )[rs. C;ir.son'; llii', b. 4 HI t'V smooth my hair ih I lit n il 1 he IVil Il'T vvlii-per: I \I.'-.iv.-go my liaiid, cousin. 'Thomas ! i-l.>..kiii4 hk.-—like the thunJorstorm .\ Tlu-uiu- was tlio name of Mr. Carson, Hu r i.u-'.>.i;ul. Alb 1- that I hill myself as well as I watclii 1 h i l l ' the s, pill-'''s only P l i T i f i S i P H S ! 1 boots : HORSE A nil \wiu lul lUi>Ti> t“ til i» rti . tl> . Uni .it i‘m It'iulk IM ( It iljiu 1‘iMlJfi. O L D H A R N E S S t )ii« <1 iiiui U i I'lim ■ I .il i :. C L E A N f D i.?.r MM' U IIIMU ti, iM t' O A K T A N K E D L E A T H E R \\] icli I'* No. 1 '•1 hvTi il s*.i, K My I \|M ?i-i [s. Tio S« »,.U I t ,l\V. ;,1 t.. -iiM . a I„!T 4 -r '».-.s I. .r Its,-, a, »i.. \ TI I'l i, »',u I I't' 11*l I t ,t lll\ \\ li»'! c fl.-i* m ttu- ‘'T.bic. Repairing Promptly Done Ami In ciilire '-uttslartioi* in tiunlityj iii.il I»rieo. * I G I V E M E A T R I A L . I I' i'lIK o ll - .K A i m i s p M A I L S . C V I .i: vSiOl.L Ml SHIM FMIS, N. (. vV .’.NHretidoin m s t ................. . ... ' ThefAl- v eruilil beliiiel a c h air, for I w.as shy, Stella Car-son, who was ly c hild, giving the chil dren pi-i-eiits oil the tree. She was dri -- -.1 a - Father Christmas, with some, soft, vv-liite stuff round her lovely little face, aiiil had large, dark eyes, which I tlioiiglit more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. A t last it came to my turn lo have a present—oddly eno -jeh, considered in the light o f future events, i t w as a large monkey. She reached it down from one of ilie lower boughs of thy tree aiirl handed it to me. .saying: •‘Il.it i- my ( 'Iiristnias present to you, little Allan tjuaterniain.\ As she did so, her sleeve, which was covered with cotton wool, sp.ingled over with something th a t .shone, touched one of the taper.s—how I do m caught tire, and the flanii tow ards her throat. Bhestoodqi thh aa tt slielie los'y t s was paralyzed ml the lailies who were near ml, but did nothing. witli fear: screanieil very loud, b u t Then some impulse seized iinstinet would be a better word ■perhaps eon-iilering my age. I threw myself upon the child, a n d , beating a t the fire . _ w ith niy hands, m ercifully succeeded in \ i . , pxtitiguisliing it before it rt-allv g o t hold. i ;!i4-™'„'S?2SoS I w ri-ts were so badly bu'rued that Fl.'GN'r,'to i *bey liad to be wrapped up in wool for a l.o’’:..';Yl™S'oonu^Si%a'fa «00' tim e a fterw a rds, but w ith the ex- \■ T f l f W ilM I li f i ^ burn upon her throat, [ litUo Stella ( ’arson was not m u ch hurt. portion of oiur . ............. ■■■\\\ ..... .. ..... Stella's sweet face a n d the stare of terror I .VUVDUTISE IM T i m J „ l M A L . I all, because I .should not see them any more, ai-d I did so, though I was very frightened. I did not know why. Then he took me in liis a rm s a n d kissed me. “ The Lord hath given,” he said, “ and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the n.ame of the Lord.” I cried very m uch, a n d he took me downstairs, and after th a t I have only a confused memory of men dressed in black c arrying lieavy burdens towards the gr.ay c h u rchyard. Next comes a vision of a great ship and wide tossing waters. My father could no longer bear to live in England after the loss that had fallen on him, and made up his m ind to emigrate to South Africa. tVe m u st have been poor a t the tim e; indeed, I believe th a t a large if o income w ent from my my moUier’s death. A t any ■aveled with the steerage pas sengers, and the inten.se discom fort of the journey w ith the rough ways o f our fellow e m igrants still rem a in upon my mind. At last it cam e to an end, and we reached A frica, which I was not to leave a gain for m a ny, many years. In those days c ivilization had n o t made any great progress in southern Africa. My father went up the c o u n try and became a missionary am ong the Kaffirs, near to where the tow n of Cradock now stands, and here I grew to manhood. There were a few Boer farm e rs in the neighbor hood, a n d gradually a little settlem e n t of white.s gathered round our mission Station— a drunken Scotch blacksmith and wlieelwrij^ht was al>out the m o st in- teresting cliaracter, wlio, wlien lie was sober, could quote the Scottish poet Burns and the “ Ingoldsby Legends” lit- enilly l>y the page. It was from him that I contracted a fondness for the lat ter amu.sing writings which has never Burns I never cared for so much, probably because o f the Scottish dialect, which repelled me. W h a t little educa tion I got was from my father, but I never Iiad much leaning tow a rd books, nor he m uch tim e to teach them to me. On the other hand, I was a lw ays a keen observer of the ways of men and nar ture. By the tim e th a t I was 20 I could speak Dutch and three or four Kaffir dialects perfectly, and 1 doubt if there was anybody in South Africa who un derstood native ways of thought and action more c ompletely than I did. Also I was really a good shot and horsem an, and I t h ink—as, indeed, m y subsequent career proves to have been the case—a great d e al tougher than the m a jority of I t m a y be womlered th a t I did n o l m n rroimdings, this by my one of the gen- absoiutely wild in sueh but I was held back fr< father's .society. He was i tlest ami most refined men that I m et; even the mast savage Kaffir loved him, and Ids influence was a very good one for me. He used to call himself one of the world's failures. Would that there were more sueh ftiiliires. Every e vening when his work was done he would take his prayer book, and, sitting on the little stoop of o u r station, would read the even ing psalms to himself. Sometimes there was not light enough for this, hut it made no difference, he knew them all by h eart. W hen he had finisln-d he would look out across the cultivated laiiils where the mission Kaffirs iiad their luits. B u t I knew il was not these he saw, but rather the gray English church, and the graves ranged side liy side hefore tlie yew- near the wicket gate. It was tlic-re o n the stoop that he died. He Iiad not been well, ami one evening I was talking to him , a n d his m ind went back to O.xfordshiro and my mother. He spoke of her a good deal, s a y ing that she had never been out of hi.s m ind for a single day during a ll these years, and that he rejoiced to think he was d raw ing n e a r th a t land w h ither she had gone. Then h e asked me if I remembered th a t night when Squire Carson c.-irae into the s tudy a t the vicarage, a n d told him tliat his wife had run away, and tliat he was going to change his name and bury himself in some rem ote land. r said th a t I rem em bered i t perfeelctly. “ I wonder where he w ent to,” said mv father, “ a n d if he and his daughter Stella a re still alive. W ell, well! I shall never meet them again. B u t life is a strange thing, A llan, a n d you may. If you ever do, give them m y kind iove.” A fter th.at I left him. W e had been suffering more than usual from the dep redations of the Kaffir thieves, who stole our sheep a t night, and, tis I had done before, and not w ithout suecess, I hud determined to watch the krtial a n d see if I could catch llicm. Indeed, i t was from this habit o f mine of watcliing a t night that I first g o t m y native nam e of Ma- cumazaUn, w h ic h m a y be roughly trans lated as “ he who sleeps w ith one eye open.” So I took m y rifle and rose to go. But he called me to him and kissed me on the forehead, saying, “ God bless you, Allan. I hope th a t you will think of y o u r old father sometimes, and that you w ill lead a good a n d happy life.” I rem e m b e r th a t I did not much like his tone a t tlie tim e, but set it down to an attack of low spirits, to wliioli he grew very .subject as the years went on. I went down to the kraal and w.atched till within an hour of huiirise, then, as no thieves a ppeared, retm-ned to the sta tion. As I came near I was astonished Kaflii, then tliat my fathei- had asleep there. And so he had, indei he was dead! ■unkeu CHAPTER II. to execute, because tion from my fatlii was to undertake a HEN I had ^ b u r ie d my ' father, and s e e n h i s ' for the sta- was the p rop erty of the soci ety—I set to work > to carry out a plan which I had long cherished, but been unable t involved separa- r. P u t shortly, it journey of •ight through the couiitrie.s as the Free State a n d the exploratior as I could go. scheme, for, though the em igrant Boers had begun to occupy positions in these territories, they were still to all practi cal purposes une.xplored. But 1 vv.-is now alono in the world, a n d it m a ttered little w h a t became of me: so, driven on by the overm a stering love o f adventure, which, old as I am, will perhaps still be if death, I determ ined to uii- ing o nlv tl irs of oxen, sucli goodsoods ! proceeds I invested ih g as were then in fashion, for trading purposes, and in guns and am m unition. Tlie guns would have moved any modern explorer to merri- [it; but such as they were I 3 a good deal of execu One of them barreled, smooth bore, fitted for percus sion caps—a rocr we called it—which threw a three-ounce ball, and was charged with a handful of coarse black powder. Many is the elephant that I killed with th a t rocr. although it gener- backwackward: ards when I fired ally knocked me b it, which I only did under ble b a rreled No. 12 shot g u n , but it had flint locks. Also, there were some old tower m uskets, which m ight or m ight not throw s tr a ight a t seventy yards. I took six Kaffirs with me, a n d three good horses, which were supposed to be salted —th a t is, proof against sickness. Among the Kaffirs was an old fellow nam ed I n - ' daba-zimbi, which, being translatec This m an was a great character in his way. He had been a noted w itch doctor a m ong a neighboring tribe, a n d came to the station under the following circumstances, which, a s he plays a con siderable part in this history, are per haps worth recording. Two y ears before m y father's death 1 had occasion to search the country round for some lost oxen. A fter a long and useless q uest it occurred to me that I had better go to the place where tiie ■ere bred by a Kaffir chief, whose I forgot, but whose kraal was fifty miles from our station. t e ' oxen safe a t home. Tlie chief entertained me handsomely, and on the following morn- better wait, w h ite m a n ,” “and see the rain doctors handsomely, ar ing I w ent to pay my respects to before leaving, a n d was som e w hat prised to find a collection of some hun dreds of men ami women sitting round him anxiously watching the sky, in which the thunder-clouds ivere banking up in a very ominous w a v .' “ You had bt said the chief, “ figlit tlie lightning.” I inquired w h a t he that this m an, Iiidaba- some years occupied the position of wizard-in-cliief to the tribe, although he was not a m em ber of it, having been born ill the country now known as Zululand. B u t a son of the chiers, a man of about 30, had lately set u p a s a rival in supernatural powers. Tliis irri tated Indaba-zimbi beyond measure, a n d a quarrel ensued between tiie two witch doctors th a t resulted in a challenge to trial by lightning being given and ac- S ‘ riv serious tliunder.storui, no i pest would serve their turn. Tlien, carrying assegais in tlieir liands, they lUSt take their stand within fifty conditions ivals mu.st await the coming of i s tliunder.storui, no o rdinary tem- rau st tak e the ir stan d with in fifty paces of each other upon a certain patch of ground where the big thunderbolts were observed to strike continually, and by the e.xorci.s0 of their occult powers a n d invocations to the lightning, m u st strive CONTINDED. MUSIC HATH CHARMS. I did not approve of m y m other's idea of taking c ity boarders; still, as slie said. ■nee in oui a a u n t, Mrs. Em ily Ives, nti-ast they made in hot id demeanor. Miss Ives was in the deepest of mourm ourning i and a heavv black c iape - \ \ ipearance shrouded m an d a heavv black c r veil completely concealed her features. She was not a widow. That I know, because in w rit ing to engage the rooms Mrs. Morton had called her luece ‘‘Miss,” and had furtherm o re added that she had sustained the loss of a friend which iiad tlirown her into a state of alm ost hopeless mel ancholia; that Mrs. Morton's object in seeking a country place so f a r from New York as tlie Genesee valley was in the hope of effecting an entire changie •scene a n d tliought for her afflicted iiie Mrs. Morton jf>iiied u s a t our little r '.ic board, but Miss Ives took her meals in her room, refusing to cross the sill of her door. My c u riosity was piqut “ Is she ill?\ I inquired of m o ther one ‘•Oh, no,” said mother, “ she is in per fect health: init when Mrs. Morton urges her to come out w ith Iier and see tiie beautiful .scenery, .she says that the of nature, no m a tter how lovely, is fill to her.\ thing is done to ai'ouse her lethargy, she is afraaid im-laiii'lioly mad- a d - a m ) .soiuelhing to aroase r “ 1. raother!\ I ■ that she will id, GeofTrey, I ’ve go melaiii'hoh- m been thinkinpf th a t you may iiuelhing to a her.” . niothei-l\ I exclaimed, starting. “ W liat could I jio.ssibly do to ‘arouse’ lier, ius you call if-\ ■My m other replied to my question: •AVliai cimlil you do? why, you could This was a startling proposition, e' ougli I w:is coiiceiied to be the best i sician and to imve the finest tenor voice in all the Gene.se “ But, mother who am nothin id, “ how can 1, ncultivated ig before an accom- Miss Ives slie sank into lliis dull and I’ountry Iminpkin, sin: pli.shed musician, a s 1 • ‘ Before s iln-adful .stale of despondency. Miss Ives was passionately fon-1 of music—espe- i-ially sacred imisie, hut she will never listen to a note non- if she can help it. Mrs. Morton and I liave talked itallover; I told her that you have the kind of a s\ iiqialhetic voice that would melt the heart of a slone, and slie is very an.xious tliat you slnmld try the e xperim ent. I't ask you to sing before her: afternoon Mrs. Morton and l a r e at. W hen we a re gone, you sit the piano a nd sing sonic of tliose tqueliiii.g thiiig.syou know so well liowto \Vlieii llie ladies Were well out of the w;iy 1 sat down to the piano, a n d very softly began .singing some quaint, old fasliioiieii a nd plaintive h ymns. Between each one I paused awhile, fully expecting a [H-reinptory message from Miss Ives for nu- to stop. None came, and after a while 1 faneied that I heard a light foot- :1 ri.seii froi onsiaiitly. iiing in iici-son to rebuke me for lerity? .My h e art heat high with • loivii to ll stf'p ov<M*lw*:ir<l. Evidently Jli.ss h e s htul ri.seii from the an whieli.she lay eonsiaiitly. Was fe.-u-—and ho|ie. W ith my whole soul in my task 1 i-;ip- iilly glided into the old, old hym n of •■Jordan.’’ .Vs till' last words, “ T here is re.-t for me.” died away, the door slowly opened and there a dvanced tow a rds me a being who seemed to me an angel, so fair was she. I had never seen her face until now, but that figure I could never mis- It was Emily Ives who stood before me, with eyes upturned as if entranced. “ Sing, sing those words again,\ she murm ured. Ix)w alm ost a s her own voice 1 sang: I have biiililed me a mnnsiou That eu-rnally shall stand, ■Vnil iny stay will not be transient In that fair and happy land: hitaeVal^'Tl^hlforhiJrent''\- Thei'e is rest for the w enry Tbere is rest foi- me \In the grave only there i“ rest.\ she sighed, sinking wearily into a chair; •speaking to her.self she seemed, and un observant of pre.sence. ml, but followed ui> th id g ained bysofiJy strikiii; “ P rayer for Comfort.\ When tlio hoard of many years, hike a lleet cloud disappoai-s, .\ud the future's full of fears, I spoke iilvautagel hat nto I lerrit Saviour. Savioui When t.he scci offoct was most unexpected. At lehision of the hym n she sprang c of amazement. the eoni to her feet with inanded. iinperirioiisly ■as astonished in my turn, but replied ealmiy; r.v?\ ^ lothing of your story. Miss \Then how came you to choose a hymn to fit it so exactly? Ah! I seel My aunt has told you.\ “ Your a u n t has told me nothing, 1 as sure you. Miss Ives; but it is easy to see that you are unhappy, and I selected a h\ mn that 1 hoped m ight com fort y o u .” “ 1 uniler.--tand,'' she replied, sitting at the side of the piano. “ X thank you for your .sympathy: and since I have be- traved th:it I have a story—will you hear il?\ “ Gladly—most g la lly ,” i answered, inwardly rejoicing that, by a n accident in the choice of a liymn, I had induced her to be.sto\vsto\v uponpon mee herer confidence. be. u m h ci ing that one should .\iiil bids if break :iiu de.solate. bereft, alone gan. ‘-My desolatio man wlio came ini ae,” she be- w rought by a life only to wreck it. I was a n o.phan, with no rela tives but my aunt, who has not strength enough of c h a racter to exmtrol or guide SO obstinate a n d headstrong a girl as I am. The—the—m a n ”—she pau.sed, grew white, shuddered at the recollection: then by an effort mastered her emotion and went on—“ was casiiier in a bank -where I had on deposit a considerable sum of money. We m et frequently, and I was fd.scinated by him. He professed to love me, and we became engaged. My aunt did w h at she could to prevent my m a rrying him; but as she could urge nothing against liis character she was forced to fall back upon the tim e hon ored and to me contem ptible platitudes th a t he w.as my social inferior—‘only a bank clerk' and -poor.’ I paid no heed to her. I loved him, a n d love levels all barriers. Our wedding day drew near; and as I wished him to m ake a good ap pearance and not to feel liampered a s to means to make himself presentable, I gave him a blank check, signed, and told :o fill it up for three thousand dol lars. He filled it up for the entire am o u n t I Iiad in the bank and fled Canada. I cc :he world too tliinkliink thh a t fromrom :oncealed his theft and al- >rld t t t a t f pure coquetry, fickleness—w h at you win—I bad broken off the m a tch alm ost a t the 4t)ot of the altar„ I t was readilv iwed th e iprice, c believed chat, liearc broken a t inyneacli- ery, he had gone away to try and bury liis grief.\ “Try to forget him —forgiveness will “ How. shall I set about it?\ she asked. “ Begin.\ I said, “ by casting aside those omhleiiis of iiiourning which you wear. Go out into God's sweet a ir and sjinshine, and you will soon return to a healthy and norm al slate of mind.\ “ I thank you,” she said, simply. “I will try.' givings as to the ai we should make a 1, with some luis- ?r. 1 proposed that t of family party and visit a few places of interest in the neighborhood. To my surprise and de light the invitation was accepted. I ob served with great gratification that Miss Ives no longer wore mourning, but a suit of delicate pearl gray. Mother could hardly conceal her grati fication at my success, and Mrs. Morton fairly bubbled over with joy. September c:ime, and still our city boarders sboweil no inclination to leave us. Emily's cheeks had resumed their pristine bloom, the roseate h ue o f h ealth. I had loved her from the first, and, as the charm and beauty of her mind and character unfolded themselves to me, I adored her. Tiie social difference ireeding tween us, my country breeding, above all, my poverty, held me tongue tied. And so October came—th a t loveliest of all m onths in the country—and with it a n o t altogether unexpected windfall for me. A suit which for years had been dragging a long in the c o u rts was a t last settled in our favor, and m other and 1 divided the snug sum of §‘30,000 between us. The Iiomestead was partly mine, and would be e n tirely so a t my-m other’s deatli. W hy. why, I was riclil I laughed aloud in my glee: and Miss Ives was poor. Now, why should I not speak? Come w h at m ight, I would know my fate, and end the suspense which was eating my heart out. And a t last my well g uarded secret escaped me. I told her th a t I loved her, a n d —appalled late a t my tem erity—waited for proi'iotince my doom o r lift me into Miss Ives did not seem as surprised as I h a d expected, n o r did she show a n y re sentment. She only seemed to be thinking, but it was not long before she replied: “ I do not know w h ether 1 love y ou or If I loved—th a t other—with tlie love of my life, then I do not int para- only ri icattered a t once and •vinds by his unworthini passing fancy, forever to the it wasl” I Inter- 'Tliis much I can tell you, Geoffrey,” : said. “ 1 owe you the deepest g rati- could the same misfort iu my b etrothal, a n d y ou were the wrong doer, I could forgive you, a s I never can nel” I cried. -‘I am It of love only could “Then you sure you do, such forgiveness come.” And, unrebuked, 1 gathered her to my I asked if she would bo c o n tent to live a t the old country home—she, her aunt, with mother and me; but, if she would not, I would take her back to the great city, for I was passed over he was rich, causing my lip with rich now. A q ueer look features when I said 1 c mo to flush irtification, remei hoy paltry a sum $10,000 m ust appear to a girl who had had $80,000. Emily acquiesced in all my proposi- and arrangem e n ts, and h a n d bite lem bei'ing m arried most unostentatiously a t the old homestead. Emily positively de clined to invite any of her friends, so on her side her a u n t only was present. Emily declared that she wanted noth ing that reminded her of her old life. Mm. Morton did not like our homespun ways as well as her niece did, and cheer ed lier days by Iiaving a number of New York papers sent to her. I never looked at them , but one d ay Emily ran her eye over a newly arrived batch, and sur prised me by e xclaim ing in a tone of ir ritation, “ Ah. I have not been able to escape the reporters even here!” A t her words my heart seemed to stand still. “ Escapel\ “ Reporters” a f ter my wife! W h at could it mean? To my rural mind reporters only followed up those who were “ wanted” for some m isdemeanor. The horrible thought ough tny mind that perhaps I ied an adventqress—even a FACTS ABOUT PITA RAISING. Fortunes Said to .4 wait the IJevelopmeut of a Xew Fiber Plant. Fifty thousand rupees is said to be the prize carried off by the machine lately constructed liy a Leicester (England) m a n u facturing house for the successful treating of the pita liber. This p rize was offered by the govenim ent of India in the hope of overcoming the obstacle of the lack of :i machine that would turn out the fibef in a fit state for m arket. The machine, while simple in construc tion, is c ertainly a succe.--s. One is now working on a large Nicaragua estate, and the representative of the English m a n u facturers has receiitiy arrived in th a t republic, with a view to introducing others. Now tliat the hitherto insurm ountable difficulty has been overcome, it will be surprising, indeed, if the exploitation of this vast natural resource of Central America he not begim and carried on ■with zeal and energy. The imm ense for tunes th a t have been made during tlie past three or four years in Yucatan from the hennequen, a near relative of the pita, would indicate the c e rtain results. The lioiincqncn, or .Sis:il hemp, is a m uch lower priced article, selling at from seven to nine cents per pound, while the pita, propei ly prepared, sliould bring three tim es as imicli. 'I'lie v:ist area of the north coast lands of Hon duras afford :i splendid region for (he cultivation of this phiiit. The observanl traveler eauuot fail to remtirk the iuimeii.se qinintities of it springing up wild on every hand, and the practical mind dciilorcs the wasting of such wealth. In one .section in par ticular, the vast c o u n try stretching from Y”oro to Ti-uxillo, the pita—the Bromalis Silvestris. to give it its botanical nam e — abounds in marvelous luxuriance. Further inland, in the mountainous districts, it flourishes e iually well, as in the valleys a long the route of the pro posed Iiiteroceanierailw a y . It is a most accommodatiug growth with respect to locality. Splemlid specimens may be seen in rocky, unheard of corners or springing from the brinks of dizzying precipices. Fi'om the stony soil, wliere other vegetation were doubtful, it towers up iu asloiiishing sireiigth and beauty. Its cuUiv;Uion is e;isy. W ithin eighteen m onths of the plan'ing it lias attained its full growth, lis leaves a re then from u-re of land w-ill j i will pro duce from 1.000 to l..')00 plants, yielding on an averagi-(liiny leave.s. Each leaf will weigh prolulily six ounces in the green state. This would give per acre soiiiething between 11.000 and 16,000 pounds. The proportion of prepared fiber to the leaf is estim a te d a t 20 ]ier cent. The approxim ate yield p er a cre in m a rketable product would be from 2.200 to 3,200 pounds, worth in New York, at 2.S c ents per pound. $616 lo ssilil This, in view of the little eare necessary, is a result worth considering, .\fler the first three or four iiioiitlis the only labor required is that of gathering the crop .and pre paring it. By this tim e the plant has become so dense and poworl'u) that weeds find little eliance. This for a country like ironduras, where lalior is scarce, is a fortunateeircum stance. And in this regard ll tlie advaiita-ge i the coffee, or even the coeoamn eiiUitre. Jlillierto the iirevailiiig interest of American caph.ili.sl.s in Hondi been in the millinging iiidiisliidiisiry. ry. I n.atural re.sonrci- hasas thushus f;ir;ir beenleeii given i No oilier has t f lit g ■s o f energy and per- had m arried a n adventij.ress—even a riminal! For I knew positively notli- about her, and she had been won so le c o u n try boy. meed a t i ished thi ing abo u t her, and easily—by a simple Emily glanc ’ lightly. ‘•Why, Geoffrey,” she said, “ how pale you are! And w h at a look of anxiety you wear! Here, read w h at the report ers say of us!\ 1 read the following am ong the per sonals; “ Miss Emily Ives, the eccentric thrice millionairess, gave the slip to the great world of society, and was q u ietly m a r ried on the 23d inst., i n ----- , to a coun try gentlem an of no fortune to speak of. Dame Rum or says th a t on both sides il was a regular old fashioned love m atch The friends of the fair bride—and thev are le g io n - one America T immense fortune upon one of III re.sonrci- h lliu any tliought, lo speak of doubtcdly lin e lhal imiiiciisc forliiiics aw a it siicli eiilci prising men iis w to Central Anicrica,, witli llieii capital, the rciuiisiic.s The pita ciiltiin- m ight well be com bined w ith otliei eiiterpri-se. W ith a view to *‘asier tr;iiisport:itioii of the pi-<»- ducl, it would he advisalile to select in H onduras :i localiiy coineiiieiil lo the road lo either Piiei-lo ( 'oi lez. T'l iixillo. on the gulf side, or Aiiiap.iki on the Pa cific coast. In Yoro, OlancUo, Santa Barbara and other scarcely peopled departm e n ts is :i country of m a g iiiliceiit ])ossibilitics. Ex- . aggerated .stories of it (hat from tim e to tim e have been related in the |iress of the north have doubtless coiitriinited to retard its progress. U ndue stress Inus been laid upon its dangerous clim ate, which in reality is a perfectly healthy one. If the. lowlands of the coast.s be hot, there is m-vertliele.ss a c o n stant and delicious sea breeze blow ing inland, and tin: nigiits a 'e alw ays cool. The interior is^very inonntain- with valleys long and wide, a t ft'om 1,000 to .MOOO H ere, a lthough the •ike h o tly upon the lugliout the day, the tem p era tu r e ill the shadi- ranges seldom ;ibove I 76 degs. Fahrenheit. There is thus no oppress!vene?,s. tiiven the.se c onditions, I I cannot imagine any reason w h y an ' enormous success sliould not he made of (he pita industry. I To obtain a plantation of pita would be compa rativel V easy. Suitable land c ould be Obtained from the g o v e rnm e n t o r oth- , , , various elevation '‘\S e feet above .sea le' vertical mu stow he r immense fortune upon oni lier own countrym en instead of S' titled pauper.” “ Is—is—it true?” I g asp«l. “Yes, it is tru e .” she answei'ed. “ B u t why did you tell me th a t you were penniles.s?” “ I never said that, ( ieoffrey-never. 1 told you that I had been robbed o f thirty thousand dollars. You inferred th a t it was ail I had.” “ \Why did you not u ndeceive me?” “ Because, after my first bitter experi ence, I determined that the man who next besought me should not know 1 had a dollar. 1 saw the error into which you had fallen, and was careful not to disa buse yy o u r mind of it. How else could I o u r mi and not for r my money?” Then, with a bright smile, Emily, lov ingly smoothed my hair from my brow. and a dded, a rchly: ‘How dreadfully frightened you )ked, dear, a t the reporters being a fter me! I am afraid you a re, a f te r all, w h at you are so fond of calling yourself—‘a intry bum p k in.'\ “ B ut the happiest one alive,” 1 ai swered, snatching her to my heart.- Celia Logan in Belford’s Magazine. How Ship's Boys Wash Shirts. of them in time. The practice was a t last forbidden the boys on the W izard. It's a lazy boy's wash. The adage “ I t’s never too late to mend\ is not applicable on shipboard. It should read \ I t 's never loo e arly to m end.” Of course a boy of 16, whose mother has always stitched for him. will allow his cjothes to go un til they fall off his body before using his needle. As I did. And I sewed myself up only to rip asunder imm ediately. 1 w ent a b o u t decks a thing of flaps; rips, rags and abortive patches, until they called me the ship's s carecrow. And so would many another spruce young man under s im ilar diwipliiie. It's good once in one’s life to Lc brought thus low.— Malford. rwise :it a low figure. The y o u n g plants tould cost hardly anything. In c.'ise of a large enterprise well backed and likely to prove beneficial to the c o u n try it is quite prob:ible th a t a large tract of land would he conceded by the governm e n t of H o n d u ras.—Belize (Honduras) Lettei-. Fife and Bride Arc. w here Ihe duke and duch- staying, ha.s been , excejit during its •autumn visit, which The house is Duff hou.se. ^ closed for many year.s, owner's annual autu never e.xceeded a month. The house an immenseniense quadrangularuadrangular edifice,difice, whihich q e w luilt a b o u t a century ago. The style is Roman Corinthian, the jiriiicipal rooms finecollec- very large, and there is a fii tion of picture.s. The grounds, w h ichare very extensive, a re undulating and well wooded, and are bordered by the Dev- eron, on the banks of which, one mile farther up the, river, is M ount;offer, the doii-er house of tlie Fife family. Duff house stands on tlie outskirts of the towns of Banff and Macduff, which are separated by the Deverou (-.■^tfiary.— London Truth. A practical joker undertook to touch young Mr. W ilson's n e ck w ith his (light ed) c igar a t Biddeford, Me. H e touched young Mr. Wilson's celluloid collar in stead. TTe collar prom p tly disappeared and a big circular blister took its place. A SYNOPSIS Of such portions of this Wonder ful Serial as may have appeared, ■will be given, immediately under the heading of each installment, after tlie F i- st, as publication of the story progresses. W ith , t h e a i d o f t h i s S y n o p s i s a r e a d e r m a y ta k e u p the S e r i a l, a t a n y p o in t , -with sufficient understanding Story in all its bearings.
